#cw: mentions of murder

[romances-not-tragedies]

and i keep my side of the street clean

Summary: When a chat about the case of the murdered magician goes ugly, one of Jo Gar's longtime acquaintances walks up into the scene and chooses figurative violence against the lieutenant of the Manila Police Station who thinks he is right in accusing an innocent man of a murder he may not commit. Or "The Magician Murder" AU in which someone puts Sadi Ratan in his place. Title from Taylor Swift's "Karma".

Content warnings: mentions of murder case, swearing, abuse of power by authority, insult towards an honorable ex-government official, not-quite accurate depiction of legal processes in pre-Revised Penal Code era, mixed opinions on the American colonial government in the Philippines

Note: Edilberto Alcantara is an original character I have made for each and every Jo Gar 'verse. In the stories he is a lawyer who's had the honor of working under one of the most honorable government officials who would figure in the country's history under tragic circumstances (read WWII).

Edilberto knew that he was supposed to be home, in an apartment unit at the arrabal of Ermita where he’d been living two years ago. To be fair, though, he still went back to the house at Calle Azarraga, which his family had bought upon securing enough funds while he entering his teenage years, for the weekends or when he felt like it, since it felt more like home than he'd thought it was before moving out.

But Jo had asked him to come over at his little office near Escolta since he needed his unofficial opinion on a certain case, and he climbed up the stairs after waving a greeting to Wong Ling, who seemed to be fretting in his place. He had wanted to ask but he had no time. He arrived at the door, not locked as he knew Jo would not lock his door as force of habit, only to hear sounds of conversations.

He bent down and pressed his ear against the keyhole to listen to who and what they were talking.

He recognized Jo’s matter-of-fact tone of speaking, countering with the always charged (and angry) tone from Lieutenant Sadi Ratan. He resisted the urge to sigh, as he had known the lieutenant to be a pus-filled boil on your buttocks dressed in a handsome face and spotless uniform. He had intensely disliked the lieutenant from the get-go. They were discussing about the case of a murdered magician, Señor Dario Cardoro who had arrived in the country and was watching the cockfight this night, only to get into a problem after the last round.

What it was, Edilberto had no idea.

And then, as it often went, what was supposed to be a decent conversation (or at least on Jo Gar’s part) devolved into the usual ugly shit. He heard the lieutenant ask in a demanding tone if Jo would accept Señor Sam Markden’s commission as he was seen as prime suspect.

It’s his right, yawa, he wanted to retort, but kept himself silent so he could time his entrance.

Then, he heard the lieutenant accuse Jo Gar, “You are protecting an American. You have always protected them. You like them. He was your client.”

Really now? Edilberto asked, if only to himself. It was like accusing you that you liked the current Governor-General, who Edilberto did not like since the Conley Crisis. Also, why was the lieutenant taking issue with Jo taking Markden as a client?

To Jo’s credit, he was as calm as he could be. “I was not paid that well,” he answered. “I doubt that I could be paid that well. Riazo was not drugged. You have no proof of it.”

Ayos! Edilberto silently cheered with a little fist pump. Drag him to hell, Jo. You’re doing it right.

Hotly, the lieutenant fired back, “I stood over Juan Derigo when he told me—”

So you intimidated him, then? Edilberto wanted to ask him.

“A Filipino does not like to be beaten,” Edilberto heard Jo chuckle as he replied. And the statement was true, unfortunately. “He preferred to let you think as you wished.”

Ha! Take that, you sorry sack of ball-less cocks!

Again, he heard the lieutenant vow to Jo, “It will not be good for you to protect Markden, Señor Gar. When we have caught him—”

Unless proven otherwise, Lieutenant Idiot-Face. You forgot that part. You only have one job and you are blowing it.

“The birds were in condition,” cut off Jo, though he spoke slowly. “Each of them. Riazo was defeated. That was all.”

But Lieutenant Idiot-Face, er, Lieutenant Ratan said, as though he had discovered buried treasure, “It is not all. Cardoro stood up and shouted that he would not pay.” Okay, so the man had money problems, and that’s the least of Edilberto’s worries right now. He was worried about the horrid fucker insisting that he was right despite the fact that his arguments could be thrown away by any sane juez de la paz. “I saw Markden’s face—”

Oh, you could read faces now? Good for you, Edilberto sarcastically said if to himself.

The lieutenant continued, “—there was hate in his eyes. And Cardoro was murdered. A spur knife was used. Markden has vanished. We have searched the city for him. He is the killer of the magician!”

And yet in your hate towards Jo Gar, you haven’t killed him. Also, why must you insist on something not yet fully proven? Anger was simmering in the young attorney. Were his former boss present in Jo’s office and was confronted by someone like Sadi Ratan, he would dismantle the lieutenant’s arguments with calm logic and knowledge of the law. He would gently but firmly rip them apart, one by one, until nothing was left for the lieutenant.

Jo replied with a sigh, “Then it is all very simple. You will find him, and that will be the end.”

Unless the court says otherwise, Jo. You forgot that part.

The calm must have driven Lieutenant Ratan crazy. Angry, perhaps. Which was why he would commit one of the most blatantly terrible acts of injustice Edilberto would hear him threaten Jo.

“And you will be brought to trial for lying to me, a police officer!” Edilberto heard Lieutenant Ratan fiercely threaten Jo Gar.

Anger shot through Edilberto. How dare Lieutenant Sadi Ratan accuse everyone and anyone of lying without solid proof! He wanted to puke and not because of beer, and he didn’t even drink! And he hadn’t made Jo swear an oath to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, an abomination of everything he had learned at law school and his ongoing stint at the Department of Justice. And he would have him tried for a crime he was trying to prove with only conjectures? No solid evidence?

That’s it, I��ve had enough!

He swung the door open and stepped inside the little office of his late cousin’s friend. “‘Lying to me?’” he repeated the words mockingly as a greeting to the lieutenant. He closed the door behind him a little too strongly and raised a brow at the lieutenant. “Who the fuck do you think Jo Gar is, your wayward husband?” he asked crisply and coolly like the amihan winds of December.

That made both men jump out on where they were standing. Cold satisfaction ran through the young attorney when the police lieutenant went stiff and his eyes grew comically wide. Jo Gar blinked a few times.

The “wayward husband” remark must have disoriented them, he thought.

It took both men time to recover from this dramatic greeting, Jo calming down first and greeting him with a faint smile, “Compañero Alcantara, what a pleasant surprise.” Relief washed over Jo’s countenance, though he hid it behind his usual expressionless face.

Edilberto smiled at Jo Gar and answered, “I thought you’ve already known that I would be here, since you sent me a message before I left home. And I do believe that Lieutenant Sadi Ratan here would quickly accuse me of conflict of interest even if I am just here for a different reason.” He delivered the last sentence in a cutting, sarcastic manner he’d always use when dealing with the lieutenant.

“How long have you been listening to us, Compañero Alcantara?” Edilberto turned to the police lieutenant, who was fuming so badly that he could see smoke out of his nose and ears.

The attorney directed his eyes towards Lieutenant Ratan, curled his lips in a here comes trouble smirk that had been a family trademark. He answered, “Long enough to hear you accusing of Señor Gar of liking Americans and committing perjury even if he has not sworn to someone who is fit to administer an oath. And then quickly accuse of Señor Markden of killing Señor Cardoro on the basis of—what?” He blurted out the last word in a mocking laugh. “Simply because he had dug up dirt on the man? That’s not how things work, Lieutenant. I thought you know better. I was wrong.”

He watched Jo Gar watching this unfold with interest and a bit of worry. He must have known that Edilberto hated the lieutenant, even more so when he watched the lieutenant trying to get under Jo’s skin. His underhanded tactics made Edilberto seethe no matter what.

Then his eyes went right back to Lieutenant Ratan as he grew red on the face. He must have hit where it hurt the most. Good, let him be angry and make his head explode.

Then Lieutenant Sadi Ratan exploded, making him barely flinch, “He lied to me! He is having Señor Markden hide behind him even though he is the killer of Señor Cardoro!”

Edilberto recovered from the outburst, thinking that Lieutenant Ratan sounded more like a lover scorned than a member of the Manila Police District. He asked, “Did you administer an oath to Jo Gar? Because from what I have heard, you did not. You just fired out accusations towards Señor Markden based on flimsy evidence and conjectures. If you tried to push it to trial stage at the court, even at the First Instance, the juez de la paz will laugh at your arguments. And while Señor Markden is suspected of killing Cardoro, he still has the right to ask for aid, legal aid.”

“Asking for aid from Señor Gar is not legal aid!” fired Sadi Ratan back.

“Doesn’t he have the right for an attorney?”” Edilberto countered matter-of-factly. “Is that not legal aid?” He watched the lieutenant grow mad once more and he was steps away from what his sister would call an apoplexy. He continued, “Plus, you already presumed him guilty, Lieutenant Ratan. That is not how it works.” He jutted his chin and pointed out, “He is still innocent until judged otherwise by the court of law.”

“And you are siding with Señor Markden, too,” Sadi Ratan accused him, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You are supposed to be on the side of the law. I thought you know better.”

Edilberto rose an eyebrow on that, amused at this feeble show of power. “Why, I have been hearing that accusation too often,” he remarked, his voice mild but acerbic. He commented, “I must have gotten the lessons from my ex-boss wrong. I thought practicing fairness is important. Maybe I should visit him once more for some…clarification on the matter.”

“But I thought he had resigned from the Cabinet, Compañero Alcantara?” Jo Gar asked as he reached out for the packet of his favorite cigarettes in his coat.

“Which is why I said ‘ex-boss,’ Jo,” Edilberto pointed out with a smile on his face. “I still look up to him, though.”

He returned his stare to the lieutenant, who had dropped his finger when he saw how unfazed the attorney was. Which was a good sign, as it meant that what he’d said frazzled his non-existent brain.

“But he worked for Americans, and you work for Americans, Compañero Alcantara,” the lieutenant blurted out, gritting his teeth. He pointed to Jo and said, “And he likes working with Americans! He likes them and you like them!”

“So what?” Edilberto asked sharply. That this police lieutenant had the audacity to insult his former boss and his more-than stellar career in the government made his blood boil. Never mind he insulted his, but not that of the ex-Justice Secretary! It should earn him a punch or two, but that would be for another day. He stalked forwards, eyes and spirit hardened as he made Sadi Ratan stumble back.

Edilberto icily responded to the latter’s assault on the former Secretary, “My ex-boss was a pensionado, true. He also used to be part of the Cabinet as Justice Secretary before resigning. And guess who is leading the Cabinet? An American Governor-General! Does that make him pro-American? I don’t know except that my ex-boss is a fair and honorable man and is better at serving the people than you are.”

He smirked again at the arrogant lieutenant, who was utterly speechless, and pointed out, “And who is chief of the Manila Police District? An American! Your boss is often out of sight that we forget that he existed. And as for Americans asking for Jo’s help? That, Lieutenant Sadi Ratan, is none of your fucking business.”

He caught sight of Jo Gar looking at him in surprise. He knew that Jo had not seen him this angry towards anyone. Among his family and friends and in Jo’s opinion (at least how he’d say it), he had always been the mediator, the peaceful center amidst the chaotic dynamics.

He went on and said, “I’m not going to lie. It is not ideal, and I am not going to pretend that we do not have blood and muck up our necks because we work with Americans. Do not pretend that you are safe from it, either. You, too, are stained with the same shit as Jo and I are.”

“That is one way of putting it, Compañero,” Jo mildly said to Edilberto as he lit another cigarette. “But I fear that Lieutenant Ratan will not understand what you are telling him.”

Edilberto shook his head. “I’ve given up hope, Jo,” answered the attorney with a wave of his hand. “If he stays like that, that is on him.”

Then his attention went back to Lieutenant Ratan, who was standing there, angry defiance vibrating through him. He would not admit defeat, Edilberto thought to himself. He quietly told the police officer, “I will not be the cause of your downfall. Nor Jo Gar will be the cause of your downfall. You are already doing damn fine job yourself. But if you decide to go ahead with your threats and damn the consequences, go ahead. I will not stop you.”

Lieutenant Sadi Ratan reared back in shock. The shift in his tone must have jarred his brain and that he was giving the lieutenant an opportunity, a choice.

“I will warn you,” Edilberto continued, still mild in tone but with the rage in its undertones, “that since you are fond of committing this particular sin, a false charge can ruin a person. Arresting anyone on false charges can ruin them more. No one is safe from being falsely accused and being jailed for it. Señor Markden may not be safe. Señor Gar may not be safe. I may not be safe. You may not be safe either. So be careful if you keep proceeding. Do not say I have not warned you, Lieutenant Ratan.”

Their eyes clashed, and Lieutenant Sadi Ratan gave him a hard stare. Edilberto returned it with a frigid glare, his lips in a challenging not-quite smile. It was not long before Lieutenant Sadi Ratan broke the spell and walked away, but not without bumping into Edilberto’s shoulder, making the attorney stumble a little, and slammed the door shut. Edilberto muttered something unsavory about the lieutenant as he rubbed his affected shoulder.

Edilberto looked at Jo once more and let out a shaky breath of relief. “That ataya. He should have seen it coming,” he muttered as he approached Jo. “Sorry if I screwed it up.”

“On the other hand, you did well,” Jo said, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m just worried that he would go after you.”

“On what grounds?” Edilberto asked as he sat on the fan-backed chair Jo had motioned for him to take. “That I warned him of the consequences if he continues to be an animal?” He pronounced the last word as his Cebuano parents would pronounce it when feeling annoyance towards anyone who acted uncouthly. “He can file a complaint to our acting boss if he wants to and if he has solid evidence. I’m not going to stop him because I know what is right and he is wrong. He made his bed, so let him sleep in it.”

Jo shook his head. “And yet you deal with him in a way you are daring him,” he told him, his blue-gray eyes on him, weariness evident in his countenance. “I wish I have half of your audacity to call him out like that. But it may take too much of my energy.”

Edilberto felt sympathy for him as he watched Jo run his fingers through his graying hair. Dealing with a stress inducer like Lieutenant Sadi Ratan would take a toll on anyone, even the unflappable Island Detective. He couldn’t blame him, though, if he wanted to deal with the lieutenant in a way he thought best.

“Whatever suits you best, Jo,” assured Edilberto. “But by God, I am steps away from punching his face! I wish I do not have to, because if I do, my family will be disappointed in me.”

Jo appeared to want to say something but closed his mouth and only nodded. “Well, let us set that aside, Edilberto, and discuss that case I am working on before the murder of Señor Cardoro. I would need your advice on how it is best handled in the legal matters.”

Edilberto let out a sigh. At last they had something to divert themselves from the debacle involving the aggressive idiot of a lieutenant.

***

And so, when Edilberto Alcantara heard that Sam Markden had been jailed for the murder of Dario Cardoro, his shoulders slumped. But when he read an article from the most recent edition of The Philippine Herald in his office at the Department of Justice, it turned out that it was Miss Jessie Rayne’s Spanish companion, Señora Elena Riggio, who killed the magician out of spite and a history that ended bitterly. Markden was let go because of this development.

That last bit of news had been heartening, but it made him angry too. Lieutenant Sadi Ratan let himself be carried away by his delusions of grandeur, believing that his word was gold. It turned out to be gold-hued enamel coating over a celluloid bauble. Because of him, he ruined the life of an innocent man with a false accusation and its resulting arrest.

And Jo Gar outwitted him again.

He knew that it did not have to be like that. Had the lieutenant been imbued with half the integrity and willingness to be corrected like his ex-superior, he would have done a fine job. But no, he did not.

There was nothing he could do. Lieutenant Sadi Ratan had brought this upon himself, and there was no one to blame but him alone. He had warned the man but he did not listen.

Now go stand in a corner and think about what you did, Lieutenant Idiot-Face.

For now, Edilberto decided to go on with his life.

He stood from his desk and placed the newspaper on a table along with the others in today’s edition. Going back to his place, he resumed his job, reviewing paperwork for an upcoming meeting with fellow lawyers on a case they were going to pursue at court.

[amaryllis-sagitta]

Not at all. After defeating Prometheus 3+ times and Chronos 5+ times now, as more dialogue unfolds with side characters, there's a lot to say about both gods and witches with divine ancestry:

Medusa's face on the Aegis, that Athena is wielding, looks miserable in a deeply sympathetic way. It instantly caught my attention, considering the Ovid's telling of Medusa's/ Gorgon's myth portrays her as a rape victim who was turned into a monster, silenced and isolated by gods themselves. Athena helps seal Medusa's fate by aiding the hero Perseus in slaying her. Though it is said that this telling of the myth was Ovid's personal anti-authoritarian protest to a great extent, it has ingrained itself into the modern culture to the point of Medusa becoming a symbol for SA survivors.

Feminist readings of Arachne's myth also point at Athena's role as an enabler and defender of the gods' wrongdoings, since the tapestry that Athena wove in her contest with Arachne was basically a warning against fucking with Hera and Zeus. meanwhile, the one woven by Arachne exposed... many sexual exploits that the gods carried out on mortal women in disguise, often shapeshifting into animals.

The Circe/ Odysseus relationship so far is depicted very... euphemistically. In Odyssey, Circe drugged Odysseus's crew and turned them into pigs, and in order to save them Odysseus lived with her for a year. That included sexual servitude, as Circe gave birth to sons after Odysseus left.

I had a moment with Medea where she said something along the lines of "I found your blood on the battlefield and used it for spells :3". Melinoe replied "Maybe ask me before you do it next time", to which Medea replied "How about I do whatever I want and never even tell you again :3". So, both the surface witches might yet be shown to have a... murky concept of consent even in regards to Melinoe. (Though Medea herself has an interesting status, since in some myth tellings she was charmed by Hera and Aphrodite to fall in love with Jazon in the first place, adds some shades of gray to Medea's infamous murder rampage after Jazon abandoned her).

There's also room for a Heracles & Hera arc. Heracles was prophesized to be a child who would overthrow Zeus just as Zeus overthrew Cronos (or at least he was 1 of 2 half-mortal Zeus bastards that fit the descriptor), and Hera tried to thwart him since the very moment she found out about him -- she even messed with his birth.

A cherry on top: after the first time I defeated Prometheus, I got a conversation that almost confirmed to me that 'Dora is a shade of Pandora or a throwback to her (just like 'Dusa in H1 is Medusa or Maid-Dusa, or at least a throwback). And Pandora of the myth was basically a plant (as in "industry plant") created by the Olympians to torment humanity after Prometheus gave them fire, both by her allegedly vile character and by the "box of plagues" she unleashed. This arc is vital to how Chronos's Golden Age ended.

So Hades II has been dropping not so subtle hints that the gods are in the wrong and Melinoë may have to question the morality of the war she's been fighting for her entire life. It's present in the way the gods justify their treatment of mortals, it's present in the way Nemesis talks about justice and the fates of characters like Arachne, it's present in the way Chronos talks about his goals (though of course, it's easy to see how he could be lying about the new golden age, even though the history of the mythological golden age does hint at him being right).

But, to me, the number one sign that Melinoë may be on the wrong side of this conflict is the newest boss. I can't think of a single mythic figure who is more instantly sympathetic or more likely to be genuinely fighting for the wellbeing of mortals than Prometheus. I can't think of a single god, titan, or hero who cares more about humanity and its progress. I haven't studied up on Prometheus more than just reading the famous myth about him, but I have never really heard him discussed unsympathetically. I know this may be a biased perspective as a puny mortal, but my gut tells me to side with whoever Prometheus is throwing in with. But I guess we'll see if I'm putting too much stock in him as the plot continues to unfold.

[pillowspace]

Moon and Marinette talking is the cutest thing. Sun and Moon feeling bad for this child who was locked out and killed.

[seraphont]

In one of your comics, you show the drones drinking coolant as if it's some form of alcohol. Wouldn't the presence of this coolant kind of negate the solver drones need for oil? Or does this coolant not work with their system?

it def helps, and I’m kinda treating the drones like they were made to reflect human anatomy. so while the coolant will help with overheating in small doses, it doesn’t get processed through their system correctly in large doses. it makes them extremely sluggish and their processes are slowed for a period of time -like being inebriated.

For the DD’s, at least in my AU, I have them chockablock full of healing nanites/anti nanite acid (in their spit) so their bodies repair incredibly fast, it eats away at anything that’s not oil in their system. They’re essentially heavy weights LOL.

[asktheevilgeniusesson]

Starlines eyes dart to the ebony hedgehog as he told him about infinite. And he couldnt help it as a voice in his head echoed ‘trwitor’ upon hearing him say that. But he paused that thought. Wasnt what he was doing also betraying eggman? Yes. Yes it was. He had no room or reason to judge or belittle infinite. Especially if.. well. If he was murdered in the future, whos to say eggman wouldnt do the same to that poor jackal..? That fearful thought made him want to alert the two, but he kept quiet to listen to their words and understand what they were saying.

“That.. works, actually- you both make amazing pointe- i should’ve thought of that before, but im grateful for the help of opening my eyes to the flaws in how he works and his machines. Ill be sure to try and alert the jackal of what my plans are so he may help me if he so desires. I can easily suck up to the doctor, i just.. need to relax about the fact he kills me so it doesn’t make me freak out and loose the upperhand of manipulation. Which would be relatively easy, i have many stress relieving items in my workshop for when workloads get too much.”

The platypus hummed with a gentle smile, rubbing his head before he remembers what he wanted to warn them of, speaking up again.

“And- since you claimed infinite to be yours now, i must warn you- if the doctor killed me in the future, i fear that may be a possibility for infinite aswell. Hes the only one who knows how to dissect the ruby from his body, other than pure force. I can do my best to keep an eye out for him if you wish, but i believe hes in much more danger than i would be.. simply because of how he is treated by the doctor.”

Starline took a sharp inhale when the others voice cut through his racing mind of fears, trying to take breaths to calm himself though he was still mentally freaking out, however, he let out a surprised noise as he was lifted by the other and placed into a safe and secure hold. That got his frazzled mind to sit down and take a moment to realize what was going on. Before he knew it he was somewhere completely different. And it was probably good timing, too. He could’ve sworn he heard the approaching voice of the doctor seconds before the deity took him to.. wherever this was. Looking around in gentle confusion as his shaking slowly relaxed from the sudden warmth surrounding them. He turns his attention to listen to the deity with an unsure look as hes set down.

“Well— yes thats true and- i’d love to help then, really i would- but i know nothing of being stealthy to that extent- how would i keep it from the doctor? Not to mention all his robots- metal- rusty— hell even infinite could catch on and snitch in seconds. They’re all loyal to him, it wouldn’t take a genius to know they’d all run to him with the information of a traitor amongst the ranks.. i can do what i can but it’d be a near suicide mission surrounded by robots and loyal dogs..” starline explained with a sigh, and he knew his toxins wouldnt work on robots, and he didnt have bodystrength. So he could hardly stop a robot from snitching. Infinite? Maybe he could land a swift stab to the leg, get him under the neurotoxin and create a distraction- he was trying to plan ahead. The best he could, atleast. However his head turns to the shadow that approached him with the water, gently, and gratefully, he takes it and moves to sorta drink at it like an animal would. He does have an odd beak for a mouth afterall. Listening to the hedgehog, he lets out a hum.

“I’d hope thats the case.. and i do know alot about him, yes.. it wouldnt be shame holding me back, however. It’d be his ‘robot children’ as i said- and his son. Those are the real obstacles as i dont have permission to access their databases or internal connections. And well, neurotoxin doesn’t work on robots.” Starline shrugged softly with a nervous look.

[pincushionx]

Defeat

Me when I’m a child soldier and fail my mission of protecting my only abusive family member

Now with following comic

Love to play with canon divergent of Hunter being loyal to the end if the events played out differently in the show. This is a colored sketch, I may make a funny rendered one in the future, maybe a little comic

Zoom in

[coockie8]

"I'm not spoon-feeding morals you should 100% already have established if you're over the age of 5 to you." LOUDER FOR THE IDIOTS IT THE BACK ����📢📢📢

Look, if you have cognitive disabilities or whatever that make you incapable of distinguishing fiction from reality, then that sucks, and I truly do feel for you.

But at the same time if you're over the age of like 12 and still need a book to tell you rape and murder are bad, then maybe you just shouldn't be reading books that are about rape and murder ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

Like I'm sorry, but if you know you have a tendency to act out what you read, then you should know better than to read morally grey books that don't word-for-word tell you that the actions taken by the morally grey characters within are bad and you shouldn't emulated them. Your mental illness does not absolve you of the responsibility of your actions, actually. I know, shocking.

Unfortunately this will limit you to media designed for children, because media designed for adults is going to go in assuming you already know not to act out bad things that you read.

[ananke-xiii]

no feelings just will graham saying "no no no i'm not abused" while hannibal tells him that he's dissociating as a survival mechanism for a psyche that has endured repeated abuse.

[ananxiousgenz]

hey so I normally don't make political posts because it gets me really upset and i dont want to get involved with all of it but I am currently beyond pissed.

nex benedict, the 16 year old from oklahoma who died after being beaten by classmates in their school bathroom, just had their death ruled a suicide.

a fucking suicide. because they had antidepressants and antihistamines in their system.

one of my nonbinary siblings was MURDERED by classmates for being themselves and you dare to rule it a suicide because they were depressed and took allergy medication??? how cruel and closed minded to you have to be to deny that the beating had any role in their death?? if they had been a cisgender woman, you can bet those classmates would already have been charged with homicide, but no. instead you claim they brought it on themselves. they caused it. they are at fault here.

my heart is burning with grief and rage. I'm not going to make many political statements on this account but I'm making one now: I STAND WITH MY TRANS AND NONBINARY SIBLINGS. WE DESERVE TO LIVE.

JUSTICE FOR NEX BENEDICT.

[clownyclaushoe]

art the clown/clowny claus x reader 🔞

a very belated christmas oneshot 😅😭🙈 because for some reason i really struggled with this one 😭😭 it takes place during the bar scene aka one of the best scenes in cinema with a much different, but debatably better ending than santa getting turned into a snowman 😈🤭 inspired by a dream i had of clowny claus eating my pussy while lying on the bar top 😫

it's a christmas miracle!

🖤💚🖤💚🖤💚🖤💚

you had stopped into a bar after your shift at work - it had only been six hours, yet it'd felt infinitely longer. it was the holiday season, so on top of being busier than usual, no matter how kind, patient, or good you were at your job, the holidays had only made everyone act more impatient, rude, entitled, and frankly, dumber, especially the customers you served at the small diner down the street. it seemed they missed the peace on earth and goodwill toward men memo. you'd often come in after your mid-shifts, becoming acquaintances of sorts, that soon lead to flirtation (and a little more), with the owner, eddie.

you sat at the far side of the bar and nursed your beer, a few stools away from the two girls throwing themselves at the guy dressed as santa, not taking the hint when he'd politely declined, mentioning he had a wife. though there was no judgement and he far from your type, you stared on as they continued, amused by the entertainment for the night. you and eddie exchanged incredulous glances, and had to bite back laughter at the things they said in an final attempt to sway the santa ("can i join the mile high club on your sleigh?" "i wanna do drugs on your stomach!") before stumbling towards the exit.

as they were heading out, you noticed a... clown? a christmas clown? was excitedly coming in, scrambling to make it down the steps and knocking the drunk girls over in his haste to make it into the bar and over to santa.

you watched the interaction between the three men and the odd silent clown, and this time, it's because you were interested in the mysterious man. there was something about him, a charisma and an energy about him that instantly drew you in. and despite his gaunt face and pointed nose - which you figured were prosthetics under the white, pasty makeup - and his slender body, it struck you how fucking hot you immediately found him.

some of his over-the-top expressions made him appear inhuman, like a curious otherworldly creature, and you had to admit, you found that attractive too. you'd hoped he had noticed you too, but didn't want to get your hopes up. he seemed a little too caught up in fanboying over santa to pay you any attention, unfortunately.

granted, he did look cute in the santa hat. "hey, santa, looks like you got some competition," said the man called smokey, one of the bar's employees, who usually stopped in on his off nights for a few. "it's clowny claus!"

the clown waved his arms, posing with his hands in a "tada" gesture, mouth open wide with a grin.

"no. hey, you're a natural," santa said. the clown smiled, and waved his arm at the flattery. "you look good. but don't get it dirty. and remember to give it back. you don't want to get on santa's naughty list."

the clown gave a surprised expression, shrugging and raising his arms, as if feigning innocence and suggesting any of his wrongdoing was because he just didn't know any better. you smirked to yourself, thinking of the ways the clown might want to get on your personal naughty list.

"hey, why don't you tell santa what you want for christmas, little boy?" smokey joked.

you thought, if this man wants his dick sucked in this bar, i'd be on my knees in an instant. though you knew you should feel guilty that you'd think of blowing another man in front of eddie, you also weren't committed to each other. yes, eddie was hot, and yes, a few times your flirtation with him crossed the line into making out, and it felt good to have his strong hands on your hips or squeezing your clothed tits or ass, to tease your hand over the crotch of his jeans, feeling him hardening for you.

but you made it clear to him from the start, you were just having fun and weren't interested in anything serious. you hoped, yet doubted, he would remember that.

"better hygiene," suggested eddie, who was working as bartender tonight, as he often did.

"all right, come on," said santa, trying to brush over the dig at the clown. "let's have a drink, uh, for everybody. okay. come on. even the young lady over there."

you saw the closed mouth crooked smile eddie gave you, a twinkle in his eye that betrayed his feelings for you. usually you would've smiled back, loving and preening at the attention from the older man, maybe saying some suggestive comment to provoke him. but not tonight, your desires lie elsewhere this time.

you looked at the other three patrons, surprised to find the clown staring at you, making eye contact for the first time - sending a shiver right through you, down to your core. he grinned and batted his eyes, then quickly looked away, as if he were bashfully flirting with you. your heart fluttered at the idea.

you approached the men, standing near the clown still sitting on santa's lap, the chair holding his mysterious big trash bag making it so you couldn't be as close to him as you'd like to be.

"got id?" eddie asked, and you couldn't help thinking his voice was tinged a little with bitterness and indignation, a subtle jealousy in his stance. he had to have seen that you couldn't take your eyes off the clown. but then again maybe he was just doing his job.

"come on. he's obviously old enough," santa said, as the clown gave a surprised O expression, and turned to dig through his trash bag.

"you think i'm gonna lose my license for this guy?"

"don't bust the clown's balls."

"this is normal to you?"

"sorry about this, clowny." the clown pulls out a wallet, tossing it on the bar top. "there, see? he's got it."

eddie looks at the clown with a brief glance of self-satisfaction as he grabs the wallet, opening it.

"'maurice jackson'?" you can't hold back a laugh at the disbelieving way eddie says the obviously phony name. "maurice" tills his head, grinning and batting his eyes rapidly, looking absolutely adorable.

you think, how could anyone refuse that face?

"eddie, you're killing me. can we just celebrate? come on."

"fuck it," eddie said, pushing the shots toward each of you, and you slip between the two chairs, leaning against the bar top to grab your glass of tequila, which eddie knew was your shot of choice. "it's christmas."

"all right, let's have a drink. to my new friend, huh? to maurice jackson."

"cheers!" you each clink glasses before downing your shots. a moment passes before the clown spat his shot in santa's face. smokey bellowed with laughter and you join in a little, unable to stop yourself.

"what the fuck is the matter with you?"

"what's your problem, pal. guy buys you a drink and you spit it back in his fucking face!"

"hey, man, that's wrong," smokey said, despite his initial reaction.

"see, you were just rude and you shouldn't have been rude. let's go clowny. get up."

you move aside, leaning your arms on the back of the chair holding the clown's trash bag, but he doesn't move. "no, i'm not kidd--" santa trailed off as the clown turned his head, mischievous grin spread across his face, followed by a trickling sound that took a few moments to register as the clown pissing on santa's lap, his urine splashing into a puddle on the tile floor.

"oh shit."

"what the-- what the fuck are you doing!"

the santa pushes back the chair as he stands up, shoving the clown away from him.

"he peed on him!"

"fucking told you," eddie said, as he climbed up and over the bar.

the clown silently laughed and mocked him as the santa lunging at him. "are you fucking kidding me? i'm gonna kill you, you sick fuck!" he grabbed the clown, but eddie pulled him off before he could get a punch in. "i'll fucking kill him!"

the clown taunted him, squaring up and bouncing on his toes, all the while, that wide mocking grin plastered on his face, looking simultaneously funny and hot.

you hurried to stand between them, placing one hand on the santa's arm and the other on the clown's chest, in an attempt to defuse the situation. the clown likely wouldn't be able to fuck you if he was put in the hospital, though the idea of sneaking into his hospital room to ride him as he lie in bed, maybe having him wake to the warm tightness of your pussy wrapped around his cock was a hot and distracting one, your clit starting to throb at the thought.

"he's sorry. he doesn't do well around the holidays. the stress..." you noticed eddie standing behind the santa, watching you with his brows furrowed questioningly, perhaps the pieces finally coming together.

as rude and gross as the clown's actions were, you appreciated his irreverence, and found it strangely admirable. he just didn't give a fuck.

sometimes you'd wished you could give less of a fuck. you felt jaded and drained by the world. it seemed no matter how hard you tried to be kind and considerate, people always made it so damn difficult; they didn't realize or care about the pain they caused.

"you know this freak? you seem like a nice lady, you should keep better company," the santa quipped. the clown frowned, shaking his head and swatting his arm in dismissal.

"come on, you motherfucker," eddie said, stepping around you to grab the clown and shove him to stumble toward the bench at the other side of the bar. "smokey, get his bag!"

when he sat up, legs spread wide, you swear you could see a distinct bulge as if he'd gotten a semi at being roughed up a little, at the escalating conflict. he shook his head in defiance and fixed his little hat.

eddie had walked over to the other two struggling to pick up the clown's bag, "what the fuck is in this?"

the clown silently laughed and pointed before eddie threw it at him, the clown moving just in time not to get hit, gesturing another taunt.

"you motherfucker! i'll kill you. goddamn it!"

"want me to call the cops?"

"i don't want you to call the cops, i want you to call a fucking dry cleaner."

the clown gestured that santa smells. he sure was relentless at pushing buttons, knowing just how to get under people's skin.

"dry cleaner? smokey, get a fucking mop!"

"i told you, don't let him the fuck in here."

"you said he's fucking normal! sit down, sit down." santa turned and walked to the bar. "fuckin' you told me. have a fucking drink."

the clown quickly rifled through his bag as eddie turned, realizing the unwelcome customer hadn't left yet.

"can't take a fuckin' hint, can you?" eddie said as he approached him. "i'm not going to tell you again."

the clown stood up, quickly extending his arm and brandishing a gun, firing a shot that clips the side of eddie's neck, and he grabs the wound as he drops to the floor. you think it's a shame he never went down on you before dying. whenever you did make a suggestive comment to rile him up, he'd have a habit of staring at you and licking the corner of his mouth, making you imagine his tongue plunging into your pussy. you'd stare right back at him while bringing your beer bottle to your lips, no doubt making him imagine your mouth wrapped around his cock instead.

santa still standing at the bar, startles at the gunfire, sending shot glasses clinking and shattering on the floor. a stunned smokey watches his boss and friend lying on the floor, gargling and choking on his own blood.

the clown points the gun at santa before shifting his arm to fire at smokey next, a shot to the head sending a spray of blood hitting the sign hanging behind him.

all the while you'd watched the intense scowl on the clown's face, as hot as it was menacing, and it was driving you crazy.

"oh no, smokey!" the clown slowly approaches the santa, gun still raised. "oh no no no, please sir. let me apologize for whatever's happened here tonight." he grabs the santa hat, offering it to the clown. "here, take it, it's yours. you looked good in it."

the clown takes it with his free hand, and there's a sudden slow shift to his expression, a big grin spreading across his face, his eyes widening as his brows raised. the santa laughed nervously as the clown continued to stare at him, laughter becoming louder and more desperate, unease gripping him to the point of near delirium.

in that moment you felt sorry for him. he seemed like a nice guy, just as eddie and smokey were; decent, working class men that had the misfortune of crossing paths with this crazed, homicidal clown. in any other situation, at any other time, and with any other assailant, you would've been scared, you would've cared more about seeing three innocent people brutally gunned down, you would've hidden for cover and called 911 immediately.

you don't know what had possessed you not to do any of it. somehow you knew he wouldn't kill you.

the clown tapped the butt of the gun against the suit, signaling he take it off too. santa scrambled to remove the suit, stripping down to his undershirt and boxers. "there, now, could you let me leave? please. i won't tell any one about that happened. i swear," he stammered as he continued to plead for his life, struggling to come up with anything to elicit mercy. "i have a name, charles johnson. i have a name, and a wife and two kids and i..." charles trailed off, knowing it was hopeless. his gaze dropped and the clown shot him, he fell to the ground.

the clown looked down at him and shrugged, putting the gun on the bar. you walked to him.

"can i get you drink," you blink pointedly, "something other than a shot." he shakes his head, swatting his hand. "what's your name, really?"

he gathered blood pooling on the floor and smeared it to the bar top.

"art? well, art, I think you'd look really hot in the santa suit."

art raised his finger like he's been struck with an idea. he grabs the suit, putting it on over his clown costume, adding the santa hat and white wig to complete the look.

you notice the blood on the white trim of the coat, pointing it out. "i guess that means you're on santa's naughty list." art frowns, shaking his head. "i was right. you do look fucking hot."

he smirks, leaning down to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you so he can lift you up and onto the bar. he tears at your jeans as he pulls them off, taking you by surprise, much stronger than he appears. you gasp, leaning back onto the bar. you like a man who doesn't waste time.

a shiver passes through you at the cold air hitting your bare pussy. art stares at it and licks his lips, his brows bouncing appraisingly as his fingers graze over your labia. before you can beg him, art leaned in, latching his mouth to your pussy, sucking and licking alternatively.

"oh fuck," you struggle to get out already, fingers raking through the white wig. art rotated his head, dragging his tongue all around your pussy, then dipping down to wetly plunge inside. your head rolled forward, face screwing up as you watched him, his gaze intense as he fucked you with his tongue. "oh, art." you shouted out roughly, rutting your hips to meet the thrusts of his tongue. "gonna make me come so hard on your handsome clown face."

art shifted and though you missed the feel of his tongue inside you, he made up for it by constantly flicking it over your labia and up to your clit, eliciting high pitched moans as your hand held his head tighter, head falling back to give a guttural moan when he sucked at your clit.

anyone could walk in or glimpse through the window you getting fucked while three dead bodies lie on the floor, but you couldn't care less. all thought about anyone or anything else but art escaped you, worries pushed aside as his tongue and lips and the glorious suction of his mouth sucking hard at your clit pushed you closer to the edge. you give a harsh gasp as you come, that familiar feeling of hot shimmering liquid gold pleasure coursing through you, but burning brighter and more intensely than ever before. your body heaves and thrashes uncontrollably, unable to bear the immense weight of pleasure. "oh my fuck--fucking, ahhh."

art hasn't relented, tongue determined to lick up every drop of your cum, almost to the point of overstimulation - a second orgasm quick to follow, but you let him, figuring it's a fair trade for him gifting you the best orgasm of your life.

🖤💚🖤💚🖤💚🖤💚

please like, reblog and/or comment, i'd really appreciate it. hope you enjoyed!

© clownyclaushoe 2024

[howlsofbloodhounds]

anyway killer staying and putting effort into a relationship with horror and murder because he thinks they’re interesting and intriguing and intellectually stimulating even if he doesn’t get emotionally attached or in love with them as people is a valid form of love yippee killer does not need to emotionally care in a way others understand to be an attentive and loyal if very distant partner. And he does not need to “learn emotions” to do so.

like in this scenario they are literally his source of the closest thing he gets to feeling anything other than boredom and apathy in a world he feels is unreal and unattainable for him and controlled by the whims of higher beings—without stage 1’s involvement—which he finds deeply threatening and unsafe and causes him immense distress, overwhelming pain, identity disturbance, and dissociative confusion, and always comes with a risk of trying to kill himself— and even if it’s a fleeting moment that doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.

and even if he eventually loses interest (because in the end horror and dust don’t really offer him or make him feel anything new, just something and were a nice way to pass the time via being so fascinating and he truly appreciates them for that) and moves on that’s okay, as would be any way horror and dust felt about that.

that happens with every form of relationship sometimes, that people just lose interest and leave. it’s normal. It’s natural. it doesn’t mean he never cared, even if in his own way. the fact he’s even bothering to maintain the relationship at all and allowing them to get a little close or even sharing his inner world and life with them willingly says a lot.

[lemm-moxx]

One of Killer's bodacious babes bodacioushoislly ends him 🤕

[chaoticretwtau]

[charred-angel-ribs]

I've just realised. In TWOTL, when Dolarhyde tells Hannibal about how he's gonna kill him and how in death he'll meld with the strength of the dragon, Hannibal responds with "It's a glorious and rather discomforting idea."

Hannibal said to Bella (if I remember correctly) that he finds comfort in the idea of death.

Hannibal used to find it exhilarating, to think he could die any day. It gave thrill to what he did, to life. But he contradicted that notion with his response to Dolarhyde.

I don't think it's because he no longer holds that sentiment. I think it's because he's grown so in love with Will that he has reached a point where the idea of death is only comforting if Will Graham is the man who brings it to him.

/lh /gen

Anyone else like to stare into oblivion for a bit too long or is it just me? /j /rh /lh

[stellocchia]

Extended Chromatic Crew Gyftmas headcanons, one day late because I've been busy as Hell:

Killer made everyone some holiday-themed sweaters with them as cats on the front, aside from Delta. He made Delta a neon orange sweater with "Delta" written in black on the front in the plainest font you can imagine.

Delta got everyone colorful or funny socks aside from Killer. He got him a box of the most basic white socks he could find.

Everyone else initially assumed that this was them yet again antagonizing each other but no. They actually discussed beforehand what they wanted because they didn't want to ruin Gyftmas for everyone else by bickering. Delta thought his sweater was hilarious and Killer, knowing Epic was gonna gift him some clothing dyes, couldn't wait to personalize his socks. It's sweet for once.

Color made personalized photo diaries for everyone with all the pictures of them he collected throughout the past year. He added a date and a small explanation of the picture and why it was so important to him next to each photo.

Cross ugly cried after going through his photo diary. It was what made him realize that he truly has a family again. Of course, he knew he belonged with them even before, but it was an important moment for him.

Dust pretended not to care about his diary, but he actually stashed it under his pillow because he knew he'd love to revisit it on bad days.

Talking about Dust, he didn't prepare any presents for anyone. He thought nobody would have given him one and he didn't want to come off as if he cared about them more than they cared about him. He felt like shit after everyone handed him a present (even if Color assured him that his company was enough of a gift), so he spent the whole evening making everyone fun non-alcoholic cocktails to make up for it.

Horror was unsure of what to do and what would be appropriate since he hadn't been celebrating since well before getting kidnapped by Nightmare, so, in the end, he hand-carved and hand-painted some tree ornaments for everyone (he vaguely remembered people sticking ornaments to the beast in the woods for Gyftmas and he figured it would work out well enough).

Epic got a wooden replica of his favorite rubber chicken and he was absolutely delighted. He kept playing with it the whole evening and ended up not even putting it on the tree. He also insisted that it was a pity that skeletons don't have ears because he would have totally used it as an earring.

Cross got everyone gift cards to their favorite shops. He wanted to do something more personal, but the anxiety of his gifts not being good enough got the better of him. The fear froze him in place any time he tried to think about something different. Epic offered to go with him next year, and hopefully, that will ease some of his anxiety.

Epic's gifts were the most varied. He got Killer clothing dyes, he got Delta a new and sturdier mannequin for his training, Cross a body pillow with his favorite character on it, Dust a bartender manual, specifically for alcohol-free stuff (Dust is doing his best to kick his addictions and everyone else is very supportive of this), he got Color a cool new camera, and Horror a phone that he created himself that works for interdimensional calls, so he can contact his brother whenever he wants even when he's with them, and them when he's with him.

Delta and Cross managed to break Delta's present that very day by getting into a dumb context on who could punch it the hardest. Delta won and Cross was still salty about it even the day after.

Killer somehow found out what everyone's presents for him would be well before Gyftmas, but he had the decency to feign surprise regardless.

Undoubtedly, the most genuine shocked reactions came from Dust. He woke up that morning telling himself he'd get through the miserable day by breaking his vow not to drink and getting shitfaced only to see a huge pile of presents under the tree and breaking into a cold sweat.

Color took a million pictures throughout the day and told everyone to expect a family photo diary soon.

Horror prepared the entire meal by himself despite Color's many offers because he just cannot bring himself to eat anything if he doesn't know 100% what's in it (specifically if he doesn't see every single step of the preparation). He also locked the door to the kitchen the whole day and day prior so he was sure that nobody could tamper with the food.

To try and help him with this fear, they spent the a couple of hours the day before making cookies together out in the living room, all positioned in a way he could see their movements, and he actually managed to eat a couple of those, which was a big win for him.

[hotttgrilled-cheese]

in light of recent events

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