#All Cops Are Bastard Period.

[weareuniqueandimportant]

OPTIMUS PRIME? MORE LIKE ALL COPS ARE BASTARD.

[emostudent]

TEEN WOLF BRAINROT

so, i've been rewatching teen wolf bc apparently netflix hates us europeans and it will be removed on may 31st and here are a few of my opinions TM

scott is actually a very good main character. listen, i got into this fandom when i was older, so i probably don't understand why there is this trend of hating scott, but he's a valid MC! he shows an example of positive masculinity that is honestly so refreshing to see in modern media: he's kind, compassionate, always optimistic but not stupidly so, has an amazing relationship with his mum AND his friends, he's not afraid to show emotions and cry. honestly a very healthy, albeit traumatised, young man. yes, he did stupid stuff for the girl he liked, and yes he misjudged a few situations, but please, remind me, how old is he supposed to be? 16? 17? 18? yeah. i did worse things at his age.

scott and stiles come from working class families!!! they have money problems!! it's honestly so refreshing to see teenagers discuss money in a supernatural/fantasy tv show. it doesn't usually happens and I've found it refreshing because it's something that usually happen between irl teenagers.

i don't get sterek. really, really don't. maybe it's bc i've watched the show through a gen z lens (meaning the media and the culture (read: THE INTERNET) when i watched the show were influenced more by gen z than millennials' values) but i really don't get it. and the age difference makes me uncomfortable. (same thing with parrish and lydia, SHE'S A MINOR DUDE, there's a reason people don't like cops istg) SOMEONE EXPLAIN STEREK TO ME PLEASE

in fics stiles and scott's personalities are often swapped: stiles is the caring one, the pack mum, scott is the one with homicidal tendencies. like, my dudes, the fact that scott is a GOOD person through and through is the reason he's a true alpha. also the reason we, as viewers, like stiles is bc he's sarcastic and more morally ambiguous than scott (not really, but you get it, he cares more about himself and his immediate friends, the others can die, scott instead want to save everyone period), it's like taking away the thing that makes stiles stiles

malia and stiles were SO cute, i didn't expect to like them so much, but when they broke up my heart shattered

stydia is everything i want in a ship and i will not accept any criticism on it, it's literally one of the only straight ships i like. you have the slowburn, the malewife x girlboss trope, the he fell first but she fell harder, the mutual pining. it literally checks all of my boxes

isaac was such a cool character and he and scott had an amazing dynamic, like come on, they had something going on between them

kira is a badass. that's it, that's the comment. i like her so much

derek's development is one of the best. i couldn't stand him in season 1, but in s4 he became one of my favourite characters. but i think this has more to do with the fact that they aged him up? he was supposed to be in his early 20s in s1, but then they aged him up in s3? well, anyway, i liked how he literally wised up, stepping into the role of a teacher and guide instead of a leader, it suits him so much better (and i'm sure it's less stressful)

peter is such a charmingly evil bastard. i hate him, but i love him at the same time.

thiam is the best ship in the show, i don't care if it's canon or not. i've read airplanes, it's canon to me

we would've liked (simped for) s5 theo more if he had the same haircut he had in 6b. he was just stupidly hot.

allison and lydia should've kissed and so malia and kira. give me my wlw couples.

[moonknixght]

Chase of Cat and Mouse [Jake Lockley x Cop!Reader]

Summary: Jake Lockley is a smug bastard who enjoys watching you struggle to find the murderer responsible for Arthur Harrow's death. But it becomes evident that his overconfident façade is not that strong when you manage to catch him after work. Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: Enemies to lovers kinda, Suggestive, Swearing, no mentions of marc or steven (sorry guys), mentions of death (?) A/N: this took wayy to long and my sincerest of apologies to all my lovelies. I’m unfortunately a huge procrastinator, but I’ll try working in more fics in the coming days :) ! Requests are open, so feel free to talk to me or suggest something for the next fic!!

You lean on your chair with a distrustful look, eyes twitching at the cocky grin that your suspect, Jake Lockley had on his face. If only you could just reach over the damn table and smack it right out of his face, but unfortunately with no permission from the higher-ups to hurt people under custody, you were pretty helpless to his conceited expressions.

It's just been an hour of going back and forth with the male; where you would propose something incriminating that could possibly involve him, before he would defend himself with a cheeky statement, which worked a bit too well in his favor.

For example, When you pointed out that the man who suspiciously led Arthur Harrow away from the hospital to be never seen again was wearing a cap similar to his, Jake responded with a chuckle; "Is there no one else in London who wears a newsboy cap?"

And it didn't help that every once in a while, he would make a mockery out of you, arrogantly sneering as you struggled to find solid evidence for an arrest. You tried to pay no mind to it as you distracted yourself with the papers lay on the desk in front, trying not to be bothered by anything he says.

"Running out of hurtful accusations, amor?" It was getting increasingly frustrating, the periodic visits of Jake Lockley to the questioning room almost once every week, where every time you insisted it was him. Your superior, an old bloke named Martin was understandably getting tired of it, ever so slightly wishing that he had just taken this rookie case to his hands instead of having his junior over-analyze it so much. London is a big city; the death of another old man was no exciting news, but it seemed to be of great importance to you. A knock on the door snapped you out of your deprecating thoughts, breaking that eye contact that danced with a fiery spark of hatred between you and Jake while you jumped to your feet to answer the door. A familiar figure with a head full of grey hair with an equally grey mustache stood, with a fed-up expression on his face. Speak of the fucking devil. "Cut short for the day, I need you in my office in 10." Martin commanded, a breath escaping your lips quietly as he said so. "But—" "No buts. My Office. In 10. Let 'em go." You turn back to the male who was still sitting nonchalantly on the uncomfortable basin of the stool; but almost immediately as your gaze fell on him, he looked up with a tilt of his head, his lips curling at the end to form a smirk. He managed to get out of your grasp again.

Stepping into Martin's Lair, which most acknowledge as his office, you felt yourself think of the many ways he could possibly question you— as well as all the ways you could retaliate and justify your fixation on this specific suspect. All of your defenses led to a dead end, but how exactly were you supposed to explain how Jake looks at you when he sees you falter? How his sharp, tinted brown eyes sparkle with a glimmer of amused smugness to it every time you found yourself searching for more clues in front of him? You know he did it. You know that he knows very well you're aware of that. Yet, he seemed to be enjoying the effort put in to prove your conclusions.

Arms crossed, your supervisor eyed you as you walked in and did your regular routine of a salute to your higher up, before he motioned you over to sit. Martin never was a person who gave much trouble, and that was an understanding that ran between the both of you, but that didn't mean he didn't have moments where he would be highly critical of your actions and decisions.

"Where are the final reports, (L/N)?" "I.." You pause, bracing yourself. "I don't have it. Yet." The older male sighed in response to your answer, rubbing the base of his temple while you shifted uncomfortably on the cushion-y seat, preparing yourself to hear the lecture that was incoming. "I assigned this file to you nearly 3 months ago, (Y/N), and you have nothing except a raging suspicion on this one guy who you can't even prove is the culprit we're looking for." He leaned onto the desk. "What happened? You were one of my best students. That's why I trusted you with this."

Oh, Jake Lockley is done for once you catch him again. You part your lips to say something, but the guilt of letting down such a placid and reasonable figure that was your superior was really starting to settle down. Had it been anyone else, you would have stubbornly defended yourself about how you were absolutely sure of your intuitions. But it was a war that you would not come out victorious from anyways; possibly hurting the respect Martin gives you was just an added loss.

"Be more attentive, (Y/N). I know how hard these tend to get but I've been having people show up and make a fuss about finding the culprit—probably some distant family of the victim and—"

"I'll have the reports down to you by Sunday." Martin spared a look of surprise, taken aback by the sudden tone of determination. It took you 3 months to make even the slightest of progress, yet you seemed positive that you'll manage to nail the report and hold the felon accountable within the matter of a day and a half. How were you supposed to do that?

You would've been a little more confident if you knew the answer to that question yourself.

Stripped out of the authoritarian uniform, You found yourself clutching onto your jacket as the cold autumn weather in the streets of London brushed against your skin. The night was young as always, and you wished there was time for you to go stargazing, laying under the bed of shining pricks in the dark blanket that was the night sky. Barely 8pm by then, you realized as you checked your watch, but the gloom of a midnight sky was already settling in. It was an uncomfortable feeling since you've rarely never gotten out all that much, for a stroll nonetheless, ever since you started working on the case, with the exemption of the travel from and to home to the station or vice versa.

And that would have been the fate of today, if it weren't for the fact that you were hunting down Jake Lockley. This time not with the help of a colleague, but by yourself as you hurried through the busy streets of the city. You were given the location to an apartment towards the north of town, which was presumed to be his address and where you were hoping to run into him for a talk. Not another interrogation, at least in his point of view, but you were aware that this case was far from salvageable with just mildly threatening questioning.

You watch as the neon sign of a convenience store just below the building your heading for shine brightly; stopping momentarily to check your phone and prepare before taking a sharp breath to turn the corner— to almost immediately run into a figure in the dark and brooding alleyway.

Despite the crescent moon towering above his frame, Jake's face was lit solely by the cigarette hooked between his fingers, revealing a familiar facial structure that you loathed. But, despite having strong emotions which can only be described as hatred, you did find him to be conventionally attractive, but that's just stating the obvious.

Another thing that you took to notice was his dark, slicked-back curls that almost stuck to his neck, carefully combed as to not to seem disheveled and obviously missing his signature cap. It was.. certainly a look. Something out of the ordinary, which made you wonder if you even were looking at the same person.

At the echo of your footsteps, it was destined to catch the attention of the male, who squinted at the sight of you, before a relaxed expression took over his stiff posture. At his notice, you paused just a few steps away from him, pondering where you're gonna begin— only for him to beat you to it. "'m afraid I can't make it to another questioning, officer." He sneered, but shrugging it off has almost been second nature to you at this point. "I have.. plans for later tonight, 'Can't spend that time rotting away at the station." "You're not being taken to the station, I just want to talk." You say firmly, To which Jake reacts with a raise of his brow, prompting you to continue. "Look." You shift your gaze away, sighing. "I might've been wrong about you, but I think you know something I don't. And if you know, anything, and I mean- anything on Arthur Harrow, I need you to tell me it. Now." Jake looked at you with not much change in his expression, but his hand brought the cigarette back to his lips as he leaned by the hood of the car, facing you. If you were any hopeful about Jake abiding by your commands, you would have said he was considering it, but the silence was becoming overbearing and you still needed to pitch your case.

"His family's been very active in trying to find the culprit and.. It's—"

"Mentirosos.." ("liars..") He grumbled lowly, but thanks to a pretty good sense of hearing, you were able to catch it.

"Pardon?" "Do you actually believe them?"

Jake's question did falter your figure for a moment, especially since his voice was a little bit more.. commanding. But it did send you back to really put your thought into it. Arthur's file and your personal research on his background did not list any names that may be dear to him, so who were those claiming to be his family? Maybe even friends? "Whoever they are, They're concerned, and I don't have any answers but I know that you know something." Jake chuckled. "So, You're desperate." You glare at him, but at the same time, you can't exactly deny his accusation. The only other reaction was the sequence of words you managed to grumble out. "Spill it, Lockley." The manner in which you spoke was dominant, commanding as you were beginning to be reminded of all the trouble Jake has given you. The cigarette that brightly burned between his rough fingers was left neglected until now, when he opted to drop it on the floor before the heel on his shoe extinguished the leftover flame within it in order to make his way towards you. You stood firm in your stance as he took light strolls towards your frame, with a light tilt of his head. You stand firm in your stance as he lightly strolls towards you, with a slight tilt of his head. "I know you're not just a pretty face, You'll figure it out eventually. Without my help." You were almost face to face now, standing parallel against each other, the eye contact unwavering between the two of you. As always. "I did figure it out. Either you did it, or you were involved; So if I'm asking you anything now, it's because you know what happened." "Why didn't you just take me in again?" "Because I wanted to talk to you. Not to the unbothered, innocent cab driver who I'm apparently tormenting." The corner of his lips couldn't help but curl just a little bit, as he stared down at you for a moment. Jake was quite unsure if you had anything incriminating against him, or whether you were going off pure instinct, but for you to be so stubborn about being right, you got to have been confident about something.

Jake's intense gaze bore into yours, a silent challenge passing between you two. Despite how lightly he seemed to take everything, The air grew thick with tension, and you found yourself fighting the urge to step back. His proximity was disarming, but you refused to let him see any vulnerability in the stance you put out. "And If I don't cooperate?"

"You're dancing on the edge, Lockley. One wrong move, and you'll find yourself in a place you won't enjoy."

You warned, your voice low and laced with a subtle threat in the off chance he did have any malicious thoughts. He was a unpredictable character, despite the many interactions you've had with him. Jake's laughter rumbled, low and deep, sending shivers down your spine.

"I've been on the edge my whole life, Cariño. It's where I operate best."

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, it seemed like the world around you faded away. The charged atmosphere crackled between you two, and neither was willing to back down.

The dimly lit alley provided a secret backdrop to your confrontation. The distant city sounds and the occasional flicker of a neon sign were the only witnesses to what was unfolding. Jake's hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"You're playing with fire being here, detective." he whispered, his lips dangerously close to your ear. The warmth of his breath sent a shiver down your spine.

Your heart raced, and for a split second, you forgot the reason you sought him out in the first place. The lines between rivalry and attraction blurred. The charismatic aura surrounding him was magnetic, and undoubtedly, you were drawn in. But perhaps, You could use this to your advantage.

"Maybe I prefer it that way with you." You retorted, your voice betraying a hint of defiance. You could feel the weight of his gaze, assessing, challenging. With a blink of your eye, you notice how close he is to you, your face nearly touching as his gaze bore into yours. It was hypnotizing, even if you were planning to play him entirely, your knees couldn't help but feel a little weak.

In a charged moment, the air crackling with unspoken tension, Jake closed the remaining distance between you. His lips met yours in a kiss that was both unexpected and electric. Time seemed to stand still as the world around you melted away, leaving only the sensation of his lips against yours.

The rhythm between the two of you was picked up almost immediately; led mainly by him, as he quickly dashed at the opportunity to deepen what already existed. Being amused as well as surprised, you allowed your hands to trail up his back with a smile, grazing along the rough fabric of his trench coat. Your hands didn't stick around there for long though, eventually finding it's way up to entangle itself in his astonishingly soft curls, earning a light moan of satisfaction from him.

With just a light push of your body weight onto his, you maneuvered him over to one of the stone walls that sandwiched the two of you in the alley, barely leaving any space for your lips to be left untouched. Back touching the wall in a firm grip, Jake's hands fell from cupping your face to having a rough hold on your waist, pulling you closer to the warm of his body in a mesmeric embrace.

"I didn't know you wanted me this badly, (L/N). Is this why you had me come in so often?"

"Would you believe me if I said no?" "With the way you're acting right now? Of course not." You engulf him in another bombardment of kisses, which he accepts greedily, like a man who's waited years to do this. If anything, It's almost like he wanted to hold you in such a way the moment he set his eyes on you. On second thoughts, Maybe that's why he's been obediently showing up every time he was summoned back at the room. Sly fuck. You separate for the second time, panting as you gently lay your hand on his chest, soaking in all of his perfect features. Amidst all the chaos of the case, the face you've seen almost once every week had way more to offer than you remembered. Whether that was his hooded eyes that loomed over his chocolate colored eyes, or his lips that glistened perfectly as he licked up the rest of your taste from the corners.

Perhaps you were lost a little too much in awe of his features, still breathless but unsure if everything was from the sudden fire of desire in your heart, or the intense make-out you just had with your suspect. "Harrow brought it upon himself." Jake murmured amidst his gasps to catch some air, giving into his temptation of giving you hints.

"What?"

"He's a cult leader."

Your nose crinkles at the information, brows knitting as you sunk in to the realization. Jake looked away for a moment, a clicking of his tongue could be heard as he cursed himself for just.. giving information to a police officer. Khonshu would probably eat his head for this later.

"So.. That means—"

"—The people bothering ya' at the station are his followers, and they're likely looking for me."

You were right, but you couldn't help but feel.. bad? Is that what that was? No, protectiveness, like you suddenly didn't want to give Jake's name away to the persistent visitors. But what if Jake is lying? He's still a conniving character. Maybe this is just justification for he has done. "They're looking for you.. so.. I was right.." "Felicidades, muñeca." ("Congrats, Doll.") Jake spoke with that same grin, but this time, with a clear admiration for your intelligence. It was hard holding back the same grin every time you accused him back at the interrogation room. "You got me."

To be elated or not, was the conflict that clouded your mind right then. This was it. Jake took the opportunity of your realization to swiftly move from under your grasp, knowing that sticking around would only trouble him more. Once again, He needed to disperse into the shadows of the night like the many times he's been completely caught, to go and only return when the dust had settled. Things were not as easy as that this time. Not when you were involved. "Wait." Before he could completely pull away, You held onto his arm, with a surprising amount of strength. With a slight struggle, Jake could've pushed you off and fled, but he didn't, pausing as he stared at you. You had a look that could only be identified as a mischievous plea, like you completely ignored everything he had just revealed. "Stay. I don't want us to be cut short." The male couldn't properly respond to that before you leaped at him once again, crashing your lips onto his with a more deeper passion. Your previous contacts were slow, yet this kiss bought in a new category of roughness that he could definitely get used to. His hands once again latched onto your body, admiring your sides while the same position was restored for a second time. The kisses from Jake were way more messier, his hands and lips trying to cover all of what it can reach in a restricted amount of time. He was hungry, and that's exactly where you wanted him. As he littered your jawline with sloppy pecks, you huffed in the stimulation as you felt his arms fall down and trace along your body. He was distracted in an effort to grasp at your rear, earning a soft grasp that escaped your lip at the sudden contact, which only bought a smirk of achievement in his features. In honest truth, all of Jake's little mannerisms when in almost full control of your body had butterflies fluttering in the pits of your stomach; heart racing while he maintained his pace in just driving you crazy. Though you promised yourself just a moment ago that you wouldn't falter, that pledge was getting way harder to keep with every passing second of indulging in him. On the other hand, Jake was enamored, savoring every sense of you he can get himself hooked on. Perhaps that was why he didn't notice how your hands brushed over his tight grip, pulling it away from the sides of your stomach or how there was mild jingle of something that echoed through the alley amidst their breathless pants of fervor. Click. Or maybe, He didn't notice how something restrained his hands together. No, that's a stretch. Pulling away from a kiss that he could have for an eternity more, his gaze fell the palm of his hands, sweeping down until it spotted the chained collars that strapped the two of his hands together. It didn't really take him long to recognize what it was. "Jake Lockley, You are hereby arrested for the murder of Arthur Harrow." Your cleverness of leaving him so vulnerable to you was undoubtedly smart, but that was an essence of your charm that Jake simply couldn't get enough of.

[spookyabba]

Kinda feel like slowly sharing my version of like the ghost fancannon i guess you'd call it

I feel like ghouls are summoned by sacrificing a human and inviting a demon from the pit to possess the body. The resulting creature is a ghoul: not quite dead not quite alive, not quite a demon not quite human.

The ghoul takes on the physical appearance of their human sacrifice, and other things like accent, language and earthly knowledge. They may even take the human's name to blend in with humans. But the personality will be that of the demon's, very confusing to those who knew the human that is now a ghoul.

They wear masks as uniform, a sign of status and as a means for the clergy to keep the ghoul's demonic magick in check. They of course don't really take them off. A nameless ghoul showing their face is a big no no.

Ghouls are immortal, but often their bodies deteriorate. It is thought to be because the human body breaks down from the powerful non-human entity possessing it. There is a theory that if the body is a good match for the demon possessing it, the ghoul's body will be stable and the ghoul can exist topside for a very long period of time, but this has only been observed on a few occasions and very rarely in modern times. Look, a satanic cult somewhere in Sweden trying to stay under the radar from cops and stuff doesn't really get get to pick and choose the perfect human sacrifice. They usually settle for those on the edge of society who won't be missed, often leading those people to the cult under the guise of shelter or greater purpose.

Ghouls are elemental. And the clergy will summon for specific elements. There aren't many observable physical differences between the elements, but there are cultural differences. Each element has instruments that are held in high regard and encouraged to learn to show pride and express their faith to satan or whatever. Satan of course, is a fiddle player and a guitarist. Big fan of rock n roll and metal.

I'll talk about the other elements in more detail another time but for now know that multi ghouls are often considered bastards. Its rare for a multi ghoul of more than two elements to have any magick as their elements often cancel eachother out. Sometimes they are called non-elemental ghouls. They tend to be accidentally summoned as one of their elements will be the one that the clergy is trying to summon. It is looked down upon to summon a multi ghoul but thankfully they tend to be a rare summon.

Often during a summoning ritual there will be multiple attempts and it is exhausting for all involved and expensive for the clergy. Unsuitable ghouls: ones that go feral, ones that won't vow loyalty to the clergy, ones that immediately start deteriorating. These are all part of the summoning process and are often swiftly killed wherein their souls return to the pit so that another attempt may be made.

[lilisouless]

What your favorite Six of Crows ship says about you

inspired by this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ns_7ax-i3DE&list=PLZKnRTyUP15ZC04zScew3pmDG8ZaKno_M&index=12 and the other serie s of videos 

Kanej: You crave a romance with the yearning of a period drama but also want to create unstoppable chaos while holding hands

Helnik: Your thing is enemies to lovers as long as it pays off with tons of fluff afterwards (also chapter 40 doesn’t exist)

Wesper: You like ships with the versatility of working in any possible au…And you may have anxiety and/or self steem issues

Hanina: You favorite aesthetic is either royalty core or cottage core

Matthias/Nina/Hanne: you just want Nina to be happy and fuck the fjerdans in all senses

Kuwei/Jesper : you just wanted good things for Kuwei (and really, who wouldn’t?)

Ninej: Your love language is physical touch, sharing sweets and slaying together

Kazper: You have a secret crush on someone in your life or you love buddy cop comedies

Kaz/Nina: You though the books were written by Sarah J Maas

Inej/Jesper: You believe in friends to lovers supremacy , but keep it to yourself to avoid toxic responses that you clearly don’t deserve

Matthias/Kaz : You don’t like enemies to lovers, you like enemies WHILE lovers (or you just wish Wesper went harder with their hostility phase)

Wylan/Kuwei: same as above , but more like a passive aggressive kind of hostility

Nina/Jesper: you have a crush on one or both and since you can’t have them you just make the most bi couple to ever bi

Jesper/Matthias: Probably shipped Bert and Ernie in your childhood before knowing what shipping was

Kaz/Wylan : Your thing is corruption and revenge stories, also hate the Dad!Kaz thing

Inej/ Matthias: You just don’t understand why short people with tall partners will beg to get lifted instead of climbing over them and obliterate them

Wylan/Matthias: You don’t actually ship them, you are just a Kazper shipper who doesn’t want Wylan to be sad

Alinej: Your thing is bodyguard au! (Also totally your choice but you should consider Alina x Tamar)

Zonej: There is a surprising lack of positive desi women representation on YA literature, so you said “alright i’ll do it myself”

Nina/ Nikolai : You are heterosexual 

Nikolai/Kaz: 🎼 two bastards are better than one, is twice the cringe 🎶

Kaz/Anika: You tried to get into Kaz x reader but you didn’t feel y/n had enough personality for your taste

Kaz/Imogen: You want to see more of this girl, you also dig lost love tragedies when the main characters doesn’t end up together

Kaz/Saskia: you don’t exist

Anya x Joost: you wouldn’t survive a single A song of ice and fire book

Aditi x Colm: You are a textbook hopeless romantic

Colm x Marya: you are so lost in the thought of second love chances, that you didn’t thought the implications of wesper becoming step brothers

Marya x Alys: you are so lost on the thought of destroying Jan Van Eck that you didn’t thought the implications that Alys is probably at least twenty years younger

Jan Van Eck x Death:I respect your opinions but i seriously don’t get it,death is clearly too good for him

Inej/Dunyasha: You love enemies to lovers in theory, but in practice you would rather they just stay on the enemies stage

Important: i had the link saved since this was on drafts and didn’t remember it gets you to a hp video themed since is the first one on the reproduction list, i recommend skip the video if you can’t stand anything related to jk rowling

[silenthowls]

⸻ 𝒂 𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒔

The day is December 26th, 2016. In these moments that lead into the interrogation, the rook finds himself at odds with everything and everyone. It is a pivotal moment that will change him more than he will ever know.

When Jin Yohan was young, his father sat him down and gave him a talking to. It wasn't something he did this time, but a lesson given for posterity. "Never talk to the cops", he said. "even if you think it's right to tell the truth." As a child, he never quite understood. After all, his parents would not tell him of any of the potential shady backend dealings and insider trading that his undeveloped mind could not yet comprehend. It was an entirely preventative measure — a lesson.

It is strange how muddled his head gets as he waits his turn. He battles against morals that suddenly want to appear, knowing giving into them would betray everything he fought to be a part of. How annoying, he muses internally, leaning back in the stiff chair. He keeps his arms folded, a guard.

The grief has finally caught up to him and now he can hardly manage to breathe or speak straight. Lack of sleep and food shows clearly on his face. The rings around his eyes are red and inflamed, deep with signs of mourning and regret.

The young man had been holding back the waterworks for the entirety of Hyungseo's missing period, and it only culminates when he is told that he is dead. Just as he feared. He has barely been able to function properly since then. Everyone knows it, too. How could they not after the way he shouted and shed an embarrassing amount of tears in front of everyone?

"All of you! All of you are responsible for what happened!" he howled, his rage only spurred on by a spat between other members shortly before. Something inside of Jin Yohan snapped. The mask of sanity slips and he releases every bit of vitriolic spit they all knew he had in him. He does what he can before he's led away — before he can raise his fists and turn the tragedy into a disaster. "Mark my words," he adds as he's pulled, a sentence ( among other words ) he soon forgets when everything goes dark. "My blood will be on your hands next."

His father reminds him again of what to do the evening before the interrogation, hand firm and unwavering. It had been frequent ever since Yohan's little show at Hyungseo's funeral; despite his mother's shocking pleads to take it easy on him this time. ( And even though he thrashed with all his might, that man always ended up beating him back into submission. It never mattered how good of a fighter Yohan was. He always let him because he deserved it. It is ultimately that bastard of a father that forces leads him to give into the whims of what others want him to do. )

As he shifts in the chair, the wooden joints squeak. He rubs his cheek, then his arm, the space above his heart. Everything hurts.

However, there are some things that must be done. Withholding information isn't necessarily lying, and giving snippets of the truth isn't necessarily ratting the entire club out. Even so, Yohan needed quite the convincing to not spill every secret, every piece of information in great detail. He sits here overwhelmed, exhausted, demoralized. No amount of standing like a zombie before Hyungseo's memorial would bring him back.

The detectives finally file their way into the room one by one, gently shutting the door behind them. It is not the first nor last time Yohan would be questioned in this way. His eyes follow them until they take their place across from him.

"Jin Yohan," the man speaks first, flipping through the file he has on him. He turns the page over and shoots him a smile. It is quite obvious both of them are making their attempts to soothe his nerves. They must have heard about his little series of outbursts. "How are you doing today?"

Yohan glances at the window behind them before making eye contact. He isn't so sure of himself — his mind in ruin. "As fine as I can be," he clears his throat midway to keep his voice from shaking. If only they all could see him now. "I'm tired."

"Did you have a good Christmas, Yohan? Get any nice gifts?" The ice breaking is too obvious now.

"No... Not really." The answer is firm and cold. His eyes avert so he doesn't begin to tremble like a leaf thinking about the night before. This is an interrogation, not a therapy session. "So... what do you want to know? It's about... H-hyu...—"

"Hyungseo. That's correct. We won't keep you too long. Don't worry. It must be hard for you. We only need you to answer a few questions."

[carlyraejepsans]

So I'm about to ask something that might be personal ? And it deals with some personal baggage that you as someone on the internet might not be interested in hearing about ^^' so you might not want to talk about it as is your right obv !! So uh feel free to tell me to fuck off, but, how did you know you weren't cis?

Ya see, I've been questioning my gender for a while now, and I can't really come up with an answer. I'm a lesbian, that's a pretty big part of my identity, I'm not overly feminine but not masc either, when people refer to me as female I feel super uncomfortable, but I ain't too bothered by some of my body parts, ive daydreamed about switching to they/them pronouns online or masculine pronouns in my native language.... But all of that wouldn't fit with what people might expect of me ? And I'm scared if I actually went through those changes people might think I'm performing a form of queerness I shouldn't be privy to. And the worst part about this is, most of my friends are queer, non binary, trans... Wouldn't they think I'm trying to copy them ? Even though ive had those thoughts long before we met ?

Kinda feel like I'm stuck, and I don't know how to be myself, because myself might not align with how i act or how i seem to be on the outside. idk if you feel the same, but it's especially shitty living in a country with a heavily gendered language you can't escape adjectives forever lmaooo

listen to me. i am holding your face in my hands. nothing and i mean nothing you decide in regards to your gender and/or sexuality will ever be anyone's business but your own. the idea that you can "appropriate" someone else's experience with queerness is a gross bastardization of the discussion on CULTURAL appropriation, which is a false analogy and can devolve into gender essentialism fast.

you have no idea how many trans people (gay people too, but especially trans people) locked themselves in the closet because of that same feeling. of "not beeing privy to those experiences", especially for trans women. i promise, as long as you stop at establishing what a certain label means TO YOU and don't try to decide what it means for other people, then you will never hurt anyone. anyone who says otherwise is a cop.

there are trans men out there who lived as cis lesbians for a very long time, and because that was such a big part of their life, they still think of themselves as such, at least in part. for some it's out of kinship. for some it's out of genuine attachment to the word. same thing with gay men who grew on to become trans women. and trans people in general who still carry their younger selves right by their heart. genderqueers who ended up being cis after all, but who still feel like that period of exploration was crucial in shaping their identity. butch and femme alone, while particularly dear as lesbian identities, encompass all genders and sexualities. wanna know something funny? i throw terms around a lot in english, but if you asked me in italian what my gender identity is, i would say "bisexual". because almost every person in my life who's ever called me bisexual actually meant "nonbinary", or "whatever weird thing those transgendereds got going on lately" (some of them probably meant intersex as well, which just for the record i am not. as far as i know, at least). is it an outdated definition? sure. but unlike the literal italian word for nonbinary, bisexual is actually a neutral noun lol. and after all, my experience with gender does inform my sexuality, just as my sexuality informs my experience with gender. it's not wrong, technically. but if someone somehow assumes I'm a lesbian (which happens a lot lol) i don't usually correct them i just... go with it too, y'know?

anyway, what it sounds like to me is that you're obviously going through a period of questioning your gender and or presentation, which you took notice of, but you also feel some kind of peer pressure or societal expectation from other queer people that is denying you a safe, healthy form of self expression in this new period of your life that you obviously wish for yourself. please, try not to pay it too much mind. try out whatever label or description calls to you. change it without notice if you find something better. and if anyone gives you trouble for it, eat them. good luck buddy.

[lazodiac]

ONCE MORE, we delve into the plane of Thunder Junction, in our attempt to figuring out what each plane each card is from.

Last time we finished all the monocolour cards, and you can find all of those here. I'll also been including a villainy score for Oko's gang, to see how much they count as villains... and in retrospect wish I'd done that for all the legends, since this is a VILLAIN set. Call that a project for another day...

For now though, let us enter into the wild, wild world of...

MULTICOLOUR

We open off with a big one- Akul the Unrepentant! The main antagonist of the story, a PERFECT black-hat western villain- he is fierce and evil and SMART but also you can bait him with the right words and at the end of the day he's just a right bastard with a gun. An honestly pitch-perfect villain for a villain set.

The way his scorpion mandibles make a cowboy hat silhouette, his gun-stinger tail and his fire breathing claws, he is a perfect example of what a Scorpion Dragon is and how strongly it fits the aesthetic of the plane.

But we've been told all the Scorpion Dragons are from Gastal, an obscure plane from Urza's Planeswalker novel, so they're from Gastal. I hope we go there one day and learn what that plane is like beyond its very sparse appearance elsewhere.

Annie Flash! Our first member of Oko's gang to rob Akul! She's Atiin so from the Atiin Plane, and is the only Atiin that shows up in story. We learn from her stories that her people are still out there wandering, while some settled in Thunder Junction.

Among them her nephew, who Akul afflicted with tuberculosis with his stinger (it's some kind of dark curse but given how it is described it's absolutely TB, a fitting disease for the time period). He left to join his people, because staying in bed all day half asleep from medicine is worse than suffering while awake.

At any rate, she's retired to protect the town she's ended up in... and is threatened by Oko into helping take down Akul. On the villainy scale she is a fierce 0/10. I wish she'd just shot Oko in the head.

Annie Joins Up is one of a cycle- all of the major members of Oko's gaing gets little pieces like this. They're clearly part of one singular mural but we haven't been shown it and it makes me sad.

Given the context, I'm counting these cards as Thunder Junction original.

A strange, fascinating card, it's a sherrif's sterling silver star, radiating various creature spirits out of it. Given the form of magic at play I'm gonna say this is from Alara, since it resembles the Nacatl totem magic.

Hellspur Mercenaries holding, unfortunately, YOU at knifepoint. Good luck friend cause I'm out of here.

... okay I'll stay long enough to say it again; Hellspurs threw away all ties to their home planes to become dyed in the wool magma mutants. They're from Thunder Junction now. The predominance of glowing purple and dyed hair could imply these individuals are from Kylem, but I'm sticking to my thunder-guns here.

This is the only real indication that the cactus folk are "new" to the plane, despite having lived here for generations as non-sentient cacti. I don't really like this, but whatever. Native to Thunder Junction.

The Sterling Company's shiny leader, in the vampiric flesh. Given his style he's definitely from New Capenna. He doesn't show up in the story at all, but his presence is felt by the colonizing cops that he employs.

Big ol' Bonny Pall is our distaff counterpart to Paul Bunyan, the American lumberjack of old west mythology. She's even got a massive blue ox to help her out!

She's one of the giants from Eldraine, and if I could remember where I saw blue oxen on that plane I'd tell you to confirm it.

Everyone's favorite goblin-monkey, Breeches! A secondary member of Oko's gang, though in truth his loyalties lie with his captain, Vraska. His main goal in the story is blowing things up- as is his want- and showing us that he has more self control than Gisa does.

As far as villainy goes he's a soft 2/10. Nothing he does is inherently evil, the pirates of Ixalan (his home plane) are categorically the nicest faction present there, and ultimately he's only with Oko to help Vraska betray him.

Bruse Tarl! There's absolutely no reason he should be here in the villain set, but also he's a cattle rancher who is a fan favorite on a plane where ox and cattle are well known an aesthetic so of course he's here from Zendikar, having finally found some beasties that listen to him.

Fun fact; the four visible livestock on the card include Pillarfield Ox, Ox of Agonas, Vigor, and Bartered Cow. These cards won't add to the total, but are here and that's cool.

Also fun fact: according to the card crafting stories, this card was originally Strongarm from Lorwyn/Shadowmoor! Neat!

A cactus with a gun! Native to the plane, and my friend.

Gryff's are the wonderfully unique heron-hippogryffs of Innistrad, so this beautiful bird-beast is from there.

Who????? Who are you???? You have human hands but are otherwise completely just a bear man??? The only plane where ANYTHING like this even remotely exists is fucking Blobavia, in the Un-iverse? Who are you??? Why is there no legend article for this fucking set?!?!?

I have no fucking clue where this guy could be from, but the flavor text leans me towards Arcavios. This is some random bear druid man from Quandrix House.

Eriette, the Beguiler! She's one of the secondary members of Oko's gang, despite being ostensibly the first one recruited (or at least the first recruited on screen, by Jace-as-Ashiok). She is of course from Eldraine, and even has beef with Kellan, the newest member of the gang.

Beef that she puts aside! For the mission! Because her evil plan on Eldraine was "I will treat PTSD from the invasion by offering the chance to go to sleep forever, and will coincidentally get to rule the plane" which is like, not even THAT evil? It's misguided and kinda fucked up but not like, EVIL evil? And despite anger at seeing the DIRECT guy responsible for her defeat, she still buries the hatchet. This is like, a 1/10 on the evil scale.

Also there is the slightest, slightest implication she might have poisoned Oko at the end of the story. If she did she gets a "Nahiri did nothing wrong" modifier.

This delightfully cheery grandma is from Zendikar, and is doing what she does best: climbing stuff! She's a new character as far as I can tell so we know nothing about her otherwise, but she's survived the Eldrazi and the Phyrexians and is still smiling so she's okay in my book.

Notably, she does get some fun flavor text on other cards.

The flavor text feels at odds with the vibe of what formring a posse would be- normally this sort of gearing up of the locals would be to fight AGAINST the Sterlings coming in and taking the entire plane, but I digress.

The specific sort of decorations of the town and the people involved feel Atiin to me, but I think I've gotta give this to Thunder Junction proper.

Ghired is a fascinating character to me, because he's shown up before and despite doing so still has no real character and has not contributed to any of the stories he's in. Which is a shame because he's one of the best concepts they've ever come up with, from the best plane they've ever made; he's someone on Ravnica who left one Guild to join another!

This Selesnyan shaman turned to the Gruul Clans after witnessing Illharg, the biggest of the big pigs, rise from the primal earth of the plane! Despite joining the Gruul he still has a Selesnyan connection to wildlife, and on a fully untamed plane like Thunder Junction he is THRIVING. It's so cool! He should do stuff!

It's time for a controversial legendary! It's the Gitrog monster, freshly done being Thalia's steed during the Phyrexian Invasion. He's bullfrogged his way tot Thunder Junction, and now people want to turn this one cult inspiring hypnotoad into just another wild and wacky horse to ride.

I get it. I get why people find this to be a discrediting of the Gitrog from fearsome monster to funny creature, but it honestly works? Innistrad is a plane of horrors, and what happens to horror media when it recurs? It reduces, with each iteration. The best horror film franchises start and end at one, maybe two if you're lucky, and it only takes a complete and total revitalization and reimagining to fix it.

For now, Gitrog is a funny horse, but maybe one day he'll be the monster you remember from your nightmares.

A scam artist and swindler from Innistrad, Old Honest Rutstein is a surprising pull for the plane... and yet works perfectly, as snake-oil salesmen fit the old west aesthetic perfectly. Has many a fun flavor text in the set, and notably is NOT a hellspur. He's just got some fun glowy corn husks to play with.

Was the first card from the set teased as preview art before this story arc began.

The name is a reference to Misinformation Campaign, one of the best cards from Guilds of Ravnica, but mechanically it really is more like Dovin Baan's stupid planning and plotting card.

With that in mind, and given the... strange art, I'm saying this is from Ravnica.

Jem Lightfoote, with an e, is one of the Atiin, as her flavor text implies. This is all we know about her, other than her being delightful and probably fun at parties.

Jolene Jolene, please don't go punching my man into space. This... hilarious card showcases New Capenna's premiere boxing tough knocking a guy directly out of his boots, while her horrifically photo-realistic snorse niss's menacingly behind her.

Fun fact: her magical gauntlets, which she still has and you can tell because you can see them around her fists, lets her literally punch money out of people! Every hit knocks some gold out of them, made from their blood and life.

This is directly referencing a magical item from some actual play DND podcast that I'm blanking on the name of. Maybe The Adventure Zone?

Kambal, once the Consul of Allocation of Ghirapur, in Kaladesh, was ousted from his position following the revolution, replaced with Pia, Chanra's mother. Despite losing all of his actual political power, his underworld connections didn't consume him for failure, and he survived past the Phyrexian Invasion to go on to becoming the corrupt mayor of Prosperity.

The art of him makes it look like he, as the kids these day say, is "serving cunt" and I kinda adore it.

Kellan's join up card. Thunder Junction.

And here is Kellan proper! The erstwhile hero of the "omenpath" saga of magic story, this is the first time since Eldraine that he's actually mattered in any real capacity! Here, he finally manifests the last of his birthright, the fae magics of Oko's plane, but in his heart he's still the little shepherd boy from Eldraine.

Kellan's story honestly concludes so well that I'll forgive the somewhat lackluster middle portion. He's a sweet and innocent and perfect soul. 0/10 villainy score.

Kraum is Ludevic's Opus, his perfect creation, the pinnacle of his mad stitching science. He's like two dudes connected together who can fly through electromagnetic powers. Mad scientists are silly.

I adore that Ludevic cares this much about his apprentice though. Kraum never shows up in story, which is probably for the best, but it's really funny to imagine every scene Geralf is in just has a two headed lightning crackling Frankenstein just, off in the distance watching him.

Jaspar Flint is, apparently, a Hellspur, which I can kinda see from the mutations on his hands and chest, so I suppose he's from Thunder Junction. But also there's no Viashino out there that look like desert lizards, so I do wonder where he's from... my best guess is actually Gastal, for some reason.

Lazav, successfully convincing everyone on Ravnica of his death in defense of the plane, has decided to go solo mode. So much for him and Tezzeret's plane to take over Ravnica- not that that'd ever come to fruit given it's from a book everyone hates.

I really love the art for this card.

Lilah is the leader of the Slickshots, and notably while she doesn't show up in the story proper, the secret to her and her gangs success does; a magical tincture only she can make, that empowers her and her allies with a little extra oomph to their magic.

The best way to identify a Slickshot is through their magic, and thte specific green magic she's launching out of a strange, heart-shaped bottle, suggests to me that she's actually a witch from Eldraine.

The flavor text, plus the make and model of the thunder-gun on our would-be gunfighter's side, suggests this is Atiin to me.

And that's a total of thirty! So lets take a quick break and go to part 2 momentarily!

[shroobles]

All cops are bastards, period.

[grrrrrrrbarkbarkbark]

"ACAB unless theyre a detective" "ACAB unless theyre administration" "ACAB unless theyre a sheriff"

Wrong. ALL. AS IN EVERY. COP IS A BASTARD. I DONT CARE IF UR GRANDFUCKER WAS A REALLY GOOD DETECTIVE AND WAS SO GOOD AT SOLVONG CRIMES. YOU WILLINGLY WORK FOR A SYSTEM MADE FROM SLAVE CATCHING AND RASCISM YOU ARE A BASTARD. PERIOD.

[brown-spider]

Not sure how to say this, but, any thoughts on Peter and Sunny’s relationship? They seem like a really interesting duo, in that both of them seem to have Issues™️, and each has something to learn from the other, but they’re both also too much of a mess to be a role model or understand the other’s actual points. Like, Peter clearly has a good influence on Sunny, by teaching them that they can and should see themself as capable and self-determining, as well as able to make the world a better place. But Pete also seems like kind of a mess with the whole “misery builds character” and “it is my Personal Responsibility to engage in as much self destructive behavior as is necessary to optimally protect others” stuff. At least that’s the vibe I got.

I've actually been thinking a lot about their relationship recently so this ask is nicely timed!

I find it interesting that you got that read on Sunny's Peter about him thinking its his Personality Responsibility to engage in self destructive behavior to protect others. It's not exactly what I had in mind when writing about his "tragedy builds character" mindset but you also aren't wrong 😂

I'd say he struggled more with being self destructive during his first couple of years being Spider-Man, but has since grown out of it and learned that he can't help others if he doesn't help himself first. He's already gone thru many of the Character Arcs, if not technically all of them (based on Miguel's canon schematics) and I think he's what most would call an Excellent Role Model. He's like RIPeter in that way.

But a lot of people who have survived senseless tragedy feel the need to be able to explain/justify it, hence why he chooses to believe it Made Him Stronger. And he thinks it would make Sunny stronger too, because now he not only has his own life experiences as an example, but an entire multiverse of examples. He's never been more sure that the burdens Spider-Man has to bear is an Absolute Truth, but also one worth bearing because he's strong enough to do so, and someone has to do it.

Sunny is completely unaware of canon events, mostly out of their own insistence on remaining ignorant and as far away from The Plot as possible, so this topic doesn't even broach between them. If Sunny knew, they would just be resigned to the canon. Like "I guess this might as well happen..."

If there's anything Peter could learn from Sunny, it's actually about the complexities of crime rates among impoverished and minority populations. Sunny strongly believes that all cops are fucking bastards and no good can be done under the system they were built on, PERIOD. Peter thinks it's just a handful of Bad Apples who are making big impressions.

When Sunny actually comes along with him on patrols, it almost always ends in an argument after Sunny tries to help minor criminals escape from the cops or Spider-Man himself lmao

[actualmermaid]

NEW AND IMPROVED Sergius and Bacchus meme just dropped

Original commentary: "Since today is Memorial Day in the US and we're right on the doorstep of Pride Month, I have some more thoughts about Sergius and Bacchus. This was sharpened through discussion/debate with a friend who isn't sold on the anti-imperial roots of Christianity.

"Early Christian martyrdom was exceptionally rare. Persecutions of Christians were sporadic and interspersed with periods of grudging tolerance. Most Christians, when faced with persecution, recanted their faith or paid others to sacrifice to the Roman gods in their name. The prospect of death by public humiliation and torture is, understandably, enough to get most people to back down without a fight.

"Sergius and Bacchus, as Roman officers, would have been involved in orchestrating and carrying out such acts of state violence. Their official hagiography wasn't written down until about a hundred years after their memories were first preserved by their community, and it is layered with Byzantine imperial propaganda, including the false and heretical charge of 'Jewish deicide.' Their personal conversion narratives have been forgotten entirely.

"With that in mind: pious mythology, propaganda, and censorship cannot truly obscure what it would have meant for these two powerful young men to stand before the Emperor and refuse to sacrifice to his supreme god, to the point of giving up their own lives. On a community level, refusing to sacrifice to approved Roman cults was an organized boycott of Imperial institutions. On Sergius and Bacchus' level, it was a deliberate and calculated act of civil disobedience. It was a declaration of treason against the imperial machine. We don't know why they did this, but I can only interpret it as an act of solidarity with the marginalized people they went to church with. Public executions like theirs served as a form of entertainment for the masses, satisfying the bloodlust of the crowd and quelling dissent. I wonder if Sergius and Bacchus said "we can take this, so our congregation won't have to."

"In any case, we know what happened next. The Empire (with the help of Christian collaborators) co-opted the Christian movement, and Sergius and Bacchus became patrons of the Byzantine army. It would be convenient for the Empire to hold them up as examples of men who "died for Christ" in order to inspire their now-Christian imperial legions, and to sidestep the scandal of "it's actually just the same empire wearing a different hat." It would be convenient to ignore or obscure what it actually meant for someone of rank to reject the power and privilege that would be given to them if they just did one little sacrifice to the Imperial gods.

"It's also SO very interesting how neatly this lines up to corporate/institutional lip service to the celebration of Pride. Brands want gay cops and soldiers and beer cans, not trans women throwing bricks. The Byzantine Empire wanted courageous Christian martyrs, not public to-the-death protests by their brightest young officers.

"This is not to say that their motivations were purely "practical," or that their faith in Christ was a later, propagandistic addition to the story. We all encounter Christ in our own way, through the lenses of our personal experiences. Sergius and Bacchus encountered Christ through the lenses they had as cops: cogs in the machine, tasked with carrying out the cruelest, bloodiest acts of imperial domination. They gave it all up. They let themselves be brought low, understanding that Christ is the first and the last, the alpha and the omega, the king of kings and the "least among you." They died for him, as he died for them, whispering "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

"Fuck cops. All cops are bastards. But the moment that Sergius and Bacchus chose love and self-sacrifice over the demands and promises of the State, they ceased to be cops.

"I was raised in deeply militarized American religious conservatism. I grew up around cops and soldiers, and was taught to venerate "the troops" and "blue lives." "I have come to see this for what it is. As an adult, I know many former soldiers who have left that world, bringing many kinds of trauma home with them and dedicating themselves to the service of the poor and marginalized. They are loved and cared for. Sergius and Bacchus are praying for them, too."

[pretensesoup]

Queer books, day 26/30

Oh boy okay hot off the presses with this one, here we go.

Nick and Andy are newspaper reporters in 1958 New York. The historical writing here is GORGEOUS, I just want to say. There are beatniks, there's Brooklyn, there's uptown. It's a richly imagined place and I feel like I could walk around in it. But okay, Nick and Andy meet at the newspaper and become best friends.

Nick is gay and very invested in hiding that fact from absolutely everyone else--he won't even talk to another gay man who works at the paper. He has good reason to be this way, having once been picked up on "vagrancy" charges (i.e. having gay sex in public) and having to have his older brother (who is a cop) bail him out. Nick doesn't like his older brother and he is deeply, deeply worried that everyone he loves will hate him if they find out he's gay, so he just keeps it quiet and lives this bifurcated life.

Andy, on the other hand, is the son of the paper's owner/publisher who is working as a reporter to gain experience before taking over. He's also a giant pile of abandonment issues and anxiety. He starts the novel ostensibly straight. After his fiancée leaves him (her name is Emily! and she's actually not a terrible person, so I forgive this), he moves in with Nick because he kind of hates being alone. And eventually, between reading the Village Voice and going to Some Like It Hot and Nick making him soup and a lot of self-examination, Andy realizes that he's actually bisexual, and what he really wants is…Nick.

A lot of this novel is about homophobia, surveillance, and coming out. Sometimes, coming out means telling friends about your desires, and sometimes, coming out is coming out to yourself. Admitting that you have been making specific choices that made your life easier, when maybe there were other choices that might make you happier. (Wow, that didn't strike a chord with me and my recent life at all, geez.)

Interestingly, for all the discussion of homophobia (and there is a lot, it's kind of a bummer), almost everything we see is related to self-surveillance. Yes, Nick talks about having been arrested and his fears of losing his job, but he doesn't really experience any negative repercussions during the story from any of the things he's afraid of (there are threats but no follow-through). It's also clear how limiting this anxiety is for him—how even when he is surrounded by Andy, Andy's father (who knows they're together), and his own nephew (who he just came out to), he still feels the need to come up with a work-related excuse to talk to Andy. And, like, that's realistic, but also a little heartbreaking, in among how sweet this book is, that Nick can't see his way through this forest. But he gets slowly better as the book goes along, and it seems like maybe, someday, he's going to get there. And for the time being, we wind up with characters who are both out in specific ways and respect each other's boundaries on that, which is nice.

To parallel this self-surveillance theme, there's also a plot about police surveillance and corruption. Just to remind you that ACAB. Even Nick's brother, who is at least trying to be decent to his son and even to Nick, is still kind of a bastard.

Key quote:

"Do you have a copy of Phaedrus?" he calls out. "Do I have a what?" "Plato's Phaedrus." "Oh yeah. Sure, it's right over by the-- No, I fucking don't have any Plato in my apartment, for fuck's sake, Andrew."

This book has non-explicit open-door sex scenes (really, they're sweet but tame). It also contains period-typical homophobia and reference to child abuse (off page and not explicit). It's also incredibly sweet and hopeful and funny. 10/10, go read it.

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

Exploring Con O'Neill's Filmography Day #?- Murder City S01.EP4- Mr. Right (2004)

Murder City S01.EP4- Mr. Right

Warnings: Depiction of a murder, gunshots/gun violence, stalking, obsession over an adult woman(the fucking victim) from both a police officer and multiple victims, minor of the time period transphobic comments. This is Copoganda. It's not even hiding it.

This is one of Con's one-off performances for a TV show. It's a cop procedural and it runs at just about an hour. Watch his scenes, you don't really need to care about the plot. He's a side character that barely matters once the mystery is all tied together. If you're craving a cop show, just watch the Pie in the Sky episode he's in. You will have a better time.

Due to the weird pacing of this episode and scene changes, unless you've seen it you probably won't get what's going on. I've edited to add context the best I can, but you can skip to the end to see my overall thoughts.

As always, I love chatting in the comments. If you've already seen this, don't be afraid to rant!

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

What the fuck is this intro? Why does it feel like a HGTV show.

Okay, lets play the game of, is Con the victim or the murderer?

HE'S THE CORPSE?

OH SHIT THAT'S NOT CON.

I'm calling it now, three-way. Guy was let in, and shot him.

I'm guessing right now Con killed them, jealous of the guy for getting the girl. Or Con's character was jealous of the woman.

Definitely Man hands holding that gun, is it Con? If so, #6 of Con's character improperly using guns. (Spoilers, supprisingly, I don't think Con's character touches a gun)

CON APPEARS

'Spencer Grieves. A catholic, a family man. A vicious bastard.' HELL YEAH! HANG ON. He's a vicious flower wholesale person, and if you don't buy from him, he fucking attacks you?!??!!? Flower better be code for drugs, or I fucking swear.

God, I love criminal/competent Con characters, he's having so much fun.

They wouldn't need literally every person in her family to come in and identify the body, this just seems cruel.

This whole purity angle for the victim is just gross. She's a fully grown adult, why the fuck are they so shocked she's fucking people.

This is why you don't let yourself be defined by a certain animal. She's stuck with ducks, and I'll forever be stuck with owls. I wonder if owls will be relevant to my murder.

(Going to the all mens prision to interogate a suspect, our female detective goes in basically alone, with the prisoners walking around their residential area) They would have put everyone in lockdown for her to come on. What the fuck?

CON. That hat is fun. From now on, he's Spencer.

WHY THE FUCK IS HE TALKING ABOUT LOVE SO MUCH IN HIS FIRST SCENE? I know for the 20 years post Blood Brothers he was cast in these types of roles. Sad and wrecked people wanting acceptance. Look at any of his work from the 90s/00s. BUT GOD. Someone needs to rip all of these 'I'm a sad, lonely, blank looking for love, etc. ' speeches into a Izzy edit.

HE ALSO HAS SHIPS ON HIS MEMORY BOARD, HELL YEAH

HE'S GAY(OR BI!!!!! Depending on if he loves his wife, yet to be seen. But given she hasn't visited him...eh)!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HE'S FUCKING IN LOVE WITH SCOVI (the male victim)! I love the 'wow I didn't think this guy was gay' subversion always being Con's thing. He inadvertently makes the subversion a typecast for himself. Funny as shit.

Oh wow. A Queer Con character who devoted his life to someone, only for his lover to suddenly make a total life change, and leave him behind for a blonde. Shocker.

Okay. SPENCER IS SO MUCH FUN. He's bringing Cliff(BBC Uncle)/Angel(3 Steps to Heaven) energy here, and I'm kind of loving it.

"And my wife? She wouldn't approve." OHHH. God, he's funny as shit. Awful and morally dubious, but fun as shit.

Why would you have code names to hide the identities of the men you'd want to fuck in a personal diary.

Also, I don't like that the blonde detective seems like he'd want to fuck the dead woman.

Spencer's wife seems fun. The cop calling Spencer 'A small Alpha of a man who protects his family' is rude. I am one inch taller than he is.

Okay, obviously ACAB. Don't trust cops. But if Spencer's work is endangering her children then, yeah, probably best to gtfo.

They're all kinda sexist as shit to the blonde detective lady.

God I hate this blonde guy detective. He's such a confident idiot. In an American show, he would have been shot and learned not to be an idiot like this. Going in somewhere alone with a suspect of a murder case? Dumbass.

Also, if he got any evidence from that conversation how would he even use it in court?

EY Back at the prison. Nice. Smiling Con is the best Con.

Why would Spencer not hide contraband well?

HAHAHA I am routing for Spencer, this plan the cops had was stupid as fuck.

If I was as paranoid as this character likely is, I'd just throw out my phone.

Idiots. He clearly knows you snooped.

The editing in this is a choice.

This love triangle/circle/fucking hexagon feels like high school gossip.

Transphobic joke is not needed, and neither is the sexist comment jackasses.

I am pretty sure this isn't how phones work?

Good for him, knowing not to say shit regardless if he thinks something could be tracked. Also, Bi-con.

NVM, let's just admit guilt and a few other crimes over the phone.

Why are these innocent people just talking to cops? Giving them free information as they stalk you out of your workplace. I hate this blonde jackass.

WHAT THE FUCK. What is this editing? WHY DOES BLONDE DOUCHE WANT TO FUCK THE DEAD CHICK.

Yeah, it's a fucking diary jackass. It's going to be biased as fuck, why are you taking at as gospel. Does he have a Sherlock Holmes thing going on here? Seeing how things 'really' happened.

DON'T THEY NEED A FUCKING WARRANT TO SEE CCTV! "Enhance it" It's a fucking bald guy. You have one bald suspect. Also, enhancing things doesn't work like that.

Well, now you've probably endangered Spencer's entire family.

We are 40 minutes into this, can you fucks not argue about who gets credit for the case.

God I hate cop shows. Stop being smug bastards, someone's been killed.

YEY! Back to the prison!

Also, as a person who has done tours in my local prison (US) for our government class, it's weird to see how this prison is semi-accurate.

WHY ARE YOU GIVING A PEP TALK TO GROSS BLONDE DETECTIVE ABOUT DATING SURROUNDED BY FELONS. Spencer was a violent offender, all the people surrounding him likely have similar sentences. But no, lets openly chat about how his standards are too high? He's a fucking unlikeable worm of a man.

Just let him be single. Jesus Christ.

DID SPENCER GET A GUN TO KILL THE GUY WHO SOLD HIM OUT! (Or used bought loyalty to get the guy killed)If so, badass. And he got away with it cause he had help. Perfect.

How about we just assume anyone who was involved will be killed.

God, Spencer shouldn't be hot...What am I kidding myself, of course he's hot.

Spencer is also cheating on her. If he's catholic enough to care, he already thinks he's going to hell. Both for cheating and fucking men.

Also, cops are paid to lie to you. We as the audience know the cop is just lying, but Spencer should have assumed. How he doesn't know this as an experienced felon is bullshit.

ALSO WHY WASN'T SPENCER TIED DOWN OR HANDCUFFED! I swear to god, does having a violent record mean nothing in England? WHAT DID YOU EXPECT! The cop was riling him up.

Oh, finally someone guilty has a lawyer

That blood looked like paint. Nice red apple. How the fuck is there 20 minutes left.

Yeah, maybe if you think Spencer is guilty wait until he's out. Set something up to watch him after he leaves prison, and wait. Jesus Christ.

Why the fuck does an older blonde woman care about the younger blonde detective's sex life? This is the third scene that's like this. Like, it's sweet that she cares about work-life balance, but being a cop is one of those jobs where that shit goes out the window.

Nope. I hate this. When Sherlock does it, it works cause Sherlock isn't trying to picture sad desperate women looking for love. He treats them with respect. This jackass is just lonely and pictures victims being his friend. Weird as shit.

(He tries to kiss his imaginary ghost victim) WHAT THE FUCK. Is this supposed to be charming?

CON! THANK GOD! Rescue me, please. Look at that summer drip. I think I own that shirt. At least he's being nice about handing the phone over for evidence.

ENHANCING IMAGES DOESN'T WORK LIKE THAT

A shrine? Weird. Also, I know this person is obsessed, but seriously? Who decorates like that.

Eh, that pun was awful.

Yeah, having both men be obsessed with her just points out how gross the detective guy is.

So a gross man thinking he knew what was right for a woman, wow, shocker.

Yeah, bullets go through people. Idiot.

THE DIARY SHOULD HAVE BEEN IN EVIDENCE THE ENTIRE TIME JESUS CHRIST

So what was Spencer whole deal, just gay and knew a guy at the wrong place at the wrong time?

HOT CON ALERT. Shirt half unbuttoned, chest hair exposed, sunglasses on. This is the mental wash I need after remembering how god-awful and scary it can be to date.

Why is he talking to the cop? I thought he hated him.

SHE LEFT WITH THE KIDS OH SHIT. AWWWW. Jackass cop.

Is he going to get shot? Well, now he's left with a dead lover, no wife, and no kids. Likely no place to work. He'll probably go right back into crime.

I DON'T CARE ABOUT THIS BLOND DETECTIVE. Oh, he can see her? It's a ghost thing? Ah well. If this was actually her consciousness, it doesn't make his obsession with her any less creepy.

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

Story: 4/10. Spencer's thing was the only part I enjoyed.

The entire cop crew pissed me off, I didn't like a single character. The victim was guilty of being young and pretty. A bunch of men felt like they were owed her attention, and she gets accidentally killed out of possessive jealousy. So what do the writers do? Make our main protagonist fall for her. Dumb and gross. Even in death, she's just eye candy. Not a person. Her parents knew her as innocent, which is the first thing that interests the detective. Just gross. The other detectives were either just assholes, or uninteresting.

Con: Loved it. Honestly, I love when Con gets to play competent people. He felt lived in, and like what Angel should have been in 3 Steps to Heaven. All of this comes from Con's performance as a cautious criminal, not through the writing. More about his character and the way he holds himself. Gender and confidence envy.

Spencer Grieves: The sarcastic maybe Bisexual Catholic with a history of violence. He wasn't even directly tied into the main murder, he just fucked the wrong guy. Love destroys you, indeed. Again, the mother probably made the best choice getting the kids out of there. But I felt like Spencer genuinely cared, and loved his family. So in all likely hood, after all this good behavior and growth, he's probably going right back to jail.

It kind of feels like the writers threw in his queerness as a 'look at how awful of a parent/spouse he is'. Or maybe in a 'wow, a gay 'immoral' criminal, no one is shocked' copoganda way.

Which isn't great, but of the time period. Spencer is a fun and compelling character that doesn't deserve to be in this copaganda bullshit. Speaking of copaganda.

Bias that almost made me skip scene by scene through this: It's fucking propaganda. We're supposed to be sympathizing with the wisecracking asshole cops. Be happy when they lie, or mislead, or abuse their power. But no. Everything they said made me hate them, and want the criminals to get away with fucking murder. In Pie in the Sky, yeah they were cops, but they were still people. Solving stupid no stakes crimes, the assholes in the show were other cops and we as the audience were supposed to hate them. This show felt like every bad part of CSI, but British. No fault to Con here.

Overall: If anyone has clipped Con's scenes, then that's the best way to watch it. Even without context, Con's performance is fun. The way thay handled the victims part just felt gross. She was never a person, just an item, to everyone in her life. A victim who was taken advantage of by their want to love and be loved. Kind of like Spencer when you think about it, passionate about his family, and how he freaked out about his wife cheating on him. His world fell apart because he loved the male victim and his wife. Now both are left with nothing...No, im not giving the writers that much credit here.

Just rewatch Pie in The Sky. This is weird for me, cause Con plays a confirmed queer character here but it feels more hateful.

B-tier for Con's performance/character. The show around him ties him down sadly, fucking D for the story. I don't know how I'd scale this on a /10 scale. Just know, not high. While his other stuff was fun to watch, as soon as Con was off-screen I was uncomfortable.

As always, love to @ivegotnonameidea for the suggestions ;)

[wozadogtor]

STORY TIME

So, context, i work in boarding kennels, we look after peoples dogs when theyre on holiday/renovating/etc and such. Couple weeks ago i get this call from a very, very European accented woman who wants to board ten (10!) dogs in our kennels and needs it urgently, however this is a holiday period and i genuinely just cant do that. You know? Talk about it with my boss and theyre like. No. However this lady doesnt let up, shes calling us all god damn week until eventually my boss caves and tells me theyre figuring out a quote that will hopefully scare them off because, ten dogs, thats not gonna be cheap.

I tell them in that call ill call back at 12pm to give them a quote.

TEN MINUTES LATER, I get another call, this time from the local council who are trying to confirm im picking the dogs up at 12pm. And im like, fuck, fuck, this is a council job now, we aren't really in a position to be saying no to the council, need to like, suck up to them bigly if we want some upcoming things approved. You know how it is. Minor thing, the council lady insisted i confirm I wont sell the dogs (red flag) which is weird, but sure. So i quickly call my boss and inform them, we agree "fuck it 100/day 10 per dog" which is about break even for us, i call them back with that quote, arrange to pick the dogs up at 12pm. Now, i was just gonna go down in my car, since she had said they're puppies and I'm thinking, "alright her dogs had a litter and she doesn't know what to do about it, should be easy enough". But the evil spider that lives in my brain tips me off that you need help and backup and explicitly you need to bring a woman because you are so big+scary. So, i call my sister whos more than happy to do this for a 20. She brings her bf, and we go get the dogs.

The address they give us is a public beach. Red flag number 4 or something at this point. But we get there and these dogs are in fact puppies. 4 month old puppies. They're all fairly well grown kelpies (sheepdog). I am THANKING my lucky stars i brought backup, because these dogs are just, running around the place unrestrained on the beach. It takes us a good ten to fifteen minutes to wrangle the little bastards into the car and my help is playing wackamole in the back of my station wagon to keep them from jumping into the front and doing puppy things to my gearbox. The owners are living out a van and just, letting the dogs loose i guess. It's a short drive, easy enough, but we get her to sign the forms and that's that. We have the 9 puppies and their mom now. I told them their cutoff is the 28th of october and they agree. NONE of these dogs are vaccinated btw so we have to do isolation protocols on them.

NEXT DAY, she turns up. Wants to walk her dogs. Off leash, on the road. We pretty bluntly tell her no, and she's like. "but you said i could visit" and it's like. Yeah, i did say you could visit, not fucking kill them on a main road. So, while our backs are turned because as i said, holiday period being busy, there was another client there. She just, walks into the kennels, lets them out. Fucking, chaos. I can't have these UNVACCINATED dogs running around getting close and personal with the other clients dogs, so we shuffle her and the dogs into a little side alley we have and tell her to stay put. She can't really get anywhere from there anyway. We deal with our other clients, come back, and since its feeding time we thought we'd get the puppies back into their pens via food bribe. She wants to do it, and insists on feeding other dogs/doing the dishes. And its like. Lady, do you jump over the counter and make your own sandwich at the cafe. What the fuck ARE you DOING. We sort this out, an understanding of sorts, that she can't just do-that. So she turns up the next day and does it again.

At this point, I'm exasperated. I don't WANT to call the cops because fuck that and + also they'd deport her. So i work out that she can come during closing hours and walk her dogs, on the property, in the carpark/driveway, and i'll close the gate to the property so there's no danger. I also point out the dogs cannot go into the nearby grassy paddocks because it is a) lambing season, there's lambs, puppy dogs stupid and will hurt them or get hurt by the angry mother sheep. b) snake season, its been unseasonably warm and they're out there. Not likely, but if you find one you're down at least one dog. And c) Private property, fuck off. So, she turns up twenty minutes before we close and demands to do it there and then. I make her wait, so i go close the gate up front and let her have her dogs to play, give them a few toys/balls etc. Come back from locking the front gate and they're in the paddock. Fuck my entire life. Thankfully I had forseen this and moved the sheep prior (lol) but snakes are still a concern. It's, fine. It's fine. Nothing happens. But now i have to like, legitimately ban her from the premesis. She whines, but understands that she's fucked up.

Anyway, next few days go smooth. She doesn't come by again. Dogs behave quite well when shes not around even. It's going well. A couple of the skinnier dogs even start gaining weight (red flag). I get another call from the council. This one is more uh, serious. It's just the ranger, not the cops, dog cop if you will, so I know this guy and am fine working with him. But apparently the people who own this dog are in some deep DEEP shit. The lady i've been talking to isn't the owner, but a friend of theirs. And apparently, the actual owner has been caught in Melbourne and is in the process of being deported for visa fraud charges. She has been bouncing between two different council areas for the better part of the year by now with alllll the dogs in tow for the latter part of it, to avoid getting caught. But she was so delinquent* in one of these council areas that she got her ass BANISHED from it, and suddenly she dumped the dogs on her friend and fled. And has just been caught. The council is very interested in where they're taking the dogs when she picks them up. We give them the date and time they're picking them up. They'll be there to offer a hand moving them to the property and gently tell them that if they don't surrender them there will be legal concequences. You know, trying not the fuck these people over with a 10k+ fine.

*breaking rental leases by subletting to 5-6 people (plus 10 dogs) in studio apartments zoned for 1-2 people. 10 or so times. Some of them informal charity agreements where she told them they were facing homlessness (more on this later) and needed somewhere to stay and please help etc etc.

Day of pickup comes, we've been doing some private digging ourselves. They've been going around on facebook community groups begging for a place to stay with their ten dogs. Surprising i know. Someones agreed to do it on their suburban lot, which, super illegal to have that many dogs on a property like that. Rangers are aware. So they get here, and aren't going straight to the property, they're going to the vet first. To get microchipped, not vaccinated. The rangers ask the obvious question, why no vax. Quote; "they're healthy dogs they don't need it". Rangers raise an eyebrow at this but go along with it assuming the vet will just vaccinate them anyway given how obvious it is they're being surrendered. They come into our office to pay the bill, happily do so, very thankful we took them in, etc. Pay on one of those platinum cards they only give incredibly rich people. Hello. What the fuck. Why do you have one of THOSE. Turns out, French nationals who have very rich parents and basically have no concept of repsonsibility or concequences. They want to keep the dogs because they think they can sell them to a farm for big bucks. They can't, these are untrained and they have no papers, basically any sheep station will laugh at them if they try.

So, after this, it's officially not our problem. But my boss is nosy and wants to be kept in the loop. We find out from the rangers that the vet visit didn't exactly go as planned. As the vet, believing their story about being nearly homeless and needing help soso bad, tells them quote; "If the council could sieze the dogs they already would have, you're safe". You. Fucking. Moron. So armed with this knowledge they go back to this suburban residential property, the rangers tail them an hour or two later and report them for having ten dogs on a property. Which, duh! Like, you can't do that. We can, but we live on a 4 acre lot. This is a tiny little surfies shack in a residential neighborhood. The owner of the property who very generously helped them out with their situation was the one that copped the 10k fine. The French nationals surrendered the dogs and have since vanished. The dogs have been vaccinated, desexed, etc. And as of writing half have been rehomed. Very in demand, kelpie puppies.

The end. The moral of the story is never work in this industry.

[free-for-all-fics]

Captain Louis Renault Prompt! Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of this and I’d love to read it! In this one, you’re Louis’ illegitimate daughter. With all the women he’s slept with in exchange for exit visas, it’s likely or, at the very least, possible he has a bastard child he doesn’t know about. 👨🏻‍✈️💙

Unbeknownst to your mother, you pack a bag containing visas, tickets, cash, clothes, and other essentials. You hail a taxi to drive you to where you need to go, embarking on a solo journey of self-discovery. After you leave your home, your mother finds the handwritten letter you left for her. In it, you tell her that you love her very much and are very grateful to her. You know she’s only ever wanted to give you your best chance at life. You go on to explain that after being indecisive for so long and putting off important decisions that would change your life, what you really need more than anything else in the world is to figure out what you want to do with your life and who you want to be. You believe the first step in doing so may be to confront your past and find your father. Whether by train, or auto, or foot, or boat, you’re a young girl no older than fifteen when you arrive in Casablanca, which is considered neutral as it’s under the jurisdiction of Vichy, unoccupied France. However, You realize quickly that, despite its neutrality, it’s not the safest place. It’s far from what you were expecting. It’s filled with refugees fleeing from the war who are now targeted by people seeking to exploit them. There’s all sorts of characters here, including many activists, artists, spies, writers, etc.

Leaving for a better place isn't impossible, but involves a prohibitive cost that most refugees can't afford. Refugees are required to obtain hard-won immigration visas, as well as exit and transit visas, which are all issued by different governments. Getting those to line up can be nerve-wracking, since they all expire after a set period of days. That’s how many refugees have ended up stranded for months or sometimes years in Casablanca. They often impoverish themselves further by trying to win the money through illegal gambling or, if you're a young attractive woman, sleeping with the local dirty cop. Organized crime thrives and the gendarmes are openly corrupt, with even Rick Blaine, an American bar owner, having to pay bribes so the police will permit his establishment to remain open. You witness the gendarmes shoot people dead in broad daylight and routinely round up a large number of designated suspects simply for the pretense of efficiency. You’ve thrust yourself from a simple country life into an unfamiliar and hectic world. And all this is before Major Strasser and the Nazis show up and start breathing down everyone's necks.

You’re a well-practiced and talented liar, a trait your mother claims you inherited from your father, whom she seldom speaks about. She’s never even told you his name, no matter how much you’ve asked. You spend many days searching for him, but all you have to go off of is a faded and grainy photograph with no name written on the back, so you make no headway in your search at first. All you’ve inferred from the photograph is that he’s an officer of some sort, but you’ll know him when you see him. Maybe he’s already left Casablanca and is living it up in America somewhere. But if he’s still here, you need to try your best to grab his attention in the hopes he’ll make himself known. If he isn’t, maybe you can grab the attention of someone who knew him or, at the very least, has seen him. But how? Desperate times call for drastic measures.

Two German couriers carrying official documents were murdered on a train from Oran and found dead in the desert, the unoccupied desert. The murderer and possible accomplices are said to be headed for Casablanca, so all suspicious characters are being rounded up and searched for stolen documents. An officer blows his whistle several times. There is pandemonium as native guards begin to round up people. This is the customary roundup of refugees, liberals, and, of course, beautiful young girls for the local corrupt officials. A police car, full of officers, with its siren blaring, screams through the street and stops in the market. Some try to escape but are caught by the police and loaded into a police wagon. At a street corner two policemen stop a white civilian and question him.

“May we see your papers?”

“I don't think I have them on me.”

“In that case, you'll have to come along.”

“Wait. It's possible that I... Yes. Here they are.”

The civilian pats his pockets. He brings out his papers. The second policeman examines them.

“These papers expired three weeks ago. You'll have to come along.”

Suddenly the civilian breaks away and starts to run wildly down the street, pushing people out of the way as he tries to escape. A policeman shouts for the civilian to halt, but he keeps going. He collides into you, and the force of the impact makes you fall to the ground with a harsh thud. Your skin stings something awful from the gravel and concrete of the road. You'll probably end up with bruises or cuts on your hands and knees. But the civilian doesn't stop to help you or make sure you're okay, too frantic and desperate to get away. A shot rings out and the man falls to the ground, dead. His body is laying sprawled out in the street just a few steps away from you. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen a dead body so up close and you’re frozen in shock for a few moments as you stare into his lifeless eyes, blood pooling around him. The policeman frantically searches the body, but only finds Free French literature. The police van pulls up and the rear doors are opened as suspects are herded out of the van. At the entrance of the Palais de Justice, the arrested suspects are led in by the police.

You get up and follow behind the line of people streaming in to try to approach as a witness to the murder, but the police are corrupt and don’t care. People die and are killed in Casablanca everyday, so they’ve become desensitized to it. They’re making out the report now and haven’t quite decided if the man committed suicide or died trying to escape. Maybe they’ll say he was a spy and/or about to kill a prominent figure but the assassination attempt was foiled. Something to add some extra flair to the story and make it more interesting. You don’t even have a chance to ask about your father or show them his photo before you’re dismissed and escorted out of the Palais de Justice. You’re told not to waste their time and it’s clear to you that, as a young girl, you’re seen as nothing more than a child, a nuisance to be swatted away like a fly. You’re invisible to the officers here and none of the local adults have shown interest in helping you, so you think you have to go bigger.

You take it up several notches by trying to rob the market, a cluttered Arab street of bazaars, shops and stalls. All kinds and races of people mill about the merchandise which native dealers have on outdoor display. Both men and women are dressed in tropical clothes. The canopies over the stalls give them some protection from the scorching sun. On the surface the atmosphere is merely languid, but underneath lies the sinister workings of illicit trade. It’s not uncommon for black market dealings to take place here.

But then someone getting chased by gendarmes comes barreling through and knocks over most of the merchant stalls, causing a big commotion as they pull a gun and try to rob the merchants or hold people at gunpoint. After the man is either killed or apprehended, you turn yourself in and try to pin the destruction on you as an accomplice, but the police have a dossier full of intel that the man was a compulsive gambler trying to commit armed theft to pay off his massive debts and he acted alone. Oh, come on! What does a girl have to do to get to jail?

Realizing you’ll need to do what you can to survive after your money dwindles down to practically nothing, you follow the example of the notorious pickpocket you’ve seen slithering about. He’ll keep wealthy tourists distracted with chitchat, always sticking to the same script. It’s always something along the lines of, “Unfortunately, along with these unhappy refugees...the scum of Europe has gravitated to Casablanca. Some of them have been waiting years for a visa. I beg of you, Monsieur, watch yourself. Be on guard. This place is full of vultures. Vultures everywhere. Everywhere!” He’s always ironically warning them about thieves while he robs them blind using sleight of hand tricks as he puts his arms around them, and they’re none the wiser. They don’t wise up to his tricks until after he’s long gone, if ever.

You learn quickly that the heart is often the most vulnerable spot and use this knowledge to your advantage. You use your acting skills and spin classic sob stories about being an orphan after your parents succumbed to a sudden illness and died on the journey to Casablanca and were buried in unmarked graves, your father was Killed in Action and your mother abandoned you at a bus stop, you’re dying from a terminal illness, you’re homeless after running away from an abusive household, etc. You switch up the story all the time to prey on the sympathies of unsuspecting and wealthy tourists. Tourists, especially the ones who don’t speak much English or French, can’t resist as they look at your tear stained cheeks and big, pleading eyes. They take pity on you, often giving you big hugs to comfort you. Unbeknownst to them, you nab their wallets and jewelry with sleight of hand tricks while you pretend to weep into their shoulders. You then disappear into the bustling crowd, always stalls away and long gone by the time clouds of suspicion gather in their minds, leaving them to pat their breast and pants pockets as they realize too late there’s something missing. You’ve taken a few pages out of the pickpocket’s book and he can respect that. It takes a special set of skills when it comes to the art of pickpocketing and not everyone has what it takes. But you’ve mastered the art of misdirection and know how to be smooth, slick, and subtle. Instead of seeing you as competition, maybe you partner up and work together instead.

Until one day you’re so weak and hungry that, in your almost delirious desperation, you slip up and pickpocket the wrong target, not realizing who he is. As you run away, the man orders the gendarmes to pursue and apprehend you. Frightened, you run into the first building you see, Rick's Café Américain. Upon entering, your senses are assaulted and almost overwhelmed as you try to squeeze through the many, many, many customers. The lights are bright and there’s a heavy scent of smoke wafting through the air that nearly makes you cough. A middle-aged black man sits on a stool before a small salmon-colored piano on wheels, playing and singing while accompanied by a small orchestra. All about you there’s the hum of voices, chatter and laughter. The occupants of the room are varied. There are Europeans in their dinner jackets, the women beautifully begowned and bejeweled. There are Moroccans in silk robes. Turks wearing fezzes. Levantines. Naval officers. Members of the Foreign Legion, distinguished by their kepis.

Captain Louis Renault is sitting at a nearby table with Major Heinrich Strasser, Herr Heinz, and Rick Blaine. You’re so quick and slippery due to your small stature that before Abdul, the large and burly man standing guard at the door, can react, you sneak behind a group of people that Rick nodded to and run past. You try to hide and evade the gendarmes by blending in amongst the large crowd of gambling, drinking, and smoking customers. The men at the table are engrossed in conversation while they smoke and drink when, suddenly, they notice a strange shape, short and small in stature, dart out from the corner of their eyes before disappearing in the crowd again. Rick asks aloud how the hell you got in here because you’re very obviously underage. Children aren’t allowed in his place for good reason.

Louis gets up from his seat. As you look behind yourself and don’t watch where you’re running, you collide into him. He grabs your wrists to not only stop you from falling, but to hold you in place so you can’t run again. You stare into his brown eyes in shock, too dazed and zoned out to notice anything happening around you. The world around you disappears. The noise in the casino becomes muffled, as if you’re underwater. All you can focus on is him. You open and close your mouth like a fish out of water, wanting to say something, anything, but words fail you at the moment you need them most. Your thoughts have gone blank and your mouth has gone dry. It’s him. The man from the photograph your mother gave you. Your father. He’s here. Although it didn’t go exactly according to plan, you’re standing face to face and finally meeting in the flesh! The gendarmes approach but Captain Renault stops them with a hand gesture. He tells them to standby for now and that he’ll handle this.

“Where do you think you’re going, young lady? Hm?”

“It’s you! Wait, you’ve got the wrong idea, I-“

“You can explain it to me in my office. Let’s go.”

You protest as you’re manhandled by Captain Renault, the gendarmes following closely behind just in case you break free and try to run again. You’re not sure if they’d dare to shoot a child, but you don’t want to test your luck and find out. You’re escorted out of the saloon and forced into a car. Rick, who had been closely watching the whole thing out of the corner of his eye as he took a puff of his cigarette and poured himself a drink, stands up to apologize to everyone for the disturbance and assures them it’s all over now and they can sit back down and go back to enjoying themselves.

You’re brought to the Palais de Justice. You’ve been here so many times you’ve memorized the interior of the lobby by now, but you’ve never been inside Captain Renault’s office before. You take a few moments to look around, as if you’ll learn about your father and infer more about his character from the way he decorates his office. The gendarmes close the door behind you and your attempts at getting it to open are futile. Looks like you won’t be leaving just yet. Captain Renault tells you as much. That door won’t unlock again until he presses the buzzer on his desk, and he won’t be pressing it until he decides to let you out of this room. He invites you to sit down in one of the chairs in front of his desk while he takes a seat across from you and begins taking notes. You’re not sure what he’s scribbling down in his report, but it can’t be good.

“Pickpocketing a government official and evading arrest. The real crime here is how young they’re starting you guttersnipes now. You sit down there and tell me everything. What do you want, hm? Money? An exit visa? A photograph to commemorate this momentous occasion in what may be a promising start to a petty criminal career?”

“What does the L stand for?”

He pauses, the hand holding his pen hovering and not quite touching the paper. Judging by his facial expression and body language, he’s either unsure he heard you correctly or is still deciding on what to do in response to your very random question. You can’t quite tell which one it is. Will he ignore you and keep writing? Or will he stop and take a moment to humor you? He glances up from the report he’s in the middle of making out before setting it face down on his desk so you can’t read it. He puts down his pen. He blinks several times and looks at you with a furrowed brow, not understanding what you’re asking at first or what you’re referring to. “The what? The L, you said?”

You nod. “When we first came in, I noticed a sign on the door outside of your office that reads: L. Renault, Prefect of Police. That must be you, so what does the L in your name stand for? Laurent? Lucien? Léonard?”

“Louis. My first name is Louis.” He then pauses again and, taking a good look at you now, he remembers that you’re indeed a child who probably didn’t mean any harm and was just doing what you believed you needed to in order to survive. He sighs to himself, “God, you can’t be more than fifteen.” You’re not even worth the time and energy of writing a false report. He’ll set the half-written report about you onto the fire and you can both forget about this whole thing. He pulls some banknotes out of his wallet. It’s not much, but it’s the best he can do as a poor and corrupt official. “Go on, child. Take this and go away. Go home to your parents, if you have any.”

You want to, but it’d feel wrong to take money from your father like this. Which reminds you there’s a much more important matter at hand. You ignore the money and rummage through your bag before you pull out the old picture of him and slide it across his desk. He takes it and stares at it, astonished. He hasn’t seen this photo in many, many years. This was taken around the time of World War I, when he was a much younger man and long before he was appointed as Prefect of Police. Where on earth did you get this? You tell him your mother’s name and that you got it from her, without revealing she’s your mother. You’ll get to that little tidbit shortly. One thing at a time. You need to see if he remembers her first and go from there. He remembers her. He remembers her quite well, in fact. She was one of his favorites, maybe the closest he ever came to truly loving a woman. But why would she give this to you?

“She thought I might want to know what my father looked like.” You tell him your name and that you’re your mother’s daughter. Louis stammers and chokes on his words as he tries to force them out. He blinks a few times and shakes his head as his brain processes what you just said. Daughter? Whose daughter? His? He’s…your father? But- he hasn’t- he- No, this is impossible. Must be a mistake. He hits the buzzer on his desk and the door opens. He’s letting you go. You stare at him in equal parts confusion and disappointment. You knew it’d be a lot for him to take in, but this is incredibly awkward and isn’t going as you’d hoped it would.

“Maybe I… Maybe I shouldn’t have come. I mean I can tell this is a big shock for you. I know I’m shocked too and I’ve known about this since I was two. I mean don’t get me wrong, I mean shocked in a good way, as in I’ve only dreamt about this my whole life.” You then think back on the day’s events that brought you here. “Not that exact entrance, of course. I imagined something a little more graceful. I can see now that it was probably a mistake. I shouldn’t have come.” You grab your bag and take back the photo, but Louis gets up as well and follows you out as you leave. He looks lost, as if he’s still trying to catch up and wrap his head around all this new information that’s coming at him all at once. Sorry, did you just say you’ve known about this your whole life? But your mother didn’t feel he deserved the same consideration? How could she keep something like this from him!?

Seeing no other option, Louis stops you and tells you that you’ll be staying with him for the time being. At least until he can do some more digging on you and get to the bottom of this. He needs to find more evidence that’ll corroborate your story before he jumps to conclusions or makes any hasty decisions. It’s not a request. He’s not asking you. It’s very clearly an order from an officer, and you can’t say no or refuse. He makes up the spare guest room at his apartment, but It’s really not much more than a pull out couch and extra pillows, bedsheets and blankets he grabbed from a random closet. They may smell of smoke, but at least they’re clean. It’s the best he can do on such short notice. He has you watched over by some friendly neighbors next door until he can sort out his affairs and return home from work. Your unexpected arrival means he has much more to do tonight than he’d thought. He tells his neighbors to keep a close eye on you and make sure you stay out of trouble. You’re given food, water, whatever you’ll need.

Ever since your sudden appearance, his fellow gendarmes have been rushing around him with folders and stacks of papers in their arms or on the phone, constantly dialing in the hopes of connecting to someone who’ll have information. They’ve been working tirelessly. trying to find whatever they can on you. This is the most serious Louis or any of his officers have ever taken their jobs. They somehow locate the hospital where you were born and have a copy of your birth certificate sent over. It takes a few days but, when it finally arrives, he reads the words on your birth certificate and can see his name written on the line under “Father” clear as day. According to this, you’re his daughter too.

His aide, Lieutenant Casselle, is still a bit skeptical. “All I’m saying, sir, is that before we let this hypothetical daughter blow your law enforcement career completely out of the water, we might consider doing some more checking up on her.”

Louis pours himself a glass of brandy, not nearly as frantic or stressed as the men around him. He’s still in shock but, as Captain, he needs to keep a cool head in this situation. Or maybe it’s the brandy that’s helped calm his nerves over the past few days and made him numb to what’s been happening around him. “Checking up for what?”

“I don’t know. Criminal record, blood type, tattoos…”

“Casselle, we found her birth certificate with my name on it, she has my photograph and she has my eyes!” Louis considers himself a very perceptive person. The more he watched you, the more he saw bits of himself in you, in your personality and mannerisms. Even before your birth certificate was received for confirmation, his instincts were telling him, even unconsciously, that you were his daughter. The only trouble now is that he has no idea how to care for a child, much less his own. You’ve been staying with him for a while, but he’s still not quite sure what to do with you yet. It probably won’t be a good idea to stay in Casablanca, but where to go? Should he send you back home to your mother? It’d be cruel and petty of him to keep you from her in the same way she’s kept you from him all these years. But you came all this way just to find him and, now that he knows you exist, he doesn’t want to lose you.

“Exclusive! Captain Louis Renault in Love Child Shocker!”

“Actually she’s not strictly a love child. Her mother and I were married.” Casselle and the gendarmes choke on their drinks. “I mean, not technically. It was a Bedouin ceremony in Morocco. We planned to make it official as soon as we got back to France after the war was over, but for some reason her mother decided to… Well, anyway, she left.”

All the other officers have retired for the night. He sits alone in the dark behind his desk, the only light coming from a single desk lamp. Louis needs to call your mother in the privacy of his office. He needs to confront her about keeping this secret from him, but he also wants her advice on what to do. He wants to try to win her back and reconcile with her. You’ve told him that your mother never pursued any romantic relationships and doesn’t have a man in her life, but you believe that she’s happy. You can tell she gets lonely sometimes, but you think she’s pretty content with who she is. He’d like to have a chance of getting her back so that the three of you can be a family, but he knows that’s highly unlikely. Too much time has probably passed. So, at the very least, he’d like to come to an agreement regarding you. He hopes for either joint custody or visitation rights. He wants to be in your life, and you want him to be there too.

“Louis. Is she there? Is she all right?”

“Yeah, she’s here. She’s fine. My neighbors are feeding her ancient baklava as we speak. My dear, how could you not tell me I’d fathered a child? You let her show up at my doorstep fifteen years later, unannounced—“

“And what? Put a dent in your law enforcement career? As I recall, you didn’t take your job all that seriously. Or is it that she’s put a damper on your carefree lifestyle as a bachelor?”

“No, that’s not-“

“If you’re afraid of a scandal, procure her an exit visa and send her back on the next plane to Lisbon as you so easily have done for many beautiful women, I’m sure.” The sharpness in your mother’s tone as she speaks in terse sentences isn’t lost on him, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on the venom that laces her voice. She’s missing the point, and he’s frustrated and exhausted at the same time.

“This isn’t about any scandal, this is about finding out I had a daughter for half my life!” He raises his voice, nearly shouting over the line. He then takes the phone away from his ear for a moment as he closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose. He takes a few deep, calming breaths. He thinks he can hear your mother trying to hold in her tears as she sniffles and breathes shakily. Your sudden decision to leave home and journey solo to Casablanca has been just as hard on her as it has been on him. Your mother misses you a great deal and doesn’t know what to do without you, while he is just getting to know you and doesn’t know what to do with you. He picks up the phone again and takes a deep breath to steady himself. He says your mother’s name questioningly, unsure if she’s still there or if she already hung up.

“I didn’t want her to get hurt.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Ask your superiors and your fellow officers. They’ve gotten you this far, haven’t they?” Your mother hangs up the phone, unwilling to elaborate any further.