#but there's no such thing as law enforcement in crime city

[mhaikkun]

slip on into any disguise, I'll still know you

[coockie8]

do you know anyone who's been reported to the feds for proship junk?

Not personally, no. I, honestly, am not even 100% sure the CSIS (Canadian FBI) is even what would get involved in that situation, since Canada is so weird with their censorship laws to begin with. Like it feels like something the Federal Government would probably leave up to the Provincial Governments to handle.

With that being said, while I can't name exact names so feel free to take this with a grain of salt, I have heard of people in the states getting the feds called on them over proship bullshit. I've also heard of antis getting the feds called on them for going way too far over cartoons (like bomb threats and shit), though.

At the end of the day, I think getting the literal Federal Government involved in fucking shipping wars is absolutely insane, and if you're a person, on either side, proship or antiship, who has or has even considered doing that (not including over active death and terror threats, "shipping war" has been breached at that point), I genuinely believe you might be due for an internet detox, 'cause holy shit.

[bwat5-blog]

"Clearly, Caitlyn Kiramman Should’ve Known Better at 23: A Masterclass in Ignoring Trauma and Believing War Criminals"

**Spoilers for all of Arcane**

Recently I made the mistake of delving into the comments of an otherwise excellent post regarding Caitlyn Kiramman and the aftermath of her time as "dictator", specifically in terms of were there enough consequences? did she do enough to make it right? should more have been done to her? that sort of thing. In the festering cesspool of those comments, I saw a variation of the following statement:

"if we were doing things based on what was fair and just, Caitlyn should have been executed on behalf of the two cities for peace"

It was more crude but you get the point. This person alleged that Caitlyn deserved death for what happened during those few months. Before we move forward lets review what we know about all of this. I have quite recently covered a lot of Caitlyn's arc so I'm not doing a deep dive here. Just enough to address this particular bit of idiocy.

How It Starts:

Like I said we aren't doing a deep dive here, so just for a quick reminder as to where twenty-three year old Caitlyn is mentally at this point(regardless of fault or nuance, just the facts):

Has been almost killed by Jinx three times

Almost killed by Sheriff of Piltover

Abducted naked from her childhood home, forced to dress in Enforcer uniform, bound, gagged, and forced to attend Jinx's tea party where Jinx tries to get Vi to murder Caitlyn

Violently knocked out

Shows Jinx mercy at Vi's request

Jinx kills her mother

Trying to become head of house Kiramman

Undercity attacks the memorial

Survives strike team operations

Brutal fight with Sevika

Vi stops her from shooting again

Very emotional split from Vi after hitting her and leaving her alone

So, with all of that under consideration, a Noxian warlord in her fifties who has commanded troops on various continents across Runeterra, calls her up and says trust me, i have your back, we will get justice for your mother. And Caitlyn folds... Le Gasp?!

Guys I know this is a little more snarky than my usual approach, but this really is just not that complicated. This is not even subtle. We literally see the flash back of Ambessa orchestrating the memorial attack to get us to this point. Caitlyn is an open wound mentally and emotionally, she never stood a chance. Lets take a moment to review some important points here by the way:

Ambessa came to Piltover for Hex-Tech. She doesn't hide this from Mel and is quite clear in her goals.

"If there is a chance hextech can be weaponized, we must have it". Mel responds "Piltover isn't your testing ground... I can't believe you'd start a war just to cover your ass" And Ambessa responds "i would set the world ablaze to protect our family". And the conversation ends with Ambessa ordering her daughter to "let the war unfold".

2. She executes her plan to make Caitlyn her scape-goat in front of:

Councilor Salo

Councilor Shoola

Large group of enforcers

Group of twenty plus people who make up as Ambessa states "every house and family with a modicum of influence"

Not a single, solitary person says a word when Ambessa brings a twenty-three year old grieving young woman with, if we're being generous two months of combat experience though probably less, and says She is in charge now! They let Caitlyn be walked right into the jaws of the wolf herself.

The Great And Terrible Rule Of Caitlyn The Creepy! WHAHAHAHA!:

What she gives her okay on:

Occupation of Zaun

Lawful (under martial law not normal law) arrests of those who cause problems

Yep... there it is folks. There is the great list of terrible crimes against humanity committed by the she-devil of Piltover herself. Checkpoints and arrests. Which by the way I am not justifying. People being arrested subjects them to Ambessa's brutality once they are inside. And as we clearly see Rictus uses the right to arrest to brutalize a Jinxer, and to break up the rally. And Caitlyn absolutely shares some portion of the blame for that. But um.. the way people reacted I was really expecting more public hangings and and labor camps.

**Not really a good place to put this but just fyi, despotic mad-women don't usually have to get up early to please a craftsman guild over supply complaints... just saying..."

"But OP! Sexy Zangief was beating people up and breaking up peaceful rallies!"

Well fortunately we talk about that!

"Was it for my encouragement that your man Rictus was instigating violence?"

How does Ambessa respond? Not with anger, or rage. First with guilt "You don't trust me", then with approval when Caitlyn responds the blade cuts both ways "fearless child, you never shy",

Ambessa is a master manipulator. Caitlyn is and was grieving her mother, and her whirlwind extremely intense romantic relationship with Vi. She had a gargantuan hole in her heart and a woman with decades leading and commanding soldiers and learning strategy slid right in. Recall that in bed with Maddie Caitlyn almost is defending Ambessa, talking about learning so much from her and the lives Ambessa saved with her assistance getting control of Zaun, so they could hunt for Jinx. Caitlyn has legitimately come to care for Ambessa at least on some level. I even believe that on some level Ambessa has come to care for Caitlyn.

2. "Arrests require cause"

When Ambessa is suggesting someone in Zaun knows where Jinx is, this is how Caitlyn responds. Not with orders to start dragging people out into the street. Not executing children in the street or burning down buildings. And when Ambessa tries to justify it "What greater cause is there than returning peace to the city?" Caitlyn responds:

3. "Why is peace always the justification for violence".. (Note Ambessa laying comforting hand on Caitlyn's shoulder during conversation)

Ambessa gives her this speech: "we've lost so many.. the anger, the sorrow.. it's tiring. Gods, I know it's tiring.. But you will never rest knowing that she's out there. Or maybe I underestimated you. Maybe you have the strength I do not.. to forgive.. and trust in tomorrow.. the decision is yours commander.."

"I know you are so tired, I know you are exhausted. I know you want this to be over. But you can't feel safe with her out there. I know you can't. Unless of course you can do what even I can't. Forgive your mothers FUCKING MURDERER. But ya know, up to you"-

If you truly cannot see the insidiousness of how Caitlyn is being twisted and manipulated, I envy you the charmed life you have lead. But be weary my friend, "you're off the edge of the map, here there be monsters." (POC 1)

"But OP! Ambessa was experimenting with Hex-Tech and committing brutal interrogations!"

I will admit the show does not explicitly state that Caitlyn did not know about this. Explicitly. However, given our context clues I feel quite confidant suggesting she did not:

See literally everything she said above

Every time we see them doing this she is not present

It seems like they are in some deep and away part of the prison when they are doing this

In private after the failed hex-tech experiment, Ambessa laments that they didn't secure the scientists before seizing control of Piltover. She is openly discussing that they are the actual ruling power. I seriously doubt she would be doing that anywhere Caitlyn may come knocking.

She Could Have Stopped At Any Time! Maddie Even Say So:

You mean that Maddie? The Noxian spy who keeps an eye on Caitlyn from her fucking bed, taking advantage of Caitlyn's grief and guilt over how things ended with Vi? Caitlyn is reminded she has a choice twice. The first time by the spy in her bed, and the second time by Ambessa herself. Her loyalty is being tested. Not her conscious. Ambessa literally put eyes and ears in her bed, and some of yall wanna argue Caitlyn wasn't being controlled. Ambessa assumed the role of Caitlyn's mother, and had her spy take on the role of Vi. And I will say this. Sure. Caitlyn could have gone to Ambessa and called it all off. No more war, no more martial law, the council is in charge again so no more imprisonment and hex-tech experiments. And maybe.. just maybe Ambessa would have row-row-row your boated her homicidal ass home. I rather doubt it. I suspect that conversation would have ended with Caitlyn getting this treatment:

We have been over this already but for a reminder:

Ambessa came here for hex-tech to fight the blackrose. She instigated the memorial attack for her cause.

"I would set the world ablaze to protect our family"

As we will come to see later, her last living child begs her to stop the bloodshed, even offering to go back with her, and all Ambessa can see is weakness.

Other indicators of how she is doing with everything:

"I never expected this to go on so long.. I thought.. I don't know what I thought.."

"Up again?" Maddie tells us Caitlyn hasn't been sleeping

Forbids the use of the cells Vi was kept in

REWIND BACK TO HELLFIRE:

I recently just did an in-depth doc on the strike team, the use of the grey, and what all of this means in story. So I will keep this brief here. but I do want to discuss it as "SHE WAS GASSING KIDS!" is still being vomited up by every double-digit iq booger eater with a keyboard.

Ambessa orchestrated the memorial attack to force Piltover retaliation

The strike team is an alternative to a full-scale invasion by Piltover.

They are hunting dangerous drug lords, destroying shimmer, and hunting Jinx. All three seem fairly reasonable. The issue is not if they are doing something wrong, it's the reason Caitlyn has them doing it. All you have to do is refer to the handy dandy song lyrics they use as Arcane always does to understand this:

"Can I do the right thing for the wrong reason? Is it bad that I'm making friends with my demons, and Living by a couple deadly sins Just to make sure I finish what you began And I ain't afraid to lose a life or ten If it means that I get to win in the end (woo) So I'ma do this on my own, step into the danger zone Pull the pin and watch it blow" (Hellfire Fever 333)

4. Using a crowd dispersal agent that incapacitates bad guys with no documented fatal effects (see multiple characters exposed who are all alive and seemingly well, those images of the people with health issues were from the unfiltered, unaltered smog the Undercity used to live with)to hunt a target who likes to blow shit up seems fair. Also the fact that it knocks people out means they don't have to kill them.

Caitlyn's Remorse And Attempts To Make Things Right:

Literally starts a war with Ambessa to save Vander

Saves a hurt Vi with Jinx's back exposed to her when she is armed

Takes care of injured Vi in her own bed and postpones any judgement of Jinx until Vi wakes

"I Know!"

"We can't erase our mistakes.. none of us"- Equates herself with Jinx

"No amount of good deed can undo our crimes"- Equates herself with Jinx

"Hating you.. I've hated myself.. I just don't have the energy for it any longer.."

Tender moment showing IMMENSE regret during she and Vi's big scene.

The Cost:

One statement I saw opined that there is a difference between remorse and punishment, and that Caitlyn should have been punished. That giving up her seat and losing an eye hardly qualified. Well! Boy oh boy do I have good news for you. Let's take a gander at the physical "not punishment" she acquires willingly leading from the front lines against Ambessa:

Cracked in the head with rifle stock, twice: Skull fractures anyone? how about a lovely concussion?

Stabbed in the stomach: Internal bleeding, bile leaks, intestinal obstruction due to scar tissue adhesions, bowel perforation, the list goes on.

Kicked in the midsection while still stabbed: potential to drive knife deeper lacerating organs and such, just massive pain, potential catastrophic bleeding if a blood vessel was hit, potential rupturing of stomach, kidneys or liver releasing harmful fluids into abdominal cavity, potential for long term chronic pain or permanent organ damage

Leg sweep by Ambessa driving Caitlyn's head into the ground: potential tbi, brain hemorrhage, or further skull fracture, potential vertebral fractures, potential long term cognitive impairment or loss of motor control if spine is damaged

Kicked again: We covered this. Knife is still there.

Ankle pinned/Leg kick/backhand: All sorts of fun things happening to ligaments and tendons. Potential permanent disability. Potential concussion and bruising as well as a whole host of lacerations.

Headbutt with War mask on: Concussion, skull fracture, brain bleed

KICKED OFF OF HER FEET

Pulls knife out of her own body: Potential fatal bleeding, massive pain, possible peritonitis and respiratory distress depending on what all was damaged during the fight with the knife still in her body.

Sacrifices her own eye

Now lets take a quick look at some reasonable assertions for the mental "not punishment" she will likely suffer from after all of this:

Massive potential for PTSD just from the wounds alone

Losing an eye impacts her shooting which is a huge part of who she is and a link to her mother

A woman she shared a bed with levelled a rifle at her neck and pulled the trigger. Caitlyn thought she was going to die.. that doesn't just go away..

look at her face...

She is twenty four people....

4. Guilt over death toll of war

5. Guilt over Vi's possible death from downward spiral

6. Guilt over Vi's possible death from explosion in commune all born from Noxian;s arriving there

7. Guilt over everything done to the Undercity

8. Guilt over perversion of her families ventilation system

9. The fact that from season 1 Act 2 til now, she only ages a year and probably not even a whole one. Refer to my list in the beginning. She has not a single fucking second to breathe or heal from any of that shit

RESTITUTION:

So aside from willingly leading the battle that most of the undercity walked away from until Jinx shows up and almost dying for it, how does Caitlyn start to make things right you may ask? (because it is a start, for those who don't get that. This is the beginning of a story not an end). For the first time in what we understand to be the history of the twin cities, Zaun has a seat at the table. People are REALLLLYYYYY underselling this. I guess because they wanted a whole political treaty signed and to watch Caitlyn get shame-nunned through the street or something. IDK. But what I do know, is that Caitlyn gave away the ancestral seat of house Kiramman, and all the power and authority that came with it, and it now belongs to someone from the undercity. An equal voice. And it's just the beginning. It's not perfect. It's not all wrapped up in a big shiny bow, it feels real. Change isn't instant. It never has been and it never will be, and if you need that to feel fulfilled I understand, but this show was never going to be that for you.

Caitlyn Should Be Executed?:

So back to the original statement. Caitlyn should be executed in the name of peace between the cities. Well, I'll say this. if you see a 24 year old woman who inside of a year had her entire reality imploded, fell prey to the manipulations of a violent war monger close to 30 years her senior if not more, yet found her way back to herself and shed her own blood as a war hero TO SAVE HUMANITY, and your answer is she should be executed. Sure! So long as you admit you have the humanity of a toaster oven you fucking idiot.

To those of you who have continued to read, and share your thoughts, and been open to kind debate and discourse in good faith. You all mean the world to me. As I have said many times, opening myself up to this community has really happed my "real" life in a lot of ways and I love getting on here to appreciate and celebrate this story with all of you. That being said, this particular issue is so god damn irritating to me I am done being nice about it. Have a wonderful day!

[baejax-the-great]

One of the things missing in Veilguard is any sort of meaningful power struggle. By keeping to the poorer parts of the city-settings, we don't really deal with corrupt or powerful nobles. By defanging the Crows, an organization who famously has lethal squabbles between factions, they turned them into some weird, benevolent family organization. Even the assassin trying to make "evil" power plays doesn't actually manage to kill any of his targets, and his ruthless relatives? Also don't kill him in revenge. In the end, the status quo is maintained. Nothing has changed.

In Tevinter, we have the Threads, an organized crime unit who we know runs "protection" rackets on the locals and is involved in some kind of smuggling (it's Tevinter--so presumably this would involve slavery and dangerous artifacts, but it's Veilguard, so I guess not). Instead of them beefing with the Shadow Dragons, who presumably ruin some of their deals with their pesky "freeing the slaves" thing, and instead of their main issue being with any sort of law enforcement, something which doesn't exist in Veilguard beyond one singular templar who does all of jack shit the entire game, their main power struggle is with the Venatori, who are evil just to be evil.

And instead of the Veilguard siding with law enforcement or the threads and enlisting their help to, idk, unseat the corrupt head of the templars or otherwise deal with the venatori shit, the threads are highly favored by the storyline, and in the end the only real choice is to make Neve a thread or to make her... idk, the same Neve? The game calls her an "inspiration", but it's not like she's part of any organization, so we can't call her a figurehead. It's just like, see that random citizen right there? She rules. And I don't really see how that increases the power of the rule of law, because even if one good person is working within rule of law to get things done, she's not part of the system, and everyone already know the system is corrupt in Minrathous. Random citizens in fucking Ferelden know the system is corrupt in Minrathous, or they would if they weren't all dead. Neve is now just playing on hard mode to appear righteous, which, good for her, but I'm sorry, won't inspire all that many people who are still paying "protection" money to the local mafia.

(Putting Neve in charge of the Threads is an absolutely whackadoodle decision by the devs that I don't even know how to respond to. She has a single Thread contact. Presumably the Threads have a hierarchy. She has never demonstrated interest in being a smuggler. Being a detective really has no overlap with being a crime boss. Telling a group of criminals that they are all detective's helpers now is sure to go over like a lead balloon. What the fuck was that. Why did that happen.)

Maevaris and Dorian arguing came out of nowhere and lasted a fairly long time, which was interesting, but after the most recent election in the states, Maevaris's position sounds unbearably naive and trite, and this hardly counts as a power struggle as they both say they will support the other depending on what some random outsider thinks should happen. (That is soooo not a basis for a system of government. Why would Maevaris OR Dorian cede their power to Rook, someone they don't know and who doesn't matter)

The power struggle within the Wardens is also very stupid and easily solved. The First Warden is a moron. He dies (kind of). For some reason the extremely hot and competent couple who we first encounter in the middle of nowhere are next in command, so, phew. Problem solved there. A question of what the Wardens will do now that the Blights are over would have been interesting. Do they keep recruiting lest the Blight somehow reoccur and nobody remembers the Warden secrets? Or do they disband? Do they set themselves to seeking a cure and nothing else?

The closest you get to that is deciding what the griffons will do, which, again, why the fuck is Rook deciding that, but also there are 13 of them, in two or three more generations they will be dead unless a lot of mages bone up on genetics real fast.

Who is left? We have Rivain, which is just pointless in this game. I played as a Lord of Fortune, but you could drop that faction and not a single thing changes in the game. Pirates who don't loot valuable artifacts because they are elvhen? Give me a fucking break.

Same for the Mourn Watch. There is pretty much nothing going on in that region. You could excise it from the game and nothing changes in the slightest. There is not a single excuse for them not using the Eluvians to help the Veilguard earlier in the game, given just how little they have going on.

The Veiljumpers are just missed opportunities all over the place. They could have had factions debating whether to join the god of vengeance in fucking up the human civilizations as payback for, you know, everything. They could have had people joining Cyrion in thinking that a Forgotten One might be the best way to face down the gods, given they'd done it before. There could have been a HUGE cultural impact on "what do we do now that we know our gods are evil fuckfaces--what do we keep and what do we throw away," but Veilguard ain't that deep. They could have had knowledge of a super-weapon or some elvhen bullshit that would help the Veilguard fight the gods... but nah.

In DAO, your decisions not only affected the political futures of the various regions, but they decided who would help you and how. Did the dwarves have golems? Did you have templars or mages? That whole wolf thing with the Dalish that I no longer remember that well? And the Dalish deciding to help changed how they were viewed in Ferelden. The mages helping you meant the monarch would treat them favorably. It fucking mattered.

In Veilguard, the only situation remotely close to that is the dragon decision at the beginning, which was one of the fucking dumbest plot points in a video game I have ever played. It was the first thing that made me set my controller down and go... what? What the fuck? The idea that Rook, a nobody, is the only person singularly capable of driving back a dragon in the entire north is laughable. What the fuck was Dorian up to that day? How is Rook more capable than every single Crow? How is it the two companions you sent to the other city were absolutely useless? If Lucanis/Neve + two companions were unable to drive a dragon away, what makes them think Rook would be the deciding factor? What makes them blame Rook when they themselves couldn't fucking do it? Neve in particular was a big part of fucking up that ritual and releasing the gods, so why is Rook taking all the fire for this?

AND WHY IS THEIR RESPONSE TO A BLIGHT TO FIND A SINGLE DRAGON HUNTER? HEY DIPSHITS, THE DRAGON IS HUNTING YOU. YOU DON'T NEED TO WORRY ABOUT THAT PART. YOU NEED AN ARMY.

But Treviso or Minrathous being spared doesn't change the global political situation at all. It would have been really interesting if it did. Tevinter hobbled? How many kingdoms would be salivating to take a bite out of their territory? With the trade princes of Antiva being absolutely fucked over by the Blight, who is taking over that trade? Who is getting rich?

Nobody, I guess, because why would Rook know or care about that, because, as previously mentioned, they are a nobody who doesn't matter and honestly shouldn't be listened to.

The stakes in this game are nothing because the bad guys are all so obviously bad that you know, as a video game player, that you are going to defeat them. Oh, the Antaam are just mindless, faceless brutes fucking up Treviso? Okay, let's kill them. Venatori again? I'm pretty sure they aren't the heroes of this game. There's no power struggle, and in the end all we've done is revert to the status quo, (except i guess Treviso is no longer occupied).

Except for the south. The south is dead. but we didn't have anything to do with that for some reason. Couldn't even be bothered to house some refugees in our safehouse that was built specifically to house refugees. The Inquisitor, who has access to the eluvians, couldn't figure out how to get other people through them or something so... sorry, every single Orlesian, Fereldan, and Marcher.

[fumifooms]

People have speculated a lot about Chilchuck’s nightmare, my own reading’s changed a lot about it over time too. Anyone is afraid losing the people they love, but what does this say about this character’s specific fears, experiences and priorities? What’s implied to have went down exactly, here?

My own take about Chil’s nightmare is that at the center of it, what it represents is the fear that Chilchuck couldn’t protect them.

A big part of Chil’s character is his worrying for others, mainly for their safety, and taking responsibility for keeping them safe. He puts the weight on himself to make sure things go right and if they don’t he’ll worry about if he could have done anything differently. It’s also part of why he has this defense mechanism of giving up on interpersonal matters easily, because while it’s his duty to make sure his coworkers and daughters are safe for example, he thinks that when it comes to relationships and others that things are out of his hands and no matter what he says people won’t care. So he has to lie and trick his party members to go back to the surface, because surely they wouldn’t listen to his opinion or request to go back. So he’ll play chaperone to make sure no one says something incriminating. So all day he has to keep himself on his toes to hear and see the traps hidden away, has to keep himself starved to make sure he won’t trigger said traps, has the party’s lives on his shoulders and one moment of distraction could be the end.

This safety he worries about is both physical, fights and traps, and legal & socio-economical: laws, reputation and financial & job stability.

Here Chilchuck has blood on him, he seems to be looking at his hands. The corpses of his daughters are huddled laying around him but he’s not touching them. This has a sense of purposeful framing, they’re laying at his feet pointing up to him bloody and he has bloody hands, which is why people including myself have speculated that his nightmare could be about him murdering his family. Whatever happened, he blames himself, it’s his fault, is what the composition seems to evoke. But the intent of that sentiment shifts as effortlessly and easily as going from "he’s horrified at what he did" to "he’s horrified at what he didn’t do".

The axe in the wall, which some argue would be too heavy for a half-foot, then hints at something more like home invasion. Home invasion is a valid fear a lot of ethnic minorities and lower class people have had to face, wether it be because of overpolicing and law enforcement forces being dangerous and fickle, being the target of hate crimes or the general unfortunate environment and circumstances making their place of residence an unsafe spot. We don’t know why Chilchuck moved from his hometown to Kahka Brud, one of the bigger cities with half-foot populations reputed for its booming economy and job opportunities, but moving from a small town to a big city has its own pros and cons on that end as well. Chilchuck of course is very aware of the discrimination half-foots face, not only being dismissed and infantilized but also seen as expandable, as bait, little lives of little importance, and he’s deep into activism for half-foots especially with the union he leads. He strivess to protect his peers as well. He’s been scared for his life before, hiding and fleeing from humans, his party at the time. He’s had to hide and fear and flee humans before. The theory that he’s scared of specifically home invasion as a hate crime is very founded, on top of Chil being very worried about getting into trouble with the law in general and also again being implied to be/have lived in empoverished areas, just the whole bingo card of potential trauma to go off of.

He has blood splattered on his hands and cheek. Was he there when the rampage happened? Was he effortlessly pushed aside as his family was slaughtered, or did he stand aside frozen, unable to do anything in either scenario? If there’s another way to have gotten those blood splatters, it can also play on him being absent from his home. Maybe not unlike his wife, the fear of returning home to see things have been taken from you without even knowing or being able to do a thing. The fear of coming home and the place having been ransacked and everyone in it killed. Home, your haven, destroyed, your family, killed. It cannot be fixed, which in itself can be a nod to his tendency to be pessimistic and to think hoping for better is useless, like with being able to reach out and reconcile with his wife.

"The nightmares that the clam monsters give people tend to be specific, and based on deeply rooted emotional wounds, so I think it’s possible that Chilchuck isn’t just afraid of his home being attacked randomly, he is afraid of his daughters being targeted for their race and their gender specifically, perhaps because that is something that happens commonly to half-foots in the Dungeon Meshi world, and something Chilchuck feels powerless to protect them from." — @Room-Surprise , essay (source, go read it) It’s definitely in line with the lore. This whole thing reinforces how for example trusting his party with his daughter’s life, telling them to hire Meijack if he were to die, was a huge deal and testament of trust for Chilchuck.

So yes in my interpretation home invasion is especially relevant, but I still think the protection aspect is at the core of the scenario’s horror otherwise too, not having protected his family from himself if he was the one to kill them (which could be stretched to include the notion that his family’s closeness crumbled because of his attitude, or a manifestation of his low view of himself, maybe worried about his own alcoholism and anger issues) or having prevented whatever tragedy happened. The aftermath is what Kui chose to show after all, whatever happened the end result is the same and that’s what was deemed important. In the end it’s up to interpretation, whatever the intent was, but yes there’s much to be dug at here. It’s a bit like a chimera of all his biggest worries, fears and insecurities, all wrapped into one vision. If you want more discussion about it, there’s tons in the engagement of this post.

[artyandink]

‘34 château margaux

SUMMARY: Spencer never knew to feel about you. Actually, he did. You were a career criminal, but also a liaison for the FBI, which prevented your arrest. You’re cunning, manipulative, persuasive and oh, so seductive. Spencer was warned against you, and he knew it. But even a genius profiler with an eidetic memory couldn’t resist you. Even a genius profiler with an eidetic memory can’t help but lose control around a woman like you.

TW: mentions of smoking, wine, seduction, badass reader, s7 Dr Spencer Reid, mentions of organised crime, mobs and mafia, Spencer’s weak for reader the poor baby, Hotch slander, smut

STW: Spence doesn’t stop the reader from kissing him, marking, oral (f. receiving), brief handjob, praise kink if you squint, dirty talk but Spencer style, degradation I think, wine play (I think), temperature play as subtext, ass slapping, profiling during sex, threat of exhibitionism, light choking, switch!Spencer, switch!reader, pussydrunk!Spencer, slight overstimulation, fingering

SONG INSPO: Greedy by Ariana Grande, Acapulco by Jason Derulo, I Did Something Bad by Taylor Swift and Make you Mine by Madison Beer

Femme fatales had a specific profile.

The "femme fatale" is typically depicted as a highly attractive and enigmatic woman in her late twenties to early forties, often characterized by a seductive allure that masks her manipulative and dangerous nature. Her primary weapon is her ability to ensnare men through charm, beauty, and sexual allure, ultimately leading them to their downfall.

While her motivations vary, she is often driven by power, revenge, or hidden trauma. Early literary examples include the biblical figure of Delilah, who betrays Samson, and Salome, who demands the head of John the Baptist. In classical mythology, Circe and the Sirens use their allure to seduce and destroy men.

The femme fatale's archetype is also evident in later works like Shakespeare's Lady Macbeth, who manipulates her husband to commit regicide. This profile of a femme fatale highlights her as a complex figure whose allure conceals a more sinister intent.

That was your profile.

Hotch had warned Spencer not to get too close to you, because you knew how to use your everything, and you had a sweet spot for the latter. Not because Spencer really was a likeable son of a bitch, but because you found him more fun than the other agents.

You were a pretty face, sure, but you were also a genius. A Dr Spencer Reid level genius, but you were the side of the spectrum that dissolved into a life of high crime and corruption.

Instead of becoming a federal agent - or law enforcement - you were the trusted advisor to a lot of the mafia and mob population, and even that was enough to put you away on charges of incitement/inchoate crime. But you were useful, extremely useful, so you also then became the liaison for the FBI whenever the mafia or mob circles became involved in an investigation.

This time, you were, as the unsub of a case in Las Vegas, Nevada seemed to be purchasing drugs like M99, ketamine and small doses of chloroform, mixed with LSD. It was a powerful mix and the dose was enough to cause immediate system failure and then death. The drugs were being purchased from casinos which were rumoured to be the cover of Vegas’ mob circles.

Your hotel room was the kind of thing Spencer only hoped to see in movies, with warm lighting, patterned red wallpaper, mahogany flooring with underfloor heating, glass and gold tables, mahogany dressers and a huge king-size four poster with curtains the same colour as the walls. There was a liquor cabinet as well as a fancy looking cooler, and it was nothing like Spencer had been used to seeing as he grew up in this very city.

It didn’t feel like his territory anymore. He wasn’t as comfortable as he usually was around these parts. He took the couple steps in, having closed the door behind him, now standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Maybe you weren’t in. Phew.

“Dr Reid.” Came the voice that made Spencer feel like he was on fire, a perfectly manicured hand brushing over his shoulder as you walked up from behind him, having come from the bathroom that was no doubt as fancy as the bedroom itself. After all, this was the penthouse.

You lived it big as a career criminal.

You stepped out from behind him, lips that he’d unintentionally imagined on his body stretched into a smirk as you picked up a quarter-full wine glass from the table and took a sip. You were killing him, wearing a black silk robe with just the right hint of lace, which stopped at your mid thigh and had a neckline that had his eyes dropping briefly before he schooled them and gave himself a very firm lecture inside his head.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Again, that voice, the cadence of it, Spencer couldn’t understand how something as simple as a damn voice could have him so unbelievably weak for you.

Spencer raised his hand in greeting with his bravest attempt at a smile, like he usually did.

“It’s a case.” He dug in his messenger bag, handing you some photos of some bodies. “Someone’s targeting bank workers around Vegas. It’s a ‘drug smoothie’ of M99, ketamine and small doses of chloroform, mixed with LSD. Morgan dubbed it that. Actually, smoothies are meant to boost the health of the drinker and contain nutrients from a liquid base such as yogurt or milk puréed with fruit, vegetables or items in a mixer, so I don’t see how this particular drug mix is a smoothie— a milkshake perhaps, as it hasn’t got as much nutritional value beside providing substantial energy through the intake of sugar and carbohydrates.”

He paused, seeing the soft, amused smile on your face, the light of the room casting a perfect shadow on the curve of your cheek. It felt like you were ethereal. “Did I say too much?” Spencer said meekly, rubbing his jaw.

“Not at all, Dr Reid, I completely agree. You can tell your friend Morgan to change it and you have my wholehearted support.” You gave him a nod, your head tilted and eyes looking big with the way you were looking at him. “You have no clue just how much your knowledge turns a girl on, baby, no clue at all.”

Spencer cleared his throat, realising that he was veering off topic and also almost salivating at the sound of you calling him baby. Having to lecture his eyes once again for looking at your legs that seemed to go on for days and seemed to also be calling for him to grab, knead and grip. “We need to stay on topic. Hotch needs the information about the case, and you need to give it.”

Spencer couldn’t help but always let his mind drop into the gutter at the sight of you. It was a Pavlovian response at this point— pure, unbridled instinct.

He couldn’t help but notice that with the way the robe draped on your body, you had nothing on underneath. That kind of assumed information had Spencer reeling.

You waved a perfectly manicured hand with scarlet nails, dismissing the idea of maintaining professionalism. “Hotch needs this, Hotch needs that. No offence to him, but he’s got a lock on you, Dr Reid. Enjoy for a night, let your hair down.”

“Well, t-the phrase ‘let your hair down’ originally was meant literally back in 1850, which was its first recorded usage but it has its roots in the 17th century. It was taken literally because women wore their hair pinned up in public, but the meaning of the phrase was to ‘get familiar’.”

Oh.

“Sorry, I can’t.” Spencer added hurriedly, searching for a notebook and pen in his bag. Licking his lips subtly at the sight of your v-neck and the way your hair framed your face. The curve of that pretty neck he wanted to kiss and lavish so it made those pretty lips fall open—

Jesus, keep it together.

“Anyway, do you want some wine?” You asked, tapping the bottle. “‘34 Château Margaux. This hotel really does have good taste.”

“I don’t drink on the job.” Spencer answered coolly. “And definitely not with criminals.” He would had Hotch not warned him— bad Spencer.”

You pouted, feigning upset. “That just breaks my heart. Putting my job against me? I’m only the advisor to some very powerful forty-and-above men who want some sexual gratification and overall ego boosts and also carry some lovely baggage with mommy issues written all over it. They want a pretty face to spill their secrets to, I give them that and get some cash in return.”

You saw the look on his face. “I’m not apologising for being a career woman.”

“Yet you liaise with the FBI about all that these forty-or-older sexually frustrated men tell you.” He countered quickly, firmly looking you in the eye. Not down at your lips, not at your tits, nor your thighs.

Spencer shook his head in exasperation, even though a shiver ran down his spine at how you advanced towards him, undoing his tie with a practiced hand. “What- ma’am, you can’t do that—”

“Ma’am?” You laughed, getting the maroon tie off and dropping it to the floor, unbuttoning his collar deftly. “Jesus, sweetie, that makes me feel old. Call me by my name, don’t be shy.”

Your name slipped off his tongue in barely a whisper, and became his only known prayer when he felt the warmth of your hands through his shirt, sliding up and up until the searing heat ran over his neck, resting in his hair and trailing down his arm, your nose brushing his before slotting in place.

Oh, God, he thought as you took his hand in your own soft one and guided it to press against your thigh, the fingertips of his index, middle and ring finger feeling silk while his palm, thumb and fifth finger felt smooth, creamy skin.

Oh, fuck, he thought as your lips got close enough to his to be a teasing venture into the cracks in his walls and defences that he’d flimsily put up against you.

“I’ll give you the information you need.” You said softly, in a way that had Spencer’s breath hitching. He should have looked away. He should’ve removed his hand from your thigh, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He was stuck like that, entranced by you. “You just need to let loose for me. For one night, I’m all yours. Drop that professionalism, Dr Reid. Let yourself go.”

“You’re a career criminal.” Spencer murmured, his hand beginning to rub your thigh, gripping slightly at the end of the downward stroke. Bad hand.

“Semantics.” You smirked, biting your lip— oh, hell, that did nothing for his self control. It made him want to kiss those lips until they bruised or swelled, until they numbed. His hand on your thigh made his tongue long to devour your pussy. The way you were looking him made him feel like he was merely a puppet on strings. “Come on, Dr Reid. Don’t deny yourself a good time, hm?”

Spencer would’ve answered, but then your lips pressed against his, and suddenly, he had clarity. That this was wrong, so very wrong. But it felt so damn good. His hand now kneading your thigh was wrong but felt electric.

He pulled back, but his mouth didn’t need to do the chasing that they ached to do. You did it for him, silencing any bubbling protest. You kissed him for the sake of coaxing him to give in, to just kiss and touch until his lips and conscience went deliciously numb.

“We can’t-” He felt your lips against his, a hum replacing his words, unknowingly stepping back towards the bed. Or maybe he knew. “We - mm - Hotch will - mhm—”

“Baby, what Aaron Hotchner doesn’t know what hurt him.” You murmured, pushing him back onto the bed. Spencer fell back without a protest, taking you in, especially as you straddled his lean form that had scooted up the bed, set his messenger bag aside and began popping the buttons of his shirt while grazing his lips with your own, teasing him, taunting him and daring him to let go as you rolled your hips slow and steady against his.

A grinding motion that drove him insane and made him moan and gasp. The fabric of his trousers really did nothing to alleviate the friction and pressure.

Spencer’s hands shot to your hips, unknowingly helping you and guiding your movements under the guise of getting you off him. “Ma’am, I mean—” He whimpered your name instead of saying it like a normal guy would, “please, d-don’t—”

Saying don’t stop was the intention, but he held himself back with the rapidly fraying thread of control. His eyes screwed shut then opened wide with a gasp, wanting to lose himself in you.

He wondered if this was his state with every woman or just you.

Definitely you was the answer when you took your mostly empty glass of wine, pouring the remaining contents over his chest. Your cold hand cupped the side of his neck, a shiver flitting over his warm skin as you then bent forward, lapping up the liquid from his chest. Sucking, drinking the earthy-noted wine with a suspiciously high efficiency. A moan that even surprised him left his mouth when you ground down against him again, your tongue on his skin, and he never hated his trousers more than right this moment as the fabric strained against his clothed need.

He loathed them when you reached for the sash of your robe, untying the waves of tantalising silk fell off your shoulders and over the side of the bed, revealing nothing underneath.

His mouth went dry.

He swallowed.

He snapped.

Within a second, you were flipped over, Spencer’s lips crashing down on yours as he kicked his shoes off, toed his socks off as he kissed you like he was going feral, hand tangling in your hair as he practically rutted against you, hard and fast and oh, so relieving.

He was gripping your face, free hand pushing the loose strands of hair out of your face, nipping at your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue and making the blazing journey down your neck, which you bared to him gladly.

“Is this what you wanted?” Spencer panted, sucking at your pulse. “You wanted me to lose control, baby? Yeah, you got it. You. Got. It.” He punctuated the last three with nips to your collarbone and followed up with presses of his mouth on the swell of your tits.

You couldn’t even think, just letting out moans and sighs and needy whimpers of his name and unintelligible sounds, which did good to satisfy his frustration. Spencer’s mouth enveloped your nipple, sucking while tweaking the other between his fingers to have you arching into him and a smirk forming around his temporary fixation.

He switched his attention, pushing you down by your waist with his free hand to keep you from arching up. “Sit pretty and take it.”

Oh, those words sent a hot shiver up your spine. And then back down again, straight to your already soaking pussy.

He let your tit go with a small gasp, his eyes zeroing in on the prize and prompting him to start kissing down your stomach and nipping at your thighs.

If you chose to wear that robe for another person in the near future, they’d see his marks on your thighs. His. That was a thought that had a warmth swelling in his chest and cock.

He pushed your legs apart, holding them apart with his elbows and biting his lip at the feel of your hand in his hair. Testing the waters, his middle finger pushed with no resistance into your throbbing pussy, which had you gasping and moaning his name, while Spencer groaned yours upon feeling how you squeezed merely one finger.

Spencer had long fingers. Imagine what that meant for all you ladies out there.

He would’ve began pumping it, but he withdrew it and began licking it clean, tasting you on his tongue and almost whining at how good it was. Ignoring your whimper at the loss of contact, he maintained very intense eyes contact with you as he licked one long stripe up your cunt.

That didn’t last very long. The moment he got one proper hit of you, his eyes rolled back, then closed, mouth fell open, and he properly got to work, drinking you up like you did that wine on his body.

You’d honestly never been with a man as dedicated to eating pussy than Dr Spencer Fucking Reid.

“I’ve profiled you, y’know.” He murmured, still lapping at you and acting as if you weren’t writhing, moaning and arching your back - a complete mess - while he was having a fucking casual conversation with you and being the little shit that caused it.

He paused to suck at your clit as if it was all casual and part of a daily routine, little hums and encouragements between words where he’d absolutely devour you and make it look like him playing poker. Easy. “You’re promiscuous - mmh - like Lady Macbeth, except without the - mhm - implied infanticide and insanity.”

Spencer used his elbows locking your thighs in place to spread you open and get a new angle, and god damn it worked, because while you were crying out his name to Jesus and the holy mother Virgin Mary he was acting like this was another day at the office. “You use your body to get what you want - that’s it, be loud, baby - and on all counts it works. You also know how to play into people’s - fuck - psyche. It’s what makes you a textbook femme fatale.”

His middle finger slid in again, along with his index - both ridiculously long - and he crooked them just right, reaching places you didn’t even know existed and hitting the bullseye that was your g-spot all while tracing his name on your clit. Again, acting like you weren’t a complete and utter mess by now, but you were too far gone to care.

“You have an ability to see someone’s emotional desires— now, for example.” Spencer glances up at you, his free hand massaging your thigh and his fingers working you, pumping in and out and making sure his thumb got your clit while he talked. “It makes you highly manipulative, a-and your confident demeanour makes it - so tight, pretty girl - easy for people to trust and confide in you, hence why you’re the advisor to a lot of the mafia bosses on the FBI’s most - mmh - wanted list.”

Upon feeling and seeing how close you were, even if you didn’t know it yourself, Spencer smirked up at your face, looking like the prettiest picture with your eyes rolled back, mouth open, hand holding the sheets and your cheeks as pigmented as they could go. “But you’re easy to read when you’re in a vulnerable position. So why don’t you be a good girl, and come for me?”

You came apart easily at his cue, your high crashing over you like a fucking tsunami, feeling him lap at your pussy to clean you up— or so you thought. He actually didn’t stop, murmuring something about “one more” as his brow furrowed in concentration, really zeroing in on his target.

Not stopping, not letting up.

You were pretty sure you saw God and his army of angels frowning upon the sinful deed you two were partaking in, and how you were partaking of each other, while Spencer continued to steal your thoughts with that damn talented tongue and fingers.

He moaned at the taste of you, feeling drunk on everything you were giving him. Your sounds, the feel of you, the taste of you— you consumed all his senses.

You were a forbidden fruit. He was eating it. Except he was taking more than just one bite of the apple.

When you came again after a few more practiced licks, you felt a lot more sensitive then usual, but the satisfied look on Spencer’s face told you he’d made you come twice instead of once.

Testament to his skill, you guessed.

Spencer wiped all the residue of you off his chin with his thumb, licking his lips and quickly sucking the slick off by popping the thumb into his mouth. He made it look like his everyday Tuesday.

Then he undid his belt buckle and dropped it aside, his trousers and boxers going with as he pressed kiss after kiss to your body on the slow journey up. Spencer groaned as your hand wrapped around his cock, your thumb teasing the head before your hand began to move up and down… until he stopped you.

“Not right now, baby.” He chuckled. “Another time. Statistically, I’m fifty percent more likely to come if you do that.”

“That’s the idea.” You winked, but removed your hand off his dick anyway.

“I’m sure it is.” Spencer smiled, then looked around. “Do you have condoms? J-Just cause using protection during sex, particularly condoms, is crucial for several reasons, both from a-a health and social standpoint. First, condoms are one of the most effective methods for preventing the transmission of sexually transmitted infections, i-including HIV. These infections can have long-term health consequences, some of which are irreversible or even life-threatening. By using a condom, you're significantly reducing the risk of both contracting and spreading these infections to your partner. Second, condoms are a reliable method of birth control when used correctly. They prevent sperm from reaching the egg, thereby reducing the likelihood of unintended pregnancies.”

Then you pulled out the top drawer of the bedside table, which was full of condoms of all sizes. Which had him both slightly jealous and sheepish. “Oh, uh, thanks.” Spencer grabbed one, tearing the foil off with his teeth and expertly sliding the rubber on and entering you so fast your moan came in delayed timing.

“Fuck.” You gasped, especially as you adjusted to him and even better when he started moving back and forth at a steady rhythm, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in, feeling your pussy practically mould to him in a way that had his eyes rolling back and hips snapping forward harder.

It made your nails claw at his back, which made him bite his lip and release it, claiming your lips in a hungry kiss. ‘34 Château Margaux. It had an earthy taste to it.

Your perfume was intoxicating, and he smelt of new books and a cologne that drove you mad. You also got notes of butter popcorn from his time watching Russian movies and his lips distinctly tasted of you and you only.

It felt like your claim on him.

Next thing you knew, he’d pulled out, flipped you onto your stomach and thrust into you again, his mouth latching to your shoulder and leaving marks as he took your neck by his hand, not squeezing hard, but just enough to let you know he was there.

“So tight. How’re you gonna look - shit - all those mafia bosses in the eye, huh?” He panted, punctuating his words with a snap of his hip while you were reduced to cries of his name. “When you can’t walk because of an FBI agent?”

“Spencer, fuck!” Was the only admittedly pathetic thing that came from your mouth, along with a whimper when his hand came down on the side of your ass, soothed by a rub.

“That’s right, baby, call out for me.” He murmured, sucking a mark under your ear. “Make sure everyone in this hotel can hear.”

You found yourself coming at the words, gripping the pillows with your eyes rolling back, Spencer’s own copying as he felt your cunt clamp down on him like a vice. His hand on your throat squeezed a little tighter - but he was aware that it wasn’t enough pressure to cut off an airway - with his head dropping to your shoulder, pressing kisses to the heated flesh as he followed with a few clumsy, shallow thrusts later.

Oh, he knew what he did was wrong. He just couldn’t help himself when presented with you.

Spencer pulled out of you, both of you practically spent of all your energy. You rolled onto your back, wiping away a forming tear due to your sensitive pussy being wrecked by Dr Spencer Reid, but it was worth everything.

“I forgot one thing.” He murmured, moving so he could pull you into his chest and kiss your hair. Remarkable how this man can go from a hot dominant to a hot nerd. “From your profile, I mean.”

“Yeah, Dr Reid?” You smiled, kissing him softly yet intensely, drawing a hum of contentment from his lips.

“You, ma’am,” Spencer cheekily emphasised between kisses, “are very sexually proficient.”

That got a laugh from you, breaking away to playfully swat his chest, which got a noise of surprise from him and a small "son of a bitch!". “Is that your way of telling me this was mind blowing sex?”

“That isn’t how you tell someone that?”

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[zvaigzdelasas]

The defeat of a liberal Portland prosecutor at the hands of a tough-on-crime challenger has hardened a view among top White House officials that Democrats need to further distance themselves from their left flank on law-and-order issues.[...]

The White House is banking on the idea that voters will reward them for public efforts to crack down on immigration and boost spending on law enforcement — and, perhaps as importantly, that the liberal forces that so effectively moved the party away from those planks in 2020 won’t punish the president come November.[...]

But the president has not needed much convincin[sic] [...] having personally favored an approach that emphasizes more traditional support for law enforcement alongside criminal justice reforms. Biden spent much of his half century in politics as an ardent advocate for law enforcement and anti-crime measures, a reputation that complicated his path to the 2020 Democratic nomination amid scrutiny over his role in passing a controversial 1994 crime bill.

And even as the broader party shifted leftward [sic] on issues like police funding and immigration during that period, Biden sought to stake out a middle ground that often put him out of step with his progressive base — perhaps most notably using his first State of the Union address in 2022 to exhort lawmakers to “fund the police.”

In recent months, Biden has warned advisers that scenes of chaos at the border or crime in cities pose an increasing political danger. They risk turning off the independent and suburban voters, he’s said, who may be repulsed by much of Donald Trump’s policies and personality but could be willing to vote for him anyway in the name of public safety.[...]

Biden and his senior-most aides are united on the need to push for greater border security. [...]

“The narrative about Democrats on crime became deeply distorted after Defund the Police became kind of a thing,” [sic] said Matt Bennett, executive vice president for public affairs at the center-left think tank Third Way. “In fact, [Biden] has been very aggressive about funding the police, and has flipped around that narrative in ways that I think are really helpful.”[...]

The White House, to that end, has battered Republicans in recent days over their abandonment of a bipartisan border security bill that would’ve imposed strict new limits on immigration.

The legislation, which Senate Democrats are forcing a vote on for the second time this week, has fueled blowback among progressive and Latino lawmakers who blasted its “extreme and unworkable enforcement-only policies.”

But Biden has fully embraced the measure, repeatedly emphasizing the tough restrictions it’d put in place and criticizing Republicans for stalling the bill solely to avoid handing him an election-year victory. The White House is also preparing an executive order on immigration as a fallback, in a long-germinating [sic] display of his commitment to a border crackdown.

The president has also made a point of voicing support for law enforcement in recent weeks. He refused to criticize police conducting mass arrests of pro-Palestinian protesters on college campuses, even as he backed the right [sic] to peacefully protest. And he’s repeatedly touted a plan to invest $37 billion in crime provision [...]

There is also deep-seated fear throughout the party of the alternative: A Trump presidency that has made clear it would prioritize mass deportations and sharp shifts away from the progress [sic] Biden has made on other criminal justice issues like gun violence prevention.

23 May 24

[mariacallous]

Writing a comprehensive history of Polish citizens during the Holocaust is a hefty task. A Polish law that criminalizes any mention of Polish responsibility for or complicity in Nazi crimes makes it even harder.

That makes the groundbreaking research conducted by acclaimed Holocaust historian Jan Grabowski for his new book, “On Duty: The Polish Blue & Criminal Police in the Holocaust” all the more remarkable. 

Relying on meticulous documentation, the book argues that Polish institutions were more than willing to assist the Nazis in their extermination campaign, and often led the way through their own initiatives. Grabowski, a professor at the University of Ottawa, spent more than 10 years conducting the research, including years in Poland going through Polish archives, private diaries and records from more than 100 small towns where Jews lived in high concentrations. 

“I read horrifying things in the diaries of Polish policemen describing how many Jews they killed each day,” said Grabowski, 61. “There were anecdotes about a cop asking for a glass of vodka before shooting a Jew, or using hot water to clean the blood off their hands. They killed friends and schoolmates without remorse, even in places where no Germans ever came to check up on them.”

Much of the evidence Grabowski uncovered had never been seen before.

“It’s not easy to write a book like this when you have opposition from massive Polish organizations with teams of PhDs whose job is to go after people like myself,” said Grabowski, who began his research for the book before Poland passed the controversial 2018 Act on the Institute of National Remembrance. “But thorough and independent historical research is necessary to make sure that a nation can’t rewrite its history into a happy story of righteous Poles saving Jews.”

In particular, the book focuses on the actions of Poland’s Blue Police, officially known as the Polish Police of the Generalgouvernement, established shortly after the German occupation of Poland in 1939 and consisting mainly of prewar Polish police officers.

“We are talking about a police force of 20,000 people that previously was in charge of enforcing mundane civilian laws like making sure that horses walking on the street had horseshoes,” Grabowski said. “What fascinates me is how quickly these normal ordinary cops were transformed into ruthless killers.”

Grabowski’s 496-page book is now available on Yad Vashem’s website.

Grabowski has written numerous books and articles focusing on the Holocaust in Poland. His book “Hunt for the Jews: Betrayal and Murder in German-Occupied Poland” won the Yad Vashem International Book Prize in 2013.

On the eve of World War II, Poland’s 3.3 million Jews formed a vibrant and diverse society, noted Havi Dreifuss, director of the Center for Research on the Holocaust in Poland at Yad Vashem and professor of Jewish history at Tel Aviv University. 

“Many were engaged in Jewish and Polish causes or active in political movements such as the Bund, Zionist, and Orthodox groups. While most lived in cities, these were often small, alongside villages that reflected the richness of Polish Jewish life.”

This last point is a critical issue for Holocaust scholarship, Dreifuss said.  

“Research often focuses on large ghettos like Warsaw and Lodz, each housing hundreds of thousands of Jews. But over 340 ghettos existed in the Generalgouvernement, 83% of them with fewer than 5,000 Jews,” she said. “These smaller ghettos, representing the majority of Polish Jewish communities, remain understudied, despite their significant role in understanding Polish Jewry during the Holocaust.”

Chronologically, Polish persecution of the Jews progressed in three stages, according to Grabowski.

After Germany invaded Poland in 1939, the Third Reich entrusted Polish police forces to introduce and enforce new restrictions on the Jews. 

“The first phase was the beginning of the inhuman ghettoization of the Jews,” Grabowski said. “The Germans created laws designed to break down the Jews, limiting where they could go and what they could do or own. Yet until now, virtually no historians have examined how the large Polish police force suddenly became so deeply involved with Jewish affairs, effectively condemning them to starvation.”

By 1941, Polish forces began working on the second phase, liquidating hundreds of ghettos. As trainloads of Jews were sent to concentration camps like Auschwitz-Birkenau and Treblinka in 1942 and 1943, Polish police participated in the Nazi evacuations of these ghettos, rounding Jews up, killing anyone who resisted and sometimes even conducting the evacuations themselves.

“It is important to understand that it wasn’t the Germans coercing the Poles to shoot; it was the Polish execution squads making these decisions themselves,” Grabowski said. “In November 1941, Polish police were shooting Jews on a regular basis, much earlier than in Nazi-occupied countries in Western Europe.”

Perhaps the Poles were just acting to avoid facing punishment from the Nazis? 

“The interesting thing is that there is no record of any penalty given to someone who refused to kill a Jew, except maybe some sneers by your colleagues,” Grabowski said. “If you didn’t want to do it, there was always someone else who would be happy to.”

After the ghettos were liquidated, Polish forces continued their killing sprees through the third phase, searching throughout the country for Jews who may have escaped, according to Grabowski.

“At this point, they are murdering with gusto, without any German involvement,” according to Grabowski. “They are working with locals, with their neighbors, and they don’t even inform the Germans about what they are doing.”

As the Holocaust progressed, Polish police acted on their own to kill Jews without coordinating with Germany, Grabowski said. 

“They knew that if they reported their activities to the Nazis they would have been forced to share the money and property they stole,” he said. “They might also incriminate their neighbors who were actively sheltering Jews. And they didn’t want that.”

Poland’s Foreign Ministry declined to respond to the claims in Grabowski’s books, saying, “The Ministry of Foreign Affairs does not comment on the scientific activities of individual people, considering scientific sphere and activity exempt from political assessment.”

While writing “On Duty,” Grabowski faced a powerful barrage of opposition from the Polish government and was slapped with a number of lawsuits, two of which are still pending. 

“It has not been good for my psychological well-being,” Grabowski said. “When you study for a PhD, no one trains you in how to handle attacks from the state for slandering the good name of the nation.”

But exposing the truth is exactly why Grabowski believes his work is important. 

“The Holocaust has become a universal benchmark of evil, but even after decades of Holocaust education, you have governments bending history out of shape to conform with their own needs,” he said. “This is a very dangerous precedent, and we have a responsibility to prevent it to preserve our future.”

[sassylittlecanary]

PAUL DINI’S BATMAN SAVE ME

SAVE ME PAUL DINI’S BATMAN

All memes aside, THIS is Batman. The classic, most ideal, most altruistic version of the character. He struggles with darkness within the world and himself, but he cares. His actions are driven by his heart. He’s a hero.

HE CARES. He’s not the Punisher. He doesn’t fight crime because he loves violence or because he’s Mr. Law & Order. He understands that crime hurts people, and that’s why he fights it. Not just because it’s The Right Thing, but because he cares about improving people’s lives. He’s not driven by vengeance. He’s driven by compassion.

This is the man who invests in new jobs and better infrastructure, because he understands that rebuilding communities is crucial to helping the people of Gotham. He understands that the poor aren’t lazy or criminal but instead being taken advantage of by a system that doesn’t care about them, so he uses his wealth and resources to help his city, not caring what profit he makes, because it’s about helping people. It’s always about how much he cares for humanity. He sees light in people, even misguided ones. He believes no one is ever past redemption. Batman doesn’t exist to punish, enforce, or frighten — he exists to help and redeem and persevere in his quest to find goodness in the world and other people.

Just, PAUL DINI’S BATMAN!!!

Batman: War on Crime by Paul Dini and Alex Ross

[dreamescapeswriting]

Dancing In The Shadows ~ LF [MATURE WARNING]

CONTINUATION OF THIS PIECE

WORD COUNT: 5.4K

GENRE: mafia AU, hacker reader, felix technically kidnapping her, insta love (sorry but its fun to write hehe) enemies to lovers? Cute, fluffy, SMUT MINORS DNI, protected sex, public sex (kinda) links into the other stories too ehe

PAIRING: Felix X Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - February 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

Felix sat behind his imposing mahogany desk, his eyes fixed on you as you stood before him, pulling on the sleeves of your hoodie nervously as you waited for him to say something. You were the reason for his recent financial troubles...well, not really, Felix had more money than he knew what to do with but you'd been the one with the balls big enough to steal from him. The one who had infiltrated his bank accounts with such skill and finesse that even Felix had to admire your audacity. Felix wasn't stupid though, he'd done his research before he'd "hired" you, taking you from your boss with the impression he'd bring you back but it simply wasn't true.

Once he had you he simply wasn't going to just throw you back, you were a once in a lifetime catch and he wasn't dumb enough to drop that. In the hacking world, you were simply known as Firecracker. No one knew who you were by physical appearance but the jobs you would do told people what they needed to know. 

You stole from the rich to give to the poor, a real modern-day Robin Hood. If Felix wasn't so rich he would have been pissed off at you for trying it on him.

"You've got guts, I'll give you that," He finally spoke, his gravelly voice breaking the silence and making butterflies flutter inside of you, you hated them for it. Ever since he'd taken you from work you couldn't stop the tingles in your back or the butterflies whenever he'd touch you or speak to you. 

"Hacking into my accounts takes some serious skills. I should be mad, but I'm impressed." All things he'd already told you in the office but was going back over on his own, leaning forward he studied you closely. He wanted to know more about the elusive Firecracker that no law enforcement or underworld man had been able to catch. 

"So, what? You're going to kill me now?" You'd seen the man standing outside of his office with guns, he might have promised you a job when you were at work but who was to say it wasn't just some ploy to get you to go with him.

"I gave you my word. I take that seriously," Felix said as he leaned back in his chair, a sly grin playing on his lips as he watched you. While you were faking confidence he could see the nerves seeping out of you and it impressed him more than he would have liked to admit.

"I want you to work for me," He declared, you arched an eyebrow at him. 

"You've proven yourself to be quite the asset, and I could use someone with your talents, you already stated my computer security sucks...So fix it." He turned his desktop computer around and you blinked at the screen before turning back to face the man who was watching you closely.

"And if I refuse?" It wasn't like you had much of a choice but you wanted to know the repurcations.

"Then I'll have to resort to less pleasant methods of persuasion. But trust me, you'll find it much more lucrative to be on my payroll." Kissing your teeth a little you looked back at the computer. Despite your better judgment, you found yourself intrigued by the offer. You'd never worked for anyone but yourself in the security way before, but the idea of being affiliated with one of the most powerful crime families in the city was undeniably tempting.

"I have conditions." You weren't dumb, you were going to do this with rules in place. You'd seen enough movies and read enough articles about the underworld that you had to be prepared.

"I would be surprised if you didn't." A slight smirk played on his lips as he watched you scramble to think of something but he couldn't help but think about how beautiful you were, how cute he found it whenever you'd play with the sleeves of your shirt.

"I want full access to your network. I need to know everything about your system if I'm meant to be fixing it." He nodded at you, it was his full intention to give you anything you asked for. Hell, he'd give you a house and a more stable job if that was something you wanted from him.

"Okay. What else?" He got out a notepad, ready to write down a list of everything you wanted but you just stared at him,

"Lastly. Once I've fixed it, I'm out. No strings attached." The pen in his hand stilled as he stared down at the notepad, it had never occurred to him that you would want to leave but he nodded,

"Fine. But I have a feeling you'll want to stick around." He tried to make it seem as though he was joking but you shook your head.

"Nothing will make me stay, Mr Lee." You sounded so sure of yourself and maybe you were but now that Felix had you there was no way he was going to let you go so easily.

"Hmm. We'll see." He mumbled, getting up and readying his office for you to use.

With determination and skill, you set to work. You fortified Felix's digital defences, erecting layers of encryption and implementing state-of-the-art security protocols. It was insane how poor his security was for someone who was supposed to be the best of the best. You thought you would have been working alone but Felix watched you work the whole time. You spent every night in your own room in his huge house, the two of you would eat meals together giving you time to get to know each other which was something you were feeling unsure about.

The more time you spent with him the more you wanted to leave, growing attached to someone was never an option for you and getting attached to a criminal? Never. 

But Felix found himself falling for you and hard, every day you'd work he would watch you with a mixture of fascination and admiration, impressed by your intellect and resourcefulness.

But as the days turned into weeks and your job neared completion, Felix found himself growing reluctant to let you go. He had his men ruin some of your work so that you'd stay around longer but it was getting harder and harder to do that with how good your work was. He had grown accustomed to your presence, your sharp wit and unwavering confidence a welcome distraction from the monotony of his daily life.

You pushed your chair away from his desk, smirking to yourself. You were unbelievably proud of how well you'd done your job, despite the obstacles that had been thrown in the way. 

"I've fixed your security systems, Lix," You announced, Felix's smile dropped from his lips as he stared back at you. He knew this time would be coming but he thought he would have more time than this. 

"It's time for me to move on." You stretched in the chair, your heart breaking at the thought of leaving him but you weren't going to listen to it. Felix's heart sank at the thought of losing you.

"I- I still need your help," He stuttered a little, he hated that he was stuttering but you were the one person who turned him into a nervous wreck with just one look.

"I fixed everything Lix, everything is unbreakable." You weren't going to allow yourself to stay any longer, you'd already felt yourself falling and you wanted to stop it in your tracks.

"Firecracker...Come on, you're the best of the best. I need you around," He sounded desperate but he honestly didn't care, he didn't want you to leave. Not when he was so close to you now. As soon as you were gone he'd be alone and the thought of that terrified him.

"You'll find someone who's just as good." You shrugged, you knew people who could replace you and if he really wanted you could get him their names.

"I can't let you go." He said simply as the door to his office opened,

"You promised." Your voice was strained as you realised what he was going to do.

"I'm sorry."

"You said you kept your word!" You screamed as two of his men stood at the door, holding their guns another led you to the room you'd been staying in.

"I hate you!" You screamed at the door, Felix' stared down at the floor. He knew he could get you to like him, he just needed a little more time with you.

You were trapped, despite your skills, you'd been no match for Felix and his powerful organization. Reluctantly, you resigned yourself to your fate, knowing that you were at Felix's mercy.

It had been a few weeks since Felix had taken you in, every day you were forced to spend meal times with him. You hated him but at the same time, your heart was still falling for him, despite him taking you hostage. 

"Yn, you have to speak to me eventually," Felix stated as he watched you walk away from him. You'd spent most of the meals in silence, with Felix taking the conversations and talking about his day mostly. 

"Why? You want me to be some trophy in your grasp, trophies don't speak." You mumbled. It was the first time he'd heard you speak in weeks and even though it was a mumble it was music to Felix's ears. In the dimly lit confines of the home, tension hung heavy in the air as you turned on your heels to face him.

On one hand, you hated him for taking you but on another, he had taken you away from everything you hated about the real world. You were given the freedom to explore - with an armed guard by your side. You had no bills to pay, no responsibilities, it was nice...It would have been nicer if it hadn't been against your will.

"Yn, you have to understand," He pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation as he tried to justify his actions as if that was even possible. 

"I didn't take you hostage because I wanted to. I did it because... because I couldn't bear the thought of losing you." You scoffed a little, your eyes flashing with anger as you met his gaze, your fists clenched at your sides. He was unbelievable.

"That doesn't excuse what you did," You retorted, your voice sharp with reproach. 

"You can't just kidnap someone and expect them to forgive you because you're afraid of being alone." You grumbled at him, folding your arms across your chest, you weren't just going to forgive him for kidnapping you just because he gave you some piss-poor excuse.

Felix winced at your words, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He knew that he had crossed a line, and had violated the trust of the one person he cared about more than anything else in the world. Even though he'd barely known you, part of him knew the two of you were meant to be together and he wanted it to work more than anything.

But if he'd let you leave when you were supposed to, he never would have seen you again and this had been the only logical part his brain could come up with. 

"I know I messed up,"  He admitted, his voice thick with remorse, it was now or never to make it up to you. 

"And I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, I swear. But please, just give me a chance to prove that my feelings for you are real, that I'm not just some monster trying to control your life." Your anger softened slightly at his words, your heart aching with the weight of his confession. 

"I love you...I have a shitty way of showing it but I do." You blinked at him. Love? He barely knew you. 

"Your idea of loving me is to kidnap me and force me to stay against my will?" A pang of guilt shot through his chest as he stared at you.

"I'm sorry, Yn, I know I messed up and I'll do whatever it takes to make it right, but please...Just...Just give me a chance to prove to you my feelings are genuine." You wanted to believe him more than anything in the world but it was hard when everyone in your life had used love as a weapon.

"I want to believe you, Felix," You whispered, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

"But you have to understand that trust isn't something you can just demand from someone. It has to be earned, and right now, I'm not sure if I can ever trust you." Felix's heart sank at your words, the realization of his mistakes hitting him like a freight train. 

"I'll do whatever it takes," he promised, his voice trembling a little, he was willing to do anything to get you to agree to be his. 

"I'll make things right, I swear. Just please... please don't give up on me." You stared at him, biting the inside of your cheek as you thought about it.

"I'll have conditions." If you were going to give this a real chance then you were going to do it with your own conditions and speculations.

"Anything." He breathed out, relief sounding in his voice as you finally agreed to him.

"I want to go out more. Alone." You stated plainly, that all you wanted was time alone. Time to go out without someone watching your every move.

"Anything but that." He bit off a little, his tone unsure of what to make of that. What if you ran? What if you found a way out and never came back?

"You said you want me to trust you but you won't trust me," You snapped at him angrily, the anger bubbling over and finally spilling.

"Yn-"

"That's the only thing I want. Time alone." He sighed a little and rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking back to you before nodding.

"Fine. You'll come back?" You knew running would be useless but part of you didn't even want to run.

"I promise." You whispered as he watched you, his eyes narrowing a little as if he were trying to figure out if you were lying or not.

"There's a ball coming up. A charity one, you can go shopping for a gown and accessories." He told you,

"I don't have money," With that, he handed you a black car with a smile on his lips.

"Buy yourself something nice," You stared down at the black card. Oh, you were planning on buying something nice, but it wasn't just going to be one thing.

You found yourself decked out in silk and diamonds, courtesy of Felix's card that you'd kept on you ever since you'd gotten back from your little trip. Felix carefully walked you through the grand hall and smiled as he looked around, the event was in full swing as people began to mingle with one another. But you were the only person Felix wanted to spend all night talking to. Felix escorted you through the grand ballroom, all of these things had become to the same for him over the years but he would always make sure he came to them to donate a wealthy sum before leaving.

Only tonight, he wanted to stay. He wanted to take you out on the dance floor and show you off in the stunning dress you'd worn and let everyone know that you were his.

"This place is so beautiful." You gasped out, you couldn't believe your eyes. The opulent chandeliers cast a soft glow all over the room, soft music played through the hall and people chatted among themselves. 

"You look beautiful," He whispered in your ear, smiling to himself as he looked at you. Ever since you'd walked down to him that night he hadn't been able to keep his eyes off you, not that he ever did before. Your attention slowly turned to Felix who was dressed in a tailored suit, looking as handsome as ever.

"You look handsome," You whispered, part of you wanted to hate him for keeping you hostage but after almost maxing out his card - or so you'd hoped - you were starting to feel a lot better about everything.

Felix began to navigate through the crowds of people and the more you walked the more out of place you began to feel. All of the people in attendance were wealthy and powerful people, you were a hacker who had a chance incounter with a man worth more than you could possibly think about. The further you walked the more aware you were of the curious glances and whispered rumours that were being passed around. Felix didn't even seem fazed by them as he reached for a tray of champagne and handed one of them to you.

"To a wonderful night," He cheered to you, both of you drinking from your glasses until his phone started to ring inside of his pocket, smiling weakly he pulled it out.

"Hello...Yes, this is he," He mumbled into the phone before turning to look at you, and you smirked already knowing what the phone call was about.

"200K...Hmm," He hummed as he stared at you, he had to admit he was a little impressed with how much you'd managed to spend on the card he gave to you.

"No, not to worry. That wasn't fraud, just my future wife throwing a tantrum. Alright, thank you."

"Future wife?" You giggled a little as he licked his lips slowly and shook his head at you,

"200K? What did you even buy?"

"A whole computer system, a whole new wardrobe and some diamonds." You showed him the earrings you were wearing and he couldn't help but laugh to himself.

"You didn't give me a spending limit," You shrugged it off, you expected him to get mad but Felix was quite impressed. He never thought you'd be able to spend that much in one day.

"For you? There's never a limit baby," He smirked before kissing your lips softly. For a fleeting moment, you forgot about the dangers that lurked outside the ballroom walls, or that you'd been taken hostage by Felix. You just allowed yourself to feel happy, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and kissing him back deeper this time. 

Tonight, you weren't just some hacker girl that Felix had brought along to the ball to play Cinderella for the night and you weren't his captive. You were simply a woman lost in the enchantment of the moment, captivated by the enigmatic man at your side.

As you slowly pulled away from one another there was something different in Felix's eyes, 

"What's wrong?" You were almost scared your kiss had been bad but he shook his head at you, hesitating for a moment as he thought about what he could say to you. He wanted to let you go, to let you leave the home if that was what you truly wanted but part of him was scared you'd never come back. Taking in a deep breath he reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he cupped your cheek,

"Yn, there's something I need to tell you." Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at him, waiting for him to say something but your heart raced faster with anticipation. 

"What is it?" Your voice barely came out above a whisper as you stared at him. With a sigh, Felix searched your eyes, his gaze intense and unwavering. 

"I know that our relationship began under... unconventional circumstances," he admitted, making you smirk a little.

"But as I've come to know you, I've realized that you are so much more than just a skilled hacker. You're intelligent, brave, and fiercely independent—a woman unlike any other I've ever met." He had no idea where he was going with this, it wasn't something he'd rehearsed. But your heart was fluttering at his words, your chest swelling with warmth you'd never felt before.

"And...I find myself, drawn to you in ways I can't quite explain." Your hand slowly moved to cup his cheek and you felt how hot he was getting,

"You've become an integral part of my life. And I don't want to imagine a world without you in it."

"Felix..."

"I know I technically held you captive so...I understand if you don't want to stay with me but I needed to let you know my feelings are true." He looked at you, swallowing a lump the size of a boulder in his throat,

"But I'm going to let you go. You can leave the house, you can move out."

"Lix," You whispered, your voice trembling with emotion as you stared at him. His confession washed over you as you watched him closely, you felt the same way for him and hearing him say he was willing to let you go made you only want to stay.

"I feel the same way, I-I never wanted to...I always thought love was   just a weapon but you..." You didn't even know where to start with him.

"You care for me more than I ever thought possible." You whispered to him before Felix' blushed,

"Dance with me?" You added before he nodded, taking your hand in his.

As you swayed in each other's arms, the world around you faded into insignificance, leaving only the gentle embrace of the music and the warmth of your shared connection. Your head was rested against Felix's chest, your heart racing with a mixture of nerves and excitement. Despite the lavish surroundings and the curious glances of the other guests, you felt safe and protected in his arms, as if nothing else mattered but the two of you at that moment.

Felix held you close, his touch gentle yet possessive as you moved together in perfect harmony around the floor. With each step, he felt the weight of his past sins and regrets fall away, replaced by a sense of peace and contentment that he had never known before.

"Lix," You breathed out as you stared up at him, your eyes sparking a little as he stared down at you. In a moment of unspoken understanding, your dance slowed, your movements becoming more intimate as you gazed into each other's eyes. The soft melody continued to play, wrapping around you like a cocoon as you drew closer, your breaths mingling in the air.

With a gentle touch, he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin as he leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from yours. your heart raced in anticipation, your eyes fluttering closed as you surrendered to the inevitable. You'd kissed before but now there felt a sudden pressure for this one.

Your lips met in a tender, electrifying kiss—a silent declaration of the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourselves in each other, the world around them fading completely as you shared a moment of pure, uncontrolled passion.

"Follow me," You breathed out, grabbing his hand in yours as you made your way through the crowds, ignoring the people who were staring and mumbling. Right now you needed Felix and you didn't have time for pleasantries as you made your way through the hall.

"Here?" He chuckles as he lifts you up onto the countertop of the bathroom you'd just dragged him inside of, your heart racing as you watch him closely.

"What if someone comes in?" He arches a brow at you before you drag him closer to you by his tie. He knew no one would come in, his men had followed him to the door and were no doubt waiting outside refusing anyone entry if they tried.

"Then they'll see we're busy and leave." You grumbled before kissing him, this time the kiss was deeper and more intense as you pushed off the blazer he was wearing onto the floor and worked on the buttons of his shirt.

"Someone's very needy." He chuckles to himself as you glare at him, you weren't in the mood for any games, you needed him and you weren't afraid to show it.

"Shut up and do something about it then,"

"Gladly." He groans, his hands rolling up your dress until he exposes your bare core and he smirks to himself,

"No panties?" He arched his brow at you and you giggled spreading your legs for him to get a better view. His eyes run down your body, his tongue darting out to wet his lip.

"You're so fucking beautiful," He groans, his hands drifting to your thighs, his knuckles catching on the edge of your pussy making you whimper.

"You take my breath away," He tells you breathlessly,

"Prove it." You demand, spreading your legs, his eyes drop to your pussy and he groans instantly falling to his knees. You were the only woman he would ever drop to his knees for like this. Having the great Lee Felix on his knees for you sent a power trip through you like no other. You grab his head as he trails his tongue along your slit making you whimper a little at him,

"Please." You plead with him, your hips bucking a little toward him as he chuckles softly sending vibrations all over your body. His tongue touches your clit, circling it, then tracing it down your centre and dipping inside of you, lapping you up hungrily. Your hands tighten in his hair, pushing his face closer to you as you grind against his tongue. Your eyes fluttered shut as your head rolled back against the mirror behind you.

"D-Dear God, Lix, please." You moan out as he removes his tongue, licking his head to look at you as he licks his lips.

"You taste like paradise," He groans before dropping his head and eating you out like a man starved, His eyes meet yours as he keeps his face buried between your thighs, your hips trying to get more friction as you cry his name out loudly.

"Felix!" You scream, his teeth gently biting on your clit as he sends you over the edge. Ecstasy washed through you as your hips shuddered beneath him, a giant smirk toyed on his lips as he got up from the floor.

"That was fucking hot," He moans out before kissing you deeply, your legs wrapped around his waist as you yanked him closer to you. The kiss was desperate, raw, filled with a need so strong you began to grind against his pants.

"You'll make a mess, firecracker," He chuckles softly before you pull away, unbuckling his belt and kicking his pants down leaving him bare in front of you. Felix was quick to reach for his wallet, grabbing a condom from the inside and rolling it onto himself as you wiggle your eyebrows at him.

"This is going to be quick," He winks at you, he could hear a commotion happening outside but you smirked at him. The two of you were at a ball filled to the brim with rich people and you wanted them to hear you getting fucked by him. 

"Lix, don't make me beg," You whine before he slams into you, holding you tightly as you groan, throwing your head back against the mirror so hard you were afraid it was going to break. You scream his name out as he pulls back and thrusts into you again, your legs wrapped around his waist as you bring him closer to him.

"Felix!" You cry out as the door handle jiggles, making you giggle as Felix chuckles to himself.

"Felix! Is that you?!" A man yelled from outside the door, you whimpered a little but Felix only continued to plow in and out of you.

"I'm busy fucking my girl, we'll be out soon!" He calls out before slamming into you again, your head rolling back as your hips bucked toward him. You dig your heels into his ass urging him on and his hand presses onto the mirror behind you, the other on your hips as he fucks you. His thrusts wild and hard as he groans your name out.

"L-Lix." You moan out as he continues to drive into you, your hands digging into his shoulders as you yank him closer to you, your release drawing closer as you cry out his name.

"I've got you, you can come, firecracker," He moans out, reaching his hand down and rubbing your clit roughly. Your release rushes over you unexpectedly as you cry out his name loudly, whimpering and bucking uncontrollably. Felix chuckles to himself, completely in love with the way you come undone around him but he doesn't stop.

He continues to fuck into you, one leg over his shoulder as he hits you at a different angle,

"G-God, YES!" You cry out as he smirks to himself, his fingers rubbing your clit as you whimper his name out, your third orgasm of the night already fast approaching as you whimper his name again and again.

"Come for me, firecracker. One last time," He grunts, thrusting harder as you cry out his name, your stomach clenching as you cum around him once again, clenching so tightly you send him over the edge and he spills into the condom.

The two of you stay like that for a few seconds until Felix carefully lowers your leg down and leans his forehead against yours, panting heavily as you let out a tiny giggle.

"Think people will stare when we go out there?" You leaned back against the mirror and watched as Felix smirked and nodded.

"Who cares?" He chuckled before slowly dressing himself. A loud banging sounded on the door as you rolled your eyes, someone was clearly desperate for the toilet or for Felix's attention and you hated them for it.

"I've got info for you!" Someone yelled from outside the door as Felix stuffs himself back into his trousers, did himself up and checked that you were dressed before opening the door he wasn't going to risk anyone but him seeing you.

"Minho," Felix greets with a smirk on his lips, the man glances in your direction before looking over his shoulder.

"Kitten, take Felix's date to the girls for a chat. The men need to talk business." You glanced at Felix to make sure it was okay first and he nodded, kissing your cheek quickly before you ran off with the woman Minho had spoken to.

The girls you'd been standing with were all so friendly and each of them had been telling you about their dates, you since learnt that all of them were with a criminal madman which had made you feel a lot better about yourself and Felix.

"I hate you," You grumbled, jokingly as Felix stood behind you, his lips brushing against the skin on your neck making your body shiver. The bathroom sex wasn't enough, you wanted to go back home and fuck until you saw the morning sun,

"I hate you more, my little firecracker" Felix smirked down at you before you swatted his hands away from you, but he successfully managed to get his hands around your waist and he smirked.

"Excuse us, ladies but we have some making up to go and do." Felix chuckled before dragging you away without a second to even say goodbye to them all.

"Hey I was having fun, who knows when I'll see them again?" You pouted a little, but Felix spun you around and pulled you into a tight embrace.

"You'll see them at our wedding no doubt." He shrugs as if it was the most casual thing in the world for him to say and you roll your eyes at him,

"You're that sure I'll marry you?" You quipped, he was. In fact, he was willing to put money on it.

"I'm sure I can convince you after a few more orgasms," He winks before you shove against his chest and make your way out to a car.

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[luminalunii97]

saying F U to the regime again and again: a quick update on women vs IR regime

Famous Iranian actresses have been appearing in public without a mandatory hijab. This has been happening since the beginning of the protests. Last month, Kiumars Pourahmad, a well known Iranian screenwriter and director, committed suicide. He had a history of criticizing the regime's political decisions. At his funeral, some of the famous actresses attended without mandatory hijab.

You can see Fateme Motamedarya, Katayoun Riyahi, and Golab Adineh in these pictures from the funeral. Ms. Riyahi was one of the first celebrities who took her hijab off at the start of the Jina (Mahsa) Amini protest and for that she's been the target of IRGC harassment and has been to court.

Last week, in the ceremony of screening of the final episode of Lion's Skin (a persian crime show), actress Pantea Bahram participated without hijab. The manager of Tehran’s Lotus Cinema, where the ceremony was held, was fired for letting her attend without hijab.

Other than prosecution, the regime has blocked these celebrities' bank accounts. Basij and IRGC members have also attacked and harassed these women online and in real life.

Students on university campuses take off their hijabs. There's an installed version of morality police in universities that monitor students' styles. Female students must wear "appropriate" hijab and male students must wear "manly" clothes (one of my guy friends once was asked to go back home and change his shoes because they were red casual loafers. Apparently that's gay!). When you enroll in Iranian universities, the first thing you do is to go to the security office and sign an agreement that says you promise to follow the Islamic dress code. There are posters all over the campus that says things like "hijab is security" "respect the islamic hijab" and "not wearing appropriate hijab (tight short clothes, too much hair, makeup, etc) would result in legal action". So not wearing hijab on campus, where a lot of security cameras are installed and it's easy to identify you, is a big deal.

The regime's response to students taking off their hijabs is sending threatening messages to students' phones and increasing the security people. At the entrance of Universities, these security forces check people's clothes and if it's not proper they won't let you in. Some of the students wear the hijab at the entrance and take it off after they're in. They have warned our professors to not let non hijabi students sit in classes too.

One of my favorite trends in Iran now is when guys wear our hijab. These pictures are from universities. Guys wearing hijab make the security mad. This is a great act of solidarity with women against the obligatory hijab.

Some men have been doing either this or wearing shorts in public. The former is to ridicule the obligatory dress code and the latter is because wearing shorts in public is forbidden for guys too.

And women not wearing hijab in general. Though hijab is not our only issue, we want a whole new political system, one that is not theocratic or terroristic, hijab is something the regime won't back down from because it's one of their strongest oppressing tools. If they let us win the fight against obligatory hijab, I quote from a regime head, "people keep demanding more changes"!

So to put people against people to enforce the hijab law again, the regime has closed down many businesses (hotels, cafes, malls, bookstores, etc) for welcoming non hijabi female costumers. They have also warned taxi and bus drivers to not let non hijabi women in their vehicles.

Although not everyone is disobeying the hijab law (some believe in hijab, some don't want to pay the price), the number of women who take the risk and don't wear hijab in Tehran and many other cities is high enough that you feel encouraged to keep doing it.

[shadowqueenjude]

The most disturbing things portrayed in ACOTAR

Victim-blaming: Lucien tries to help Feyre and gets physically abused by Tamlin as a result. Feyre then proceeds to call him a dog despite Lucien doing everything he could in a difficult situation. And we're supposed to...support Feyre on this? And Rhysand throws around words like "can never forgive" man stfu you prick.

Sexual Assault: The most disturbing thing is not that Rhysand sexually assaulted Feyre. It's that he's never held accountable for this and never even apologizes at ANY point in the series. There are so many examples but this is the one that is the most disturbing.

Double Standards: We have Tamlin locking Feyre up for her own good being vilified, yet Rhysand is championed for locking Lucien and Nesta up in houses for their own good. Huh? WTF.

War Crimes: What Feyre did to the Spring Court, manipulating the sentries with the whole Ianthe thing and basically getting them killed, then weakening the Spring Court rulership which resulted in all those villagers in the Spring Court getting killed, then laying the Summer Court bare to Hybern as well, are nothing short of war crimes. And...instead of feeling regret, we have the main characters saying "Hybern's actions are their own." Like bitch what? Hybern wouldn't have been able to do shit if it wasn't for you! Have some damn accountability! And the fact that Tamlin and Tarquin are vilified for this never ceases to irk me.

Grooming: Rhysand groomed Feyre. He made excuses for everything he did with trauma, then sent Feyre out to do tasks for him like she's some kind of weapon he can use. WITHOUT giving her proper information, there is no choice. And everything he does is constantly explained away, until eventually Feyre becomes his trophy wife. Rhysand basically assigns Cassian to do the same for Nesta. I'm holding out hope that Elain will be saved from the Night Court.

The pregnancy debacle: the whole thing with the baby having wings and Rhysand withholding information from Feyre is just...disturbing. Idc if you're not telling her FoR hEr OwN gOoD, it is HER life at stake and she deserves to know. They didn't even try to shapeshift her to try and save her life? Like why is everybody seemingly more concerned about the baby than the mother? Disgusting. And why is Nesta vilified for being the only one to tell Feyre? She said it to hurt her, blah blah blah. She also wanted to show Feyre that their situations are similar. That they're BOTH being shit on by the Night Court. And when she's close to a breaking point...Nesta is forced to hike a mountain? That is physical abuse. Also, Rhysand being extremely territorial putting a shield over her and barely letting Feyre go anywhere is beyond weird.

Suicide baiting: What Rhysand did to Tamlin in ACOFAS is nothing short of suicide baiting. And...only Lucien seems to really be that concerned about it? Like...are you telling me I'm supposed to be supporting Rhysand after he basically told a depressed male to kill himself?

Segregation: Separating the Hewn City from Velaris IS segregation, no matter what excuse you try to come up with. You can't claim they're all shitty people, since your bestie Mor comes from the CoN. So, there are good people stuck in the CoN unable to get out of their torment because Rhysand decided that only certain individuals are allowed in Velaris.

Performance Feminism: Establishing laws to help women and not doing shit to enforce them is performance feminism. If he's as powerful as he says, he can 100% stop wing-cutting and r*pe. But, he's a goddamn virtue signaler so he doesn't fucking care. The thing is, SJM could've handled these topics in a much better way and it would've been fine. But she completely fucked shit up here and it's crazy that some people don't see it. Part of me is still waiting for the final book where she says, psych rhysand was the villain the whole time. If so, I'll take everything back.

[projectreclaim]

Virginia Governor Glenn Youngkin is officially introducing legislation outlawing all sanctuary cities within his state!

His proposal also mandates that local law enforcement and jail officials fully cooperate with ICE detainers and notify ICE at least 48 hours before releasing an illegal alien who has committed a crime.

Putting his own people ahead of illegal aliens is simply the right thing to do!

[tinosawruswrites]

A Punishment Fitting the Crime

Magistrate Astarion x Rogue Fem!Tav precanon One-Shot

Word count ~ 8600

Synopsis:

Tav is a petty criminal that got caught and is sentenced by magistrate Astarion Ancunín (prevampirism) in the privacy of his office.

TAGS/WARNINGS:

Rogue thief (Fem)Tav, Pre-vampirism Magistrate Astarion, DomAstarion, Sub(Fem)Tav, power play, minor dubcon, bdsm, sexgames with punishments, blowjob, hairpulling, spanking, edging, orgasm denial, vaginal fingering, penis in vagina sex, vaginal penetration, nippleplay

(If the tags are lacking, feel free to suggest any!)

Other notes:

Tav's looks are left ambiguous but her height is mentioned once as being a head shorter than Astarion.

Magistrate Ancunín’s office was located on the top floor of the court house building. Tav made her way up the numerous rows of polished marble stairs, almost compelled to count them from sheer boredom as she went.

The air was clean, almost sharp, with a lingering node of citrus to it, making it relatively easy to inhale while keeping up her steady pace.

Choosing to wear a light jacket, simple pants and shoes had been the right call after all, compromising style for comfort and ease of movement. If she got too hot after the climb, she could simply remove the jacket and still look presentable in her unassuming, common variety undershirt.

The high arched ceiling above her bent with the elevation like a strange, wide funnel, guiding her further along as water would through a pipe – except water would have refused to defy gravity and slid down the stairs.

Such was the life as a sentient, bipedal being. A continuous struggle against the laws of nature.

And regular law, Tav supposed.

Her case had been deemed too insignificant for a full trial. She was to receive a quick and efficient ruling by visiting the chosen magistrate’s office instead, and that happened to be this magistrate Astarion Ancunín.

Their immaculate signature decorated the bottom of the summons letter right next to the official stamp of the courts, both of them equally as artificial in both size and decorum. The way the A’s in magistrate Ancunín’s name had been written to dominate all the other smaller letters signaled Tav everything she ought to know about the man.

Another pompous, bigger than they actually were, holier-than-thou prick that loved to punish bad people and get paid to do so, maybe even keep a shifty side business giving out less harsh punishments and shorter sentences depending on how much gold his pockets got lined up with.

Then again, it was an open secret there were corrupt officials within the courts and that you either knew the right people or had to get really lucky to “do business” with them, as they said.

Nothing too unusual for Tav. Being a rogue sometimes happened to rope her in some less than legal gigs by working for shady people in need of light feet, nimble fingers and keen eyes for suspicious things.

She didn’t care where her skills were needed or who they were for, just that she got compensated for a job well done, like any good, hard working citizen – it wasn’t directly her fault if a customer had an enforced vault with mysterious origins that needed cracking open, or a particular door in the Upper City in need of unlocking without anyone finding out about it. At dead of night. When the owners were on holiday.

Those were all circumstantial details at best and did not in fact make her a criminal.

Tav’s inner justification to absolve herself of any guilt worked wonders for her confidence. Convincing the magistrate ordered to rule her legal punishment for allegedly: “Getting caught giving an aiding hand in breaking in to a high noble’s Summer palace and trespassing” did not.

It was a different thing entirely to lie to oneself and succeed, than to lie to an agent of law and walk away free of charges.

Tav finally reached the top of the stairs panting lightly and found herself standing inside another long, all too bright and polished hallway, almost an exact copy of the ones she passed below. All the whiteness was thankfully broken by the occasional dark paneled door and extravagant painting depicting some form of righteousness or an act of justice being given out.

She peered down at the letter and started systematically checking every door for the right name on a golden placate next to it. A large, vertically slim window opened a view into the dark city at the end of the corridor. Tav peered at the lit streetlamps glowing in the growing darkness leading away from the building she was in.

A road to freedom.

Alas, if she managed to wiggle herself off the hook and get away with a slap on the wrist, that was.

It was late in the standards of a regular day worker and Tav had to wonder if there had been an increase in petty crimes, or if it was an effect of some new government policy for a magistrate to be working this late into the evening. It was so late in fact, that there was barely anyone around, not even guards apparently, except for the random ones patrolling the hallways every now and then.

Must have been a real harsh pay cut to everyone.

Tav found the corresponding name and placate next to the door at the end of the hallway. She peered at the letter again and read the instructions stating her to arrive before the designated time, knock on the door and wait for it to be opened before entering. Otherwise, she was to sit aside and wait until she was let in.

Clenching her fists, Tav took a deep breath before tapping a couple stern knocks on the door and waited.

No response.

She looked around and found herself to be alone, then stepped closer and pressed her ear against the door to listen.

No sounds could be heard through the door. Either the room was empty, or the walls were magically enchanted to keep all sounds inside. Potentially to keep any incriminating statements out of curious outsider ears. She stepped back when a distant metal clinking echoed down the hallway. She took a quick seat at one of the small wooden stools lined next to the wall.

A lonesome guard wandered down the hallway, gloved hands balled to tight fists at their side, weapon ready at their hip, face like carved stone, stiff and unreadable. The guard marched before Tav, gave her a tired little smile, turned around and marched back the way they came from.

The metal clinking of the guard’s feet grew distant, finally disappearing into the distance. Tav was left alone once again.

Her gaze wandered around the space, the white walls, unassuming braziers and finally the sizable painting on the end wall of the corridor. It depicted a blindfolded maiden holding a golden scale – a common depiction of fair justice.

She peered at the woman’s covered eyes, wondering if justice was served blindly and without prejudice even by tired, overworked magistrates that were forced to work late into the evening.

She hoped the magistrate had at least been well fed, having heard terrible things about verdicts changing drastically depending whether a judge was hungry or not.

Time oozed by like thick oil and there was still no answer from the door beside her. Tav checked the letter in her hands for the time and date, comparing them to her pocket time-piece and the small calendar handily plastered above the magistrate’s name placate.

All was correct.

She had arrived on time, did as instructed and waited for an answer, and now it was way past her appointment and it wasn’t her fault that the proceedings would take longer. She seated herself once more and smirked smugly, pondering on using the magistrate’s potentially exhausted state to negotiate herself out out as quickly as possible.

Maybe, just maybe he would be so pent up from today’s proceedings he’d just dismiss her case altogether and they could both just go home.

The door clanked open and an older gnome exited. Tav made brief eye contact with him, recognizing them from another gig she partook in months ago.

This one was a peppy, we-can-do it kind of guy, but his current state reflected worn out desperation, like his spirits had been broken and what remained of them had been chewed out to the bones. He shut the door and turned away wordlessly, dragging his feet down the corridor, away from Tav and magistrate Ancunín’s office.

Tav swallowed nervously.

She recalled the gnome only had a small part in the gig, working as the handyman offering tools for the group. If the man responsible for tool handling looked like he had been sentenced for life, what would her door opening services get her?

The rope?

Tav felt a cold sweat rise to her neck and she gripped the edge of her stool until her knuckles turned white.

Perhaps she should have started being more honest with herself and admitted to having wandered to the wrong side of the law before someone else forced the truth upon her face like this.

The door cracked open again and Tav jumped to her feet, back stiff as a statue.

Magistrate Ancunín looked exactly what she had expected him to be and nothing like it at the same time.

Curly, silver locks swiped back from his face. One loose curl elegantly leaning over the right side of his forehead, as if by design, not accident. Pointy, pink tipped elf ears poking from under a tuft of more, unruly curls lining the side of his face. Two piercing gray eyes, glaring tiredly at her under stern eyebrows.

A handsome – No, beautiful – collection of features.

Tav felt a blush creep up her neck and cheeks, shocked at the surprisingly young looking magistrate’s beauty.

Magistrate Ancunín’s lips formed an unreadable, straight line, prominent laugh lines caging it on both sides of his face. He looked Tav up and down briefly. A wry, forced smile climbed upon his lips, bringing his laugh lines more into view.

“You’re late.” He stated coldly.

Tav’s eyes widened and whatever brief attraction she had for the man evaporated. She wanted to retort back and correct him, but bit her tongue instead.

“Inside.” The magistrate ordered and waved an uninterested hand at her before returning inside his office.

Tav forced a smile on her lips, determined not to show her displeasure and in turn prod the clearly very impatient magistrate further. She followed suit and shut the door as she went, quickly making her way deeper into the office.

The room was spacious and surrounded by heavy, tall bookshelves housing heavy, tall books of law. Miscellaneous scrolls poked out here and there in between them both, with an occasional paper and envelope to accompany them.

The middle of the office was left empty, decorated by an ornamental red carpet, handmade and expensive by the looks of it. At the end of the room sat a heavy mahogany desk littered with documents, letters, an inkwell, quills and a lone, uneaten red apple of all things.

An odd, magically infused crystal lamp provided dim light to the otherwise dark room from the side. Heavy purple curtains covered any leaking light from the streetlamps outside behind the magistrate’s desk, clouding most of the back room in darkness.

Magistrate Ancunín sat behind his desk on his immaculate, leather chair. Head leaned against his bowed elbows and crossed fingers, hiding his mouth from view, gray eyes inspecting Tav keenly.

Tav stood in the middle of the dim room, waiting for further orders.

“Sit.” Magistrate Ancunín commanded.

Tav grabbed the vacant chair in front of the desk and took a seat, polite smile still forced on her lips.

“Do you know why you are here?”

Tav felt like retorting and asking the man the same back, still miffed by the unjustified ruling over her punctuality. He could as well be leaning on her to recite her misdemeanors to him instead of having had prepared accordingly. That, or maybe he was testing her. Or worse, enjoyed verbally tormenting her before slamming a merciless guilty verdict on her.

She smiled and tilted her head, stealing a glance at the side.

“I believe the exact wording was: For aiding in breaking and entering. Oh, and trespassing.”

“Correct.” The magistrate said and picked up the document in front of him and looked it over.

He flapped the paper down and gave Tav a sly side smirk.

“...In addition to suspicions of aiding in other similar activities, not limited to: Breaking and entering. Robbery. Theft. Smuggling. Fencing stolen property and evading law enforcement. Oh. And trespassing.” He added and leaned back on his chair.

Tav’s smile broke a little and a scowl threatened to take over. She willed her face to stay neutral.

“Ah, but the key lies in the wording itself, your honor; suspicions, not proof.”

Magistrate Ancunín’s gaze sparked with interest and he leaned over the desk again.

“Observant one, aren’t you? It must have been bad luck on your end for getting caught that night. Otherwise, I have an inkling you wouldn’t be gracing me with your presence here. In this late hour. In my humble office.”

Tav smiled and read the tired frustration seeping between the magistrate’s words and demeanor.

“Bad luck indeed. Must have been equally bad luck on your part to be stuck in my presence. In this late hour.Iin your humble office.” She repeated and placed a hand on the table, leaning in.

“I believe it’s all just an inconvenient, circumstantial little mishap. Not worth a full trial, certainly not big enough to steal more of your precious time, your honor.” Tav pleaded confidently.

Magistrate Ancunín grinned.

“And what would you suggest we do about this, inconvenient, little mishap stealing my precious time?”

Tav leaned in further, meeting the magistrate’s gaze head on.

“A slap on the wrist, as they say, and I will disappear. We’ll both be free to go home for the night.”

He laughed.

“I’m afraid that’s not how this works.”

Tav leaned against the backrest, her smile now fully gone, replaced by a sullen frown.

“You see, while I appreciate your suggestion to save my time and yours, I however, cannot overlook the fact that this would benefit you more than me.” He mused and grabbed a pencil.

“It’s been a long, hard day and as much as I would love to let you go with a slap on the wrist and go home for the night, I believe there is a serious threat of you repeat offending and being sent back here to steal even more of my highly valuable, highly limited time again. A throughout punishment is in order, I’d say. To make sure you don’t forget why you don’t want to return to my office.” Magistrate Ancunín fixed Tav a sadistic gaze.

It was like he was playing with his food, uninterested in eating it before it jumped up and down, flipped around, pranced and finally begged and pleaded how he liked, before he would even allow it to see his tongue – or declared he wasn’t hungry in the first place and left it to rot on his plate.

“Well?”

“Yes, your honor?”

“You aren’t going to counter my accusations? Plea to soften my verdict?”

“I haven’t heard you come to a clear verdict yet, sir.”

“Guilty. Now, what do you suppose would be a fitting punishment for your misdemeanors?” He arched a brow, tilting the pencil to start writing onto the document in front of him.

“The punishment should fit the crime I would assume. You tell me, your honor.”

“As you wish. I’ll just add in ‘arriving late’ and ‘refusal to cooperate’ to the list first…” The magistrate grabbed the pencil properly and pulled the document closer to himself.

“I wasn’t late.”

“Pardon?” His gaze snapped back to Tav.

“I wasn’t late. I was here before you were finished with your latest customer. I knocked on the door, didn’t hear and answer and sat down to wait, as instructed on the letter.” She pulled out the summons letter and placed it on the desk.

Magistrate Ancunín didn’t even glance at the letter she offered.

“Are you implying I am a liar?”

“Not implying sir, accusing would be the correct term.”

The magistrate sat back on his chair, eyes wide and wild.

“You’re accusing me of being a liar?”

“Yes, your honor. I think we both know you are.”

“Interesting.” He tilted his head.

“… And what will you do with this bold accusation of yours? Convince someone of my wicked ways? Put me on trial?”

“Well I-”

Tav knew this wasn’t a good idea. Even if she knew the magistrate was full of lies, she didn’t have a proper leg to stand on against him. He would just push her down with his superior power and influence, as all great men tended to do to those they perceived to be standing beneath them.

“… Forgive me. I think I spoke out of line, sir.”

“That’s more like it. I’ll correct my notes to read ‘complicit and cooperative’ instead.”

Tav remained silent.

“Now. Back to your punishment. What do you think I should do with you?”

“I don’t suppose letting me just go is an option?”

The magistrate chuckled.

“Persistent, aren’t you?” He sounded almost amused.

“If it’s the verdict you come to, it would be the truth. After all, you aren’t a liar, sir.”

Magistrate Ancunín fixed Tav an intense kind of stare. She stared equally as intensively back. He resumed playing with his pencil before setting it neatly on his desk. He crossed his fingers and leaned comfortably over the desk.

“You would be absolutely correct about that. Alas, the problem lies not in what the truth will be, but what you have on offer for me to enforce said truth.”

Tav perked up slightly. She had gotten lucky after all. Magistrate Ancunín might have been an asshole and a liar, but one of these traits would benefit her if she just knew the right cards to play.

“You don’t suppose some good old gold would settle all this?” She offered.

“Mmh. I doubt whatever amount it is you’re thinking is enough to make up for this.”

“How about community service then?”

“What kind of community service?”

Tav shrugged and peeked around the office.

“You need something opened very late at night, perhaps something small delivered some place without detection…” Tav listed nonchalantly.

“Anything else?”

She returned her gaze to him. He looked slightly interested and more at ease, almost relaxed, if it wasn’t for the ever present frown on his brows. The man looked tired still, exhausted even. He was definitely overworked and hadn’t had a proper break in awhile. He was stressed, tense, like a piano string wrung up too tightly, ready to snap at any moment.

“A massage…?”

“A massage?” The magistrate repeated in surprise.

“Forgive me if I am mistaken, but you look rather... tense, sir.”

“You aren’t mistaken on that part.” He admitted with a raised brow.

“Would you allow me to relieve some of that tension, your honor?” Tav asked sweetly.

“Ever so polite, aren’t you, darling?” Magistrate Ancunín said with a smile.

The petname caught Tav by surprise and she felt a blush rush to her cheeks. She blinked and forced a smile.

“Always, sir.”

“Why not? I suppose it couldn’t do any harm.”

Magistrate Ancunín stood up from his chair and gestured for Tav to stand up with him. She did as commanded and circled the desk to where he was. The magistrate moved his chair to the side to give them free roam near his desk.

He was over a head taller than Tav. His body was slim and his shoulders looked much broader in contrast thanks to it. The air around him gave off an atmosphere of patient authority, something one would expect from a man working in such a high position.

He wore a frill collared jacket made of the finest light blue silks. Silver threaded peonies adorned the front of it. Trails of ornamental threads ran along the cuts of the fabric, every piece carefully tailored to fit his shape.

His legs were covered by similarly colored straight trousers. Plain and uninteresting compared to his jacket that screamed wealth and dignity. His shiny leather shoes provided a dark contrast to the rest of his outfit, having a grounding effect to his looks.

A striking difference to what Tav was wearing. What she had on currently, were some of her more nicer clothes. It was like setting a polished sapphire and a nice, water smoothed stone next to one another. It clearly paid well to be a professional liar in the right place.

Tav settled behind him and the magistrate watched her each move from the edge of his vision. She reached her hands and gripped over the magistrate’s shoulders, starting to rub the firm, tense muscles there in circles.

“Mmmh.” Magistrate Ancunín hummed in pleasure.

“Is that good sir?”

“Very good, darling.”

Tav smiled at the praise and kept going. She worked the top of his shoulders, sometimes dipping over towards his collarbones, to the sides of his biceps and down his back, closer to his shoulder blades.

Even through his fine layers of clothes it was evident to Tav that this man was in excellent shape despite his lanky proportions. He started to noticeably relax the more she massaged him.

“...What else did you have on offer?”

Tav thought through the question as she continued to work on the magistrate’s stiff shoulders. She let her hands wander down along his arms a little.

“Perhaps I could ease the tension on some other parts of your body?” She offered.

The magistrate peeked over his shoulder before fully turning towards her. Tav removed her hands. The magistrate had an inquisitive brow lifted.

“Such as…?”

Tav felt a nervous sting in her stomach. She realized the accidentally loaded implications of her words and let her gaze fall to the man’s chest.

“Your pecks- I mean back, sir.”

He chuckled.

“Aren’t you just adorable?”

Tav froze as a violent rush of heat flooded to her face. Magistrate Ancunín looked proud of himself and searched through her eyes, considering.

“It would be more efficient if I were to undress slightly, wouldn’t it?”

“Eh?”

Magistrate Ancunín smirked deviously and pulled his frilly collar loose and unbuttoned the top layer of his tailored coat. Tav followed his hands with her gaze and felt her heartbeat increase the more buttons popped open.

He pulled his coat off and settled it over the back of his chair, then started on his long sleeved undershirt.

Tav wanted to speak up and tell him it was enough, but she couldn’t. Something in her urged to remain silent and let the events unravel before her as they did. Soon, magistrate Ancunín stood before her shirtless, his well defined pecks and abdomen in full view.

Tav gawked at his perfect skin, her fingertips itching to reach and touch him. She looked him up and down, admiring his figure. The smile on magistrate Ancunín’s lips told her everything she had to know.

“Well, you aren’t just going to stand and gawk there?”

Tav blinked in an attempt to get her wits back, but the sight of magistrate Ancunín’s naked torso had chased most of them away, possibly permanently.

“Oh, of course sir.” Tav moved to stand behind him again.

The magistrate turned with her, staying face to face.

“Ah ah, not my back. You said pecks first, didn’t you?”

Tav froze and her eyes widened. Her gaze dropped at the half naked man’s muscular pecks and remained there.

“Yes. My mistake, sir.” She said half out of breath.

“You are absolved.”

Tav reached to touch magistrate Ancunín’s pecks and began massaging them in circular motions. She tried to keep her breathing calm despite her body’s increased need for more air. She faked appearing confident and stole glances up at the magistrate’s face every now and then, finding his eyes transfixed onto hers each time.

“You’re doing excellent, little pet.”

Tav couldn’t force down the smile and an accidental giggle escaped her. She tried to hide it with a loud clearing of her throat, but the magistrate had noticed it.

“Enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

“Ih… forgive me sir, I didn’t mean…”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head at her.

“We can’t have that, now can we? You are to be punished for your crimes, not rewarded for them. Although… if you behave, I suppose a little reward is in order…”

“A reward, sir?” Tav’s voice pitched from excitement.

“Punishment first, pet.” He nodded.

Tav locked eyes with him and nodded with him. He peeked down her body, then leaned close to her face.

“Strip.”

Tav’s eyes widened and she looked herself over. She studied the look on magistrate Ancunín’s eyes and determined he was serious.

“And… if I don’t?”

“Is this not what you want…?” He countered and lolled his head to the side curiously.

Tav felt heat surge to her loins. A pressure formed inside her lower abdomen and she was suddenly aware of the growing slickness between her legs. She sucked on her lips and nodded.

“Yes. Yes it is… your honor.”

“I thought so.” He smiled and snapped his fingers.

“Now, strip.”

Tav bit her lower lip and stepped back, removed her jacket and dropped it on the floor. She began to unbutton her undershirt while magistrate Ancunín watched her with a smirk.

She struggled to hop out of her shoes and trousers, somewhat clumsily ridding herself of her clothes all at once. Soon, she stood before magistrate Ancunín in her underwear.

He gave her a questioning look.

“Naked.” He said.

The breath in Tav’s lungs halted and she nodded, slid the straps of her bras off her shoulders and reached behind to unbuckle them without question, setting her breasts free. Her nipples hardened against the cool air of the office.

She discarded her bra on top of the pile of her other clothes and pulled down her panties, letting them drop down to her ankles. Panting, she stepped out of them, feeling hot slickness rub along her inner thighs.

Magistrate Ancunín grinned and stepped forth.

“Why are you here?” He asked, slowly circling around her.

The repeat question caught Tav off guard.

“Because of my crimes, sir?”

“Because you’re a bad girl, no?”

“I’m…”

The situation she was in started to catch up to her. Tav realized she was inside the top floor of the court house, alone with a shirtless magistrate, naked. Like a scene straight from some cheap smut chapbook circled around Amn. This wasn’t how she expected things to go or how she would negotiate herself off trouble, but didn’t really mind how things looked for her currently.

“B-because I’m a bad girl… magistrate sir.” She panted with a smile, playing along.

“Bad girls need to be punished accordingly before they can become good girls. You want to be a good girl, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“Yes who?”

“Yes, magistrate Ancunín!”

“Good girl.”

Tav felt herself grow wetter over the praise and gnawed on her bottom lip harder. She watched as magistrate Ancunín stopped in front of her, his gray eyes dark. She focused on the way he slowly wet his lips before speaking up again.

“I couldn’t help but notice what a beautiful mouth you have, darling. Not only is your tongue clever with words, I’m sure you can put it to good use on other matters.” He alluded.

Tav nodded, stealing a glance down his front. He extended an arm and curled most of his fingers up into a fist, pointing down at the floor with his index finger.

“On your knees darling.”

Tav’s mouth gaped slightly and she obeyed wordlessly. She got on her knees and looked up at the magistrate as he approached. He unbuckled his belt. Tav ogled as he pulled the belt off and tossed it over the arm rest of his chair. Her eyes flickered down to the man’s crotch and the way his long, deft fingers unbuttoned his trousers.

Unsurprisingly, his underwear seemed to be as fine and expensive as the rest of his clothes, fitting the rest of his getup seamlessly. A man of style and principle. The blue and silver threads of his undergarments were stretched at the front, strained by the growing weight of his half erect cock underneath.

Tav let out a tiny whimper when magistrate Ancunín pulled out his heated flesh. The lean shaft of his cock was as pale as the rest of him and deliciously flushed closer to the tip. The word ‘elegant’ described it perfectly. His trousers folded below his ankles and he stepped out of them while adjusting his underwear lower.

“Lips apart, darling.”

Eyes adoringly fixated on the magistrate’s cock, Tav parted her lips as commanded.

“Lick.” Came the order.

Tav wiggled closer on her knees and leaned in, mouth open, tongue extended, hearing her pulse drum in her ears. She slithered the flat of her tongue from the underside of the magistrate’s engorged dick to its swollen tip with a sigh.

She repeated the action and peeked up momentarily to see the approving smirk on magistrate Ancunín’s face.

“That’s a good pet.” He praised and Tav felt something akin to butterflies flutter inside her chest.

Eager to hear more, she continued her ministrations and started to lap all over the magistrate’s cock. She began properly from the base, continued up the underside of his shaft, twirling around his cockhead and went back down to its base around the sides, then repeated the motions like a ritual.

Magistrate Ancunín’s breathing was starting to grow heftier, as was his hardened length. His erection reached it’s peak as Tav kept lavishing his member with the slick attention of her tongue, her own loins already soaking wet at this point.

A droplet of precum formed at the tip of magistrate Ancunín’s dick and Tav pulled back briefly to admire it.

“Suck.” Came the one word order from the slightly hoarse voice of the magistrate above.

Tav huffed hot air over the glistening wet tip and opened wide, let the cocktip slip between her lips and gave it a gentle suck.

Magistrate Ancunín tensed and let out a muffled growl. One of his hands found its way among Tav’s hair and grabbed a hold, before starting to pet through her soft locks gently, encouragingly.

Tav closed her eyes and swallowed more of the length in front of her, minding her teeth and carefully applying pressure with her lips and tongue. She began to bob her head back and forth slowly, listening to the tiny grunts of approval elicited by magistrate Ancunín above her.

She had experience sucking up to authority, but this was a new form of doing so entirely. Despite the clear, outrageous imbalance of power between them, she found herself feeling safe and pleased by the situation she was in – trouble like this was what she enjoyed finding herself in the most.

She felt oddly powerful down on her knees in front of him. The thought of being able to render a man of such high status as magistrate Ancunín into a whimpering mess just with her mouth excited her further.

The wet heat between her legs demanded attention and one of her hands slipped to soothe her aching clit. She got so lost among the pleasure of sucking the magistrate off while touching herself that she lost the rhythm of her mouth more than once.

A snap of fingers brought her out of her zone.

“What do you think you’re doing down there? Both hands where I can see them. Now.”

Tav furrowed her brows and huffed with her mouth stuffed with dick and removed the hand attending to her own growing need. She placed both of her hands up against the magistrate’s thighs and focused back on sucking him off.

“Eyes on me, darling.” Came the call from above.

Tav’s gaze snapped up and above, meeting magistrate Ancunín’s pleased gaze and self-satisfied grin. His gray eyes looked down upon her with a glint of sadistic joy, the thrill of having power over someone.

“You’re being such a good girl. Keep going.”

Tav couldn’t help the smile that wrung to the edges of her lips and blinked a couple times, slowly starting back up again. Her gaze ate in the way the magistrate above her shivered and twitched each time she pushed his length down as far as she could muster, feeling the hot flesh throb against her own.

Her fingers dug against the soft skin of magistrate Ancunín’s thighs, both in search of support and to heed the earlier command to keep her hands in his sight. The man above her shut his eyes, lost in his own pleasure, his surveillance of her growing lazy. She could easily slide one of her hands off his legs and he wouldn’t notice it returning between her legs.

Yet the new need to obey and be recognized as ‘a good girl’ somehow overpowered Tav’s natural urge to disobey – for now.

Magistrate Ancunín whimpered above Tav and held onto her head, gesturing for her to stop. She could tell he was close, having felt his flesh tremble and his balls constricting in anticipation of his release. He pulled back and shot Tav with a mirthful glance.

“On your feet.”

Tav swallowed the excess spit still in her mouth and licked her lips. She got up on her wobbly feet, knees feeling slightly achy from supporting her against the office’s hard plank flooring. A trail of hot wetness trickled down between her legs as she did.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” The magistrate raised a brow.

Tav met his strong gaze and nodded sheepishly, lips still wet and gleaming.

“Bad girl.”

He raised his hand once again and gestured for her to turn around. Tav spun on her heels and found herself facing the magistrate’s work desk. Magistrate Ancunín reached past her and swiped the documents and items crowding the center of the desk to the sides, clearing empty space in the middle.

Tav stared at the shiny dark surface of the mahogany desk and was sure if it was polished a hint further, she could see the wild arousal burning behind her eyes reflected from it.

“Bend over it.” Magistrate Ancunín ordered.

Tav closed the gap between her and the desk, then laid her hands over its gleaming smooth surface to test it. She bent her upper body over it until the base of her legs stopped her from going any further along it. She felt a firm grip take a hold of the back of her head and gently force her face down against the table. Her chest and perk nipples squashed against the table’s cool surface. She sighed from the contact.

She felt another hand trail up her spine sensually, the magistrate’s surprisingly calloused palm feeling up the arch of her back and the dip between her shoulder blades.

A cool, leather shoe tapped below on the insides of her bare ankles, ushering them apart. With the domineering hand laid over her neck keeping her head in place, Tav felt cornered enough for the will to disobey rise back up again. She kept her feet where they were.

“No?” Asked the magistrate curiously.

Tav breathed against the hard desk, glancing back at the magistrate standing at the edges of her vision. She heard the floor creak lightly as he stepped closer and felt the heat of his flushed skin hover near hers.

“Don’t you want to be a good girl for me?” The magistrate asked softly, petting her hair.

Tav shook her head as best as she could and smirked disobediently.

Magistrate Ancunín tutted at her and she could barely make out the way he shook his head in disapproval. The hand at the back of her neck tightened its grip and pressed her face harder against the desk.

She whimpered.

“Quiet.”

She stilled and listened.

“Maybe I need to remind you why you should behave?”

Tav swallowed heavily and waited. She felt deft fingers slide between her thighs and brush over her wet folds to her neglected clit. Her hips shivered at the contact and her lungs let out a gasp. The fingers kept rubbing at her ache and the heat at her center wound up tighter. She let out a pleased moan.

“You like that, don’t you?”

The magistrate’s clever fingers glided over her wet folds next, teasing around her hot entrance. Tav shivered at the growing feeling of emptiness around her yearning flesh. The fingers poked at the twitching entrance leading to her leaking canal, never breaching in deeper than that. Tav huffed out of frustration.

“Beg for it.”

Magistrate Ancunín’s touch froze near her entrance and Tav bit her lower lip in excited silence. She relaxed her lower back and parted her legs, sighing deeply before peeking back at the magistrate.

“Please, magistrate Ancunín?”

“Please what?”

“Please… feel up my cunt with your fingers, sir?”

“Hm. Better.”

Tav hummed as a warm digit slid up to the knuckle within her wetness and curled.

“A-ahh…!” She jerked at the sudden stimulus.

The magistrate kept rubbing at the roof of her depths, clearly aware of the sweetspot lingering around there. Tav’s legs shook with every jolt of pleasure, her hips starting to rock against the invading pressure.

“Hold still.”

Tav halted on her tracks, her breathing shallow and laboured. The finger inside of her pressed up against the ache and she struggled not to move.

“I’m certain you’re aware it could be something entirely different easing all this tension within you, yes?”

“Yes, magistrate Ancunín, I am aware.”

With a chuckle the magistrate rubbed his hard cock along her inner thigh and outer folds for emphasis. The finger inside of her curled again, applying more relieving pressure against her lustful ache. Tav sucked in her lips to keep her voice in.

“Ask for forgiveness and I might consider giving you more relief than just my finger.”

He rubbed his finger against her inner walls a couple more times before pulling out entirely. Tav whined as she felt the emptiness around her, the need throbbing inside of her, craving to be filled.

“Please forgive me, magistrate sir. I’ve… been such a bad girl and I must be punished.”

“As you wish, my sweet. Punished you shall be.”

Tav felt the comforting heat of magistrate Ancunín step away from her. He settled out of her view, but kept the hand over her neck firmly in place. Tav waited, listening to him rummage around his shelves.

Suddenly, an hourglass was placed in front of her face. The sand was all piled at the bottom and the magistrate’s fingers tilted it to show it off to her.

“This hourglass will be the length your punishment will last. You can endure until the last strand of sand has fallen, can’t you darling?”

The hourglass seemed relatively small and would last a minute, maximum of three, or more. Tav had no idea how long it would actually take, most definitely a calculated move on magistrate Ancunín’s part. Another devilish way to amp up her discomfort in addition to the sweet torture he was about to inflict upon her.

Tav bent the arm next to her face to see the item better and tried to look where magistrate Ancunín was.

“But you must not make a sound, otherwise I will tip the hourglass over again until you remain completely silent, understood? This is a punishment, after all. Knock on the desk once if you understand.”

Tav clenched her fingers into a fist and knocked on the desk once.

“Good. Now, as to not sully our fun little punishment game, knock repeatedly against the desk if it becomes too much to bear and I will stop. If you stop however, there will be no reward for you, unfortunately. Only good, obedient girls get rewarded. Knock once if you understand.”

Tave knocked once.

“Excellent. Now, lets play.” The magistrate said with a notable thrill in his voice.

Tav took a deep inhale and braced herself for what was to come. The hourglass in front of her was flipped and the sand began to drain.

A sharp smack hit her left buttock. She jolted from surprise. Another slap hit her right buttock and left it tingling the same way her left side did.

She knocked repeatedly against the desk before the third strike could land. The magistrate halted and leaned over her to peek at her face. Tav gave him a coy little smile.

“Sweetheart, are you testing me?” Magistrate Ancunín’s voice sounded playfully shocked.

Tav knocked once.

He chuckled delightfully.

“Do you want me to stop altogether or was this just a test? Knock once to stop, twice to continue.”

Tav watched as the sand in front of her in the hourglass kept draining. She knocked twice.

“Very well then, but ah, would you look at that. I left the hourglass running. Interrupting me like that will extend your punishment, I’m afraid.”

The magistrate resumed spanking Tav with his bare hand, lavishing both of her ass cheeks with plenty of attention. Tav managed to keep quiet through it all, feeling her ass start to tingle and warm up from the repeated strikes against it. The vibrations from each strike traveled to her folds and clit, granting her a teasingly small amount of stimulus that only served to increase the want in her.

The sand drained to the end and magistrate Ancunín paused to tip the hourglass over.

Each slap echoed inside the otherwise silent office of the magistrate as he continued on. He alternated between light and hard strikes, randomly switching between each ass cheek every now and then, pausing at times to create anticipation and hoping to catch Tav off guard.

The pain ebbing on Tav’s behind was starting to sting and she bit down on her lower lip to keep herself from whimpering. She panted hard against the wooden desk, her moist breath misting its gleaming surface. Eyes focused on the slowly draining hourglass in front of her, mustering herself to keep quiet.

Tav began to sweat from the heat of the situation, small droplets trickling down her back and sides in tandem to the heavy trickles of wetness seeping down between her thighs, smearing the hard wooden floor below.

She wanted to disobey so badly, but felt the pain on her backside starting to turn uncomfortably numb with each new spank. She licked her lips, glaring at the hourglass to drain faster, eager to taste the reward for enduring her punishment so well.

Then the final strand of sand fell and the spanking halted. She let out a loud hum of exhaustion, feeling her neglected cunt throb in need.

The hand over her neck was removed and she raised her head to peek over her shoulder.

“That’s a good girl. You endured so well despite the interruption at the start.”

Tav flashed a brief smile.

“Now then, as promised. Good girl’s get rewarded for their efforts.” Magistrate Ancunín said and moved to stand behind Tav.

His still erect cock slid under Tav’s swollen cunt and his hips pressed flush against her aching behind. She hissed at the contact.

“Shhhh… I’ll make it better soon. Now, what do we say when we want something?”

Magistrate Ancunín began to rub her aching ass cheeks with both hands while waiting for her reply.

“Please, sir?”

“Please what, my dear?”

“Your cock, sir. I need your cock inside of me, please?”

“Good girl.”

He pulled away and nudged the head of his cock at Tav’s leaking entrance. He grabbed her hips and pushed in with little effort. Tav moaned wantonly and moved to accommodate him further. The magistrate sighed with pleasure and his grip on her hips tightened as he bottomed out. Tav felt his hot breath against her neck as he bent over her back.

“Oh, you sweet thing. So wet for me.” He panted and began to rock against her softly.

Tav gasped and wiggled under him, her knees shaking from their continuous efforts to stay afoot, backside still tender from the punishment.

“Mmhh… Hold still.” His hand snuck into Tav’s hair and yanked her head back.

Tav whimpered and stilled as best as she could. The magistrate continued to pound into her in languid motions, slow and relaxed, his cock hot and rigid inside Tav’s needy cunt. His grip on her hair kept her head bent back.

She bit her lower lip and enjoyed the way the magistrate’s cock filled her, relieving the heated tension building inside of her. Her wet folds wrapped around him, tightening whenever he pulled out, relaxing as he pushed in, welcoming him back into her depths, begging him not to leave.

She felt the coil in her lower abdomen tighten and felt her release getting closer. Her breathing grew heavy and erratic. Her sweaty fingers grasped at the desk underneath it desperately, her head bent back by magistrate Ancunín’s hand pulling on her hair.

“M-magistrate… Ancunín…!” She whimpered breathlessly.

A broken yelp left her when the magistrate pulled out of her unprompted. His hand released her hair. She shivered and turned to look behind her.

“Turn over.” The magistrate panted.

Tav blinked and pushed herself up from the desk with some effort. She flipped over and magistrate Ancunín helped her lay down on her back on top of the desk. He grabbed her knees and spread her legs, aligning himself between them and pushed back inside her with a loud groan before crashing their lips together.

He licked at her upper lip and wasted no time pushing his tongue between her teeth and intertwined it with hers. She kissed him back with the same fervor, both of their moans muffled by each other’s hungry mouths.

Tav blinked at him through the kiss and watched as his face softened with pleasure. The tense frown was gone, replaced by a pleased furrow instead. He broke off and a broken string of spit fell onto Tav’s breasts. Magistrate Ancunín grinned as he gripped Tav’s sides and fucked into her harder.

“You were so obediently quiet before. I want to hear you scream in turn.” He panted and smirked wickedly.

He slammed his hips into Tav and her eyes rolled back in reaction to the mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Ahhh!” She moaned.

“Louder, darling. Nobody except me can hear you inside these walls.”

He slammed into her again.

“AhhHHHnh!”

“Louder.”

“AHHHHH MAGISTRATE ANCUNÍN!!!” Tav shouted blissfully.

“You’re so pretty when you say my name…”

Tav’s face contorted and her whole body shivered.

“M-magistrate… Ancun… ín… I’m going to… going to…!”

“You’ll cum when I say you can, darling.”

Tav heaved in blissful frustration, her back arching off the desk, ass tender, legs shaking against the magistrate’s sides as she fought against her approaching orgasm. The magistrate slowed down to help her come down, his own body jerking every now and then to chase his own building release.

He stopped still and lifted his hands to play with Tav’s chest. He cupped both of her tits and massaged them, rubbing her perk nipples with his thumbs. She moaned and clawed around his desk for something to grab hold of. The magistrate chuckled.

“Why are you here?”

Tav whined and struggled for words.

“B-because I’m a… a bad girl, your honor…!”

The magistrate pinched her nipples and pulled on them while sliding out of her painfully slow.

“Do you want to be a bad girl?” He questioned and rubbed Tav’s nipples sensually.

Her head thrashed from one side to the other.

“N-no… sir!” She whined, her legs trying to wrap around his waist and pull him back inside of her.

“I-I… I want to be a good girl!” Tav added and pleaded at the magistrate with her eyes, nodding frantically.

She was so agonizingly close. Her abdomen was beginning to hurt from the unfulfilled need. She felt her eyes grow moist from the tears that welled in them.

Magistrate Ancunín gave her a warm smile and gave her nipples one final pinch before releasing them. Tav sighed from the loss of contact, her chest now tingling the same way her ass was.

“You promise to remain a good girl after you leave my office?”

Tav nodded.

“Yes! Yes, I promise magistrate Ancunín sir!” She panted enthusiastically.

“Good girl.” He grinned and slammed back into her.

Tav screamed and threw her head back, letting her voice out in long, broken moans and whimpers as the magistrate began to fuck her in earnest. Her wet walls relaxed to let him in, allowing his length deeper inside.

“P-please… Magistrate Ancunín! Please let me cum!!” She pleaded weakly.

“Not yet, darling. You can hold off a little longer.”

Tav whined and nodded.

Magistrate Ancunín’s own voice broke out and he whined in rhythm to his hips. He hissed and bit his lip, his punishing pace losing focus.

Tav writhed under him, her wet folds pulsing from her barely held back release. She groaned almost painfully, tears breaking free from the corners of her eyes.

“Now darling, cum for me!” He commanded and Tav’s pleasure exploded beneath him.

She screamed his name from the bottom of her lungs and arched her back, her needy cunt milking his throbbing length. Magistrate Ancunín followed soon after, losing himself in her and let go with a husky little whimper. His whole body shook against Tav as his hips rocked into her, jerking the last of his pent up need into her.

He stilled and gasped for air, trickles of sweat now streaming down his face and chest. Tav panted under him, her eyes shut tight as the aftershocks of her orgasm still shook through her nerves. The magistrate pushed himself up, pulled away and stepped back shakily before slumping onto his leather chair.

Tav’s legs felt like uncontained liquid and as soon as they had nothing to support them, fell open and dangled over the firm mahogany desk she was laid on top of.

The office was filled with nothing but their heavy breathing for a good while before an oddly comforting silence took its place. Tav blinked up at the ceiling above, her heartbeat and breathing now calm and steady.

She finally came to enough to push herself up to sit on her still aching ass. She found magistrate Ancunín leaning on an elbow, seated comfortably on his leather chair, legs crossed, his underwear pulled back up and trousers firmly buttoned up again.

His chest was still rising and lowering noticeably heavy, his brows gleaming with sweat.

“I think this concludes your trial. I deem you free to go with a warning. This time.”

Tav managed a weak smile and inched herself off the desk. Her knees felt wobbly, her buttocks ached, and her nipples were swollen, but the pleasant heat now thrumming at her core made everything feel better. She was free to go and more than that, exhilarated by the success of their negotiations.

The magistrate allowed her a moment more of his time to clean up before exiting his office for the night.

On her way down the hall and the near infinite amount of stairs, Tav thought back on her little gigs at the edges of law and was glad to have trailed off to the wrong side of the law for once.

Feeling the combined fluids of their heated negotiations slick the insides of her underwear, she itched to be bad again, in hopes of finding herself back within magistrate Ancunín’s office to be reminded how to be a good girl once more.

[hypexion]

The thing about Murders at Karlov Manor is that from a story perspective, it couldn't have been set anywhere but Ravnica. And it especially couldn't have been set on New Capenna.

The story of Murders is ultimately about the fallout of March of the Machine on both Ravnica as a city, and on Kaya personally. The motivations for the high-profile deaths that litter the set are tied directly to elements of the Phyrexian invasion. The manner of murder is specifically set up to overcome the barriers Ravnica as a setting provides to a murder mystery. And Kaya only gets involved because of her questionably defined but always present relationship with Teysa Karlov.

Ravnica also comes pre-built with a host of established characters, who conveniently all hate each other. This enabled readers to theorise about whodunnit, as each daily chapter provided more information and more intrigue. People considered all kinds of threads: Could Jace be involved? Might Azor be pulling the strings somehow? How does Judith plan to survive her crazy plan? Lazav?? By the time Proft said "I know who the killer is", you too could get it. (then for some reason they delayed the reveal chapter so they could reveal the killer in a spoiler stream. even when the story is good, the management is bad)

If you move the story out of Ravnica, the whole thing falls apart. You lose everything that makes it work. A new plane would be functional, but a lot less engaging. Fiora is about political scheming, even more so than Ravnica. And New Capenna...

New Capenna is not a particularly well constructed setting. It works as a sparse background for a Magic set, but when you start poking at it, it falls over. Like, one of the nicer ways to describe New Capenna is "discount Ravnica", because you are comparing it to one of the game's most successful settings. And that's what New Capenna is - a city controlled by a number of distinct factions, built out of specific colour combinations. But the New Capenna factions are not as good as the Ravnica ones (and the Obscura are literally just the Dimir). There is crime on New Capenna, but there is no authority against which that crime is committed, which makes things rather hollow. Ravnica, as strange as its laws are, has laws, along with people to enforce them. (note: I am aware of the Doylist reason why New Capenna has no police. Watson is still crying.)

Ravnica being well-developed allows it to function as a backdrop for a different idea. New Capenna's issues do the opposite. In fact, any return to New Capenna would need to reckon with how the setting got completely turned over by the return of the angels. You can't just say "well the crime has punishment now, onto the mystery". You have to actually engage with the big change, or you're just dragging New Capenna into a deeper hole.

conclusion: When the Magic story is good it's because the writer looked at the setting and characters they were given and used them together well. This is only possible if you have a setting and characters that can be used well. Ravnica has that, the crime plane does not.

[dustysalmon]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 5

Pairing: Silco x Reader Rating: Explicit Warnings/Tags: graphic depiction of violence; slow burn; enemies to lovers, enforcer!reader Story summary: After a chain of unexpected events, Jinx is arrested, and you find yourself in possession of the gemstone. On top of it all, you are forced into a reluctant alliance with Silco. What else could possibly go wrong?

Chapter summary: With the help of a friend, you attempt to steal the documents requested by Silco, and make disturbing discoveries along the way.

Word count: 3.4k

Read on ao3 ⎜ Previous chapter ⎜Next chapter (tba)

The week flies by, though it’s largely uneventful. Lots of patrols in the city, mountains of paperwork, and a handful of arrests for petty crimes. Whenever possible, you request assignments beyond the bridges.

Not only is it more hectic there, but it allows you to personally meddle with the disproportionate amount of arrests at the border—most of which are children. Wealthy topsiders who indulge in Shimmer don’t bother crossing into the undercity to get their fix. Instead, they have it delivered to their doorstep. To facilitate this, the chem-barons rely mainly on child couriers. Less conspicuous, quick on their feet, and very good at hiding in plain sight, they’re the most logical choice for this kind of work. 

As an enforcer, your orders are simple: arrest the couriers, confiscate the cargo, and deliver a harsh lecture about the consequences of breaking Piltover’s laws. Whatever that means. You satisfy yourself with the lecturing part. The prisons are already overpopulated with Zaunites who have no business being there, and kids represent an overwhelming portion of it. Granted, sending them back to their boss empty-handed is not ideal, but the most chem-barons can do is rough them up a little. They’re well aware that the workforce is not infinite, it would be bad for business. It’s not ideal, and it doesn’t fix the problem, but you’d rather have that than send them all to Stillwater. Needless to say your Piltovian colleagues tend to be less lenient. 

Hopefully you will have more freedom over your affectations once you officially take you position as Major. As you think about it, you realise that controls at the border loosened abruptly when Marcus Sheriff. Everybody knows why now. You hate to admit it, but you might actually miss the bastard. Warren will have a very different approach then his predecessor, that’s for sure. The ceremony is tomorrow and the mere thought of him parading through the streets with that kind of power at his fingertips sickens you. He has always been the confrontational type, and given the current tensions, if he has his way, things will only get worse.

You shove your helmet and gloves in your locker with a sigh. Six days have passed and you have yet to learn much about Jinx’s condition. Luckily, you just happen to have your monthly physical today. You have no doubt that Dr. Hansen is involved in her recovery and will have a lot to say about the girl. He always talks too much for his own good, but that’s not what worries you. Coaxing the information out of him is one thing, but figuring out how to steal the personal files without anyone noticing is another challenge entirely. It’s not a problem if he realises the documents are gone later—so long as you’re careful, no one will trace it back to you. The key is finding a way to be alone in the room for just a few minutes. Your mind races as you weigh your options, frustration bubbling inside. Maybe there’s someone who could help you with a little distraction. Of course—why hadn’t you thought of it before? There’s someone you need to talk to urgently. You snap your locker shut, and after a quick goodbye to your partner of the day, you head straight to the medical facility. 

Located just a few blocks away from the Police Department headquarters, it is a large building that welcomes patients, but also classes, conferences and summits for those in the medical profession. It’s also where every enlisted enforcer goes to take their annual physical. You, however, get to visit about twice a month thanks to the abominations you call lungs. But first, there’s a certain Vastaya you need to find. 

As you walk in the main lobby, you pray that he is indeed working today. A quick glance at your pocket watch reads 9:45p.m. The dining hall it is then. Unsurprisingly, the place is packed, and incredibly noisy. You weave through the tables, your eyes shifting in the sea of identical uniforms and blouses. Fortunately, your target stands out from the human crowd with his very distinctive features. You up your pace.

"Dren!" You wave at him and notice the way his expression shifts as his vivid green eyes set on you. As soon as you reach him, he excuses himself from his comrades and rises fluidly from his seat. Before you can even get a word out, he grabs you by the elbow with his large clawed hand and pulls you to a quiet corner, away from the noise and prying eyes. 

"What’s wrong with y—"

"A couple days ago," he interrupts, "I get a memo from my friend that reads like a damn suicide note. Not one word since, and you expect me to be normal about it?" He hisses, his protruding fangs showing much more than usual.

"A suicide note?" You repeat, caught off guard.

"There’s this one thing I gotta do," he quotes you verbatim, his voice heavy with accusation. "If you don’t hear from me soon…what was I supposed to make of that?" The raw emotion in his tone—equal parts anger, fear, and shaky relief—hits you harder than expected. You recall scribbling the note in a rush, but it hadn’t sounded nearly as dramatic at the time. You apologise profusely and reassure him how you can, although your words don’t sound very convincing even to you. In truth, your safety is hanging by a thread, and if you have nothing to show for the next time you meet with Silco, you seriously doubt that he’ll simply grant you a second chance.

"Are you gonna tell me what this is all about?" Dren asks, leaning back slightly, as though bracing himself for whatever revelations you are about to drop on him, should you choose to. You owe him that much, and so you lay it out for him. Your first meeting with Silco, which you confess didn’t exactly go smoothly, but all things considered it could have gone much worse. You skirt around the edges of the most important details, carefully omitting the Gemstone. Instead, you imply that both of you are in a precarious arrangement—each holding something the other wants. For now, that tenuous balance is all that’s keeping you alive. You feel a bit guilty withholding information from Dren, but you meant what you said about the stone: its whereabouts need to stay secret. Not just for your sake, but for Dren’s as well. It’s safer if he doesn’t know. 

When you finish, silence sets between the two of you. The longer he stares at you, the clearer it becomes: he must think you finally lost your mind. He pinches the tip of his snoot, a habit of his when he’s thinking something over—and, more importantly, trying not to say the first thing that comes to mind.

"Do you think you can trust him?" Even he knows the answer to that question. To the average Piltovian, Silco is an industrialist—a business man whose dealings are above board by undercity standards. But for enforcers stationed at the border, and more recently for the Council, the façade is paper-thin. Once you know about the chem-barons, it doesn’t take much to figure out who’s truly pulling the strings. Silco is a dangerous man, but you wouldn’t have come to him if you had a better option. That’s exactly what you tell Dren, and you’re grateful when he listens without interrupting. He is well aware that wearing that uniform is a burden more than anything. On your end, you’ve never hidden your priorities from him. Piltover might sign your paychecks, but your home will always come first, even if that implies making dubious choices and people.

"Well that’s…a lot," Dren says with a nervous snort. "At least I’m glad you’re okay. I hope you know what you’re doing." He rubs your shoulder comfortingly, and you nod in thanks, placing your hand over his as you blink the wetness of your eyes away. Finally, some of the weight and tension from the past week lifts off your shoulders. It’s not unusual for you to keep everything bottled up, but admittedly this is a lot more than you’re used to. It’s a true relief to be able to share this with someone. 

"So," he then says hesitantly, with an air of forced casualness, trying to lighten the mood. "Any other secret plans you wanna share?" The smile vanishes from his features as there is clearly something else. 

"Actually yes." Without beating around the bush, you ask if there’s any way he could distract Dr. Hansen during your check-up—something subtle, effective, and that would keep him away long enough for you to poke around the office. As before, you leave the most important details out.

"I don’t want to get you in trouble, Dren. If it’s too much, I’ll find a way," you say, meaning every word. You’ve already leaned on him more than you should today. His green eyes narrow slightly, before an exaggerated pout spreads across his features.

"Are you calling me incompetent?" He asks, feigning deep offence, as though you’ve wounded his pride.

"Dren, I’m serious," you retort. It shouldn’t surprise you that he’s joking about it—ever the competitive sort. Frankly, there was little chance he would turn down the challenge, and unconsciously or not, a part of you knew that. You’re afraid to ask yourself what that says about you.

"I know, but you also said it was important," he says, his teasing demeanour giving way to sincerity. "I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t trust you."

"Thank you." The knot of anxiety in your stomach loosens just enough to let adrenaline creep in. No backing down now. It’s time to get your hands dirty. "I should be going then," you say, stepping away. "Can’t wait to see what you come up with." Dren gives you a sly wink in return, his sharp teeth flashing in a mischievous grin.

You sit on a cold metal chair in the empty waiting room, trying to look casual, but somehow, nothing feels natural. You smile to yourself. Stealing used to be such a trivial activity when you were a kid. You snatched from stalls without a second thought, pocketed mechanical parts as you walked past scrap shops like it was nothing. The years have tamed you for sure, but now would be an ideal time to get back to your roots.

The plan—if you can call it that—plays over in your head like a record. Get through the initial pleasantries with the doctor, wait for Dren’s cue. You can clearly picture the layout of the office from your previous visits. It’s not huge, but it’s always full of paperwork everywhere. It might be a headache. Your chest tightens at the thought of fumbling. There are so many ways that this could go wrong. But you remind yourself that failure is not an option. After a few minutes, Dr. Hansen’s voice breaks through the silence. “Officer, please come in.” He says with a tired smile. 

The check up is very routine: height, weight, blood pressure and heart rate. Then onto the physical examination. As is customary, Hansen spends extra time fidgeting with your chemsurge. He’s clearly fascinated by the technology, but his bias always gets the better of him.

"You should really consider looking into what Hextech does in terms of respiratory devices. I’m not sure how reliable this is." He’s been saying that for years, ever since you had it installed.  

"As expensive as this was, Hextech is…too rich for my blood, I’m afraid." You reply evenly, and he simply shrugs in response.

"This is decent, I suppose." Clearly he doesn’t believe that. "Gutter work, but decent." It gets less aggravating after a while, but it’s still worth noting, the way they can’t help but speak ill of the undercity. That’s fine, as far as you’re concerned, Hextech has never done anything for you, and you’re more than satisfied with the gutter work. 

Suddenly, there’s a big boom coming from the corridor, like a body falling limply and fully to the ground. And then a strangled scream calling for help. Oh, Dren is really going to put on a show then… Hansen looks at you with stupor, excuses himself and rushes through the door. He has barely made it past the threshold that your body goes straight to auto pilot. You run behind the desk, opening the top drawer, and closing it when you find nothing of interest. You repeat the same process with two others before finding something worth going through. A stack of patient files, neatly sorted by name. Your eyes travel frantically back and forth from the ajar door to your hands as they flip through the documentation. At the same time, you keep an ear out in case any footsteps come a little too close. 

No luck with this drawer either, you curse, looking at the shelves around the office. There’s far too much to search through. You look for something isolated, something important enough to be kept separate, and that would pertain to an ongoing intervention. A pile of paper tucked in the bottom of a shelf catches your eye. A variety of bills are stacked at the top, but you’re interested in the black folder beneath it. Skimming through the first pages, you let out an involuntary sound of relief as you stumble upon a picture of Jinx. No need to linger any more than strictly necessary. You get off the ground and shove the large file in your backpack. 

Dren has done his part tremendously well because you get about two minutes to yourself before Dr. Hansen walks back into the room, his face a perfect portrait of exasperation. He drops in the chair beside the examining table with a sigh that practically begs for the day to be over.

"Everything okay?" You ask innocently, and he answers like it's physically painful to recount what just happened.

"Some idiot almost choked himself eating grains," he says, rubbing the bridge of his nose intensely. "Stupid way to die, but it happens more than you think. The healthcare services are saturated, and this is what we have to deal with." You nod empathically, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. 

"I can believe that. And I hear we’re hosting criminals now, too." Not your subtlest attempt at fishing for information, but Hansen takes the bait immediately. 

"Ah, you’re not the first to tell me that this week. And let me tell you, this one’s a real handful. Resilient like you wouldn’t believe, like she refused to die, really."

"You think she’ll make it?"

"Oh, she’s in stable condition, should be released in a couple of days, it’s just a formality. It’s not the body I’m worried about, though, it’s the mind. That girl’s completely insane. She won’t last a month in Stillwater, and that’s being generous." He sneers. By the sound of it, you bet he’s one of the guys who’d rather you have left her for dead on the bridge.

"Good riddance." You say, buttoning up your collar as the check up comes to an end. 

Hansen gives you a prescription for painkillers, which are technically for your mom, but he doesn’t need to know that. As far as you’ve told him, the chemsurge hurts you in ways that are unbearable from time to time, and that explanation works perfectly within his narrative. You shake his hand, thank him, and make your exit. It’s only once you’re in the corridor that you realize your heart has been hammering this entire time. Thankfully, he hasn’t said anything about it, and if he chalked it up on the chemsurge, all the better. By the time you make it to the entrance of the building, you’re practically running. Dren finds you a few minutes later, his grin smug and unapologetic.

"Found everything you were looking for?" He asks nonchalantly.

"You’re one crazy bastard, you know that?" You hiss, your voice low to avoid drawing attention, but your words are pointed.

"I’ll take that as a yes." He relishes in your weak reprimand, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeves.

"What if you actually choked?" You snap, though you can’t help the exasperated laugh that slips out.

"Then you would’ve had even more time alone in that room."

You shake your head, rolling your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re welcome,” he shoots back, elbowing you gently. 

“Thank you.” You mumble, the corner of my mouth twitching into a smile. “But you’re still crazy.”

“Crazy gets results. Don’t forget it.” You follow him outside, enjoying the last rays provided by the bright sunset. Dren’s grin softens slightly as he meets your eyes. “Get some rest,” he says, the teasing edge in his voice giving way to something gentler. “You’ll need it for tomorrow…I hear someone is getting promoted.” You stop in your tracks, realising you completely forgot to tell one of your closest friends about that super important event in your life.

"Shit…I wanted to tell you, I just—"

"Hey, you’ve got a lot on your plate, it’s okay. Just make sure to acknowledge me during your speech eh." You laugh it off together, and he walks you back to Mid Town. You part ways with a hug, and he keeps an eye out until you’re fully out of sight. 

After tending to your mom and settling her to bed, you sit at the kitchen table and pull the stolen file from your bag. For a long moment you just stare at it, your finger running over the edges of the folder with hesitation. It does feel like you’re intruding a little bit, but you figure that you don’t have the luxury to pass up on any information. Besides, Silco didn’t say anything about not nosing around, and he’s not stupid, you would’ve peeked with or without his approval. 

You open the folder and smooth out the pages of the post-incident report. Hansen was right about one thing, it is a handful. The first image stops you cold. It’s a close-up of Jinx’s arm, where you can see the burns stretch across her skin in jagged, angry lines, deep enough to leave raw tissue exposed. The note reads Severe third-degree burns over 15% of the body. Shrapnel lodged in the left thigh and abdominal region… The list goes on, each word more cutting than the last and your guts twist a little more as you look at the other pictures. One shows a profile shot of her face, swollen and bruised, her long blue hair matted with blood. The burns curve up her neck and onto her jawline, leaving patches of discoloured, warped skin. 

You read through more of the clinical and impersonal language describing wounds that honestly should have been fatal to the girl. Hextech certainly has reached a whole new level in terms of medical research. The next section is full of diagrams, showing the extent of the damage and the subsequent surgeries required to stabilize her. Every note is written with an almost robotic detachment, but you feel every word very strongly. You pause as your eyes linger on the next bit. Explosion caused by an improvised device. Self-triggered. As you suspected, the bomb that put an end to the fight was hers, but the report basically confirms that Jinx was ready to blow herself up. For what? The cause? To prevent herself from being arrested? Your memories from that night are not as clear as they once were, but the Firelight leader was clearly not ready to finish her off. They could have walked away, both of them. You shake your head lightly. The girl doesn’t look a day over seventeen, and yet, there she was, ready to give up everything in one violent, final act. The thought of having nothing left to lose so soon in life, of reaching a point where destruction is the only answer, it makes your stomach churn.

You push the file away, and lean back in your chair. A part of you is relieved to have something solid to show Silco the next time you meet, but you can’t help fearing how he will react to those pages. If he truly cares for the girl—and you genuinely think he does—this will infuriate him beyond measure. And if he chooses to channel that fury into actions, the outcome would be catastrophic, for everyone.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @nerds4life246 @policedeer @burgerwolf74

Chapter 1 ⎜ Chapter 2 ⎜ Chapter 3 ⎜ Chapter 4 ⎜ Chapter 5