#i should clarify i try to be normal about true crime (a lot of the books I read involve either forensics or autopsies if it means anything)

[puppypawprince]

I need to start reading trivia books again like genuinely

[mishafletcher]

Are you a Gold Star lesbian? (Just in case you don't know what it means, a Gold Star lesbian is a lesbian that has never had the sex with a guy and would never have any intentions of ever doing so)

So I got this ask a while ago, and I've been lowkey thinking about it ever since.

First: No. I am a queer, cranky dyke who is too old for this sort of bullshit gatekeeping. 

Second: What an unbelievable question to ask someone you don't even know! What an incomprehensibly rude thing to ask, as if you're somehow owed information about my sexual history. You're not! No one—and I can't reiterate this enough, but no one—owes you the details of their sex lives, of their trauma, or of anything about themselves that they don't feel like sharing with you.

The clickbait mills of the internet and the purity police of social media would like nothing more than to convince everyone that you owe these things to everyone. They would like you to believe that you have to prove that you're traumatized enough to identify with this character, that you can't sell this article about campus rape without relating it to your own sexual assault, that you can't talk about queer issues without offering up a comprehensive history of your own experiences, and none of those things are true. You owe people, and especially random strangers on the internet, nothing, least of all citations to somehow prove to them that you have the right to talk about your own life.

This makes some people uncomfortable, and to be clear, I think that that's good: people who feel entitled to demand this information should be uncomfortable. Refusing to justify yourself takes power away from people who would very much like to have it, people who would like to gatekeep and dictate who is permitted to speak about what topics or like what things. You don't have to justify yourself. You don't have to explain that you like this ship because this one character reminds you a bit of yourself because you were traumatized in a vaguely similar way and now— You don't have to justify your queerness by telling people about the best friend you had when you were twelve, and how you kissed, and she laughed and said it was good practice for when she would kiss boys and your stomach twisted and your mouth tasted like bile and she was the first and last girl you kissed, but— 

You don't owe anyone these pieces of yourself. They're yours, and you can share them or not, but if someone demands that you share, they're probably not someone you should trust.

Third: The idea of gold star lesbians is a profoundly bi- and trans- phobic idea, often reducing gender to genitals and the long, shared history of queer women of all identities to a stark, artificial divide where some identities are seen as purer or more valuable than others. This is bullshit on all counts.

There's a weird and largely artificial division between bisexuals and lesbians that seems to be intensifying on tumblr, and I have to say: I hate it. Bisexual women aren't failed lesbians. They're not somehow less good or less valid because they're attracted to [checks notes] people. Do you think that having sex with a man somehow changes them? What are you so worried about it for? I've checked, and having sex with a man does not, in fact, make your vagina grow teeth or tentacles. Does that make you feel better? Why is what other people are doing so threatening to you?

Discussions of gold star lesbians are often filled with tittering about hehe penises, which is unfortunate, since I know a fair few lesbians who have penises, and even more lesbians who've had sex with people, men and women alike, who have penises. I'm sorry to report that "I'm disgusted by a standard-issue human body part" is neither a personality nor anything to be proud of. I'm a dyke and I don't especially like men, but dicks are just dicks. You don't have to be interested in them, but a lot of people have them, and it doesn't make you less of a lesbian to have sex with someone who has a dick.

There's so much garbage happening in the world—maybe you haven't noticed, but things are kind of Not Great in a lot of places, and there's a whole pandemic thing that's been sort of a major buzzkill? How is this something that you're worried about? Make a tea, remind yourself that other people's genitalia and sexual history are none of your business, maybe go watch a video about a cute animal or something. 

Fourth: The idea of gold star lesbians is a shitty premise that argues that sexuality is better if it's always been clear-cut and straightforward—but it rarely is. We live in a very, very heterosexist culture. I didn’t have a word for lesbian until many years after I knew that I was one. How can you say that you are something when your mouth can’t even make the shape of it? The person you are at 24 is different to the person you are at 14, and 34, and 74. You change. You get braver. The world gets wider. You learn to see possibilities in the shadows you used to overlook. Of course people learn more about themselves as they age.

Also, many of us, especially those of us who grew up in smaller towns, or who are over the age of, say, 25, grew up in times and places where our sexuality was literally criminal.

Shortly after I graduated high school, a gay man in my state was sentenced to six months in jail. Why? Well, he’d hit on someone, and it was a misdemeanor to "solicit homosexual or lesbian activity", which included expressing romantic or sexual interest in someone who didn’t reciprocate. You might think, then, that I am in fact quite old, but you would be mistaken. The conviction was in 1999; it was overturned in 2002.

I grew up knowing this: the wrong thing said to the wrong person would be sufficient reason to charge me with a crime.

In the United States, the Defense of Marriage Act was passed in 1996, clarifying that according to the federal government, marriage could only ever be between one man and one woman. It also promised that even if a state were to legalize same-sex unions, other states wouldn't have to recognize them if they didn't want to. And wow, they super did not want to, because between 1998 and 2012, a whopping thirty states had approved some sort of amendment banning same-sex marriage.

Every queer person who's older than about 25 watched this, knowing that this was aimed at people like them. Knowing that these votes were cast by their friends and their families and their teachers and their employers. 

Some states were worse than others. Ohio passed their bill in 2004 with 62% approval. Mississippi passed theirs the same year with 86% approval. Imagine sitting in a classroom, or at work, or in a church, or at a family dinner, and knowing that statistically, at least two out of every three people in that room felt you shouldn't be allowed to marry someone you loved.

Matthew Shepard was tortured to death in October of 1998. For being gay, for (maybe) hitting on one of the men who had planned to merely rob him. Instead, he was tortured and left to die, tied to a barbed wire fence. His murderers were both sentenced to two consecutive life terms in prison. This was controversial, because a nonzero number of people felt that Shepard had brought it upon himself.

Many of us sat at dinner tables and listened to this discussion, one that told us, over and over, that we were fundamentally wrong, fundamentally undeserving of love or sympathy or of life itself.

This is a tiny, tiny sliver of history—a staggeringly incomplete overview of what happened in the US over about ten years. Even if this tiny sliver is all that there were, looking at this, how could you blame someone for wanting to try being not Like This? How can you fault someone who had sex, maybe even had a bunch of sex, hoping desperately that maybe they could be normal enough to be loved if they just tried harder? How can you say that someone who found themself an uninteresting but inoffensive boyfriend and went on dates and had sex and said that it was fine is somehow less valuable or less queer or less of a lesbian for doing so? For many people, even now, passing as straight, as problematic as that term is, is a survival skill. How dare you imply that the things that someone did to protect themself make them worth less? They survived, and that's worth literally everything.

Fifth, finally: What is a gold star, anyhow? You've capitalized it, like it's Weighty and Important, but it's not. Gold stars were what your most generous grade school teacher put on spelling tests that you did really well on. But ultimately, gold stars are just shiny scraps of paper. They don't have any inherent value: I can buy a thousand of them for five bucks and have them at my door tomorrow. They have only the meaning that we give them, only the importance that we give them. We’re not children desperately scrabbling for a teacher’s approval anymore, though. We understand that good and bad are more of a spectrum than a binary, and that a gold star is a simplification. We understand that no number of gold stars will make us feel like we’re special enough or good enough or important enough, or fix the broken places we can still feel inside ourselves. Only we can do that.

The stars are only shiny scraps of paper. They offer us nothing; we don’t need them. I hope that someday, you see that, too. 

[reidgraygubler]

sunflowers, daisies, lilacs, dahlias (spencer reid/reader)

Title: sunflowers, daisies, lilacs, dahlias

Requested: yes, was a request someone sent to @imagining-in-the-margins​, but I took it of her hands :) (So i get this is sorta hard to do but i was wondering if you could write a spencer x nonbinary (gender-neutral pronouns) reader where reader isn’t out to the team yet but spencer finds out somehow and the reader is afraid he’ll reject them but instead he confesses his feelings and just starts info dumping about third genders in other cultures and the roots of binary america, etc. just like fluffy and accepting. once again, i get it if you don’t want to/can’t but that would be awesome)

Couple: spencer reid/non-binary!reader (they/them pronouns)

Category: fluff

Content Warning: swearing (if any), misgendering, usual criminal minds case work stuff, bi!spencer, lgbt+ history lesson, platonic cuddling (or is it?), kissing (not platonic), Doctor Who season 12 spoilers (weird, I know), afab!reader

Word Count: 4,110

Summary: reader comes out as non-binary to their best friend, Spencer, after they notice he changes the pronouns he uses to talk about them and after the team misgenders them.

A/N: pom (aka @imagining-in-the-margins​) posted this in her discord and said if someone had any ideas for this, we could have it. and i loved the request so i took it off her hands. im also non-binary and only out to a few friends, so this piece is dear to my heart. also, i wrote reader as afab, since that’s also me, but also the request says that reader isn’t out to the team yet, and i had to give reader a gender. so im sorry about that. that’s where the mis-gendering comes in. spencer’s nickname for reader is bumblebee when they’re friends, but once they start dating it’s honeybee… bc reader is…  enbee… thank you all so much for the support! i really do appreciate it. check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

It was a new day at work. A new day, a new me… Kinda, not really. It’s still old me. I’m just trying to figure out the new me. I think that makes sense. It makes sense to me, so that’s all that matters, I think.

Maybe today was the day I came out to the team as Non-Binary. That’d probably help my feeling of garbage. Not even my own family knew about my little secret. So that’s been something I’ve seriously been thinking about, telling everyone that I was Non-binary and preferred they/them pronouns. 

I kept my head low as I stepped off the elevator and onto the floor of the BAU. The good news is, people weren’t rushing around like I was partly expecting them to be. The bad news is, when I got to my desk, there was a stack of files, waiting to be looked over. And the unfortunate part was, I wouldn’t get to get through half of them, because something told me there was a current case we had to go on. 

That something being Emily Prentiss standing outside her office, looking for everyone on the team. I looked up at her with a pout as she nodded towards the conference room. I looked back at the stack of files before grabbing my go bag and going up to the conference room.

Everyone was already there, waiting for me. Although, I was usually late, in a sensible fashion. So I quickly took my seat beside Spencer and remained quiet as Penelope and Emily told us about the case.

{***}{***}{***}

“We can go to the most recent victim’s house, interview the siblings,” Spencer spoke up as we both walked up to Emily. I looked up at him and nodded, silently agreeing that I could go with. It’s not like I had anything better to do anyways. Tara and Luke were at the newest crime scene. David and Matt were with the ME. And Emily was about to go interrogate the suspect. So, going with Spencer would give me something to do. 

“She’ll have to conduct the interview,” Emily looked up from the file she was reading and right at me. I looked down, away from anyone who was possibly looking at me. Getting mis-gendered was something I was used to, by now anyways. But, for some reason, this time it really bothered me. Emily doesn’t know, it’s fine. It’s mostly my fault anyways. And, I guess it bothered Spencer too, because the expression on his face shifted from normal to… annoyed.

“Of course, they can do the interview. They’re the most like the victim,” Spencer looked at Emily before looking back at me. I looked at him and smiled softly. It was more of a nervous smile than anything else. A change, and correction, in pronoun… I hadn’t exactly told anyone that I preferred different pronouns, I had honestly gotten used to the unfortunate misgendering.

“I can do it, I’m perfectly capable of it,” I smiled at Spencer then over at Emily. So much for a change.

“Then that’s settled, she’ll do it,” Emily looked up at Spencer and smiled before allowing us to leave. I dropped my shoulders as I glanced at Spencer, who was glaring daggers at Emily. He wasn’t usually one to glare at his superiors, especially Emily. 

“We should get going, don’t you think,” I whispered as I looked up at Spencer. He finally looked down at me and nodded. “And, you can do the interview, if you want. I get that I’m a lot like the victim’s sister. But, you do interviews better than me,” I laughed and shook my head. 

“We can do it together. That’s the only way you can get better at interviewing,” he returned the laughter before following beside me. 

“That’s true,” I smiled at him. 

{***}{***}{***}

“I know we always do this, but thanks for letting me stay the night after hard cases,” I looked over at Spencer as he got in his car. I readjusted the grip on my bag as I looked away from Spencer.

“Of course, sleeping over at someone’s house after a case makes it easier to relax, especially after hard cases,” he looked over at me with a smile, “We can order Chinese food if you want,”  he added as he looked back at the road.  

“Yeah, I think I’d like that,” I nodded with a smile. Sometime between solving the last case, and the jet landing I gained the courage to bring up what happened before the interview. You know, the whole they/them thing… With Spencer. I still don’t know how he knew to change my pronouns. 

He was talking about something, it sounded like an episode of Doctor Who.  I sort of felt bad about that too, because I was hardly listening. I was one of the only few people who actually watched Doctor Who with him, and thoroughly enjoyed his commentary. 

“And then the Doctor, who, have I mentioned is a woman now, is in fact the Timeless Child. Did you know that?” He glanced at me as he went on. Again, I felt bad because I wasn’t totally paying attention. “Of course you knew that, we watched the episode together,” he continued to ramble about the episode.

“Spencer,” I spoke, my voice just loud enough for him to hear.

“Mhm, what?” he glanced over at me for a quick second. I looked at him, my mouth opening and closing a few times before actually saying what I was thinking. Which was...

“How did you know?” I asked, my voice a bit of a whisper. I was a little bit scared. How did he know? Sure, Spencer knows everything. But I’m not exactly… Out to the team, let alone Spencer. I don’t think I told him. 

“How did I know what, Bumblebee?” Spencer glanced over at me for a brief second. I sighed deeply as I looked over at him. 

“You used 'they'… When you and Emily were talking about me and the interrogation… You used 'they' and 'them' when you talked about me… How’d you know? I haven’t told anyone…” I whispered as I looked over at him. He stayed silent for a long time. I wasn’t too sure what he was thinking, but it made me very nervous. 

“I saw you at the library with a book about gender/sexuality history and science… And I saw you looking at a non-binary/gender non-conforming forum the other day. So, I connected the dots,” Spencer looked over at me as he pulled to a stop at the red light. I swallowed roughly as I looked at him. “I didn’t mean to off-”

“You didn’t offend me, Spence,” I whispered and shook my head before dropping my gaze from him. My fingers fiddled with the seatbelt across my lap. I could feel my heart going a million miles an hour, and no matter how hard I tried to calm it… nothing worked. “I just… I haven’t used the words out loud before… I’ve haven't told anyone… I mean, I’ve just figured it out myself,” I shrugged again. I glanced at him as he started going again. “I’ve always known I didn’t really identify as… Ya know… And I guess just recently I finally put a name to it,” I sighed as I pressed my head into the headrest. Spencer glanced at me, again. He was obviously trying to keep his eyes on the road, but he was very concerned about our conversation.

“You’ve never said it out loud? Or told anyone?” He asked, clarifying what I had just said. I swallowed roughly and nodded.

“Yeah, I just…” I stopped, letting my words trail off. My thoughts ran wild. If I just said that I was non-binary, it’d make my life easier, I’d be so much happier. So, why haven’t I just come out and said it? “So, say it now. It’s just me,” Spencer whispered as he looked over at me for the briefest second. My heart stopped with his words, and suddenly my mind was quiet. “No one else to hear."

“What?” I spoke, my voice a breathless whisper. I looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. 

“Only if you want to. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.” Spencer’s voice was soft as he spoke. I looked over at him, feeling my stomach do an anxious flip.

“What if it changes the way you think about me?” I asked, feeling my throat tighten up around the words. Out of all of the friends that I had, Spencer was the only one I didn’t want to lose. In a weird way, I felt like he understood me. Like we were both the outcasts of the team, for our different reasons. 

“Why would that change the way I think of you?” Spencer looked up at me and I shrugged. I stared at him, feeling my face twist up in confusion. Even his face had some confusion on it. 

“I don’t know. People usually…” My words trailed off again, not knowing what I was exactly wanting to say to him. “You’re not mad at me? Or hate me or anything…? Right…?” I asked, my voice wavering slightly in fear. Fear of what? I was scared he would resent me. It wouldn’t have been the first, or last, time someone resented me. So, why would I expect him to not resent me? 

“Why would I hate you? Because you’re finally more comfortable with yourself? Or want to be more comfortable with yourself?” Spencer looked at me as he furrowed his brows. I looked down at my lap and shrugged. “You still haven’t said it, but we’re talking about it like you did,” he pointed out. I dropped my shoulders as I looked over at him. 

“You really want me to say it,” I laughed dryly. Spencer smiled at me and shrugged.

“Only if you want to. Just think about how much better you’ll feel,” he offered. I looked down at my lap and sighed.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” I looked back up at him and smiled, “I’m non-binary.” I could feel a certain weight get lifted off my shoulders as I looked at him. Spencer also had a genuine smile on his lips as he looked at me. Like, he also seemed happy with my words.

 “There’s nothing wrong with that, you know,” Spencer smiled at me as he pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building. I glanced at him before laughing. “I’m being serious,” he chuckled lightly.

“I sure hope there’s nothing wrong with that. You’re the one who encouraged me to say it!” I laughed as I unbuckled. Spencer returned the laughter before looking over at me.

“Then, why do you care what the team thinks?” Spencer asked as he searched for his apartment keys. “Their opinion shouldn’t matter. It’s your life,” he shrugged and looked up at me once he finally found his keys.  

“Everyone on the team is all my friends and all my family…” I whispered as I looked over at him, “I don’t know what everyone will think,” I knew he wanted me to say it out loud to the team, but I was avoiding it. It’s not that I’m not ready. I just don’t want him to think differently of me.

“When has anyone on the team thought bad of you, Bumblebee?” Spencer asked again before parking the car. I swallowed roughly and looked back down at my lap. Of course, when I actually cut my hair short the first time… I had gotten a horrible haircut and everyone commented on it. “No one’s going to think anything bad about you if you come out,” he reassured. I sighed deeply as I looked towards the ground.

“Yeah, but I don’t care about them Spencer,” I rolled my eyes. I rolled my eyes because even though I do care what the team thinks, I think I care more about what Spencer thinks about me. But, I didn’t want to tell him that.

“Then, why were you so worried about it,” Spencer looked over at me before getting out of the car. I stayed in the car for a moment, silent with my thoughts. He’s got a point though. Why was I so worried about it? Of course, the team was my family. I don’t think I could risk losing the team for being… well, me. Maybe Spencer was right. Who am I kidding? Spencer’s always right. About everything. Maybe I should just tell the team… I’d feel a lot better.

I stayed quiet as we walked into the apartment building. In fact, we were both silent. Which was a rarity in our friendship; one of us was always talking, and it was always Spencer. He always had something to say. I wondered what he was thinking about in that head of his. Until I didn’t have to wonder...

“Native American people have a third gender, generally called two-spirit, where the person takes on roles more or less attributed to the opposite sex or both sexes,” Spencer suddenly started an info dump. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I read this exact thing in a book not too long ago. But, it meant so much to me that he wanted to tell me this.

“When europeans came along, they came with the strict gender binary rooted in Puritism, which put heavy emphasis on community and the importance of procreational (heterosexual) marriage within,” he paused to glance at me, probably to make sure I was still listening. And I was. There would be nothing to stop me from listening to him. 

 “Once the colonizers became a country after the american revolution, they wanted to get as far away from britain as possible. Part of this came with separating themselves from the effeminate man of Britain, whom they saw as feminine and dainty. As a result, they made the American Man, who is basically Teddy Roosevelt in that he is rugged, bold, strong, brutish, daring, and able to survive on the frontier and provide for his family,” he continued as he unlocked the door to his apartment. It was nice to be in a familiar place that felt like home, and felt safe.

“In comparison, the woman was supposed to be the American Housewife who stayed at home, cooked the meals, and raised the children. Thus, the American binary,” Spencer continued his info dump, clearly not knowing he was talking outloud. 

I just stared at Spencer with the utmost adoration in my eyes and face. A small smile grew on my lips as he continued to ramble and info dump about stuff I was newly introduced to. I don’t know why I didn’t tell him sooner, I’m sure he would have been a big help. “That’s very interesting, Spencer,” I smiled at him and cocked my head to my shoulder. Spencer looked at me, a slight panicked look in his eye. 

“I’m… I’m sorry, was I rambling?” He stopped talking and looked at me after a moment of him talking. I shook my head, silently telling him he wasn’t rambling, even though he totally was. At this point we had parted ways, but still held the conversation between rooms, and across his apartment, him being in the kitchen while I stayed in the living room.

“Anyways… I could continue going on about it all. How WW2 influenced the LGBT community and how Nuclear Families messed it all up too,” he spoke before stepping out of the kitchen and leading me to his bedroom. 

“I’m sorry, what?” I looked back at him with furrowed eyebrows. I was honestly surprised with that tiny tidbit of information. “Go on,” I raised a brow as I looked at him. I got comfortable on the bed while I waited for him.

“Yeah! The advent of urban areas provided the perfect place for sexuality and gender identity expression,” he continued talking as he stepped into the bathroom to change, and even continued while in the bathroom, “Many single people suddenly began moving from rural farms with family and religion to urban apartments on their own or with someone of the same identity/gender/sex,” he finally concluded before stepping out of the bathroom. I looked at him and cocked my head to my shoulder. I didn’t have anything to say after he rambled on, so we both stayed silent as we got comfortable in bed. 

“How do you know so much about gender identity and the LGBT community?” I asked, turning to face him more. Spencer looked at me with a nervous smile before looking out to the blanket spread out over us. 

“Oh, I, uh… I did a lot of research when I saw you in the library… And, after I saw you on the forum,” Spencer looked at me and nodded. I could sense that he was lying, and he knew that I could sense it. So, I raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sure this is the exact reason,” I smiled before shifting down the bed to get comfortable, “No other reason?” I looked up at him. 

“Nope, no other reason,” he looked down at his book before shaking his head. I could tell there was definitely something, and I could tell he wanted to tell me. But, I won’t force it out of him, just like how he didn’t force it out of me.

“Well, if you have something to tell me… I won’t force it outta you,” I looked over at him with a smile. Spencer glanced at me before grabbing for a book on his nightstand. I shifted down the bed and looked at my phone. “No one’s going to think anything bad about you,” I glanced at him again, repeating the exact things he said to me early in the evening. Spencer glared at me before looking back in his book.

“You’re the worst,” 

“You’re worse than me, Spence,” I laughed as I looked at my phone. I grinned as I browsed random social media. “It’s okay, I get it,” I shrugged before falling silent. 

“I suppose it’s only fair,” he spoke out loud after a moment of silence. I looked up at him, watching as he shifted in his seat. He closed his book before looking down at me, “I guess I’ve been in the same boat as you for a while… Not knowing what anyone would think if I came out, fearing that they’d hate me or judge me,”

“Spencer, you’re the most loved person on the team. No one would ever hate you or judge you,” I sat up before turning to look at him. Spencer looked up at me and nodded. I’m glad we could both agree on that. If anyone hated Spencer Reid, I can guarantee that they’d have a whole fleet of FBI agents on their ass. “You can trust me with anything, Spencer,” I whispered before reaching out for his hands. He looked down at where our hands sat before cocking his head to the side.

“I already trust you more than anyone on the team,” he smiled and chuckled with a nod, “I’ve never told anyone except for one person,” he whispered as he looked up at me.

“That’s okay,” I shrugged as I looked at him. 

“I’m bisexual,” he whispered, his eyes dropping away from my. I stared at him, taking a deep breath. A small smile tugged on the corner of my lips as a worried look grew on Spencer’s. 

“Was that so bad?” I whispered as I fell forward to give him a hug. Spencer laughed as he embraced me. “It felt good, didn’t it?” I backed away from him slightly. Spencer smiled and nodded.

“Like a weight off my shoulders,” he laughed as he looked back at me, “Thanks for that,”

“No, thank you, Spencer, I really needed you and your wonderful words of wisdom… I’ve been struggling with my sexuality a lot, ever since I was a teen really, and you just being there helped,” I smiled at him as I got comfortable in the bed. With that, we fell into a comfortable silence. Sleep wouldn’t find its way to us anytime soon. I think we were both still reeling on the adrenaline of the day. 

But then, I started thinking about our conversation in the car. When I had mentioned I was worried about him (or anyone else) thinking differently of me. I mean, that’s been a fear of mine for years. Someone can go from loving you to the ends of the earth to wanting to be on the furthest end of the earth just to be away from you. So, my fear was totally valid. I didn’t want to lose my friendship with Spencer, or anyone on the team.  

I quickly glanced at Spencer, noting that he was still quietly reading his book. He seemed at total peace with, well, everything. How did he do it? How did he get out of his head after a rough case, and after such a serious conversation? There were too many things I wanted to know, and too many questions I wanted to ask… Why not just ask them?

So, I did...

“Earlier, when you said me being non-binary wouldn’t change the way you think of me… How do…” I paused for a minute, trying to figure my next set of words. Because I could say something wrong, and it’d be the end of everything. “What do you think of me?” I looked up at him as I spoke. He smiled softly and nodded. It was probably a mistake, asking him what his thoughts were on me. I could only think of the worst. Well, I shouldn’t say the worst possible. Worst case scenario was that he was faking it all and he actually hated me. Well, don’t be too hard on yourself.  

“Well, you know,” Spencer shrugged as he shifted closer to me. I looked up at him before leaning away from him. 

“No, I don’t think I do know,” I stared at him, furrowing my eyebrows. He looked at me, dropping his book to his lap and slumping his shoulders slightly. 

“I love you… Okay? I love you whether you’re they/them, she/her, he/him, I don’t care, as long as you’re happy. If you’re happy, then I’m happy, because that’s all that matters to me. Your happiness,” he rambled for a minute. I just stared at him, feeling my shoulders relax as he spoke. My heart rate raised as he continued to talk about how he really felt about me, and I wished he said something sooner… “Hearing Emily misgendering you, and knowing what was going through your head… Sucked… It sucked watching! You deserve the best things…” He continued on, not caring that he was still rambling.

“Spencer,” I whispered, resting a hand on his shoulder to gain his attention. 

“And it’s ridiculous how long I’ve been in love with you too! I should have said something sooner but I didn’t! I don-”

“Spencer!” I shouted this time. It wasn’t an angry shout, though. No, the giggles in my voice and joyful smile on my lips told a different story. And that seemed to get his attention, considering he stopped talking and looked at me. His eyes scanned my face, landing on the joyous smile on my lips. 

“Yes?” He asked softly. I nearly fell into his body, and face, as I let my excitement get the better of me as I tried to kiss him. Spencer laughed as he lifted his hands to my shoulders to make sure I didn’t crash into him.

“I love you too,” I smiled as I looked up at his face. His eyes landed back on my face, his smile becoming soft as he looked at me. The expression his face held showed me that I was now his everything. And, it was a new feeling. I would never get used to a feeling so… grand. But, it was a feeling that I loved, and knew it’d be around for a long time. “What do you think the team will say?” I asked, looking at Spencer as he cupped my face in his hands. 

“About what, Honeybee?” he retorted, his voice a soft whisper. 

“About us, you and me being, well, you and me,” I tried to bite back my smile but failed when Spencer smiled back.

“Who cares what they think… I just care about you,” he smiled before pulling me back in for another kiss. 

“I think I like that answer." 

taglist: @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ , @thebluetint​

[trashyswitch]

Two Minds Think Alike

Vanny had just welcomed this stranger, William, into her head: a beige bunny with a shady past. As she tries to understand who they are and what their motives are, she discovers a fun little secret about her new bunny friend.

This fanfic was suggested by @trashylever on Tumblr. This is my first lee!Glitchtrap fanfic! So trashylever, and everyone else, I hope you enjoy!

Vanny was still trying to get used to there being more people in her head than just...herself. He kinda just introduced himself, said ‘I need a home’ and embedded himself into Vanny’s brain without a proper introduction. She didn’t even know who he was. And yet here he is: living in her head. If she’s gonna learn to live with him, she’s gonna have to get to know him.

Vanny closed her eyes and pushed herself deeper into her head. There, she saw the bunny being that had joined her head. Vanny decided to start off like all exchanges do: with names.

“So...Do you...have a name besides Glitchtrap?” Vanny asked. “Or something less mysterious than…’Malhare’?” Vanny asked, using quotations.

The being turned to her with a tired, bored face. “...Afton.” He replied.

Afton? Wait...Why did that name sound strangely familiar?

“Is that...a first name? Or a last name?” Vanny asked.

The bunny groaned and got up. “William. William Afton. Happy?” they spat at her.

Vanny raised her eyebrows. This person’s got quite the attitude. They sound pissed...over a need for a name. “Yes, thank you.” Vanny shot back.

The being looked at her before looking away.

“Are...Are you gonna ask me for a name? Or am I supposed to just give you a name?” Vanny asked.

The guy...William...looked at her from the corner of their eye and looked back down again. “You’re a teenage girl. That’s all I need to know.” the person said.

Vanny sighed and sat down on the ground. “Great...I’m expected to live with THIS-” She pointed to the bunny in front of her, “-For the rest of my life.” Vanny muttered out loud.

The bunny sighed. “Life isn’t fair, sunshine.” They muttered.

Vanny widened her eyes and turned to the bunny with a frown. “Excuse me?!” she walked right up to the bunny and pushed them down with her foot. “Just who do you think you are?!”

The bunny looked up at her with a frown. Then, they scoffed. “Try looking up my name. That’ll give you a pretty good idea.” they spat with a dangerous look in their eyes. Vanny growled and left her mind.

Vanny opened her eyes and hopped onto her phone. She typed the name ‘William Afftin’ into the search bar.

[A-f-t-o-n. AfTON.] the bunny corrected.

Vanny sighed and fixed the name. ‘William Afton’. She clicked the search button and watched as tons of links showed up right away. Tons of links about ‘child killer’, ‘The Man Behind The Slaughter’ and ‘Fazbear Entertainment’ came up. Vanny’s expression turned from annoyed to surprised in a single second. Child killer? Child killer?

She clicked one of the links. This brought up pictures of happy kids, and blurred images of their corpses beside the happy images. They were mostly aged 5 to age 10! Names of previously missing children filled her brain as she read them: Charlie...Cassidy...Fritz...Gabriel...Jeremy… And Susie.

[They were interesting kids. Somewhat ignored by the adults there. No one even noticed they went missing until they got home. Stupid people…] The bunny told her.

Vanny widened her eyes. Holy...How did he-

Vanny scrolled down and looked at the other pictures that came up. There were photos taken of...suits?

[Animatronics. Big robots with endoskeletons and programming designed for anything you want. In this instance, they were disguised as animals and made for kids entertainment. We were the talk of the town at the time! Freddy Fazbear and the Band. Kids loved it.] The bunny explained.

Freddy Fazbear- WAIT A SECOND! “That VR Video Game was based on real life?!” Vanny reacted.

[Yup. That game itself was Fazbear Entertainment’s way of saving their tarnished reputation of child-killing machines. Every entertainment spot the Fazbear company opened, ended up with at least one child or person killed from robot malfunctions.] The bunny explained.

Vanny frowned as she looked at the missing kids. “It wasn’t just robot malfunctions...It was murders too.” Vanny mentioned. “You were the cause of those murders! You killed up to 5 children!” Vanny reacted.

[Yup. Indeed I did.] The bunny replied.

Vanny huffed as she put her phone down and went into her head again. “Why?” She asked. “Did you know them personally? Why would you specifically choose to kill them?” She asked.

“Does it matter?” The bunny asked as they stood up. “I just did.” they replied.

Vanny looked at the bunny. “You’re not a bunny. I wanna see what you really look like.” Vanny told them.

William sighed and closed their eyes. “There’s plenty of images on the World Wide Web to give you a good picture.” they told her.

“I don’t want to use the internet. I wanna see you. The real you.” She told them. “That is, if your former self was programmed into your code.” Vanny mentioned.

William rolled his eyes. “I have no former self anymore. This is it. I’m a glitch shown as a bunny.” William explained.

“You know technology has advanced enough to change your appearance, right?” Vanny mentioned.

William gave her a dirty look. “Well maybe,” William walked closer to Vanny. “Someone didn’t put that into account when programming me into the fucking game!” William spat at her. Then, he leaned his head back a bit. “I’m afraid this is as close as you’re gonna get.” William turned around and walked away.

Vanny let out heavy breaths as she processed the words hidden under his overwhelmingly rude attitude. Despite not actually being responsible for how William’s brain and personality was handled, Vanny still felt hurt by his words. This man, who was once a physical being, is now stuck inside a girl’s head. Even worse: a teenage girl’s head.

Vanny closed her eyes and frowned as she looked at him. “Why…”

William hummed and tilted his head as he looked at pictures hidden in her head.

“Why choose me...of all people?” Vanessa asked.

William smiled a little at that question. He turned around and looked at her with purple, glowing eyes. “Because your curiosities can lead you down a really dark path if you let it.” William told her. “...And maybe I can help you with that.” William offered.

Vanny widened her eyes and stared at the bunny in both horror and awe.

William chuckled at her reaction. “The internet has offered you endless chances to satisfy your curiosities and yet…” William looked at their own hand. “You stop yourself.”

Vanny bit her lip and lifted her head up. “W-Well...that kind of job takes a lot of work to clean and cover up.” Vanny admitted. “And I don’t want the police finding out about my internet searches. They could see me as a suspect.” She added.

William chuckled at the last part. “There are always incognito modes.” William reminded her. “And as a guy who’s been there and done that, I will help you through all the steps. But only if you agree…” William offered.

Vanny’s awe-struck face shrunk down as she backed away. No...No she shouldn’t! She’s worked this hard trying to make a life for herself! She can’t ruin that now!

William hummed and waved their index finger. “Mmm...there’s that doubt. There’s the part of you that’s trying to return back to normal life.” William pointed out. “But that normalcy will not satisfy that instinct inside you. I’ve tried. Eventually, it found a crack and broke right through it. You’ll be better off starting early than spending your life trying to hide it. After all: Therapy always teaches you to let it out rather than shove it inside you.” William explained.

Vanny considered correcting him, but realised that he was still staying true to the facts. So, she let him talk more.

William walked closer to Vanny and gave her a charming, yet sadistic kind of smile. “You and I have something special in common: you and I both wanted to know things only the dark part of the web could provide you.” William said. “I’ve already answered all my curiosities. But you...You’re waiting to get your full answers. The world tells you to stay true to the law...yet your instincts tell you otherwise...” William explained. He started taking steps back.

“Besides: you gotta remember that everyone only has one life. It’s why I’ve been prolonging my life for as long as I have!” William explained. He spun himself around, sprinted up to Vanny and grabbed her shoulders. “Look at me! I’m in my triple digits now! I should be long dead! But I’m not! I’ve cheated death!” William declared with genuine excitement. “And now I have a chance to restart my killing spree...with a new body, and a loyal partner...something I lacked the first time.” William said eagerly.

Vanny smiled at the thought.

“So:” William held out his hand. “Will you be my new partner in crime?” William asked.

Vanny’s smile grew. It was a hard offer to resist. She’s been wanting to do this for so long. And now, she actually has the chance! Finally, after some thought, Vanny nodded and shook his hand. “I’d love to.” Vanny replied.

The two of them spent some time determining their action plans. With just a few google searches, William and Vanny were able to find a new Fazbear Mall that was opening up. And as luck would have it, they were hiring! So, Vanny pulled up her resume. With William’s previous business experience, he helped her sort out her slightly jumbled resume and cover letter. Before they knew it, the resume and the cover letter was sent to the business email. Now, all they had to do was wait.

While they waited, Vanny snuck back into her brain and looked at the bunny with curious eyes. “So...William Afton.” Vanny walked up and poked his shoulder. “What’s your little secret?” She asked.

William looked at her with confusion. “What do you mean ‘secret’?” William clarified.

“My deep secret is that I like really dark things. And I know you do too. But do you have another little secret you’d like to share?” Vanny asked.

William raised their eyebrows and smiled a little. “Like I’d ever share any secrets with you…”

Vanny frowned a bit. “Well, it’s only fair.” She told them. “Plus: we’re living with each other. I gotta know at least a few things about you.” She continued. “And specifically you...not just your history.”

William raised an eyebrow. The bunny had to admit she was stubborn. “Well...Okay.” William took a moment to think. “I was a father of three kids...all who I’ve outlived because… circumstances…” William admitted with a chuckle.

Vanny looked down with wide eyes. “Yyyyup...may or may not have found that within your history search.” Vanny admitted awkwardly.

William let out a laugh. “Wow! Okay.”

Vanny walked up to him. “Did you ever get tattoos when you were younger?” Vanny asked, grabbing his arm and looking at it.

William widened his eyes. “Uuuuuuhhh-” William pulled his arm out of her grip. “No. Even if I did, you’re not gonna see it on me now.” William mentioned.

Vanny looked down at the middle of his bunny tummy and gasped. “Look!” Vanny poked a visible light green little circle. “You have a bunny belly button!” she cooed.

William yelped and doubled over, wrapping both his arms around his belly. “HEY! No touching.” William warned.

Vanny raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “Why? You ticklish?” Vanny asked. “Is de bunny wabbit ticklish?” Vanny teased as she tried to poke his belly.

“No!” William yelled back, slapping her hands away. “And stop that! I am a grown man!” William yelled at her.

“Hmmm…” Vanny leaned over and stared at the bunny’s side while poking it a couple times. “Maybe a grown bunny…” She gave the belly a squeeze. William shrieked and slapped her arm away. “But a grown man?! There’s NO way!” Vanny teased, sticking her tongue out.

William growled. “Bite me!” he shouted with visible teeth.

Vanny stared at him with starry eyes. Even though William was trying to scare her into stopping, his bunny image didn’t help him at all. If anything, it just made things worse! Vanny giggled and snorted at his attempts to frighten her. Lastly: Vanny brought her index finger up to William’s nose and…

*Beep!*

William squeaked and held his nose in surprise and...almost fear. He made his eyes go cross-eyed as he tried to look at his nose, which only added to the cuteness. The moment Vanny let out an excited squeal however, William shot her a glare out of the corner of his eye.

“Don’t even THINK about pulling those stupid, childish-” William yelped as his backside was poked.

“OMG! Your back is ticklish too?!” Vanny reacted. William tried to turn around, but was caught by one of Vanny’s arms around his shoulders. With her free hand, Vanny started crawling her fingers slowly up his back. William’s eyes widened almost immediately as his lips formed a wobbly and crooked smile.

“Oooooh! I see it’s not just your spine…” Vanny started scratching the back ribs. “The sides of your back are ticklish too!” Vanny reacted.

William let out a muffled yelp and shook his head. “SSSTAHAP-!” He yelled at her.

“OH! I’m close! I’m cracking your wall down!” Vanny teased excitedly.

Then, Vanny moved one hand up to the rabbit ears. “I wonder…” She started tickling the inner ear just as a small test. The moment William moved his rabbit ear away and wheezed, Vanny IMMEDIATELY covered his ears with tickles! It was so hard to resist not going for it, when the perfect opportunity had come up!

Now Vanny was tickling his ears menacingly and listening to every laugh, squeak, titter and giggle that left his mouth. It had actually surprised William just how well the programming managed to replicate his laughter as well! Things have REALLY changed since he was younger.

“VAHAHANNYHYHY! THAHAHAT’S EHEHENOHOHOUGH!” William tried to tell her.

“Hell no it’s not! We have tons of time! I still have a response to wait for from the Fazbear company that YOU used to work for. So now I’m just quickly waiting! And while I wait…” Vanny started tickling the base of William’s bunny ears. “-I can see just how ticklish you really are!” Vanny declared.

“NOHOHOHO! UHUHUN- AAHAHAHA-! UHUHUNFAHAHAIR!” William yelled at her.

“Oh I KNOW it’s unfair. But wanna know something else that’s unfair?” Vanny asked rhetorically. “Refusing to tell me a secret of yours after you found out about mine!” Vanny replied to her own question. “Now THAT’S unfair! And just downright rude!” Vanny added.

William shook his head, flapping his ears around as she attacked the vulnerable base of his ears. “NAHAHAHAHEHEHEHEHEHE! COHOME OHOHOHON VAHAHAHAHANNY!”

Vanny smirked. “Whaddaya mean ‘come on’? Are you challenging me?” Vanny asked.

William shrieked and turned himself around to get away. Sadly, this just didn’t work. Vanny quickly wrapped her sneaky arm around William’s back and waist, and used her arm to dip him backwards like they had just flashbacked to the 20’s.

William yelped and giggled quite bashfully at this sudden turn of events, but was immediately thrown back into his frustrated frenzy the moment Vanny tickled all over his belly. “NoHO! VANNY! IHIHIHI’LL KIHIHILL YOHOHOHOU!” William threatened as he fell into another hysterical laughing fit.

“Ooooooh! I see…” Vanny said to herself while she poked and prodded at the green circle that highlighted the bunny’s belly button. “You don’t really have a belly button! Just a little green circle that sticks it out from your tummy.” Vanny explained to herself.

“YEHEHES! YOHOHOU HAHAVE YOHOHOUR AHANSWEHER! NOHOW LEHEHET MEHE GOHOHOHO!” William ordered.

Vanny rolled her eyes with a smile and continued to tickle his belly. “Ever heard of manners? Even dogs develop better manners than you!” Vanny teased.

William growled through his laughter and started to push her away. Vanny sighed and stopped tickling his belly. William went limp in her arms as bits of sweat started to fall down the bunny’s face. Was...was that just an overexaggerated emotion?! Or was William actually able to ‘sweat’? “Ohokahay. Can...can you put me down?...pleeeease?” William asked. His attempts to be polite sounded very childish. But, it somewhat worked.

Vanny smiled and laid William back down. “I-Thank you. Though, you didn’t need to lay me- HAHAHA! HEHEHEHEY- YOUSONOFA- EEEEEHEHEHEHEK!” William accidentally interrupted himself. It turns out that Vanny couldn’t resist sneaking a tickle or two onto his ears again.

“No more statements, Giggly Willy. Just a thank you will work well.” Vanny told him as she stopped fully this time.

William grabbed onto his ears and curled up into a little ball on the floor of Vanny’s mind. It was...Quite hilarious to see a tough, put together man doing such a childish move.

“I...Am content with wo-working with you, but…*huff*...C-Could we keep the tickle attacks to a minimum?” William asked.

Vanny hummed as she thought. She finally sighed. “Fine. Once a month.” she told him. “I’ll tickle you once a month.”

William looked up at her and uncurled himself. “Wanna move that to twice a month?” William asked.

Vanny blinked in surprise. “Bi-weekly?! I thought you wanted to keep the tickling to a minimum.” Vanny reacted.

“For-forget that. I don’t mind them.” William admitted casually.

Vanny did everything in her power to not throw her hands in the air and shower him with tickles. But she knew one thing for sure:

Vanny is never letting William live this down!

[ncisfranchise-source]

Although much has changed for NCIS as the CBS mainstay enters its 19th season, the plan is to give faithful fans the familiar show they have long known and loved.

Among the on- and off-screen shifts: Two characters were written out last spring, a pair of series regulars have been added for fall, Gibbs’ suspension took a deadly turn when he and his new boat went boom…. And on top of all of that, TV’s most watched drama has been handed its first time slot change ever, moving from Tuesday’s leadoff spot to Mondays at 9/8c (beginning Sept. 20).

TVLine spoke with showrunner Steven D. Binder about navigating this transition, bringing the big orange room’s “band back together,” and inviting fans to rediscover a familiar favorite when they now tune in on Monday nights. (Tiny bits of this Q&A have previously appeared in TVLine scoop and Fall Preview columns.)

TVLINE | We said goodbye last season to Jack (played by Maria Bello) and to Bishop (Emily Wickersham). You have since added Katrina Law full time, as well as Gary Cole, and we’re reportedly getting a bit less Mark Harmon. How does this season rank as far as the challenge of transitioning? The biggest transitions we’ve had to face were last season — trying to find a fitting end to the Jack Sloane character and then a fitting end to the Emily Bishop character. Now, Katrina’s here, so we’re getting a chance to get to know [Agent Jessica Knight], but as you might imagine, there’s some cleanup work we have to do based on the season finale that takes precedence over the more subtle character moments. Gibbs blew up in his boat, so we’re not going to open up with light banter in the squad room.

TVLINE | How much time has lapsed since Gibbs went boom? We’re going to go fairly real time. We decided it’s too interesting of a moment to skip ahead of unless you’ve got a really good reason to do that, and we didn’t.

TVLINE | As I noted after the finale, Gibbs swam away on his own volition after “playing dead” for what seemed to be a purposeful amount of time. Did I read that right? Yeah. We shot a lot of different things for that and there were a lot of different ways to cut it, and what we left with was something that we felt in many ways left all possibilities open. You see someone swimming away with purpose but he was pretty badly injured. Just speaking from experience, I got nailed by a car when I was 10, and if asked me how I was doing, I’d tell you I’m fine, and I wasn’t fine. So, all things are still possible with Gibbs. He’s not dead and we know he’s able to swim well enough to do that broad stroke we saw, but any number of levels of injury were possible for him at that point.

TVLINE | Is there anything else you can share about what Gibbs is up to when Season 19 opens? Well, he’d been hunting down a serial killer, with a reporter (Marcie, played by Pam Dawber) who doesn’t really necessarily have the tools to deal with a serial killer. And he’s been cut off from his team, from that portion of his world. In the beginning episodes, that’s going to change. We’re going to “bring the band back together” to some degree so they can do what we have liked watching for 20 years, which is these people solving crimes together.

TVLINE | It was made very clear that Gary Cole’s character, FBI Special Agent Alden Park, is not “replacing” Gibbs. But is he there to fill a void as “the well-seasoned law enforcement agent”? This is something I’d been saying we should do for a very long time, and when I took over as showrunner it was like, “We’re going to do this” — and then we just didn’t for a little while. I have been saying that we need to populate more characters in this show, in the vein of Joe Spano who plays Fornell, Muse Watson who plays Mike Franks…. The way you get those people who are really fantastic characters is you bring people in and you try them out and you see how it goes.

That was what initially motivated [the casting of] Katrina [Law]. With Gary Cole, you can almost imagine [that Agent Park] may be too close to Fornell in a lot of ways — he’s from the FBI, he’s in the same demo — but that was the initial impetus for bringing in characters. And we’re trying to do that this season with a little more forcefulness, bringing in people in the building who you haven’t necessarily seen but you know have been there doing stuff. And if something clicks, we’re like “OK, let’s bring that person back.”

TVLINE | But now some fans are worried that we won’t see Fornell again. I can tell you that we will be seeing Fornell for as long as Joe Spano would like to be on the show. He’s just fantastic. We have him at least in one [Season 19 episode] and possibly more. Possibly more.

TVLINE | What do you want to say about Mark Harmon’s reportedly reduced presence as Gibbs this season? I’d say that a lot of things are reported on the show that aren’t necessarily true. We are focusing right now on telling the best stories we can with the characters we have, and Gibbs is a part of that world, and I think we’re doing a pretty good job with that. It’s a little more complicated under the COVID regulations we’re under again, but one of things that we felt was missing in the last half of last season was that we had broken our band up and we wanted to get them back together. That’s really what we’re focusing on now.

TVLINE | I’m surprised to hear you say that, because it sounds like Gibbs might become some form of team leader again. I will tell you that it’s not necessarily in a form or shape you might have expected. It’s not typical, but it will be something that is ultimately really enjoyed.

TVLINE | What’s the aftermath of Bishop abruptly peacing out on Nick and us? It would be a really sad commentary on the Nick Torres character for her to just disappear like that and have it not affect him in some way. It could affect you in a lot of ways — you can be generally affected, you could be walking around telling everyone you’re fine and clearly you’re not…. But Nick Torres is tough exterior, soft interior, and we get a look at that soft interior.

TVLINE | Can you clarify what Ellie meant by when she said to Nick, “I didn’t mean for us to happen”? Was that not necessarily their first kiss? I think there have been hints dropped along the ways that that was not their first kiss. And you will get some more hints of the extent of their relationship. Normal people might leave toothbrushes at the other one’s house, but Nick Torres might do things a little differently! You’ll get more clarification on exactly how far that relationship might have gone, although, as you could guess, when consenting boy adult meets consenting girl adult, and they like each other, things happen.

TVLINE | Once you’re done with the early-season “cleanup work,” will NCIS return to a typical Case of the Week format? That’s the other thing we talked a lot about, and I will tell you that after we put some of these things to bed that we have been running with for a while, one of the things we said to ourselves was, “Let’s get back to some interesting cases without any overarching arcs.” Out of 400-plus episodes, 360 of them are described that way, but we’ve been not doing that for a while, so I think it’s time for us to sort of regroup and get back to telling good mysteries of the week with interesting characters, interesting stories, emotional hooks, and a satisfying ending.

TVLINE | Was going back to that trusted formula especially important with a brand-new time slot? So that if and when people do find you, they’re getting something familiar? That could be a reason we would give, and it’s great that it worked out that way. As a writer working with writers, some of us are eager to get back to doing the things that we know. When we get off brand, that’s not what our training is in. Sometimes you get the more interesting episodes that way, because people get pushed past their comfort zones, but I think we’re all feeling it, too, that want to go back to what works. It’s a new time slot, so let’s not make everything new right now.

TVLINE | Any germ of an idea yet for doing a crossover with NCIS: Hawai’i at some point, to bridge the two shows on Monday night? You know, I thought we left some good stuff on the table by not doing more of those in the past. I would love to do something like that, especially if I wrote it and got to fly to Hawaii while it was shot!

TVLINE | Hey, only if I in turn get to do a set visit. [Laughs] Exactly. We haven’t discussed it yet, but I’ve worked with and known [NCIS: Hawai’i co-showrunner/former NCIS co-EP] Chris Silber for a really long time, so that always makes those sorts of things easier.

TVLINE | Lastly, is there any contingency plan in your back pocket in case someone decides that this is NCIS‘ farewell season? There’s really a couple possibilities here. One is that we get cancelled tomorrow and then there’s nothing to be “contingent” about. The other option is that Gibbs is either solving cases in his 90s, or he gets a gold watch and retires. Neither of those things sound interesting to me, but at some point in time when that happens, if we find ourselves still on the air and people are thinking of retiring, you have to think about something befitting that character — and a gold watch ain’t it. But we’re not really thinking too hard at this moment about such things.

TVLINE | A handful of fans have been very doom-and-gloom, bleating “they’re putting the show out to pasture!” with a time slot change and all. I’m like, it’s TV’s most watched drama; it’s not going to lose its entire audience because of a time slot change. That’s our reaction, too. When a show is on the bubble and the time slot changes, it’s usually to Sunday at 10 pm, and that’s not what we got. We got Monday, an hour later.

TVLINE | And you’re leading out of two solid sitcoms, and teeing up a buzzy new drama. That’s right. We’re always the one leading in for everybody else, so I’m somewhat excited to be the show that gets a lead-in!

TVLINE | It’s pretty crazy, man. Nineteen years without a time slot change. Yeah. Like you said, it’s a No. 1 one show, plus it’s 2021, not 1921. People watch TV differently now. As someone said to me, “Oh, it’s just going to be available a night earlier?” These days it’s not all about when a show drops. But you can watch it when it drops, and now it will be available to watch a night earlier, that’s how they thought of it.

[andromeda612]

The writer vs the liar

So, remember the prompt from a few days ago? You can chek it here

Well, I made a draft for what would be the whole fic, I'm gonna start it soon and will post it in Ao3, I would make a post when is ready and with every update, if you are interested make me know, so I can tag you.

I apologize for any mistake, english is not my first language, I hope you like it!

After Mari is expelled Nathaniel and Alix are worried and confused, because there is no way Marinette did those things (Alix defended Marinette in Reverser and I like to think that Nathaniel learned his lesson, so they are less likely to believe that Marinette would do anything of what Lila said) but all the mess is confusing. They talk but can't get a good answer. They decide to relax a little in the art club, they can't.

Marc noticing their mood ask what's wrong. So they tell him, and Marc is fast to point out all the wrong things with the whole situation. The "evidence" is circumstancial, superficial and easily planted, Damocles should have called Lila's parents too, no just Marinette's, Lila should had at least some bruises but there is no one, the protocole says that they needed to make an investigation, Mari has the right to prove her innocence, but Damocles just expelled her then and there. So yeah, the school messed up, because that failure in protocole and lack of professionalism can be addressed as neglect.

Thinking a little more they come to the conclusion that Marinette had been framed, but by who and why? If you think about it the only suspect is Lila, after all she was in the middle of the fire, but why would she did that? Marc asks for more background about this girl, because he only knows her because he had seen her sometimes in school and because Rose mentioned her once or twice, Nathaniel nor Alix have ever talked about her, Marinette either (and that interview on the Ladyblog is not that famous, so he missed it)

Alix explains the drama between those two, the seats thing (Marc tells them that it was wrong to move Mari to the back without asking her, maybe Nathaniel never had problem with being alone but he is not Marinette, they admit it was thoughtless from them and make a note to apologize later) and Marinette claming that Lila is a liar.

That catches Marc's atention, he knows Marinette, for him she is like a sister in everything but blood, after all she was the first person who was nice to him in school and despite not knowing in the time being that he has social anxiety she always was patient and kind with him until he was comfortable enough talking to her. Misunderstanding aside, she was the one who introduced him to Nathaniel and the rest of her friends from the art club, and they introduced him with the rest of their friends. Now he has two best friends (Mari and Alix) is dating his other bff (Nathaniel) has other good friends and is working in what he loves with his partner, all thanks to Marinette, so is no wonder that the two of them grew closer.

He knows that Mari hates liars, so if she thinks that this girl is a liar she must has a very good reason. Then Alix says that it just her being jealous because of Adrien. And yes, that may be true, Marinette tends to get jealous of any rival for the boy's affection, and can do crazy and, honestly, pretty bad stuff for him but again, he knows her and knows that at the end Marinette always admits her wrongdoings, apologizes and does better. He also knows that jealousy for itself is not a strong motive for dislike someone that much, because Chloe? is a brat, Kagami? He knows that Marinette actually helped Adrien in a date with her and now both girls are very good friends despite her knowing that Adrien actually is interested in Kagami, so if this Lila is really that good of a person then why Marinette seems to dislike her and think that is a liar? She has to has a reason.

When he says this Alix and Nathaniel have the decency of look ashamed, Marc is right, they (Alix and the girls the most) should have asked for her reasons instead of brush it off as simply jealousy, Marinette is better than that.

With his point clear, Marc asks for more details, maybe they can discover why Marinette thinks Lila is a liar. Again is Alix who talks (Nathaniel never had been one of Lila's admirers and he pays not much attention to the drama) and tells every story Lila told them (I'm not including the napkin incident because either Nathaniel nor Alix were there, Nathaniel was alone in another table and Alix wasn't in the cafeteria at all) and once she is done Marc is fast to point every single hole, contradiction and nonsense in Lila's claims.

Being a writer and a very active reader makes this kind of thing easy for him, it also helps that some of Lila's claims can be debunked with a little knowledge (arthritis doesn't work like that for example) and him has plenty of that, he likes to read about different topics, not just stories and comics, also is the fact that he makes lots of researching for his stories (the comic is not the only thing he writes for) even if they are about fantasy he likes them to be coherent and solid, so if he is going to use some topic he research to support his writing, so yeah he knows a little of many things. He also points out all the times Lila manipulated them so they did things for her, and how.

Now they know the truth, Lila IS a liar and a manipulative one.

HOLY SHIT MARINETTE WAS RIGHT! First they feel bad, they should have listened to her! They are also ashamed because now that they think about it most of the lies are dumb! They are idiots!

Marc is fast to comfort them, after all some of her lies are believable at least from their point of view, their class is not a normal one they have some famous people like Adrien a famous model, Chloe the mayor's daughter, Nathaniel is the ilustrator of one of the most popular comics in Paris, Marinette is Jagged Stone's favorite designer and has been prized by Gabriel Agreste and Audrey Bourgois, Max is a genius with his own AI, there is Kitty Section and the list goes. So, one more student with conections and awesome claims is not that difficult to believe. Also, they are being manipulated, Lila use pity to make herself look vulnerable and fragil, so they would not question her or her claims, she also takes advantage of their kindness. Being fooled and manipulated is not a crime, they are victims too.

That make them feel better, but now they are pissed, because THEY ARE BEING FOOLED, MANIPULATED AND TAKEN ADVANTAGE OF! AND MARINETTE IS EXPELLED AND ALL IS THAT WITCH FAULT!

Marc is pissed too, being the patient and quiet person he is there are just a few things that makes him trully angry, but messing with his loved ones is the top of that list, and that little bitch is messing with all of his friends and his boyfriend! She is not just liying, manipulating and using them, she also gives them false hope with all the false promises she made, they are gonna be hurt once she fails in fulfil them. And MARINETTE IS EXPELLED so yeah, that brat crossed many lines.

For now they decide to talk to Marinette, Alix and Nathaniel need to apologize, and to make her know that the three of them know the truth and are by her side.

Later they discover that Marinette's expulsion is revoked, aparently all was a huge misunderstanding and Lila herself clarified the mess. Yeah, something is off here and they are not going to let their guard down, but at least Mari's name is clean.

The next day they are in the bakery with Marinette's favorite ice cream and two draws made by Alix and Nath, a -forgive-us-for-not-listened-you-and-for-being-bad-friends- gift. Marinette is relieved and actually cries of joy for having her friends by her side and free from Lila's claws, and of course she forgive them, after all they admitted their errors and apologized, also despite the evidence against her they gave her the benefit of the doubt, and for that she is grateful.

They talk and Marinette tells them how she found out the truth the same she told Alya and Nino (Marc tells her that it was not ok to follow Adrien and Lila but unlike them he still listened to her side of the story) she also point out that she ACTUALLY KNOWS Jagged Stone.

But hey! That doesn't mean that Adrien also knows the truth?

Yeah, she also tells them that Adrien is aware of Lila's true nature and also talks about the 'high road' advice. "HE TOLD YOU WHAT?"

But before any of them could get angry with Adrien she explains that he really thought her lies were harmless, also he believed that expose her would be bad because he called her out in a friendly way and still she was akumatized, but now that she was expelled he recognized that his advice was a bad one and that her lies can hurt people, he already apologized to her, and explained that he made a deal with Lila, he will be her friend and she will be a model and in return she will bring Mari back to school. He also admited that the best is to expose her, becasue netiher of them actually believe that Lila is going to let Marinette alone.

That makes them calm down, and forgive Adrien, he apologized to Marinette too and admited his error, also they think that a deal with the devil is punishment enough, and if they think about it, probably the poor boy didn't knew better, but he does now, so it's ok.

Then they learn about the threat in the bathroom and her almost akumatization. And they are even more pissed HOW DARE SHE? They apologize again for making her believe that she couldn't trust them with that. She says is ok, that she didn't take her too seriously, and she has faith in them, and so far they proved her right. Though, Marc wish that she could have talked to him at least, maybe they would have prevented all of this, but it doesn't matter.

Well, now they have one thing clear: they need to take that bitch down. But how? Lila could lie her way out, or twist the situation in her favor, they are trying to come up with a plan, but Marc is quiet, his mind working and then he has an idea.

With a calm and cool tone he says them "Just help me with some research, I'll take care of the rest" and replacing his usual sweet and shy demeanor there is a smirk and a cold determination and confidence in his face that surprise them (Nath actually finds it kind of hot)

They don't know what is he thinking, but they have seen him angry before (and thank god they have never been the cause of it, because Marc is a cinnamon roll but is very scary when is angry) and they know what his wrath is capable of. Whatever his plan is, they know is gonna work and dammit if it doesn't. They almost feel bad for Lila. Almost.

The next days they spend time together doing the investigation (they have some fun time and an awesome sleepover too), and finally they get solid proof to expose Lila, thanks to Marinette they get a video interview with Jagged Stone where the singer claims that he never had met Lila, and thanks to Marc's general knowledge in health and some help from Nathaniel's parents who both are doctors, they also get proof to debunk Lila's claims of illnes or other disabilities (specially the lying disease bullshit) and since Marc is a good researcher they manage to find some interesting stuff, like Mrs. Rossi contact information, is all in the embassy page.

With the investigation done, all what they need to do is wait for the perfect moment to expose the liar, and the oportunity comes two weeks later in the form of a picnic that Bustier's class organize just to hang out together, naturally Marc is invited and helps to organize said picnic, almost all of the class consider him a friend and one of them despite him being in Mendeleiev's class. Mari, Alix and Nathaniel still don't know what is his plan exactly, but they trust him. Adrien is aware of his plan but he doesn't know what exactly is either.

So here they are, in the park, in a cute blanket, with some delicious food and with great company (that doesn't include certain people, aka Chloe and the liar) and of course Lila is charming their friends with other of her lies, it takes all of their willpower to not roll their eyes. And then, listening carefully Marc takes the perfect moment to interrumpt the tale, social anxiety or not, that witch is hurting his beloved ones and he is not going to tolerate it, so even if he never has talked to her, fuck his shyness, that girl is gonna face the consequences for her actions. (It also helps that he is already friends with the rest of his boyfriend's class)

So, to everyone suprise he interrumpts Lila in middle sentence to point out the holes in what she is saying.

Alix, Nathaniel, Marinette and Adrien froze in panic, what is he thinking?! A direct confrontation was a bad idea, wasn't it? Marc locked eyes with the four of them and give a look thay says 'I get this' so they let him be, but now they are really uneasy.

What they didn't know is that the last days until now Marc has been doing more than just research, he was studying his enemy. Marc is a good listener, and being someone who likes to go unnoticed he became a very good observant too, he can notice little details and patterns, also he is a sensible and sympathetic boy so is easy for him to put himself in other's shoes, that combined makes him very good at reading and analysing people. He also made extra research in psychology and behaivor. So now, he knows how Lila works, he knows what to expect and how to answer. It also helps that he is very good with words, not just the ones he writes for his stories, but the ones he says and also he is very good with other's people words, he knows how to use them. That is his plan, he is going to use all his skills and knowledge to trap Lila, she thinks that she is smart and can control the situation, but Marc is going to prove that she can and will lose in her own game. Her lies are gonna be her downfall.

Lila of course tries to make an excuse or another lie to save face, but Marc refutes her again and again, and the rest of the class? Some are confused and others seems thoughtful shit! She is losing control! She tries but this black haired boy seems to be smart, he gets her cornered until the point that she can't lie her way out, and her classmates are starting to look suspicious. She tries to change tactics, the tears worked against Marinette, they will work now. She hides her face in her hands and starts to sob.

"I just was trying to share some of my wonderful experiencies with my friends, so I could give them some advice to help them in the future. Why are you being so mean? I haven't done anything to you! " That make people like Rose or Mylene to softened and go to comfort her, and between her hands she can see Alya ready to confront the boy, but Marc is ready for this kind of tactic, is his turn to make a move.

"I'm sorry but, How does this make me mean? I just pointed some facts because honestly, I'm a bit confused. At first I thought that you just made a little mistake, but then you just said another nonsense! Why would YOU do that?"

And then she is losing the little control she manage to regain. Because no matter how much they want to comfort her, Marc has a point and what he said so far actually makes sense, at least more sense than what she said. The others start to look torn between comfort or question her.

"Well... how would you know that what I said is wrong? Where is your proof?" Lila crosses her arms and look to other side, just to hide the smirk in her face, that would be enough and that annoying nobody will learn to not get in her way.

But, much to her surprise Marc actually has a good answer to that.

"Uh... comon sense? I mean, If I'm being a little honest if you think about it, some of the things you said have no... logic. Also I like to read a lot and about different things, including what you were saying so I know for a fact that some of the things you said are wrong. And my proof? Well a quick search in google is enough to prove me right"

Lila pales, she was not expecting that answer, and to her utter horror she can see some of her classmates typing in their phones, probably fact checking for once, she need to fix this now! She looks around trying to find some sympathy or something that would help, but she only see her classmates reading something in their phones and some of them are starting to frown, then she looks to Marinette and has an idea, this would break her little deal with Adrien but is ok, she wasn't planning to leave the brat alone anyway and her model career is in his father's hands, and she already has him tied around her finger.

So, before anyone could say something she sobs more louder and points a finger to Marinette.

"This is because of Marinette, isn't it? She put you into this! I-" but she couldn't finish because Marc interrumpts her, he also is ready for Lila trying to blame Marinette and he is not having it!

"And what does she has to do with this? Is not her fault that you have your facts wrong" and now the others are starting to narrow their eyes towards her, Damn it! Well she made the baker a threat, is time to fulfil it.

Lila makes the best she can to look pityful and scared. "Well... I didn't want to say this because I thought that nobody would believe me but... Marinette threatened me in the bathroom the day I came back from Achu!" She cries to everybody's shock.

"WHAT?!" Everybody screamed that. Marinette and her we-know-the-truth squad are frozen and can't believed it, THE NERVE OF THIS GIRL!

The rest to their friends are equally stunned, because they just can't believe what Lila said.

Lila using the shock continues with her sob story.

"She cornered me in the bathroom and told me that she would turn all of you against me! And all because she is jealous! And now she is using this boy to make you think that I'm a liar, just like she said!" Lila hug herself in an attempt to look small and is crying full force now.

Marc has to use all his willpower to not scream and call her a hypocrite, but he has a perfect answer for that too.

"Marinette would NEVER do that!" And to Lila's surprise and Marinette's glee is not Marc who says that, is Alya.

"Marinette is the sweetest girl, and she is not a bully!" That was Rose, who walked away from Lila like she burned her. And the rest of the class make their agreement known.

Lila really did NOT expect THAT reaction! They are supose to be comforting her and screaming to Marinette, not defending her! It's ok she can fix it.

"See? Is this why I didn't want to say anything! You don't believe me!"

Marc takes the word again "We know Marinette, we know she has flaws but she is one of the best people we know" again everybody agrees with that.

Lila is getting desperate, this is not what is supose to happen! And where is an akuma when you need it?! But Lila refuses to lose!

"Look I know you all thougth that you knew her and that she was your friend, but the truth is that Marinette is not what she seems to be, she is a manipulative liar and is just using you!"

Again, is not Marc who talks, this time is Kim

"No, you look Lila, I have known Marinette since diapers, and I know she has flaws but she is NOT a bad person"

"Yeah, and using us? She is the one who goes out of her way just to help us! She is a caring friend! Heck! We actually had to convince her that it's ok to pay to her everytime we comission something from her!" That was Nino

"And still, she gives us discounts everytime she can, but jus for the record, we have no problem in paying the whole price, Marinette, your job is awesome and you deserve to be fairly rewarded" that was Ivan, and Marinette gives him a very grateful smile, the rest of her friends agree with him and she smiles to them too.

"But-but" Lila is in trouble, she tries to think fast, but then Max just dig her hole deeper.

"Also, what Marc just said about your story is also true, all the wrong facts and holes, I asked Markov to fact check and the evidence supports Marc, the only conclusion is that you were lying to us!"

Nonononononono NO!

"And since you told us this lie like you did with any other of your stories I wondered What else was a lie? I also asked Markov to confirm every thing that you had said to us, and nearly the 86.65% was a lie"

Marc smiles, the game is going exactly according to his plan, even some of his moves were made by others, he is happy that Marinette has friends with such a faith in her, ready to stand up for her just like she does for them. But he knows that the game is still on, Lila still has some pieces, but Marc already steal her big ones, she just has some pawns to defend her King and Marc has his army intact.

Well fuck, she is doomed, the rest of the class looks ready to attack her... and then she remember her last card, it's a wild card, her lies will not work the same way anymore but she could save face, she will, eventually, come up with something to regain her control.

Well it seems that there is a limit, so I make a part 2

[rwbyremnants]

THIS CHAPTER: Monochrome: assisted masturbation, cheating (kind of)

Yep this is definitely when it starts to get wilder. I'm trying to make sure I tag the chapters so everybody knows what's coming and nobody's shocked or squicked against their will but if I miss something don't flame me ;o;

=Chapter 37

Weiss felt numb all over. Those words couldn’t have been in the same sentence: ‘Schnee’ and ‘mayor’. It had to be someone’s idea of a bad joke. Cinder had planned this - she was just the type! Before she knew what was happening, Kali’s hands were on her shoulders and the sofa was underneath her; she couldn’t even remember sitting down.

“Father? Is he… is it true?”

“It is, sweetie,” Kali told her gently, eyes full of concern. “He just announced his candidacy this morning. I would have assumed you heard…”

“Nobody was talking about it at school,” Blake confirmed, not quite so affected but still concerned for Weiss. It would have been touching if she wasn’t completely beside herself.

Meanwhile, the others remained largely unaffected. Salem shrugged, eyes dark and piercing beneath her usual hood - even indoors. “Why should they have? Youth is wasted on the young. Children have no head for current events and political machinations.”

“That’s because they’re supposed to be children.” The frost in Kali’s tone as she addressed her own leader surprised her, especially since she had been so quick to tell Weiss that she wasn’t a child. Which one was it? “Haven’t they a right to grow into productive members of society before they have to vote and be disappointed in the world?”

“Touché, Duchess. Perhaps I truly have become jaded.”

“We need to nail down how to proceed,” Sienna hissed at them through her teeth. “Then we can worry about trivial matters. Are you sure you don’t want me to fill him full of-”

“No, no. Your methods are effective but… indelicate.” Salem’s legs crossed as she contemplated, dark eyes sweeping from face to face. A minute passed before she replied. “I don’t believe we’ll need to move immediately. The election is weeks away; plenty of time to let our minds percolate.”

Clearing her throat, Weiss said in a small voice, “Wh-why do you think he wants to become mayor? Why now? I… I really, really want to hope it has nothing to do with me and the Dragons, but if it does…”

“If it does, then what?” Cinder sighed impatiently.

“If it does, maybe I… could go back home. And he would leave you alone, and drop the whole-”

“Don’t be so gullible, Schnee. All that will accomplish is showing him that he can do whatever he wants.”

“She’s right,” Kali reassured her in gentler tones. “I know you want to do whatever you can to fix this problem; I would in your position. But a man like your father won’t bend to anyone’s will unless he’s made to bend. And if people can’t bend, if they aren’t flexible enough…”

“They break,” Emerald hissed through her teeth. Cinder patted her arm to help calm her.

Salem rose to her feet, smoothing down the front of her cloak. “This ‘not-meeting’ is adjourned. All we needed from it was to adjust our thinking… make sure we are all aware of the tribulations that await us, be contemplating until we meet again. We have done that, and we can proceed to other matters. Kali, I trust you will inform us if you become aware of another location?”

“Immediately, High Dragon.”

“Good. Take care, all.” Without waiting for anyone to bid her farewell, she swept from the room, Sienna immediately on her heels. Emerald and Cinder were next, though they favoured Weiss with smiles and nods as they filed out. Then it was just Weiss and the Belladonnas.

Kali was the first to speak. “Well, that was interesting. Let’s finish working on dinner.”

“That’s all you have to say, Mom? Nothing about… you know, Weiss’s daddy trying to take over the whole city?!”

“Maybe he’s going into organised crime himself. Maybe he’s got bats in his belfry - how are we supposed to know? Either way, we can’t do anything tonight. Let’s just worry about getting food on the table for now, alright?” When neither of them answered right away, she cupped their cheeks and smiled. “Good girls. Go and wash up for dinner.”

As they paced upstairs, Weiss whispered, “Is it just me, or did your mom get a lot more… motherly just now?”

“Not just you.” Glancing over her shoulder, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “I think it was what Salem said. Y’know, about us kids not being aware of politics, and the world? Think it really ground her gears.”

“Well, it’s creepy. She was flirting with me yesterday; I don’t want her feeding me jars of Gerber peas today!”

Lip curling, Blake murmured, “I don’t want her doing either one.”

“Oh… well, yeah, I know. I am sor-”

“Don’t. It’s weird for me, but like I said, I’m used to her flirting with anything that moves. Just… not somebody I’m close to is all. There are all kinds of reasons, trust me.”

Weiss’s cheeks bunched with the force of her sudden smile. “You’re close to me? Awww…”

Before Blake could sputter a response, the master bedroom door opened and Willow peered out, eyes a little round and fearful. The instant she saw her daughter, her expression clarified and she pulled the door open. “Weiss, there you are.”

“Mom!” She smiled and trotted over for a hug. “You okay? You looked kind of worried.”

“Well, Kali told me there would be serious business going on downstairs, and… and that I should stay up here.” Swallowing hard, she glanced at Blake briefly as if she would pounce on her at any moment. “Is… is anyone… dead?”

Both of the girls looked startled. “Mom, we’re not assassins! No, nobody’s dead! Gee whiz!” Willow relaxed visibly, though she was still shaking very slightly and breathing rapidly. Seeing that she needed the comforting, she wrapped her arms around her mother a little tighter. “It’s alright, Mom. Sorry I got you mixed up in all this mess, I didn’t mean t-”

“No, no, it’s… it’s alright. I’m already much happier than I have been in years and years, even if I’m a little afraid of what might happen next. But I’m more afraid of… of your father now.”

At the mention of him, the girls exchanged a glance. Blake raised a hand up to rest in the middle of Willow’s back and began to guide them both toward the stairs. “Come on, Mrs. Schnee. Dinner’s almost ready. And, uh… and I think we could all use it.”

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

The meal did go smoothly once they were all seated and avoiding the whopper of an elephant in the room. Weiss got to mention that she was helping Yang reconnect with her uncle, which pleased Kali - both for Weiss’s involvement and that Yang was reaching out to her family more and more. Her own mother might have been a little confused, but she got the general idea and also commended her daughter for helping to foster any level of reconciliation. There was a lot of blushing, and a little teasing from Blake before Kali tossed an olive at her daughter. A food fight was narrowly avoided.

So it was that despite the very notion of a potential Mayor Schnee hanging over their heads, Weiss could fall right to sleep that night. Blake flashed her a calm smile; for once she had looked just fine, not stressed or morose or irritated. Even if not everything was great, a lot of things were getting better.

This time, she couldn’t remember any dreams when her eyes popped open the next morning. Only this lingering sense of well-being. One of them probably had something to do with…

“Yang…”

Her eyebrows twitched downward. That wasn’t her own voice, was it? It was such a quiet whisper, too. Glancing over to the side, she saw Blake curled away from her, thrashing around very slightly. Another dream about lost love; it was sad, even though she definitely was beginning to move on during the waking hours.

The next whimper sounded so quiet, so plaintive, that she couldn’t help it. She leaned up on her elbow to reach up and shake Blake awake, spare her the agony-

And saw her arm was moving quite a lot more than was normal for a sleeping woman. One wrist was disappearing into her loose violet pyjama pants. Her breathing was pretty ragged for someone asleep, too… and those whimpers…

Suddenly, Weiss felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. Clearly this problem had not gone away for Blake if she felt the need to do this while she wasn’t alone in the bed.

“A-ah,” her friend let out from between her lips. Weiss was completely beside herself, and every idea she had of how to fix this situation seemed more terrible than the last. Should she clear her throat to let her presence be known? NO! That would be disastrous! Then again, if she kept on watching, or even just laid there and listened to Blake doing this, it would make her the worst kind of Peeping Tom! Nevermind how uncomfortable she would be the entire time. And if Blake ever found out…

‘What do I do?’ she thought frantically as her face began to heat up, and as Blake’s arm ramped up in speed. To be fair, the girl was doing a pretty good job of keeping herself from shaking the rest of the bed or making noises that would wake someone, but she was still being indiscreet.

Two things happened next. Blake shifted, and a wave of a very specific scent rolled over Weiss that made her blush brighten. But she didn’t just shift her arm’s position. Her head turned, to glance over her shoulder and make sure she was the only one awake in the bed - that she wasn’t being watched.

Which, of course, she was.

Both girls froze completely for at least a full count of ten, two pairs of eyes wide and gazing into each other in shock. At least the arm was no longer moving. Then Blake asked the only sensible question.

“How… how long were you… watching me?”

“I…” Swallowing hard, she whispered back, “N-not long. A minute? But I didn’t know what to… I couldn’t believe you were really…”

Though Blake’s cheeks had been blotchy with sheer heat before, now they were taking on a much deeper shade as she began to turn away again. “Oh… my… God.”

“Blake-”

“Of course. Of course you wake up this one time, I can’t- what was I thinking?!” Her voice was a mixture of panic and pure shame. “What is WRONG with me?! Why am I so… so…”

Weiss couldn’t think of anything else to do but throw her arms around Blake. Obviously another terrible idea, but it was her best in the moment.

“Are you kidding me?!” she hissed angrily. “While I’m doing this?!”

“Shut up!” she commanded Blake, squeezing even tighter. “I don’t care! Waking up to this might not be Fat City for me, either, but you’re… there’s nothing wrong with you, alright?”

Blake held completely still for a long moment, vibrating with a cocktail of emotions. Then things began to shift a little. She had tried to move her arm and shivered. Weiss knew why, but she still didn’t pull away - even though a little voice in the back of her head was telling her the hug should probably end sometime soon. Before things went in a direction neither of them exactly wanted.

“Weiss… I appreciate you… saying that. But I, um… I think I need to get up, and go to the bathroom, and… and f-finish what I started. So unless you want to help me with it, I suggest you let go.”

Why did she feel so bold and reckless? “But you sound really close. Just… hurry up and do it.” That did get her hand to slap over her own mouth, so at least it accomplished the goal of ending the hug.

“Are you out of your tree?! I can’t! Not with… with you watching…” Her voice started to sound less and less angry, or shocked, or afraid. There was only shame now, mingling with her desires. “With you watching me. And I don’t think you want that, either.”

“Hey, let’s not get carried away. I didn’t say I wanted to watch! Just… that you should finish it off, and then… then everything will be fine again. Right?”

Amber eyes gazed up into hers guiltily, a little pink mouth slightly open as she panted for air and tried to think her way out of the situation. Weiss had already thought to all possible conclusions, and in her half-awake state, this sounded like the one that would result in the least hurt feelings. Sending Blake out of the room, or leaving herself, would wind up making them both even more ashamed than if they stayed. And asking Blake to just stop and not climax was inhumane! That only left this solution, undesirable as it was.

“What if…” Blake bit her lip for a moment, then looked away. “What if I do want you to watch?”

That got her attention. “What?”

“It’s… getting really hard not to do anything,” she whispered, arm trembling and tense. “So either… cut out right now, or it’s going to get really…” Another swallow, and she looked sincerely apologetic. “You could stop me. Pull my arm out of there. I think you should.”

“Blake…” This was her out! But she couldn’t take it. “No. I think you need this. You couldn't even wait until I got out of bed earlier, and now you’re almost there. So, um, I don’t think I would stop you if I wanted to. And I don’t.”

She nodded, seeing the wisdom in that statement. “Schnee, you are… something else. I swear.” Then she licked her lips, letting out a nervous laugh. “I’ve never done this before, you know. Just… worked on myself while somebody else was… I might sound dumb, or look dumb…”

“Don’t worry about that. But if it helps, I won’t watch your face too much. Okay?”

“Well…” Reluctantly, she nodded. Then began to move her arm…

And the immediate moan of relief was enough to send shivers down Weiss’s spine. This was definitely a mistake; she knew that the minute she suggested it. But what a glorious mistake it would be.

“You… do not sound ‘dumb’,” she told her baldly.

“I don’t?” Blake laughed quietly, hips twitching back and forth. “Mmhh… you know, you don’t have to keep hugging me. Or even stay in the bed. I… it’s alright, Weiss.”

“I’m comfortable here.” Not that she was fully; she was comfortable lying on the bed, of course, but her libido was anything but comfortable with having a lithe, nubile body enjoying that kind of stimulation so close to her own. Why did Blake have to sound so incredible? Even just feeling her back and rear brushing against herself a little as she squirmed was setting her off.

And Blake was losing her fight to keep still, to suppress her reactions as much as possible. At one point, a wave of pleasure hit her that caused her to curl in on herself, pulling her head further away and pushing her toes against Weiss’s bare shins. Having their skin connect seemed to snap her out of it.

“S-sorry.”

“No… don’t be.” Moving her arm further down, she rested a hand on Blake’s stomach, slipping it under her arm to do so. “Keep going. You need this.”

“Yeah. Need this… I really need…” The stomach muscles flexed and moved underneath her hand, and Blake redoubled her efforts. Now, she could feel each and every movement, the vibrations of her attempts to wring an orgasm from the reluctant clutches of her own flesh. Her stilted gasps and groans were so hot…

But not enough. She knew what Blake needed. “You can call her name.”

“What?”

“Yang. I… understand why, believe me. So you should, if you want.”

“No, that’s- she’s your girlfriend. I shouldn’t…” But she didn’t sound terribly resolute. In fact, she sounded like she wanted to give in, even if the look in her eyes said that she would hate herself for doing so.

“Just imagine that Yang is behind you right now,” she whispered against her neck, prompting a brand new shiver. She wasn’t sure where these ideas were coming from, other than they seemed reasonable for an unreasonable situation. “That she’s the one watching you, listening to you… waiting for you to show her what you can do to that body.”

That easily, she convinced a little “Yang” to slip from Blake’s tongue as she sped up, her hips beginning to shift against her frantic fingers. The motions were butting back against Weiss with every pass, building a heat she was trying her best to ignore. Another whispered oath, and another whispered “Yang!” Her mouth was hanging open now, gasping for more breath as she climbed higher toward the peak of pleasure.

“Yes!” Weiss hissed against Blake’s neck, bucking her hips in time with the other pair as her hand began to pet a circle on Blake’s stomach, mimicking the movements of the other one doing the lion’s share of the work. “It’s so good! Just keep going, don’t stop now!”

“Nhhhhh, Yang!” she moaned out, a little louder than she meant to but still quiet enough that it might not wake up anyone. “I… I’m so damn close! Almost!”

“Finish for her, Blake! Finish for Yang!”

That was as much as she could stand, if the louder gasp and the spasms of her entire body were any indication. She could feel toenails scratching her shins beneath the blanket, abdominals clenching, and the vibrations of ragged breathing bleed through Blake’s back and into her own chest. By all outward signs, this was definitely one of the strongest orgasms she had ever witnessed - maybe that Blake had experienced.

After a minute or so, Blake had recovered enough to roll onto her back and gaze at Weiss in wonder. Then she whispered, “How… did you do that?”

“Do what?” she laughed.

“Make it so good, and… you didn’t even touch me. Not really; not that way.”

“O-oh. Well, I didn’t even do anything, really.”

Blake’s smile was a little dazed - understandably. “You didn’t… and you did. Weird. But that was one of the best I’ve ever had, and definitely way better than any other game of solitaire. How did you do it?”

All she could offer was a shrug. By now, not only was Weiss vaguely embarrassed by the praise, but she was also fighting off her own arousal. Even if she hadn’t ever truly thought of Blake as a potential bed partner before, there could be no denying how hot that entire show was. And certain parts of her anatomy were clamoring for an encore.

“Schnee? You okay?”

“Fine. Totally fine.”

A knowing glint in one amber eye, she rolled over a bit more so she could pet up and down Weiss’s stomach through her nightie. “You know… I wouldn’t mind returning the favour. If that’s what you want.”

“It… it isn’t.” Clearing her throat, she patted Blake’s forearm, and it stilled. “Yang can take care of it for me later, I… but thank you.”

Sorrow and frustration took over on the raven-haired girl’s features again for a moment. But then it faded into the background and she simply embraced her temporary bunkmate. “Sorry. Just say the word, though.”

“No, I’m sorry. This is probably so difficult for you. And your life would be easier if I never-”

“Shhh. Don’t bother talking like that; we can’t change the past, and I don’t want to. You’re alright in my book, Schnee.” In a mock-grumble, she added, “Even if you’re being a big baby about me working you over.”

A thought occurred to her - a memory from right after she had met Blake - and she decided to share it with a little smirk. “You know… I’ll have to confer with Yang about it, to make sure she still feels the same. But she did once say that she wouldn’t mind if I made whoopee with you.” To be more specific, she had said Weiss had free reign to sleep with more than just Blake, but that information wasn’t pertinent.

“‘Made whoopee’,” she snickered.

“Why does everyone keep laughing at me when I say that?!”

“Sorry,” she laughed a little louder, clearly getting comfortable against Weiss’s side now. “But… if she really meant that, then I guess… there are crazier ideas. But I won’t make any moves until you get word we have a green light, Schnee. Homewrecking is not a hobby I’m looking to take up, even for a cute pompom girl.”

“I think that’s an acceptable plan,” she said with a little firm nod, and Blake only grinned. Weiss eventually smiled, as well. “You must have really felt good a minute ago if you’re buttering me up so much now.”

One of her trim shoulders shrugged as they relaxed a little more into each other. “I did. And I’m not just buttering you up; you razz my berries, as much as that surprises me. Though I did always think you were a fine thoroughbred filly.” Her hand began to pet up and down her side, and Weiss felt her cheeks flare up even more. “Mmmm, yeah…”

“Okay, enough. Roll back over.” Blake obeyed, and Weiss pressed their backs together. “Mmm… I could get used to it, though. Watching you blow your stack. It’s better than Ed Sullivan.”

“You germ,” she mock-growled, pushing her feet back against Weiss’s feet. They battled for dominance very briefly before giving up and simply resting again. “You know… nah, that’s just weird to say now. Nevermind.”

“Go ahead. I don’t think anything’s too weird after what we just did.”

With another little shrug, she went on quietly, “I was thinking before this morning that… that it might not be too bad…” She fell silent again. When Weiss elbowed her, she went on in a rush, “That it might not be so bad if our parents were together and we were sisters! There, okay?!”

“Ohhhh,” she breathed, secretly very touched by the sentiment. Especially after worrying that Blake hated her! But what she said was, “I don’t think I could handle watching my sister do what you did.”

“Well, not- I said ‘before this morning’, dingbat! GOD! Try to have a civil conversation…”

But eventually, they did decide it was time to get up. Not before a little more play-wrestling and a lot of talking, but there was no more hanky panky; she wanted to leave that up to Yang.

As soon as was bodily possible.

[lo-lynx]

No cock = no sexuality? Geldings in ASOIAF

TW: Rape, violence, sexism, racism

Spoiler warning: Spoilers for all A Song of Ice and Fire books

“Lord Crow is welcome to steal into my bed any night he dares. Once he's been gelded, keeping those vows will come much easier for him."- Val, A Dance with Dragons, Jon XI

First of all, this is a great quote by Val. Second of all, I’ve noticed that this idea of gelding/castration to reduce/remove male sexuality occurs relatively often in ASOIAF. Before I go any further, I feel like I should clarify that one’s genitalia does not determine one’s gender. A person with a penis is not necessarily a man, and a man does not necessarily have a penis. However, both in our world and in the world of ASOIAF people insist on thinking that and tend to place quite a lot of significance in specifically penises. I’ve written before on this blog about eunuchs, masculinity, gender etc, so in this essay I want to look at that issue from another angle, namely the assumption that no cock = no sexuality.

A while back when I was doing research for this essay about Vary and masculinity, I came upon this quote from the book Eunuchs in Antiquity and Beyond:

Why were men castrated? Several reasons can be advanced: control and domination, punishment, political reasons, need for special qualities or abilities, religious, sexual or erotic reasons, and medical or health reasons. Some ancient writers emphasized that eunuchs were easier to control. (…) In the United States in recent years there have been several movements to castrate, either literally or chemically, individuals involved in sex crimes, especially those involving adults with children. (…) How effective physical castration is in preventing sex crimes is debatable, in spite of public belief to the contrary. (Bullough 2002, 5-7)

Now, I think we can all agree that sex crimes should be punished. But this quote made me think about the practice of castration/gelding as punishment as it occurs in ASOIAF, especially since this quote states that the effectiveness of this is debatable. When doing research for this essay I searched A Search of Ice and Fire for the word “gelded” and got 55 results. Now, loads of those were about gelded horses, but 21 are about gelding people. Of those 21 results I judged 13 to be about how gelding was being used as punishment (mainly for sex crimes), six about how gelding would be used as preventive measures against sex crimes (and two I didn’t know how to categorise). I’ll go into some of these instances here, as I try to explore what gelding as punishment/preventive measure against sex crimes says about the view on masculinity and male sexuality in ASOIAF.

Now, first some background on masculinity and male sexuality. I’ve written EXTENSIVLY before on how from antiquity until modern times for someone to be seen as a “real man” their body and sexual behaviour has had to fit certain criteria. If you want to read more on that, go read my essay on Varys. But briefly: to be a real man according to (Western) society (from Ancient Greece until now) you have to act manly (be strong, in control etc), have a penis, testicles, have penetrative sex (preferably with women), and father children (or at least be capable of fathering children). So, if you’re castrated you can’t be a “real man”? Well, according to Westerosi logic, the answer is pretty much no. (See this and this essay) The consequences of these masculine ideals are quite clear in ASOIAF, as for instance researcher Shiloh Carroll have pointed out:

Martin rejects the idea that chivalry created an ideal society where men fought only to protect their women or in grand, bloodless tournaments, instead creating a society in which chivalry is a thin veneer over a violent, toxic masculinity that victimizes men, women, and children alike. Martin’s Westeros does not reward chivalry, does not even really believe in chivalry as more than a masquerade behind which ‘true’ masculinity- violent, aggressive, and misogynist- hides. (2018, 56)

As Carroll also points out, one of the clearest examples of this is the prevalence of rape in the story. According to her, it seems as if most characters in story believe that most if not all men are capable of rape (ibid, 93). It also seems clear that most of the time, such crimes are not punished. But let’s look at some instances where it’s at least on the table:

A former slave came, to accuse a certain noble of the Zhak. The man had recently taken to wife a freedwoman who had been the noble's bedwarmer before the city fell. The noble had taken her maidenhood, used her for his pleasure, and gotten her with child. Her new husband wanted the noble gelded for the crime of rape, and he wanted a purse of gold as well, to pay him for raising the noble's bastard as his own. Dany granted him the gold, but not the gelding. "When he lay with her, your wife was his property, to do with as he would. By law, there was no rape." Her decision did not please him, she could see, but if she gelded every man who ever forced a bedslave, she would soon rule a city of eunuchs.

(A Dance with Dragons, Daenerys I)

 ‘King Stannis keeps his men well in hand, that's plain. He lets them plunder some, but I've only heard of three wildling women being raped, and the men who did it have all been gelded.’

(Jon in A Storm of Swords, Samwell IV)

 ‘Well now,’ the serjant said, ‘naked steel. Seems to me I smell an outlaw. You know what Lord Tarly does with outlaws?’ He still held the egg he’d taken from the cart. His hand closed, and the yolk oozed through his fingers.

‘I know what Lord Randyll does with outlaws,’ Brienne said. ‘I know what he does with rapers too.’

She had hoped the name might cow them, but the serjant only flicked egg off his fingers and signalled to his men to spread out. Brienne found herself surrounded by steel points. ‘What was it you were saying, wench? What is it Lord Tarly does to…’

‘…rapers,’ a deeper voice finished. ‘He gelds them or sends them to the Wall. Sometimes both. And he cuts fingers off thieves.’

(A Feast for Crows, Brienne III)

Now, the two first people on that list are people we as readers tend to sympathise with and think are good people most of the time. Randyl Tarly much less so. But what these quotes do show are that gelding as punishment for rape is widely accepted, both in Westeros and Essos (even if Dany doesn’t grant that punishment in that specific quote it seems clear that she wanted to and would in other circumstances). It’s also interesting to note how, in the passage about Lord Tarly’s punishment of rape, it is also noted that the punishment for theft is the cutting off of fingers. One can see a parallel here, with in both cases the ostensible guilty body part being cut off (with rape the genitalia, with thievery the fingers). This attitude to punishment can be seen as playing into the so called “disability as punishment trope”. Researcher Mia Harrison describes that trope thusly:

The ‘disability as punishment’ trope is one of the oldest disability tropes, with its roots stretching back to biblical and mythological narratives. The trope is frequently used in classical stories where characters are blinded as direct or implied punishment for wrongdoing such as the biblical Zedekiah and Tobit, Rhoecus and Phineus of Greek mythology, and Peeping Tom in the legend of Lady Godiva. (Harrison 2018, 29)

Now, while one might want to punish rapists, one should remember that it’s not clear that sure castration actually makes people less likely to rape again. So, we’re really just punishing people with a disability, and by doing that essentially saying that a disability is a punishment.

Now, as I mentioned earlier in this essay, there’s also several cases of what I’ve called “preventive gelding”. The most prominent of these are of course the Unsullied, but I want to begin with a quote from Jaime III in A Feast for Crows when he talks with Ser Bonifer Hasty, who have been tasked with holding Harrenhal:

He was sober, just, and dutiful, and his Holy Eighty-Six were as well disciplined as any soldiers in the Seven Kingdoms, and made a lovely sight as they wheeled and pranced their tall grey geldings. Littlefinger had once quipped that Ser Bonifer must have gelded the riders too, so spotless was their repute.

So, here, similarly to the quote from Val that started this essay, a joke is made about gelding men to make them not rape people. The whole premise of the joke that Jaime remembers is that men cannot possible control themselves, and their sexual lusts, if they still have their genitalia. But, as I said, the most prominent example of “preventive gelding” in the books are the Unsullied. Here, I will once again quote Mia Harisson, because while she analyses the show, not the books, her point still stands, and I simply cannot put it better than she does:

The Unsullied are the most normalized example of eunuchs in Game of Thrones. Children are sold from a young age to the Unsullied slavemasters, with males being trained as highly obedient soldiers. Their names are taken from them, instead being replaced with that of vermin such as ‘Red Flea’ and ‘Grey Worm’, and their genitals are removed in the final stages of training. They are described as having ‘absolute obedience, absolute loyalty’ (…) The Unsullied body is systemized into fragments that are categorized as ‘useful’ (the parts of the body can be used to fight) and ‘useless’ (the parts of the body that cannot. The slave master demonstrates the systemization of the Unsullied body by slicing off the nipple of one of his soldiers while explaining that ‘men don’t need nipples’. The Unsullied challenge notions of ‘able-bodied heterosexuality’ by considering the sexual, able body as not simply unnecessary, but an obstacle toward obedience (…) The Unsullied do not embody a masculine identity- they are not considered men at all. This is not to suggest, however, that the Unsullied should be considered positive examples of non-normative identity representation. Instead, they present a clear idea of what should be considered the ‘acceptable’ queer or disabled body: docile, compliant, and useful only in the service of others. (Harrison 2018, 38)

So, the idea of gelding the Unsullied is that they will be obedient, and that their bodies can be utilized in the most effective way. It is also clear in the books that one of the so called “perks” of the Unsullied is that they won’t rape and plunder, for instance:

‘Your Grace,’ said Jorah Mormont, ‘I saw King's Landing after the Sack. Babes were butchered that day as well, and old men, and children at play. More women were raped than you can count. There is a savage beast in every man, and when you hand that man a sword or spear and send him forth to war, the beast stirs. The scent of blood is all it takes to wake him. Yet I have never heard of these Unsullied raping, nor putting a city to the sword, nor even plundering, save at the express command of those who lead them. Brick they may be, as you say, but if you buy them henceforth the only dogs they'll kill are those you want dead.’ (A Storm of Swords, Daenerys II)

So, soldiers who won’t rape and plunder, sounds great, right? Well, the drawback is of course that the only way characters can see this happening is by pre-emptively gelding them. Now, this is hardly unique to ASOIAF, during antiquity slaves were also castrated because it was believed this made them easier to control (Bullough 2002, 6). During this time eunuchs were also often servants to women at court, perhaps most famously in harems (Llewellyn-Jones 2002, 34). In part this connection between women and eunuchs seems to have been because both women and eunuchs were considered “imperfect creatures and incomplete human specimens” since they lacked testicles (ibid). Both women and eunuchs were also seen as sexually available, due to their lower social standing than men, which was the case in Ancient Greece as well as in “the East” (for a longer discussion about sexuality during antiquity and how it relates to eunuchs, see my essay about Varys). It is important to note here, that the contemporary and Western view of harems as a space where women were locked up is not necessarily accurate to historical sources. As Llewellyn-Jones points out, harems could often just refer to groups of women, not necessarily places, or something that were out of bounds (note the similarity to the word “haram”). Women in these harems could also often have great influence over court life, in many ways similarly to the noblewomen of ASOIAF. But, in the Western orientalist fantasy, the idea of eunuchs guarding rooms filled with women just waiting to have sex with men, seems to have stuck.

I want to briefly touch on another aspect of this, which is the idea of the sexually (non-)threatening man of colour. Now, throughout history, people from outside of ones own ethnic group have generally been seen as threatening (I’m not even gonna provide a source for that). In the contemporary Global North, this figure of the dangerous Other is often seen specifically as the non-western person (Ahmed 2004). Specifically in contemporary US (as well as historical US of course), one of the forms this takes is the racist idea of the dangerous black man. In contemporary America (and across the world), one of the ways this becomes clear is of course in the racist killings of black people (so I hope you all have supported the Black Lives Matter movement in whatever way you can!). Another way is, as black feminist and scholar bell hooks has pointed out, the way black masculinity is portrayed in movies. The good black man, hooks writes, “not only accepts his subordinate status, he testifies on behalf of and exults in white male superiority. (…) [this] character shows no romantic interest in the white female hero. He is merely protecting.” (ibid, 108). Now, I am NOT saying that this the exact same as with the Unsullied. For one, the fictional space of Slaver’s Bay is not the exact same as the real-life United States (even if there are a lot of parallels between Slaver’s Bay and Reconstruction, as for instance Steven Attewell has pointed out) And Dany actively tries to change oppressive power structures. But I find it interesting some of Daenerys’ most loyal fighting forces, who is very clearly Eastern coded (even if they have different ethnicities) are described as completely incapable of being a sexual threat to her. This can be compared to for instance the Dothraki, who are constantly connected to rape and (sexual) violence. As others have noted, the way that the Dothraki are described often invoke Orientalist imagines of the ‘Other’ as sexually deprived, and dangerous (Carroll 2018, 121) While Dany have some loyal Dothraki followers who respect her as a khaleesi, as soon as she interacts with one that is not from her khalasar, she thinks that this person might rape her (i.e. A Dance with Dragons, Daenerys X). Now, one could argue that this doesn’t have to do as much with race/ethnicity as just the fact that most characters in ASOIAF seems to assume that all men are potential rapists. But the contrast between these Eastern men (the Dothraki and the Unsullied), and how they are portrayed, is interesting. The Dothraki are sexual, violent, and a threat to Dany and other women. The Unsullied are not sexual, and while they are violent, they are not a threat specifically to women. They’re just a weapon, controlled by others.

 So, in conclusion, gelding in ASOIAF seemingly takes place as a punishment for rape, and as a way to prevent rape. Both of these practices seem to assume two things; firstly, that being gelded works to prevent rape, and secondly, that this is the only (or at least the most effective) way to control male sexuality. The validity of both of these things can be questioned. For one, I would like to believe that it would be possible for men to not rape people without their genitalia being cut off. But also, genitalia are not necessarily needed for sex or sexual violence. People can get creative. The last point that I want to address here is whether this argument about masculinity and sexuality (and race/ethnicity) is something that GRRM believes, or if it’s just something his characters believes. I honestly don’t know. As Shiloh Carroll has pointed out (2018, 56), GRRM sometimes seemingly makes deliberate points about how medieval society wasn’t just filled with chivalry, but also (sexual) violence. Does that mean he believes that male sexuality is uncontrollable? Probably not. But since he tries to get the point across about the darker side of medieval society, and probably also pulls on historical ideas of geldings and eunuchs, it might come off like that. This is especially unfortunate, in my opinion, when it also plays into racialized tropes about the ethnic Other’s violent sexuality, that must be controlled.

 References

Ahmed, Sara. 2004. “On Collective Feelings, or the Impressions Left by Others”, Theory, Culture and Society, 20(1):25-42.

Attewell, Steven. 2015. “A Laboratory of Politics Part VI”, Tower of the Hand. January 15, 2015. https://towerofthehand.com/blog/2015/02/01-laboratory-of-politics-part-vi/noscript.html

Bullough, Vern L. 2002. “Eunuchs in History and Society”, in Eunuchs in antiquity and beyond, edited by Tougher, Shaun, 1-17. Swansea: The Classical Press of Wales.

Carroll, Shiloh. 2018. Medievalism in A Song of Ice and Fire and Game of Thrones. Cambridge: D.S. Brewer.

Harrison, Mia. 2018. “Power and Punishment in Game of Thrones.” In The Image of Disability: Essays on Media Representation, edited by JL Schatz & Amber E. George, 28-43. McFarland & Company: Jefferson.

hooks, bell. 1996/2009. Reel to Real: Race, Class, and Sex at the Movies. New York: Routledge.

Llewellyn-Jones, Lloyd. 2002. “Eunuchs and the royal harem in Achaemenid Persia (559-331 BC)”, in Eunuchs in antiquity and beyond, edited by Tougher, Shaun, 19-50. Swansea: The Classical Press of Wales.

Martin, George RR. 2011a. A Storm of Swords 2: Blood and Gold. Harper Voyager: London.

Martin, George RR. 2011b. A Feast for Crows. Bentam Books: New York.

Martin, George RR. 2012. A Dance with Dragons. Harper Voyager: London.

[flipomatic]

Internship Chapter 27: Day 22 - Edric

First Chapter Previous Chapter

__________________________________________________________

Monday mornings were always tough, both during school and the internship. Edric liked to sleep, so having to wake up early always felt like it was robbing him of precious slumber time.

He dragged his feet to the jail regardless, eager for the last week of the internship to finally be over. He was starting to find some success, but it seemed like things were getting more and more complicated in the coven. Edric and Em had stumbled across some unusual activity over the weekend, but he wasn’t sure what to do with that information yet.

He had many questions, which he likely would have a hard time finding answers to. Maybe bugging Nick’s office would help, if he could do it without being caught. Another option would be to tell Frederick, but Edric wasn’t sure if the witch would believe him. Frederick had known Nick for years, after all.

Without evidence, Edric didn’t have any proof that he was telling the truth.

With that thought in mind, Edric went to the locker room to meet Frederick as usual. The witch was already waiting for him in the hallway.

They exchanged greetings, then walked towards the dispatcher’s office. “Can I ask you something?” Edric asked, mulling over a different question that had been hovering in the back of his mind.

“Of course.” Frederick replied without hesitation.

Well, he said it was okay. “Do you want to be the next coven leader?” Edric had a feeling the answer was no, but he wanted to know for sure.

Frederick mulled it over for a moment. “I haven’t really thought about it.” He replied as they passed through the hallway intersection. “If the Emperor asked, I would accept of course, but I prefer working in the field.” That was pretty close to what Edric expected. He was getting used to Frederick, getting better at understanding him and predicting what he would do.

“That makes sense.” Edric nodded.

They reached the dispatcher’s office a moment later and entered to get their assignment for the day. The dispatcher again gave them keys to a van. Since they had done so well with bringing in the witch last week, they were being sent on a similar job. They were to make an arrest, there was even a warrant signed by the Emperor.

“This should be an easy arrest.” The dispatcher said as he handed the paperwork to Frederick. “They’re wanted for fraud, no history of violence. The address is on the warrant.”

“We’ll bring him in.” Frederick said with a firm nod. He took the keys to the van and led Edric out of the office and across the building.

They got in the same van as last week and were soon driving towards their destination.

“I’ll go to the door alone. You hang back and be prepared to cast a spell if he runs.” Frederick gave instructions as the city flashed by.

“Alright.” Edric wondered what spell he should use if that happened. There was the anti friction spell, but with a moving target it would be hard to aim. He could use an illusion rope, perhaps coming from the ground like the plant spell Frederick was somehow still trying to teach him. Another option was an invisible illusion barrier, but that would take a while to set up properly. It was too complex to cast on short notice, besides the fact that if they saw it before he completed the spell then it would be useless.

The drive took about ten minutes, but it felt like it passed quickly. They had left the center of town and were now in the residential district. There were houses everywhere, with narrow streets between them. The van barely fit on some of the roads, as they were built for smaller beast drawn vehicles.

When they reached the target house, Frederick double checked the address with the warrant. It was correct, so they climbed out of the van. The house had two stories with brown siding and a few windows. It looked like a normal house, nothing really stood out to Edric.

Frederick approached the front door, with Edric about fifteen feet behind him. He figured that was far enough away. Besides, he still wanted to hear what was going on.

Frederick knocked three times, the sound echoing loudly.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the door opened, being pulled from the inside. The witch who opened it matched the description that came with the warrant. Frederick asked for his name, which he gave. That too matched the warrant. So far it was going well.

With that information, Frederick seemed to have enough information to make the arrest. He showed the witch the warrant and told him he was under arrest.

That was when things got strange.

Immediately upon seeing the warrant, the witch protested that he hadn’t committed any fraud. He tried to back away into his house, but Frederick grabbed him by the wrist to cuff him. It looked like it barely took any effort to do so, as the witch was spindly and didn’t seem to have much strength.

Frederick walked the witch back to the van to put him in the back, where they would take him back to the jail. When they passed Edric, the witch again tried to plead his case. “Please, I’m innocent, you have to believe me!” He insisted he’d done nothing wrong, that this was all a mistake.

The way his eyes gleamed with tears and his voice wavered, Edric was almost inclined to believe him.

It didn’t matter though; they had been sent to bring him in. It wasn’t their job to judge him. If he was innocent, then the Emperor would let him go. Frederick had to pick him up to get him into the van, where he sat on the floor sniffling.

He looked pitiful as the doors were shut, trapping him inside. Edric and Frederick then got back in the front, to take him to the jail. Despite the loud sniffling noises, Edric resisted the urge to look back at him while they drove.

When they reached the jail, they passed him along to another officer along with the warrant.

As Edric watched him be escorted away, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He wasn’t sure what, but something felt wrong.

He didn’t have too long to dwell on it, as he and Frederick had to go return the keys to the dispatcher. They were then assigned a route to patrol, where a couple other coven members had already been sent. It was close, so they ended up walking.

“Do they often do that?” Edric asked as they left the building and set off towards their patrol route.

Frederick was walking ahead of him. “Do what?”

“Say that they didn’t do it.” Edric clarified.

“No, not often.” Frederick shook his head. “But don’t let it bother you. Stay focused once we reach our route.” It wasn’t quite a reprimand, but it felt like one.

Edric replied that he would and let the conversation die. The wood sword that he was still required to carry bumped against his leg as he walked, though he was starting to get used to weight of it on his hip.

They soon reached the route and met up with the other patrol witch assigned to it. It was a large one, so they only stayed with her for a few minutes before splitting off.

Edric kept an eye out for anything suspicious as usual, and like normal he didn’t see anything. There wasn’t a lot of crime in Bonesborough. That had been true before his internship and it would still be true after.

By the end of the day, there still hadn’t been any action. That was honestly fine, he didn’t need the excitement or potential injuries.

They walked back to the jail to report in, following the same path they had in the morning.

When they reached the locker room, Edric was surprised to see a coven member waiting for them. It was a witch who’d been on Edric’s mind all weekend, one Nick Ralph. Edric wondered what he wanted, especially after what he overheard him talking about with Kikimora. Nick was still in uniform with his mask on, but when he spoke that voice was unmistakable.

“How was the patrol?” He asked. It was a fairly innocuous question, but something about his tone rubbed Edric the wrong way.

“No trouble today.” Frederick replied amiably, not regarding his old friend with the same suspicion that Edric did. “How was yours?”

“I didn’t get to go.” Nick crossed his arms, leaning back against one of the hallway walls. “Had to spend all day cleaning up your mess.” Now Edric was really on edge.

Frederick sounded concerned. “What do you mean?”

“That arrest you made this morning, you got the wrong witch.” Nick took a paper out of his pocket and handed it to Frederick. This news answered a lot of the questions Edric had been asking himself about the arrest earlier. “Turns out it was a case of identity theft, and fraud, which you would’ve known if you investigated before arresting him.”

Wait just one minute. “That’s not our job.” Edric protested, drawing both sets of eyes to him. They were given an already signed warrant; it should’ve been investigated ahead of time.

“Even so, we should’ve gotten it right the first time.” Frederick didn’t back him up, instead admitting fault for the error.

“It is your job.” Nick replied to Edric, before turning back to Frederick. “And you absolutely should’ve. Mistakes like this damage the coven’s image; the Emperor won’t be pleased.” Nick didn’t sound upset by that; in fact he almost sounded smug. “You’ll never get promoted with marks like this on your record.”

So there it was, the reason he had come here to tell them. This came back to what Edric overheard over the weekend, which was Nick’s desire to be the next coven leader.

“Were they able to identify the true criminal?” Frederick was either unaware of the politics or unbothered by them. Edric suspected it was the latter.

“Not yet.” Nick shook his head.

“Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help.” Frederick started to walk past him, signaling that he was done with the conversation, and entered the locker room. Edric followed him in so that he wouldn’t be left out there alone with Nick.

He didn’t stay long, just long enough to hope Nick had walked away, before saying goodbye to Frederick and leaving.

It had been another strange day, but the puzzle was clearer than before.

Next Chapter

[magic8realism]

Chapter 1: Therapy

It was an all too familiar experience, sitting there with nothing but the sound of deafening silence. How many times has it been now? Eight? Nine? Maybe less? Was it sensible to keep count? No, she promised herself she would not entertain such thoughts. She reminded herself that she was here to get better. Yes, that is precisely what Michaela told her. She needed to get better, but was that even possible? Is it possible for someone who had been through what she had gone through to get better? Michaela said she should not give up, that she had made some excellent progress, but her mind knew that Michaela had no idea that it was all an act, a false persona. People need to put an act sometimes to get by. Life demands it. Certain professions would not allow its occupants to survive without it. Her situation was not different.

“Miss. Collins, are you okay? You haven’t said anything for a while now.”

Her eyes darted towards the blond middle-aged woman sitting right across from her. Mary Grove was her name, was it? Michaela told her she was the best therapist in the city. Her friend did say the same thing about other therapists before her, yet not a single one of them had been able to help her. Maybe she was a hopeless case. Maybe she should just accept the fact that she would never overcome the experience and just give in. It would be nice, leaving this world with all its troubles. The ironic thing was that her traumatic experience had left her brain so fragmented and incapable of aligning its contradictory demands that she would no longer know if death was really what it wanted. She would find herself at one point at the pit of a spiral of depression so intense that she would wish she was dead. Her sadistic mind would even go on to devise one method after another in search of the best way to go. A few moments later it would recoil in terror. Her heartbeat would race, her whole body would start to convulse and her chest would struggle to fill her lungs with air. The episode would go on and off for hours until it totally annihilated her grip on reality and sent her crawling into a corner to wait for her impending doom.

“Lesly are you okay?”

No, she was not okay. No one in this god-forsaken city was okay. What made this woman believe anyone was okay? Isn’t that what they say any way? That every single individual suffers from an issue of sorts?  

“Do you need me to get you anything?” Mary asked with a concerned look on her face.

“I’m fine,” Lesly finally decided to answer.

Mary nodded her head, acknowledging the response she was given. She started scribbling on her notebook before she finally decided to address her newest patient, “Shall we continue?”

When Leslie smiled emptily in response to Mary’s question, Mary proceeded, her gaze cantered undividedly on Leslie, “Michaela told me about your situation, but I would like to hear your story.”

Oh yes, the story, that god-awful story. She must have told that story like a hundred times. Although she would like nothing more than to forget it, her brain would make sure to remind her every once in a while. True to its sadistic streak, her brain would not only reminisce on the moments when she was most helpless and scared but would also make her relive every excruciating detail of that experience every chance it gets. Nightmares were quite common and as awful as they were, they were still preferable to the far more harrowing and intrusive flashbacks. Yes, sharing the story should be a breeze. Why would she object to telling it?

“You already know it. Why go through it again?” Lesly answered dryly.

“That’s fine. We won’t discuss it then,” Mary responded with a smile. It seemed that she had had her fair share of difficult patients before Lesly showed up.  

“How’s work Lesly?”

Was Mary trying to approach the problem from a different direction now? Lesly had encountered that strategy a lot, especially when she was reticent. It was obvious what Mary was trying to do.

“You are familiar with my line of work,” Lesly answered calmly.

“Michaela told me you are a brilliant lawyer.”

Brilliant indeed. She could barely afford these sessions. Ever since the death of her younger brother seven years ago, she had been suffering this overwhelming guilt that robbed her of sleep. That guilt would only be eased a little when she distracted herself with work. However, it was not long before she lost the sense of comfort that work gave her. Every case she took made her feel miserable, not only because some clients proved to be the absolute worst human beings on earth, but also because she was the reason the people who really needed help found themselves financially crippled soon afterwards. Eventually, she began taking more cases pro bono. She convinced herself that she was balancing some of the bad with a little good, but sadly that was not the case. People do charity work for different reasons. There are those who help out of the goodness of their heart, and there are those who help for purely selfish reasons, to fix their public image, deceive people into thinking they are somebody that they are not, or even use their charity organization as a front for illegal activities. She could easily fall into the second category. Helping was one way she could convince herself that she was not a bad person, and because she knew that was a lie, she found herself charging her clients little to none over and over in an effort to mask that reality. It was not long before her savings dried up and she found herself downgrading everything in her life to make ends meet. That did not bother her much. As long as she was handling that overwhelming sense of guilt, she was fine. Soon afterwards, she joined Sonata, a charity organization concerned with helping the victims of human trafficking and putting an end to their suffering. Unfortunately, every case she took through Sonata following the incident was nothing more than a blatant reminder of what she had gone through.

“Lesly?”

“I’m sorry. I was just thinking about a case I encountered at work today,” Lesly finally decided to answer, realizing that the long time she took to respond was also a sign this Mary person could use to figure her out.

“Care to share it with me?” Mary asked patiently, hoping to get Lesly to finally open up.  

Lesly sighed, wondering whether it was worth it to say anything at all or not. She eventually decided to randomly choose a case and to present it to Mary as a way to fill the silence.

“There is this woman, early twenties, who came to the city of Redlyn in hopes of finding a job that would support her and her five-year old son. She trusted the wrong people and ended up in a prostitution job that she could not leave for fear that her son might get hurt. We managed to save her, but we can’t find her son.”

“That is awful.”

“Yes, that is what people normally say, and yet no body is doing anything about the problem.”

“Lesly, what makes you think the problem is getting worse?” Mary asked after a moment of silence.

“What makes you think it’s getting better?”

“Wouldn’t you consider the changes the newly elected mayor promised to make a step in the right direction?” Mary clarified.

Leslie could not help but laugh at this point, “Politicians!”

Unable to keep her real thoughts to herself any longer, she continued, “The slave-trade has grown prosperous due to the city’s stagnant environment, yet despite the growing numbers we announce, politicians still insist that we exaggerate. Why do you think that?”

“You tell me.”

“Because they are entangled in that mess. The persistence of the problem helps them. They get paid a handsome some by the syndicates running the show to stay quiet. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the city’s major political figures are involved in the lucrative sex-trade that such an activity gave rise to.”

Silence again. The crime rate in the city of Redlyn was high. That was an undisputed fact. The factors behind the increase in crime rate, however, were a source of a major controversy. As with any community, there are those who believed that hijacking people’s freedom through stricter laws was the answer. There are the conspiracy theorists who would either trace the problem to some foreign powers or locate it in the existing government. And then there are the religious fanatics who would simply interpret every occurrence as God’s punishment to the sinful.

“That is…an interesting analysis, Lesly,” Mary replied hesitantly after a moment of silence.

Great! She must have already been categorized as another conspiracy theorist. Lesly did not normally care what other people thought of her, but she did not want Mary to needlessly prolong those sessions. One session every two weeks was torture enough.

She leaned forward in her seat and tried her best to control her simmering temper as she reasoned, “Dr. Grove, how would you explain the rising crime wave? The inadequacy of the law enforcement system? The corruption of the judicial system? And the fact that parts of the city are totally controlled by syndicates and criminal organizations rather than a functional government body?”

Mary would not answer the questions. She just sat there waiting for Leslie to voice the one experience that was the source of this seething, yet somewhat controlled anger.

Realizing that she had revealed more than what she wished her therapist to find out, she stood up, turned her back to the middle-aged woman and began walking towards the window. Lesly took a couple of deep breaths and tried to think of way to handle what remained of the one-hour session. She wanted to leave that instant, but Michaela was waiting outside. Leaving would mean subjecting herself to the hellish nagging, crying and pleading that resulted in the guilt-ride that brought here in the first place. No, leaving was not an option, and apparently beating around the bush and answering questions with questions was not working either, especially since she was exhausted and sleep-deprived. What else was there to do?

Her eyes scanned the small garden through the window. The sound of children playing and laughing immediately caught her attention and had her search their surroundings for the source of their amusement. She soon found out that it was a small golden retriever running around the kids in circles and chasing after a toy they were holding. Something about the scene evoked a surge of emotions within her. She could not understand at first why the scene affected her so much, but she soon managed to put a name to the phenomenon…nostalgia…but that was not all there was to it. Something else was making her eyes burn. They were tearing up. The more she fought that, the harder her eyes pulsed. She tried to keep herself composed, but so many things were out of order right now that she could not keep track of everything. Something was bound to slip out.

Almost involuntarily, she found herself whispering, “Things would have been easier if he was around.”

“Who Lesly?”

“Christopher.”

“Your brother?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

What was there to talk about? The guy lived his whole life treating her like nothing but the family he always wanted, but she never returned the sentiment. She hated him at first because he was her father’s love child. Christopher was twelve when she first met him. He was four years younger than her. His mother had passed away when he was two and he spent the next ten years in the care of his maternal grandmother. Her father kept his existence a secret from her up until he could no longer do so. Christopher’s grandmother passed away and her father had no choice but to bring him over. What made it easier for her father to do so was the fact that her mother was no longer around, too. Her father only had one person’s feelings to worry about and those were hers. She spent the next year fully ignoring Christopher’s existence for her sanity’s sake up until the moment she went to college.

Lesly finally got to acknowledge Christopher as a brother when her father passed away. She had just graduated from college and she was trying to put herself through law school. The sight of Christopher weeping at her father’s funeral tore at her heart strings. She realized that Christopher had just lost the only family he knew. Their relationship grew from that point onward, but it was not long before it hit another hurdle along the way. She did not know whether it was the lack of guidance or the fact that he had been spoiled by everybody who cared for him throughout his life, but Christopher had grown up to be the most irresponsible person she had ever encountered. He could not keep himself in college and would not even bother looking for a job. His reason, of course, was that he did not need the money after he was finally granted access to the trust fund left to him by his maternal grandparent. Every encounter the two had followed the same routine course. She would criticize his irresponsible behaviour. He would call her a stuck-up a bitch, and then the two of them would keep their distance until he sought her out again. It was always him who initiated the contact, never her. He was the one who would call to check on her. He was the one who would arrange dinner appointments to meet her. He was the one who constantly called her office to plan things around her schedule. It was obvious that he loved her a great deal. She loved him, too, but for some reason, she was never capable of showing it, and now he was dead and his blood was on her hands alone.

Why didn’t she keep her mouth shut? If she had tried to reason with him rather than criticize and point his flaws every time she saw him, he would not have stormed out of her flat in anger and got himself killed in a car accident. Why did she do that? Why was she so harsh with him? She was an attorney and a damn excellent one. She should have been able to use her words in a more effective manner than that. Did she still resent him for being her father’s love child? Was that the real reason? Did she secretly want him dead? Did she even love him or was she lying to herself the entire time to make herself feel better? Maybe she deserved what happened to her, getting incarcerated, tortured, and raped. She should have died that day. She should not have been rescued.

“Lesly, what are you thinking?”

“Nothing,” Lesly answered in a small voice.

At this point, Mary could not help but sigh in frustration at her patient’s lack of cooperation. She placed the cap over her pen, put her notebook aside, took a deep breath, and tried to reason one more time, “Dear, I’m trying to help you. You are obviously suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. What you have been though is horrendous in every sense of the word. You have to open up.”

Still not convinced, Lesly asked, “What’s the point? It won’t erase the fact that it happened. It won’t erase the fact that I deserved it.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because I’m a horrible human being,” Lesly replied softly.

“Lesly, it is common for sexual assault victims to blame themselves. The most important thing to remember is that…”

“Did you not hear me? I deserved it,” Lesly interrupted, almost breaking down.

Mary tried to hold back from saying anything that would further enrage Lesly. She took a deep breath, tried to rearrange her thoughts, and then proceeded one more time to convince her patient to speak, “Lesly, perhaps you can help me understand the situation better by telling me exactly what happened.”

Lesly tried to calm herself down. She closed her eyes to keep the tears that were threatening to fall from falling, and counted to ten. She could handle this. She could power through if she wanted. She had done it before, and she could do it again.

She slowly walked back to her seat, sat down, then spoke softly, “I helped someone.”

“And?” Mary asked encouragingly.

“I paid dearly for it.”

[psychovigilantewrites]

Chapter 10 - Crunch

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader 

Genre: Smut/Action

Word Count: 4, 926 ( i know, shorter than my usual chapters, but this has a lot of plot progression i promise) 

Masterlist 

Ao3 

TW: violence

“What the- what the actual-”

Dick’s voice almost scared you, breaking your concentration. You jolted up, your eyes immediately meeting his blue ones.

“Dick!” you exclaimed, rising up from your study table, “Didn’t Alfred ever teach you to knock?”

You crossed the floor from your desk to him, standing at your opened door. You threw yourself into his warm arms, feeling him squeeze you tightly.

“Alfred also taught me how to pick locks,” he chuckled, giving you a peck on the top of your head.

“What are you doing here?” you took a step back and crossed your arms.

“Nevermind that- what are you doing with all this?” he gestured to your floor.

Papers were strewn all over your room. From case files to articles to your notes. Dick bent down and opened a beige file.

“Wait- this is the series of Pyg’s murders in ‘07!” he gasped. He threw the file back on the floor only to pick up another. “And this is the murder of Sarah Gordon, when Joker kidnapped all those babies. Just what have you been doing?”

“Research,” you shrugged, “I’m sure you’re familiar.”

“That file on Pyg not only had the autopsy report, but also the pictures,” he pointed out.

“So?”

“So?” his eyes widen, “So, why are you obsessing over violent crimes?”

“A lunatic just kidnapped me a couple weeks ago, Dick, maybe this is my coping mechanism,” you defended yourself.

Dick pursed his lips, his expression changing.

“I don’t want your pity, Dick,” you told him, “I’m fine.”

“I know you are,” he smiled sadly, “Which is why I don’t think this is your coping mechanism.”

He walked to your bed and sat down, his handsome face catching the light of the setting sun outside your window, casting a shadow that made his usually bright and charming look turn into a more mysterious and dark character.

You smirked and joined him on the bed, sitting next to him.

You never could lie to him. Which was why this time it was going to be hard.

“Red Hood, he’s…” you struggled to put together the words, “Confusing.”

“Confusing?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, collapsing onto the bed on your back, “He’s got something against Bruce. Or Batman. Either one of them, he knows our identities, Dick.”

“It’s normal to be scared, or worried,” he offered you, “Knowing our identities make us vulnerable to him at all times, not only when we’re in uniform.”

“It does scare me a little,” you admitted, staring at the ceiling that both Alfred and Dick helped you repaint, “But mostly, I’m just frustrated. Why did he kidnap me if he was just going to toy with me and then let me go? Everything is just so unclear, and Bruce isn’t telling me the whole truth. That’s why I’m trying to figure it all out myself. I need to understand him- and in order to do that, I need to understand people like him.”

“Hence the..” Dick waved at your mess.

It wasn't a lie, but a half truth. That's what made it possible for you to deceive Dick or Bruce. You learned that by trial and error.

You did start to research to understand people like Red Hood better, but after a while, you suddenly became fascinated. The detail these people put into their torture, their time and effort. You were amazed at how passionate they were. Long gone was the girl who couldn't sleep because she saw decapitated heads on spikes.

But Dick didn't need to know that.

“Yeah,” you nodded at your ceiling. “Wait a minute.”

You shot up.

“Do you know who Red Hood is? Did Bruce tell you?” you interrogated Dick.

“He won’t tell me either,” Dick huffed, “It’s always been like that with him. No matter how hard I try to get closer to him, sometimes it feels like he’s getting further away.”

“I can relate to that,” you rolled your eyes.

“But I have a feeling that he will tell you eventually,” Dick put an arm around you, “It seems too important not to.”

You let out a snort. If it was important, he should have told you right after you got kidnapped.

“And,” Dick continued, suddenly giving you a noogie, causing you to squeal and push him away, “I heard from Alfred that you’re not talking to Bruce. May I ask why?”

“So that’s why you’re here,” you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I came to check up on you,” he told you sternly, “I’m sorry I couldn’t come here right after, but my little sister did just get kidnapped.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” you whined.

“Then you’re fine enough to tell me why you haven’t been talking to Bruce,” Dick probed, “I won’t judge. I’ve had my fair share of cold shoulders and fights with him too. I know first hand how frustrating he can be. So come on, tell.”

You let out a long and tired sigh.

“We fought,” you started, “It was when I got back from the hospital. He wouldn’t tell me who Red Hood was. And he- he called me ‘Jason’.”

You saw Dick close his eyes and squeezed his temples.

“Jesus,” he whispered, “What did he say exactly?”

“‘Back down, Jason’,” you repeated Bruce’s words solemnly.

“Now that’s something I haven’t heard in years,” Dick chuckled humorlessly.

You couldn’t stand to see the expression Dick had then, because he looked as if he was remembering a fond memory, reminiscing to a time when you weren’t around. His eyes suddenly aged, as if the sadness affected him physically.

You turned away, biting your lip. You tried hard to reel in the tears of jealousy and exclusion that burned your eyes. You focused your gaze to outside your window. It was around midday on a Saturday.

“Has Bruce made any attempts to reconcile?” Dick asked.

You took a deep breath before you answered, making sure your voice wouldn’t break.

“Yeah, but I’m still mad at him,” you pouted.

“And you have every right to be,” Dick acknowledged, “But Bruce, well, you know Bruce. He keeps these things to himself, but obviously he’s still hurting.”

You felt a wave of guilt crash over you.

He lost his son, and there you were being selfishly stubborn.

You didn’t reply, and suddenly an awkward silence filled the room.

“I’m seeing someone,” you changed the subject.

“You are?” you saw Dick’s eyebrows rise so high, they almost disappeared into his dark wavy hair.

“Yeah,” you blushed, “It’s still very new, and we’re not official yet or anything. But we’re definitely testing the waters.”

“That’s great,” Dick smiled widely at you, “Who is he? Tell me the deets. Spill the tea.”

You giggled at Dick’s ironic use of slang.

“I met him in the library a while back,” you spilled, “We exchanged numbers. Started texting, meeting up from time to time. He’s really cute.”

“I bet he is,” Dick wiggled his eyebrows.

“What’s with that face?” you laughed, “He is! He’s slightly older, and he’s got this sexy bad boy look, you know?”

“I thought you liked the nerdy types?” Dick responded.

“I never had a type, you ass!” you tried to poke him in the ribs, which he avoided skillfully.

“You’re right. I thought you were completely uninterested in boys,” he wondered out loud, “Is he nice, at least?”

“Yeah he is,” you smiled to yourself, “He didn’t know I was Wayne until 2 weeks ago. Before that, we were mainly texting. Now we’re meeting up more. I feel like I can be myself with him. I don’t know, there’s just something about him that makes me trust him.”

You noticed Dick frown at that.

“I’m not going to tell him anything!” you quickly added, “I’m not stupid. I know I shouldn’t trust someone I just met. It’s not about the confidential stuff. It’s the little things like how I feel, and my problems, and just- stuff, you know?”

“I get it,” Dick nodded understandingly, “You don’t know what it is about the person, but you feel like the two of you just click, am I right?”

“Exactly,” you smiled, “Been with anyone like that before?”

“One or two,” he shrugged, “People like that- whom you just click with- they’re hard to come by. You should see where this leads. Who knows, maybe he’s one of those that would stick around, huh?”

“The only problem is this big fat secret,” you complained, “It gets tiring sometimes. Lying, that is. About the injuries, about activities. I mean, how do you start a relationship based on lies?”

“That’s why you have to make sure they’re worth the effort,” he said simply, “You’re a smart girl, and way mature beyond your age. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“Thanks, Dick,” you gave him a side hug.

“Since you haven’t been talking to Bruce for the last two weeks, does this mean you haven’t been on patrol?”

“Of course I have!” you clarified, “I go out with him, and interact when I have to. But I keep my words concise and I don’t ask questions.”

“Sounds all too familiar,” he chuckled.

“How long are you staying?” you looked at him with hopeful eyes. You loved it when Dick was around. He was the affectionate older brother you never knew you wanted, who spoiled you with snacks and dessert.

“I was just dropping by,” he gave an apologetic look, “I’m a liaison for Bludhaven PD, with Gotham City PD, since they know Bruce is on good terms with Gordon.”

“On a Saturday? Which case is it?”

“That arson case,” he explained, “The third that got away, he was causing problems up in Bludhaven a few months prior to that. Gordon asked for some files, and… A detective who’s familiar with the case.”

“You made detective?!” you squealed, “Congratulations! Not many people make detective in their middle-almost-late twenties.”

You tackled him into a bear hug.

“Thanks,” he laughed out loud, “Apparently this guy, Jerome Miller, he's always hired to do stuff like that.”

Jerome Miller. The one that got away. You clenched your jaw at the mention of his name, willing your blood to not boil.

“Burn buildings?” you scoffed, hiding your true feelings from your older brother, “Why would people hire other people to burn buildings?”

“Buildings like the library, you know how their fire system works. It's like the bank. Once a fire starts, the system suck up all the oxygen,” he explained, “It's not easy to burn down buildings like those. So people hire professionals.”

“You're saying someone else hired him to burn the library down?” you frowned, “But why?”

“That's what GCPD is trying to figure out. Could be one of those location disputes. Higher ups are probably involved. It wouldn't be the first time in this goddamn city,” he shrugged.

You remained silent.

Of course, politics. Corruption had this bad habit of snaking into people's lives and ruining things.

“Promise you I’ll catch the guy, okay?” Dick offered, “I know how much that library meant to you.”

“Thanks, Dick,” you gave him a small smile, his promise comforting you. Your bond with your older brother could never be explained with just words. He gave you a sense of protection that went just beyond the physical sense that you felt with Bruce. With Bruce, you knew you could rely on him. But Dick was the one you told your secrets to. And he could make you feel better with just a simple promise such as the one he gave.

“No problem, kid,” he grinned, “I should get going, though. Gordon said he’d be free after lunch.”

“I’ll walk you out,” you hopped off the bed.

*** “Uh, Bruce?” you awkwardly stood behind him as he was sitting down in front of the Batcomputer- all geared up as Robin.

He spun around, looking at you questioningly. He was geared up as well, besides the cowl. You could see the dark circles under his eyes, the crows feet that were starting to be visible. He looked tired.

“Alfred told me you hadn’t eaten much all day, so, uh, I made you something light to have before we head out later,” you hesitantly set down a plate of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on the desk.

You almost missed the way the corners of his mouth turned upwards.

After talking to Dick earlier that day, you felt guilty for continuously being mad at Bruce. This was your way of reconciling to him.

“Thank you,” he nodded, reaching for one.

“So,” you cleared your throat, “What are we up to tonight?”

“Patrol as usual,” he elaborated, “Red Hood has been busy. With Black Mask gone, he’s technically the only one in power as of now. Even Penguin has been laying low because of him. GCPD reports a fifteen percent surge in weapons and drug trafficking along with gang related crime the past three months, but strangely a thirty-two percent drop in petty crime, murder, sexual assault.”

“Thirty-two percent is a lot,” you frowned.

“Indeed,” Bruce agreed, “In fact, it’s the lowest since Batman first appeared.”

“Which is a very long time ago,” you nodded.

“Even the Ibenescus’ have been keeping it down. Though I have reason to believe that they still are not submitting to Red Hood,” he added.

“Why?”

“The Ibenescus’ built an empire through human trafficking, and they date back all the way to the eighteenth century. The Moehler family does not nearly come as close to a crime legacy the way the Ibenescus do. The Ibenescus’ have more pride to lose more than anything. They wouldn’t surrender so easily and completely stop all their operations,” he summarised.

“I see,” you absorbed everything, “Okay, well. Patrol it is.”

You honestly expected a quiet, boring night. The past few weeks had just been stopping drug exchanges, interrogating drug dealers, and one or two car chases involving a vehicle suspected to contain smuggled weapons.

But that night, the GCPD comms were active.

Thanks to Dick’s information on his habits, GCPD had been patrolling specific locations where Jerome Miller would most likely loiter in, and at 11pm that night, a cruiser identified him buying a couple of Slim Jims in a 7-Eleven at Upper East Side on Verne Avenue, and tried to arrest him. He made a run for it, and now there were three police cars circling the area. Wherever Miller was, he was trapped.

Both you and Batman were now patrolling the area, in hopes of finding him. Batman interacted with you as usual, and you tried to do the same.

But at the mention of Jerome Miller, you felt your heart beat louder in your chest. You were extra vigilant that night, your senses somehow even more heightened as you strained your night-vision to look at every little crook and cranny in every little smelly alley that he could be hiding. You went as far to check inside dumpsters.

And at a quarter past midnight, you finally laid your eyes on him from the edge of a roof.

He was a sweaty, panting mess. His straw hair stuck to his forehead, his eyes wild with panic and he jumped at every small sound. He was hiding in a cardboard box, covered partially with a dirty towel. It probably belonged to one of the homeless, who was nowhere to be seen.

“Batman,” you communicated through your earpiece, “I’ve got eyes on him. Between ten and twelfth Verne Avenue. I’m going to incapacitate him.”

“Wait for me,” Batman ordered.

You wanted to argue back so bad, but you didn’t want to mess up your relationship with him again, especially since you were on good terms.

“Hurry then,” you said.

“I’ll be there in 1.”

You lurked on the rooftop, your eyes now entirely focused on him.

You revelled in the fact that he looked like he was about to shit his pants. He deserved it. For fucking with your library.

You swallowed. Your vision was tunneling. All you saw was him.

Your heartbeat was drumming in your ears.

He deserved it.

Fuck it, you thought. You grappled down and landed right in front of him.

He let out a small yelp, and his eyes immediately went wide when he saw who it was.

“I was paid, he made me do it,” he started pleading.

Funny how they all start to plead when they saw either you or Batman. Funny how they didn’t think of the repercussions before they did the crime.

You took a step closer.

“Please, don’t take me in,” he begged, “I have a family. They need me.”

The man’s words never registered to you. All you could hear were blubbering sobs. You bent down and gripped his shirt, forcing him up on his feet.

But before you could reel anything in, before you could even think- for the first time in your life, you acted first without thinking of the repercussions.

That was when the white hot rage blinded you.

You could taste the blood in your mouth as you threw him violently to the floor like a ragdoll with all your might, your blood boiling hot as you heard the sweet crunch of the man’s skull break as you landed blows after bloody blows to his face.

You took his head in both your hands, lifted it from the ground and then smashed it back into the the tar floor.

Your eyes couldn't focus on anything else. The world seemed to melt with around you into a blur. The only thing that existed was your revenge.

A pressure on your shoulder snapped you out of your trance. Suddenly you felt a lurch, and you were flung across the alley, your back hitting the metal dumpster with a loud bang. Your eyes focused again to see Batman hovering over the bloody mess of a man now a metre away from you.

The bloody mess you made.

You felt the bile rise in your throat. Your knuckles were aching, your head pounding. You now felt the effects of your assault on him as the adrenaline and rage wore off slowly.

And you were horrified.

You scrambled to your feet and started to walk towards the two of them.

“Stay. Back,” Batman growled at you.

You stopped right in your tracks. Batman was checking for a pulse.

The man's face was unrecognisable. You had disfigured him so much that he looked like a heap of meat and skin and blood.

“I- I- I didn't mean to,” you whispered, holding down the puke.

“Call an ambulance,” he ordered.

You froze on the spot, still looking at your victim. You saw his chest rise and fall, but somehow it was wrong. Only one chest was inflating. You heard his laboured, weak breathing. You saw his arms and legs twitching.

“NOW!”

His raised voice made you jump, and you immediately took out your phone and dialled 911. Once you ended the call, you took another step closer.

“Leave. I’ll deal with this,” his cold voice demanded.

“Batman,” you whispered again, trying as hard as you could to not break down.

“I said leave,” he snapped.

You ran out into the drizzling rain and rode your bike home without another word.

***

It was your third time showering that night.

You had scrubbed your skin so raw that it was red and felt tingly.

Especially your face. You couldn’t stand to look at yourself in the mirror. Because when you got back, you saw the blood splatters. On your mask, on your cheeks, across your nose, all from the man you beat half to death with your own fists.

You puked the minute you reached the toilet, hurling away the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches you ate earlier.

But what you tasted on your tongue was the familiar metallic tang of iron, and bitter guilt.

You had completely disregarded everything the man had said to you, and you just attacked him. Why? Simply because you were angry.

Simply because you felt like it.

Simply because you could.

There’s no shame in spilling blood for the greater good , your mother’s voice popped in your head.

You hadn’t heard from her in a while, and her unwelcome presence shocked you.

You would have justified Red Hood’s actions with that logic, but even Red Hood’s cruelty were driven with a slightly righteous, albeit delusional, motivation.

But yours were purely personal rage.

That’s when you realised your actions were even worse than Red Hood’s.

You sobbed yourself to sleep that night, ignoring the countless knocks on your doors by both Alfred and Bruce, and the 32 missed calls from Dick.

***

“...last night, the vigilante Batman is now a suspect for violent assault against known arson Jerome Miller, who himself is a suspect for Gotham University Public Library’s unfortunate demise…”

Jason’s ear perked, and he stopped right in his tracks.

He ignored the scowl he got from the man behind him who almost walked into him and turned to the window display of televisions, all of different sizes, showing him a blonde woman at a desk, with blue background.

“...Jerome Miller was brought straight to the emergency department, and reports tell that he is currently in a comatose state. Has Gotham’s vigilante finally decided to show his true colors of violence? Or do you think that Jerome Miller had it coming? Stay tuned, on GNN.”

Jason frowned.

The Batman Jason knew wouldn’t have landed Jerome Miller in the hospital. Batman never cared for personal grudges. No, he was too disciplined to let his feelings get in the way of his work.

Jason knew that all too well.

He sensed that Batman was just covering for Robin, for you.

He smirked to himself, not caring if the people in the streets thought he was crazy. He looked up at the gloomy sky- despite it being noon- and thought about you.

You were probably getting in a whole lot of fucking trouble with Bruce right that instant. You must have lost control last night when you saw Miller, and boy did that make Jason’s day.

He was right about you after all. He knew you were hiding something dark inside you. He knew that you were almost just like him. All you needed was a little nudge in the right direction.

Were you crying all night? That was probably why you hadn’t replied to his text message yet.

His mind conjured the image of you from those weeks ago, crying at the park. Red eyes, red nose, sniffling away.

He frowned at the memory. He wanted to comfort you. Even now, his chest suddenly ached at the thought of you being in anguish and drowning in guilt.

What was fucking wrong with him?

He pushed away the fucked up mess he felt was brewing inside of him. He ignored how conflicted he felt.

He focused instead on his curiosity. You landed Jerome Miller in a coma. No doubt Miller would have been begging and sputtering about his wife and kid- yet you must have ignored everything. He needed to know what you did to him.

He stuffed his hands back in the front pockets of his hoodie, and then hunched over, looking down as he turned around and walked the opposite way of where he was going, and straight towards the hospital Miller was admitted in.

“I’m his nephew,” Jason told the two police officers stationed outside Miller’s room. He had peeked in. Miller’s face was covered in bandages. He had a ventilator attached, and one of his legs was in a cast, elevated.

“I don’t need to see him or anything, considering he’s, well, unconscious,” Jason scratched the back of his head innocently, “But Anna, my aunt- his wife, just wants to know his condition.”

“Then why don’t she come see him herself?” the shorter one huffed.

“A-are you kidding me?” Jason tried to look offended, “She has stage four cancer! She’s on chemo, she can’t move around much. Come on, officer. What does the medical report say? His family deserves to know.”

“How do I know you’re not just some reporter, huh?” the same man demanded.

“No offence, officer, but do I look like a reporter to you?” Jason smirked.

“Hey, Charles,” the other officer whispered to his partner, “I think he’s legit. BPD did mention about his wife in the case file.”

“Anyone could have gotten that information!” he argued back.

“Remember what that pretty boy detective said? Miller was very protective of his family. That kinda info don’t just get spread out like that.”

Officer Charles narrowed his eyes at Jason. And then- “Fine. You tell him, Graham, you’re better at the science stuff than I am.

Officer Graham looked at Jason apologetically. He was about ten years younger than his partner.

“The doctor said he’s got fractures on his cheekbone, his jaw is dislocated, missing teeth, nose is shattered, his orbital bone’s all messed up, one punctured lung, one broken tibia, and Grade 3 diffuse axonal injury- that’s what the doctor said,” Officer Graham’s lip tightened, “Doctor said his chances aren’t looking so good. I know he’s a criminal, but his family aren’t. I’m sorry.”

Wow, you really did a number on him.

“Thank you, officers,” Jason said with a long and sad sigh, “Aunt Anna- it’ll kill her. I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell her. They’ve obviously had disagreements, and she doesn’t support his actions, but she doesn’t have anyone else.”

“I’m truly sorry,” Graham offered again.

Jason nodded and turned to leave, secretly happy with his ability to act. He got so used to acting when he was with you, that it came naturally to him now.

But most of all, he left the hospital with an intense feeling of pride. Even if you were beating yourself up over it, it didn’t change how he felt.

He was just so fucking proud of you.

***

“You didn’t have to take the blame,” you croaked.

Your eyes were stinging, and your nose hurt every time you breathed. You were sitting down at the dining table, across from Bruce. You had expected him to yell at you like before, to do something when you came in and took your seat.

But he did something much worse.

He looked at you with pity and concern.

You looked at him through swollen eyelids.

“Why aren’t you yelling at me?” you whispered, “Aren’t you angry?”

“I’m furious,” he calmly stated.

“Then, why-” your voice cracked.

“Because it wouldn’t make a difference now,” he sighed.

“I’m a monster. I understand if you tell me to quit,” you said, “I can’t believe- I just- I’m exactly like them.”

“Then what does that make me?” you saw Bruce giving you an odd expression.

He was smiling sadly.

“What?” you asked, confused, until you realised what he was talking about, “No, Bruce. That was different.”

“I killed your parents,” he said as a matter of fact, “So what does that make me?”

“You didn’t kill them, Bruce,” you argued, “You were under the influence of- of whatever it is they gassed you with.”

“It was supposed to be fear toxin,” he reminded you, “They were experimenting with Scarecrow’s toxin when I broke in.”

“Yeah, see?” you tried to prove your point, “So it’s not your fault.”

“I wouldn’t have displayed the wrath I did- which led to your parents being pushed off the balcony- if I were emotionally stable,” he said, “They fell because of me. Because I wasn’t myself.”

“No one blames you,” you told him, “I don’t blame you. You had the right to be unstable, Bruce, your son died three months before that. I can’t believe you still think this way.”

“Yet, they still died on my watch, because of my aggravation,” he pointed out, “But if I were to quit every time I did something because I was unstable, well. We wouldn’t be here.”

“Stop being nice to me, Bruce,” tears welled your eyes, “It makes me feel even worse than if you got mad at me.”

“Good,” he smiled at you kindly.

So that was his punishment. To be understanding.

“I’ve got bad genetics,” you argued, “There’s been a lot of research on it and it shows that there is a gene to be passed down.”

“The psychopath gene?” Bruce smirked, “You’re not a psychopath. Your parents were. You feel remorse. Psychopaths don’t.”

“But, even if it’s not pure psychopathy, there must be some other traits, right?” you rationalized.

An attraction to violence, for example.

Bruce just gave you a long and tired sigh.

“Even if you were to have this so-called psychopath gene,” Bruce continued, “It doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. Everyone has some form of good in them. Even your parents. In their own twisted way, they thought that all those experiments would bring a great contribution to the scientific community- and to humanity as a whole. Regardless of their true motivations, they comforted themselves in that delusion. Not all psychopaths are criminals, remember?”

You remained silent, mulling over his words.

“You think people, no matter how bad they are, can be saved?” you finally asked.

“It’s one of the reasons why I don’t kill,” he said, “People change. It’s just a matter of the help they get.”

“Even Joker?” you scoffed.

“Even Joker,” he nodded, “Though, I’ve stopped myself from killing him mainly due to selfish reasons. But I do believe that there is a way to cure him. We just haven’t found it yet.”

[retro-scorpio]

Sexual Tension

I don’t know what else to call this little one shot, so you’re unfortunately stuck with this.

I wrote this short story a little while ago, and it’s basically a college AU featuring Julian Devorak from The Arcana with special appearances from Julian’s sister Portia, Nadia Satrinava, Count Lucio, and Asra Alnazar. I may end up adding to this later, but as of right now this is the finished product.

So, if you’re into fanfiction about characters from The Arcana, then enjoy this story.

Julian has the rather stereotypical reputation of being a loner, so much so that it’s impossible to track him down outside of classes. Even then, he’s an elusive presence in the room, always choosing to sit in the back and keep to himself, his notes, and his cup of black coffee. Rumors spread about him as a result of his mysterious nature, but he doesn’t seem to know about them or care. At least, that’s what I’ve been told. I don’t know how true any of it is, because ever since I stepped foot in this university, I’m seeing him just about everywhere I go.

I first got a glimpse of Julian when I bumped into his shoulder as I was trying to find one of my classes. We both apologized, and he directed me to where I needed to go. Later on that same day, I discovered that we were both in the same English class about texts from the Victorian era, and so I opted to sit next to him. He’s always in the campus library the same time I am, hunched over books and scribbling things down in his notebook, and there was even one time where I caught him prancing around outside in the early morning light as if he was part of an imaginary sword fight.

So, I shouldn’t be that surprised to see him at auditions for our school’s fall production of Sweeny Todd, but at the same time it has me wondering just how many more times our paths are going to cross. Perhaps he likes the story as much as I do and wanted to see how our school would adopt it.

“Hello!” a skinny, petite, pale, brunette lady exclaims excitedly at me, startling me and making me flinch slightly. “I haven’t seen your face before. I’m Lizzy.” She extends her hand out to me, and I shake it. Before I can even tell her my name, though, she asks bluntly,

“You don’t know what role you want, do you?”

“Pardon?” Lizzy sheepishly smiles.

“Sorry; I should have warned you in advance that I’m really good at reading people. Being involved in theatre does that to you over time.”

“It’s okay,” I respond. “Especially because you’re right; I’m not even sure if I’ll get a part at all. I just really enjoy the story and thought I’d give this a shot.”

“Have you ever acted before?”

“A couple times, yeah. When I was younger. I’ve always liked the idea of acting, but I’ve not had much time to devote to it.

“Well, here’s your chance to tip your toes back in the water! I think I have the perfect role for you.”

“You do?” I ask. Lizzy enthusiastically nods her head.

“You see that giant group of people over there?” She points out a crowd huddled on the other side of the auditorium, appearing to be watching Julian’s every move and swooning over him.

“They’re all wanting to play the role of Sweeny Todd’s assistant.”

“Let me guess: Julian’s playing Sweeny Todd.”

“Unofficially, yes,” Lizzy answers in a hushed tone. “He certainly has all of the traits of the character. The assistant is the most sought after role because in this iteration, they’re Sweeny Todd’s love interest and eventual partner in crime.”

“I thought Mrs. Lovett fulfilled that role.”

“In the classic, yes. This version is a sequel of sorts that answers the question, ‘what if Sweeny Todd didn’t die and instead managed to escape?’ So, he ends up traveling to and settling down in New York, where he picks up an assistant who helps him around his shop. He leads a normal life for five years until his daughter Johanna finds him and confronts him about what he did in London. The assistant happens to overhear their conversation and talks to Sweeny about it later that evening, and he or she—depends on who ends up getting the role—convinces Sweeny to pick up where he left off because there are a lot of corruption and starvation in New York.” Interesting. So, some artistic license has been taken with the story, which could either go really well or quite terribly.

“So, why do you think I would make a good assistant?”

“Because you’re the only person Julian’s noticed walk in here.” Before I can ask for Lizzy to clarify, a booming voice cuts through the chatter, and I’m forced to rush to the large group of people vying to play the assistant.

“Ladies and gentleman,” the voice rings out. It belongs to a tall, blonde man on the stage. “My name is Lucio, and I’m co-directing this play with the help of my dear friend Lizzy. Now, I’ve been told that there’s a long list of people wanting the role of Sweeny Todd’s assistant, so we’ll get that out of the way first. Will everyone fitting that description please step to the front of the auditorium and line up horizontally so that I can take a good look at each of you?” It becomes clear quickly that Lucio is pulling out the weeds before anyone even says a line, for he goes down the line and says no to the people he deems unfit for the role. A lot of it seems based on physical looks as he utter phrases like ‘too short’, ‘too fat’, and even ‘too ugly’ to a couple of individuals. By the time he gets to me, I’m finding it hard to swallow, but I try my best to not let Lucio know that I’m nervous. Instead, I look straight at him as he glances over every inch of me.

“Spunky,” he murmurs. I’m not wearing anything grand, so I wonder what brought on that comment. “I like it.” He moves on to the next person, and I hesitantly remain where I’m standing. Even though he gave me a compliment, Lucio didn’t explicitly tell me to stay like he did with the others still in line.

“Alright,” he states once he’s assessed everyone, clasping his hands in front of his chest. “So, for those no longer standing up here, you can either talk to Lizzy and audition for a different role or you can leave for the evening. The choice is yours. As for the rest of you, you’ll be ad-libbing your way through a pivotal scene in the play shortly. Julian, if you would hop on stage please.” Looking back at the seats, I see Julian sprawled out, as if he was right at home. He leisurely untangles himself and makes his way on stage.

“Bring out one of the folding chairs from backstage,” Lucio nearly barks at Julian. As Julian fulfills the request, Lucio tells us that we’ll be acting out the scene in which Sweeny Todd admits his crimes to his assistant.

“Julian will deliver the first line, thus setting the scene, but the direction it goes is entirely up to you. When I have seen enough, or if things are stalling, I will call scene. Remember, only one of you will get the role, so make a good impression. Julian!”

“Ready when you are!” Julian calls back. His voice is surprisingly smooth. The few times we’ve talked, he’s sounded a bit groggy, as though he needed more sleep. Combined with his tall stature, bright eyes, and muscular physique, it makes him quite the dream boat. I can see why so many people want to play his love interest.

“Excellent! You there. Pinky.” Lucio points at a girl with hot pink hair. “You’re up first.” Thank goodness. I did not want to go first. Lucio directs us to sit down in the second and third rows as he plants himself closer to the middle of the auditorium.

I must say, Julian is very good at improving. Not only does he know his character, but he’s also giving his partner opportunities to showcase their talents. Whether they take him up on his offer is another story. Some of them want to steal the scene, and others are using it as a means to flirt with Julian. Meanwhile, Lucio’s patience is slowly growing shorter as no one seems to be exactly who he’s looking for. He’s given everyone nicknames, some of them unflattering as time wears on. Fortunately for me, he calls me Spunky.

When I sit down on the chair on stage, I close my eyes and take a deep breath, envisioning the scene I’m about to play in my head. If this is a pivotal part in the play, then it needs to be full of suspense and drama. Just like that, a plan’s in place.

“Ready?” Julian whispers as I open my eyes back up. I nod my head, and he utters the opening lines.

“Elise, what you heard my daughter say is true. I am—well, was—the Demon Barber of Fleet Street. I murdered countless people. Judges, doctors, lawyers, even my own wife. I ran away from London because I didn’t want to get caught, but the truth is all of those people either deserved to die or were wishing for death to be bestowed upon them. I was simply doing the world a favor.”

“I don’t believe you,” I reply. There’s a fleeting moment where Julian’s caught off guard, but he quickly recovers.

“Oh, really? And why’s that, dear?”

“How am I supposed to believe that the same man who constantly stubs his toe on furniture and smiles at everyone that he meets is capable of ruthless, calculated, cold-hearted murder? For God’s sake, you can’t even walk into a room without making some sort of mess! You’re always relying on me to keep the shop tidy, and I feel like someone who was into killing people would be able to neaten things up themselves.” Julian sticks his hand in his pocket and pulls out a pencil.

“So, you don’t believe I have it in me to be a murderer.”

“No, I don’t.” The next thing I know, Julian’s leaning over me, his face inches away from mine and his pencil hovering over my nose.

“Let me tell you something, darling; this tool has helped me make my way up the social chain. No matter how rich a man is, there comes a day where he needs a shave, and I’m the best there is.” He moves the pencil down and presses it against my throat while maintaining eye contact.

“There’s a certain amount of pressure that you need to apply in order to get a smooth, clean shave. If you don’t put enough pressure, you end up missing a few spots. Put too much, and well, you end up cutting him. Draw the knife across the neck fast enough, and you have a dead man suffering from major blood loss.” He presses the pencil harder against my throat to emphasize his point, making it slightly difficult for me to breathe.

“Shall I show you what I mean, Elise, or have I made myself clear?”

“I believe you,” I gasp. He immediately releases pressure and takes a couple steps back, smirking at me.

“Good. Now, if that’s all you wanted to discuss, then I suggest you head up to bed for the evening. We have a long day tomorrow.” He starts walking away from me, but Lucio hasn’t yelled for the scene to end, so I assume that I have to keep going.

“Why America?” Julian stops in his tracks and turns to face me.

“Pardon?”

“Why did you flee to America of all places? You could have easily traveled to France or Italy, but instead you chose New York.” Julian sighs.

“Like I said, I didn’t want to get caught. I wanted to start a new life, and word travels quicker from England to other countries in Europe than it does from England to America. The two countries are separated by an ocean, after all.”

“Have you ever thought about doing it again?”

“Doing what again?”

“Using your profession as a means of…extermination.”

“Elise, I was in a really dark place when I executed that plan in London. I’m not the same person I was five years ago, and if I were to do it again, I’d be signing my own death sentence.” I get up from the chair and slowly walk up to Julian, worried that my next actions are going to make Lucio end the scene.

“My father was killed by a drunk police officer who mistook him for another man, and my mom was raped and beaten by the judge overlooking the case.” I gently place my fingers around his chin and stand on the tips of my toes, bringing my face closer to his.

“The rich and powerful are just as evil and corrupt in New York as they are in London, Mr. Todd. They get to do whatever they want with impunity, even if it costs the lives of innocent, hardworking people. Someone has to make them pay for their crimes, or their offspring will continue being monsters among the human race. Is that something you’re willing to live with?” Julian looks like he’s beginning to run a fever at this point with his flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. I plant my feet back on the ground and walk around him, heading towards an imaginary door.

“Good night, Mr. Todd.”

“Scene.” Even though Lucio’s voice is the softest it’s been during this entire process, the auditorium is silent enough for it to carry.

“Well, Spunky, I knew there was a reason I liked you. Congratulations, you have the role. Asra, you’ll be Spunky’s understudy, because you’re the only one that has as much chemistry with Julian. Everyone else who was auditioning for the assistant, you can either stick around and try for another role or leave; it doesn’t matter that much to me.”

 I end up staying through until the end of auditions, mainly because I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to leave or not. Turns out, once all the roles were filled to Lucio’s satisfaction, he gave everyone a copy of the rehearsal times, so it’s a good thing that I stuck around after all. Plus, I got to watch Julian perform on stage. I must say, the way he carries himself when he’s acting is quite entertaining, to say the least.

Speaking of Julian, he practically runs up to me as I’m leaving the auditorium.

“Well, hi, Julian,” I greet him, surprised that he sought me out. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” he replies quickly, his words rushing together into a jumbled mess. “I was just wondering if you would maybe like to walk with me? Since we’ll be working closely together, I would like to get to know you a little, but it’s totally fine if you just want to be alone.”

“I wouldn’t mind a little bit of company.” Julian smiles enthusiatically, and it makes my heart race.

“Great!” The two of us walk outside and start meandering around.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten your name,” Julian tells me. “Isn’t that weird? We keep seeing each other around campus, and we even share a class together, but I don’t know what to call you.” Is Julian normally this nervous? He’s certainly a fast talker, and he’s rambling a bit.

“My name’s Carina.” He stops in his tracks and gawks at me.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah…” What about my name is making Julian awestruck? He doesn’t hate the name, does he?

“Carina was the name of a pet rabbit I had when I was younger. I’ve always liked how sophisticated and beautiful it sounded, and I thought that if I was to have a little girl, she would be called Carina.” He takes a momentary pause and shakes his head before adding,

“Then again, naming a child after a childhood pet isn’t exactly normal.” He continues walking, and I kind of have to jog to catch up to him.

“So, Julian, how long have you been acting? You looked like a professional on stage.” The compliment makes him flush.

“I’ve been acting since I was about five,” he answers softly, avoiding my gaze. “It started with children’s theater and stuff like that, but when I was ten, I attended my first summer drama camp, and my love for acting has grown ever since. Lucio ran the camp, you know. Has for many years.” I had no idea Lucio and Julian had that much history together.

“Do you like working with Lucio?”

“He’s very passionate about his work, which makes him a very intense person to be around. If things don’t go his way, he’s prone to throwing fits and screaming at people. Despite of that, he does manage to put together spectacular shows and treats everyone to a nice party in the end, so I would say working with Lucio is similar to a roller coaster. It’s both scary and exciting at times.”

“I see.” Julian finds a bench and beckons for me to sit down with him. Once we’re seated, he asks,

“What made you decide to try out for this play? Was it in order to get closer to me?” Before I can answer, he quickly backtracks.

“I don’t mean that in an arrogant way. God knows I’m way too insecure to think that way. It’s just that ever since Lucio accidentally let it slip that I would be the male lead in this play, I’ve heard people whispering about me all over campus, revealing to their friends what they would do to me if they got to play the assistant. To be honest, all of the attention makes me sick. I mean, I enjoy being in the spotlight when it comes to acting, but when I’m not on stage, I…”

“You just want to be left alone, don’t you?” Julian clasps my hand and nods his head.

“Well, Julian, if it makes you feel any better, I auditioned because I really enjoy the story of Sweeny Todd and wanted to see if I had what it took to get a role. That’s it. No nefarious intentions involved.” He visibly relaxes.

“Thank you, Carina,” he sighs contently. “You have no idea how much that means to me.” He brings my hand up to his lips and kisses it softly, making me look away and blush. This play is going to be interesting, to say the least.

 I wish there was a way to describe how today’s rehearsals went without being vulgar, but when you’re forced to repeatedly act out a scene where you’re passionately arguing with someone that you feel unresolved sexual tension towards and from, the most mild way to go about it would be to state that it was like two animals in heat. I’m honestly surprised that Julian and I managed to get through rehearsal without tearing each other’s clothes off on stage in front of everyone in the auditorium to see.

You see, this scene involves Elise, the assistant, yelling her grievances at Sweeny Todd, which revolve around money and sex, and Sweeny shouting that those problems wouldn’t exist if she didn’t essentially tell him to become a criminal again. This of course makes Elise more angry at Sweeny, and the scene ends with her storming out of his room and slamming the door behind her. Lucio calls this scene “the beginning of the end”, because after this point in the play, their relationship quickly becomes toxic to the point where they want to kill each other.

Speaking of Lucio, he’s been a key player in creating the tension between Julian and me, because he continuously forces us to approach the edge of no return, but he never allows us to go over it, not even outside rehearsal. Julian’s trying his best to be a gentleman and abide by Lucio’s rules, but I can tell that he’s getting worn out by constantly pushing down anything he may feel towards me and only allowing those emotions to come out when we’re on stage.

I suppose that’s why Asra pulls me aside as soon as Lucio dismisses us for the evening.

“Carina, there’s something you need to know about Julian,” he tells me softly but firmly.

“Go on…” Asra sighs.

“He’s a bit of a pressure cooker. He shoves any feelings he deems undesirable down until he can’t contain them anymore, and then they explode out of him with no way for him to control them until they’re completely out of his system. And it’s not just feelings like anger or sadness; he can get quite horny as well.” Before I can even reply to anything Asra has said, he quickly adds,

“I’ve seen the way you two have interacted during practice, and I don’t want to see you hurt. Sure, he’ll light up your world, but only for as long as he has to act with you. The moment the curtain drops on the final performance, he’ll throw you away like the burnt match you’ve become while spending time with him.” So many questions zoom through my brain, but right as I pick one to ask Asra, Julian walks to us and practically drags me away from him with a fake smile plastered on his face.

“Did something happen between you and Asra?” I ask Julian as we walk outside the auditorium.

“It’s a long story,” Julian mutters scornfully.

“I don’t have anywhere I have to be, so spill.” Julian stops and turns to face me, grabbing my hand as he does so.

“Carina, there are just some things that are best left in the past. Let’s just say that Asra and I aren’t the best of friends.”

“Why?”

“Why do you care so much?” Julian’s voice gets a bit nastier and louder, making me feel defensive.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I nearly shout sarcastically. “It’s not like anyone would get curious if someone told them that a friend of theirs treats people like they were pieces of trash to be disposed of at the first opportunity.” Julian’s eyes briefly widen in shock before decisively narrowing in anger.

“Maybe some people are trash. You try your best to hold on to them because they mean a lot to you, but in the end you have to cut ties before they hurt you.”

“What in the hell are you talking about, Julian?”

“I’m talking about Asra!” We’re both yelling at this point. “He’s always painting himself as the victim, and he never acknowledges any of his wrongdoings!”

“What?!” Julian lets go of my hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in order to calm himself down.

“Look, if you want to know the truth, you’re not going to get it from either Asra or me, because we both were self-centered at the time.”

“Then who does know the truth?”

“Why don’t I have you meet her?”

 As it turns out, the girl in question happens to be in an apartment Julian lives in. Initially, I thought she was the short, plump, red-headed individual who greeted us when we stepped inside, but then she quickly dragged Julian away, talking excitedly about finally having a subject for the painting she was working on. Before I know it, a door slams, and I’m left alone.

“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable?” a smooth, female Indian voice tells me, making me jump out of my skin. When I recover from my shock, I find myself face-to-face with a regal-looking woman. She’s just wearing a t-shirt and jeans, but her face looks very queenly. I follow her request and sit down in one of the chairs in the kitchen, which is the first room you’re in when you walk inside the apartment.

“You must be Carina,” the woman states, pouring hot water into two mugs and putting in tea bags. “Julian’s told me a lot about you, so I figured it was only a matter of time before he brought you over. I’m Nadia.” She walks over to the table and sits in the chair next to me, handing me a mug as she does so.

“How do you know Julian?” I nervously ask. There’s something about her that tells me that I’d do well to not piss her off.

“In simple terms, I’m a friend of his who’s mentoring his sister. She was the one that you saw first.” I take a sip of tea.

“What about in complex terms?” Nadia smirks at me.

“You’re clever. Julian could stand to be around someone like you.”

“Thank you,” I reply shyly.

“I’m Julian’s…unofficial therapist, you might say. Then again, I’m kind of everyone’s unofficial therapist, except for Portia. Julian’s sister,” she quickly adds upon seeing the confused look in my eyes. “Anyway, I deal with secrets. Secrets that can either bring people together or make them despise each other.”

“How do you do that?”

“Why, I talk to people. I listen to them, note anything interesting, and pass it along to whoever’s interested in it, for a small fee. Speaking of which, I’m sure there’s something you’d like to ask me. I have a feeling Julian didn’t bring you over here just to meet his sister and her teacher.” I take a deep breath to calm my nerves.

“I don’t know if you would be able to answer this, but something happened earlier this evening that raised some questions for me.” I quickly recount what Asra and Julian had told me after practice, and Nadia nods her head as I talk.

“To be honest, I’m not surprised,” Nadia responds. “Asra’s quite petty, and Julian can be melodramatic sometimes. They’ve both come to me complaining about the other, and I’ve seen their interactions with each other over the years, so I have a lot of information about the nature of their relationship. I just need one thing from you.”

“I understand.” Nadia smiles, making her look that much more like royalty.

“Good. So, tell me: how do you feel about Julian?” I nearly choke on my tea, and I feel my face start to burn up in embarrassment and something else, something more animalistic.

“I see,” Nadia replies to my nonverbal response. “You’re both pulled so taut that you’re about to snap.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“Only because you both blush at the mere mention of the other. How hard has Lucio been pushing you?”

“We’re not allowed to be intimate off stage. We can be friendly, but that’s it.” Nadia sighs.

“Classic Lucio. Gets completely blindsided by Asra and then takes it out on you.”

“What do you mean?” Nadia proceeds to launch into the story of Julian and Asra. Apparently, they started off as rivals because Asra was jealous of Julian becoming Lucio’s favorite without even trying when he had to work tirelessly for two years prior just to get Lucio’s approval. The rivalry was one-sided, though, because Julian was blissfully unaware that Asra felt any ill will towards him.

When Julian was a sophomore in high school and Asra a senior, they ended up being the lead characters of one of Lucio’s original plays. Julian had shot up over the summer and was eight inches taller than Asra, which led to Asra developing feelings for Julian. This, of course, presented some internal conflict for Asra up until Julian had expressed interest back. From there, their relationship burned bright and fast.

Things between them started going downhill quickly when Asra would manipulate Julian into doing sexual things that Julian most likely wouldn’t have done on his own and Julian would either get super clingy or super distant. Nadia had tried to get them to work things out, but as soon as the final show ended, Julian broke up with Asra and ghosted him as much as he possibly could.

“So, why exactly would Asra care about my wellbeing if he really doesn’t care for Julian?” I ask Nadia once she’s done with her tale.

“Well, once Asra and Julian broke things off, Julian developed the habit of getting romantically close to his costar only to drop them once the production was over. Since you’re pretty new to the acting world, Asra wouldn’t want your experience to be soured by anything Julian does. At least, that’s what he’s told me.”

“But?” Nadia smirks knowingly.

“You’re the first person since Asra that’s made Julian…I don’t want to say lovestruck, because that sounds overdramatic, but maybe pleasantly nervous.”

“Really?” She nods her head.

“If you stay over here long enough this evening, Julian’s bound to show you what I’m talking about.”

 Julian’s managed to contain himself, all things considered. His sister Portia kept teasing him about me, Nadia awarded her with smirks, smiles, and some extra dessert, and it seemed like every other commercial on TV was based on a cheesy romantic comedy.

But then Nadia leaves for the evening and Portia goes off to bed and Julian starts channel surfing only to stumble upon a show that featured a girl moaning loudly as a guy’s using his dick like a jackhammer to drill an additional hole into her.

That’s when I can tell that some frayed strings in Julian are snapping. His face becomes flushed, his eyes dilate with a mixture of shock, horror, and arousal, and his mouth’s agape at the scene unfolding in front of him. I myself am having a difficult time keeping my composure, but I’m able to remain sane long enough to gently take the remote from Julian’s hand and shut the TV off. In a blink of an eye, my hand replaces the remote as Julian turns his body so that he’s facing me.

“C-Carina,” he stammers. “I…I’ve been trying so hard, and I—” As quickly as he grabbed my hand, I place my index finger on his lips and lean close to him. Somehow, his face becomes even redder.

“Julian, what do you want to do to me?”

“I don’t know if I should—” I cut his sentence abruptly by clamping my hand over his mouth.

“Just nod or shake your head, okay?” Julian nods his head, his gray eyes sparkling in the living room light.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Nod.

“Do you want to make out with me?” Nod.

“Do you want to run your hands all over my body?” Nod.

“Do you want to leave bites all over me?” A more hesitant nod.

“Do you want to do to me what the man on the screen did to that girl?” A very slow, almost ashamed nod, but a nod nevertheless.

“I want you to listen to me, Julian, because I’m only saying this once. When I remove my hand from your mouth, I want you to do me on this couch. You can go as rough or soft as you want, but I don’t want you to stop until you’ve orgasmed. I don’t care what Lucio’s going to say when he sees us at our next rehearsal; his decisions have pulled you so taut that you’re snapping right in front of me as we speak. Do you understand?” After a moment of serious contemplation, a quite shy nod.

“I’m going to count to three, and then I’m leaving you to do whatever you want.” Nod.

“One.” Julian swallows.

“Two.” Something inside me quivers in anticipation.

“Three.” Time gets jumbled for about five seconds, and when it straightens itself back out, Julian and I are at the other end of the couch; he’s moved on top of me and is frantically kissing every part of me that he can touch. I can’t really keep up with him, not that I’m complaining.

[stevenuniversetanzanite]

Gone and Left Your World (Venable x reader (Part 2))

Story summary: You were going out with Venable before the apocalypse. Four years of your memory are gone and you’re now in the outpost with your Ex.

Warnings: Alcoholism (mentioned) and smut.

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four

Y/N/N = your nickname preferably a shortened version of your name but feel free to shove in whatever you like.

You spent most of your days reading in the library. The book selection was vast, spanning from the classics to indie novels. There was an alarming about of books on witchcraft. You jokingly grabbed out and read it for a good laugh, but you found yourself being drawn into it. So much that you didn’t notice it was past curfew. You sat tucked away in a corner, a spot you thought no one would disturb you. The spot was too good. 

The spot was dusty. You sneezed before flipping to the next chapter on seeing the dead power. 

“Who’s there? Show yourself!” Ms Venable’s voice echoed through the library.

Maybe she won’t kill you due to your past or maybe that would give her more reason too. You closed your book and made your way towards where you heard her voice. You stepped into the light. She eased up. She gestured for you to come forward more. She offered the seat in front of her. Hesitantly, you took it. Was this part of her game?

“What are you doing up?” she asked. 

Her voice lacked the intimidation it usually held. It was reminiscent of the good old days. It was the same way she spoke to you when you used to stay up past your normal bedtime. Judgemental with a dash of sternness not potent enough to scare you as you knew it was out of care. All she wanted back then was to make sure you were okay, and she may have done it in an unconventional way but with love all the same. It was enough back in the day for you to consider what she wanted. If you didn’t follow, there were punishments, of course, you guessed that stayed the same. It didn’t explain why she was treating you the same way as if nothing happened. It’d have to be some backwards method of getting you to play safe or better yet, get something from you. It made you more wary. What was she planning? 

“I got drawn into a book and lost track of time. I’m sorry Ms Vena-”

“Cut it,” she snapped. 

“Cut what?” You raised your brow. You clutched the spine of your book in your hands, bringing it closer to you.

“We’re alone Y/N, you don’t have to call me that.”

Were you in the wrong?

After the incident she pulled back in the night they fed you all- you know what, let’s not think about that- she was possessive of you. You hadn’t spoken to her since, you assumed she was horny and needed to let it out. You were nothing more than a toy to her. She would have spoken to you otherwise. Now, as she sat across from you, you thought differently. 

“But you said-”

“I know what I said. I’ve had a lot of time to think about us.” You were going to ask what she meant but she kept going. “Those idiots, you remember them, Jeff and Mutt?” You chuckled their last names always amused you. You remembered them from your time as Venable’s assistant. You got along well, they even flirted with you which Venable put a stop to quick (This was around the time she was really into you, but you weren’t going out). You never stopped them deciding to let the boys have their fun- mostly to see Venable get jealous of her bosses. You learned quick you didn’t like a jealous Mina. “They offered to send you a ticket after someone bought five but only needed four.”

That explained why you were here but why you? There had to be someone more important to the world than an HR lady’s assistant. 

“Why would they do that?” You asked. 

They noticed how much she missed you. “I can’t explain those dim whits minds.” You chuckled once more.

“You had the power to make me a grey or kill me. Why didn’t you?”

She had almost made you her own personal servant, but something stopped her. She couldn’t do that to you until she knew why what happened. 

“Why did you leave me?” She sounded so small. It scared you. 

“I-I don’t know.”

“I thought everything was fine. Was it something I said?” 

No, never. Not in a million years.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” she spat out.

“I-I can’t remember anything.” Curse the alcohol, you couldn’t tell her that though. “Everything is foggy.”

“Y/N-”

“I would never leave you. Hell could have raised over, and I wouldn’t. I must have had a reason; I just don’t know it.”

Wilhemia laughed, “You’re still hilarious after all this time.” She thought you were kidding. Why would you lie about something like this?

“I’m not joking!”

“Keep your voice down,” she ordered. “We don’t want the other’s thinking you’re getting special treatment.”

“Of course not, Ms Venable.”

Her chuckle was low, it did things to you that you hadn’t felt in a long time. She knew her power of you and it had nothing to do with her being the leader or the outpost. “Good girl.”

You lowered your head in an attempt to hide your reddening cheeks. 

Not now. The rules. We can’t. We shouldn’t.

“Y/n, look at me.” You couldn’t. “That’s a book y/n/n.” You forced yourself to look up at her. 

“That’s better. Seems like you have forgotten who your boss is.” Your breathing shallowed. “What were you reading?”

You pulled out your book to show her. Your gaze wondering off her and your mind drifted elsewhere until the sight before you weren’t from your present but your past. 

~~~

“Since your extraordinary public statement last month, there has been quite a bit of fanfare. This frank revelation about your cult-- that's sparked quite a brouhaha in the media, and...” A male interviewer said.

“Let me clarify that, Bill. We are not a cult. We-we don't proselytize. We have no agenda, we're not recruiting. Women who identify as witches are born as such, and their abilities-- which we call powers-- are part of who they are, part of their DNA, if you will.”

You pulled away from your cuddling Wilhemina and focused all your attention the blonde on the screen. Her words made sense to you. They called to you. Mina went to change it when you snatched the remote from her. She was confused by this sudden action. It went against everything she expected from you, but you were too drawn in. 

“Baby girl, use your words when you want something.”

“Shush, tv.” It was slightly better. 

“Don’t talk to me like that or-” You turned up the volume on the television. She growled but didn’t say a word until the end of the interview. 

The woman you saw, it was the same one you saw when you blanked out months back. What was her name? You’d heard it before, you said it to her.

 “Oh, I see. So, in fact, you're saying that it's not a choice, being a witch.”

“That's exactly what I'm saying. There are so many young witches who have resisted their calling because they're afraid... of how they may be perceived, or what's expected of them. But there are still hate crimes. That is true, but, you know, when you hide in the shadows, you are less visible, you have less protection. We'll always be targets for the ignorant. It is what it is. But we are strong women, Bill. So, what would you like to say to all those girls watching and wondering if they might be witches? Hmm? Call us, e-mail us or just come to New Orleans. There is a home and a family waiting for you.” 

You focused on the email (Cordelia@RobichauxAcademy.com). Cordelia, that's her name. Robichaux Academy that name stuck with you. 

~~~

You blinked, snapping out of your memory. Venable was staring at you concerned. You had spaced out for a solid minute. You picked up right where you left off, “They had a bunch of books on witchcraft stuffed in the back. Some of them are very interesting like hearing thoughts, or the dead- hey maybe Billie that one. It would make sense if she was-”

“Stop talking about that woman!”

What? You’re not allowed to talk about a former boss anymore? Jesus. Then it hit you.

“Are you jealous?”

You should have figured it out sooner, but your mind was too preoccupied with what you saw when you blanked out and what she had made you feel than to think of her jealous fuelled anger. 

“No.”

“She’s long dead by now.”

“How do you know that?”

“Physic.”

“Apprentice of one.”

“I did a séance here and there in my heyday.” You chucked out there as if that was impressive. Could she do that, I don't so. You leaned back in your chair making yourself more comfortable. “I did one for Cor-delia once. She needed to talk to someone in hell or something. Actually, it was twice because she needed to contact two girls but sadly their souls were erased so I couldn’t-”

“Whose Cordelia?”

You had spoken without even thinking. You didn’t know a Cordelia. “I-I, what? Uh~ who?”

“You were talking about a person named Cordelia.”

“You must be mistaken.” The details from your vision (of sorts) fading away. “I don’t know a Cordelia. However, I did know a Cornelius- that isn’t the same now that I think about it.”

You went on about where you found the book and the contents of them. Wilhemina sat there trying to figure out what was going on with you. You claimed you didn’t remember why you left and then you couldn’t remember something you said. Were you joking before?

Your slip up that night went unpunished. All the other’s got punished for less menial things, you were surprised no one had caught on but then again, they were all too self-absorbed to care. It was hard to say something wrong when you barely talked. Only speaking when spoken to and choosing your words carefully. You were always on time to public meetings such as dinner or group meetings in the music room. Any you did get, were all public. It was her sick way of proving that you weren’t getting any special treatment over the others but you both knew better.

She would join you in the library when she had some free time. Occasionally, someone would pass by and give you a look of sympathy. To them, you were shrivelled up in a chair being interrogated. They won’t completely wrong, Venable was trying to get the truth out of you, but she wasn’t accepting it as an answer. You must be wrong; how can’t you know anything about the latter half of the decade? Some details you kept from yourself in fear of disappointing her- mainly the alcoholism, your family had a long line of alcoholics. You had vowed to not follow in your path, that’s why you occupied yourself with everything under the sun to do, you never went to parties, instead choosing to work your ass off. That’s how you meet her, you had been her assistant for a couple months before she found an interest in you. One thing led to another and you two were engaged. Same-sex marriage wasn’t legal at the time in the state you were in (there was talk about it but not much from that) so you opted to have a nice wedding in Canada where it had been legal for years prior. 

Day after day, she would integrate you and day after day you would give her the same response. 

You sat in the music room reading your book waiting for everyone else to show up. You didn’t notice the purples coming in or the greys with trays of drinks or the high horse herself. One of the greys offered you a drink, which you declined. You went back to your book, finding yourself once again absorbed into it before it was ripped out of your hands. 

“My book,” you whined reaching out with grabby hands to get it back. You stopped when you saw who it was. “Ms Venable, I-”

“Save it Ms L/N,” she snapped the book close with one hand and elegantly grabbing a drink from a passing greys tray with the other. She gave it to you, “I’ll be keeping your book until the end. Now, go socialise.”

You look down at your drink, then back at her. 

“I can’t drink this.”

“Why not? You’ve had alcohol before.”

Everyone was watching this interaction. 

“I-I,” you stuttered out. the words not wanting to leave you. 

“Spit it out.”

“I-I was in rehab for alcohol dependence just before coming here.” Your gaze was lowered not wanting to see the disappointment in her face. You didn’t want to tell her alone; the people being around only made it worse. Now everyone knew how fucked up you were. You glass was removed from your hands, causing you to look up at the person who took it from you. 

“I suppose it wouldn’t be wise for you to drink that then,” Venable said. She took a sip from the glass instead. “Public embarrassment is enough of a punishment for you talking back.”  With that she was gone. Without her in front of you, you could see all the glares you were receiving.

You crawled into your own skin. No one needed to know. Everyone knows your secrets. Everyone knows you except you. They could read you like a book. You could tell by the way they analysed you with their eyes. They muttered amongst themselves about how much you screwed up.

Your hands clenched, your nails digging into your palms. You scanned all of them individually. They had their secrets too but only yours were so easy for the idiots to uncover. The silence was too loud. You could hear your own gulps as you tried to clear your throat from the saliva that kept building up in your time of stress. Hurry up time, all you wanted to do was go to bed. 

A grey stopped in front of you, “It’s water.” You recognized the voice as Mallory’s. 

“T-Thank you,” you stuttered out taking the glass from her and chugging it down. She was astonished with how fast you consumed it. “S-sorry, can I have another?” She nodded taking your glass and refilling it for you. 

Time couldn’t go any slower. Everyone left the communal room, leaving you alone with Ms Venable. While spaced out, you didn’t notice it was time to leave. Ms Venable’s voice brought you back to the living. She stood by the doorway, waiting for you to join her. She held your book clenched to your chest; her other hand preoccupied with her cane. You could see a bit of the pentacle on the book’s cover peeking out from under her arm. She was holding the book upside down. An inverted pentacle or pentagram was a symbol associated with Satanists, the others would probably go so far as to call Venable the devil, however, you know better. 

She asked you to escort her to her room. You didn’t complain, hoping by the end of this she would give your book back. When you reached her room, she pinned you against the wall. You squirmed under her. You didn’t remember when she gave you back your book or when you reached her room’s door. Neither talked during the trip making it all too easy to space out.

"I tried playing nice but that doesn't seem to work in you. I've done the opposite, using humiliation tactics to get you to crack. Maybe I needed to find a middle ground. Play dirty."

"Ms Venable, what are you one about?"

"You're going to tell me everything I want to know, and I'll give you want you want."

"I already-"

She raised her knee placing it exactly where you needed it. You stifled a moan. She hummed waiting you to continue. She smirked when you couldn't.

"Don't miss out the details this time."

"I-i'm sorry I did-dn't tell you about remission."

"Is that why you left?" It was always about this. Maybe it was, you can't disprove it. "You know I would have helped you through it if it was." You still saw the woman you loved many years ago shining though her today. The others would call you made. They had every right to, but she had a soft spot for you.

"Can we take this in private? I don't want your reputation ruined." 

You both turned to see a grey staring straight at you two. Venable tapped her cane twice on the hard flooring and yelled, "no time dawdling about. Keep working!" She dragged you into her bedroom, locking the door behind her.

“Now, where were we?”

“I think you were trying to make me talk.” You leant against the bedposts, arms crossed and a smirk on your face.

You grabbed her upper arms, pinning her in place. 

“What do you think you are doing?” She questioned in her normal authoritative way.

“You had your fun last time.”

“If I recall correctly you stopped me before the best part.”

“You know there are better things than watching me come undone.” Your hand slipped behind her head. One by one you picked out all the bobby pins holding her hair in an updo. “Such as it happening to you instead.” She didn’t know how that was better. She loved watching you unravel before her eyes. It was one of the few joys that remained from before the bombs. Your hand played with her red locks. She looked like a fiery goddess. “When was the last time someone took care of your needs?” She mumbled something. The sweet noise barely reaching your ears. “Hmm, don’t shy away from me, that’s very unlike you.”

“2014.” Pain caused by sadness was painted on her face. It mirrored onto yours, realising you were most likely her last. It was a stronger version of the same face she made when you made your comment (on the day of your arrival) about when was the last time she was laid.

“Ah, baby. I’m so sorry.” You caress her check with the back of your hand. “(y/n/n)’s here now, I’ll make it all better.”

She was weary, you had left her before, leaving an open cavity that was unfillable. You made everyone else seem unappetising. How could one person make everyone on planet earth unappealing? You were all she longed for on those strung-out lonely nights where she laid alone in bed with a distant memory of you and her two hands to fill the empty socket.

She didn’t wish to be hurt again but even after all these years of wondering where you had run off too, she still felt safe in your arms. Your touch was delicate, treating her like a fine piece of china. It was welcomed. No one treated her like she was something more than a scary woman her facade paints her to be. She was more than that HR bitch. You saw the woman who was scared to get hurt- and you hurt her, but did you mean to? You knew her for the complex woman she was, and she had allowed you to know her more every moment you were together. 

“Will you let me do that? To make you feel good for once?” 

She slowly nodded. Your hand that was still on her upper arm slid down to her hand. You entwined it with the one holding her cane. Your other hand removed the stick from her. She went to speak but you shushed her, telling her that you were there for her and you needed to trust her. She was tempted to talk about the implications with that, but it would spoil the moment.

She leant on you all the way to the bed. You aided her into getting into a comfortable position for her back. Once settled, you slowly undid her clothing. The anticipation building up in Wilhemina. In-between removing items of clothing you would seize her lips into a passionate kiss. The process of undressing took longer than Mina would have liked. With each kiss, Venable became more dominate, the shock of it wearing off.

She was left completely exposed to you while you were fully clothed above her. As you made out, her hands wandered over the ribbon of your external corset. Her hands fumbled over it in an attempt to remove it. Your hands caught hers. Pulling away from the kiss, she groaned at the loss of your lips on hers. You placed her hands on her sides before making your way back to her. This time choosing to work on her neck instead; kissing, nipping it and sucking her soft flesh to mark her. You weren’t happy with your work until there was a constellation of bruising on her body.

Her hands found their way to your body once more. It felt like this was going to inevitable, with no way to stop her, what’s the harm in letting her cop a feel as long as she doesn’t take it too far- this was about her after all. Heading further down, your mouth found her breast taking her nipple into your mouth. Your other hand groped her other eliciting a moan to fall from her bruised lips.

She stuttered out how great you were making her feel making you gleam and double your efforts. You readjusted yourself, moving the bottom of your dress so you could better straddle her hips. You were surprised the corset didn’t restrict your middle’s mobility. Soon you had her begging for more. You were all too willing to give. You felt obliged to make up from lost time. Your girl could have whatever she wanted- except your body. You were off-limits until she cummed. 

Your head was hovering above the place she needed you most. You took your time, much to her displeasure. Pecking the area before allowing your tongue to flick her clit. You laughed watching her yelp, her body squirmed closer to you, desiring more then you were giving her. 

When she finally met bliss the crash down from in wasn't as painful with you by her side. She feared that when her ragged breathing settled it would all be revealed to be some sick fever dream her lonely mind came up with. She had always been desperate for a connection. She found it in you and though the ties had been cut once before, she sure as hell won't let you run from her again.

Your head laid on her chest. You fiddled with the hand she laid on your stomach. You entwined your fingers with hers before snuggling further into her. She let out a content sigh.

“I missed this,” you muttered. 

She had two but she wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of admitting it, not after you refused to explain anything to her. Her free hand ran through your hair, detangling it with her hands. 

As much as she wanted to flip you over or go another round, her body wasn't riser to the strenuous activity. She would make you pay for thinking you would have power over her but for now, all was well. She had everything she could have asked for. Maybe those idiots were alright for sending you to her, it had the end times so much sweeter having someone she loved by her side.

Next Part Link :)

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S4 Ep6: Gozaburo Kaiba Just Casually Started WWIII And Only This One Guy Cares

Welcome to November, where we celebrate writing a 50,000 word book as if I don’t do that every single time I write about an episode of Yugioh. Hello, this is my season. It’s wordy season. I’m so freakin good at doing this. I can’t say most of what I’ve made is any good, but I CAN say at least I’m prolific. Do enough content to fill that bitter pit and walk right over it, that’s been my motto for the past 5 years.

Anyway, I had an awful flu this past week. (Everyone I live with had it so every bathroom was like ground zero) It was SO bad. I still can’t eat spicy food over a week later (Which is so hard for me because usually I can keep up with my Indian friends, that’s my spicy level--max spicy, please--but since this illness, my white taste genes went into overdrive and I tried putting pepperoncini slices in my sandwich and it set my mouth on fire. Pepperoncini. It’s v embarrassing.)

I did attempt to write this post. Unfortunately I never made it past this cap because I got VERY distracted by the emblem on Alister’s face, and how it isn’t proportionally adjusted to match the angle of his face, and it was like three paragraphs of just wanting to talk about it. And then at some point I got very distracted talking about how many empty glasses I was given at my place setting at this baby shower I went to during the flu epidemic, and it mattered a whole lot to me at the time, but I think, overall, was mostly just some sort of nonsense. The things I’ve spared you. 

(bro has just informed me that the 4 gold-lipped crystal goblets I was given at this baby shower was actually very distressing and a very big deal and that I should absolutely talk to at least someone about it, but maybe he’s just saying that to make me feel better, but I have no idea. I am too sick for sarcasm at this time but my god why was I given so many glasses????)

I straight up have no memory of if I’ve made this joke before. Maybe.

(read more under the cut)

Since it feels like 8 years since the last time I could just eat chicken without feeling like I consumed an entire Thanksgiving meal, a little recap:

-Alister pretended he was Pegasus to lure Kaiba and then, off screen, murdered everyone in Pegasus’ castle

-Pegasus got murdered by I’m pretty sure Mai (which is like...OK then...)

-Yugi and Co went on vacation by driving directly through San Francisco and peeking out the window and saying “yeah that’s enough for me”

-No adults, not even Roland, bothered to come with their kids this time, so the only adult of the entire crew--Pegasus--is dead

-Rex and Weevil are luggage

-The Eye of Sauron showed up and it was the end of the world but Yugi threw a dragon at it so I guess everything is OK now

-Monsters are real but they are hard to animate so we’ll just pretend like they’re causing havoc everywhere although most of the planet seems basically unaffected by this.

-The Grim Reaper is a friendly monster that hangs out in a Japanese park and that feels fairly on brand.

And I think that was all that was happening so far.

In a weird twist of fate, Mokuba is the only one in this room that isn’t trapped which sort of...if you’re the only one NOT kidnapped wouldn’t that also be a type of being kidnapped?

And we finally get to figure out why Alister wants to Murder Kaiba so bad and, spoiler, it reaches.

???

I’m gonna get more to the obvious problems with Alister’s devotion to murdering all the Kaibas in a bit but yes, Alister is in fact going to try and Kill Kaiba on this kid’s show because of Kaiba’s Dad, who is such a horrible and abusive person that Kaiba essentially drove the bastard out of Japan and straight to the bottom of the ocean.

Just kinda feels like Alister has been living under a rock...which, I guess he has been. He has been living in some weird Atlantis structure so I guess he never got the memo that Gozaburo Kaiba is hella dead.

So that’s what they’re up to. How’s Sausalito?

Um.

Huh.

So the North Bay is a really classic scenery. It’s rolling hills. It’s NAPA. It’s like...definitely not Arizona. California has a couple of mesas but they’re no where near here and the Monument Valley style Mesas really only exist in Monument Valley.

And I know it’s because the background artist for Yugioh is all horny for horny rock structures but like...this couldn’t be farther from the Bay Area in the way that it is drawn and it is such a shock after all the work they did last episode to research that Bay Area lore. Once they crossed the Golden Gate they were like “well no one will care about this part” which is true not only of Yugioh but also of real life Californian politics.

Anyway, I have been making a map, but unfortunately my original file will not suffice. time to fix it.

There we go. Now they’re in the right place. Just smack dab in Monument Valley, Arizona, smack dab in the middle of the Navajo Nation and so hypothetically, not even in the United States anymore.

While in the car, Yugi has just been anxious as hell the entire time, and just going “y’all I have a bad feeling I’m uncomfortable I have a bad feeling” while Joey and Tea just patiently stared at him flipping out in the corner. So...kinda like a normal trip with someone who has high anxiety/possessed by a ghost. I  kinda feel like this is every girls trip to Disneyland for me. There’s always one Yugi who’s like “no one said anything about CROWDS.” and you kinda just gotta let them do their thing. Just let them get it out of their system and hide in the bathroom when they need to hide in the bathroom and don’t fight it, they’ll be fine. Just hold their spot in line when they desperately look for a secret place to medicinally vape because there’s too many freakin children at Disneyland.

And it is HILARIOUS that Yugi is able to have this type of premonition but cannot figure out that they have somehow missed San Fransisco and have wandered into a DESERT.

Back in Pegasus’ California (an island that legitimately looks more like California than actual Yugioh California) Alister has decided to go completely off the rails and it happens so fast and without any warning.

the line is actually “This doll used to be my brother’s” which is a very different meaning but both are likely from weird ass Alister and this weird ass show, so I’ll leave the cap like this (although yes, this is what I thought Alister was saying for kind of a while until I recorded it for this blog and was like “oh shoot I heard the line wrong when I had the flu huh.”)

Man, RIP Noah, he would have been excellent this episode.

Honestly seems like just yesterday when Seto and Noah were pitted against eachother by a cyberdemon Dad-head floating in the sky, Mokuba was possessed for some reason and being used as a human shield, Tristan was a robot monkey, and Yugi was just shrugging at Kaiba from across the field like “Kaiba if you don’t play good you die--oh my gods, he died. Well that was bound to happen...again.” Man.

Alister should be their best friend, this is nonsense.

So lets do the math to 7 years before 2002.

I searched Wikipedia for wars during 1995 (they do have a list of 90′s wars) and looked for any that involved heavy use of tanks and their artillery fire (on big swatches of cities like this), inner city western architecture, temperate landscapes, and western clothing that match Alister and Mikey (AKA WWII vibes) and found out:

Nothing fits that description

UNLESS Alister and Mikey are time travelers from a WWII bombing in Europe. This is Yugioh. That could happen. Probably not, but youknow...it’s not too late for Yugioh to bring in time travel.

I mean if you don’t want to get super political in your cartoon just invent a world war I guess? We’ve already clarified that Gozaburo was Big Boss, so at this point I can easily see him inventing wars just to sell ships.

(I could probably add thousands of more deaths at this point but I have no idea where they are, if they’re on a tiny island or an entire country so I’ll just...leave the count alone but just now it’s implied that a hell ton of people died during this episode)

People going off about how Sesame Street is so amazing for talking about issues like you’re Dad going to prison while Yugioh was straight up talking about the intricacy of the War Economy. Yugioh being all “don’t forget kids, your good capitalist economy survives off of the undeserved bloodshed of civilians in other countries! Eat the poor!” and it’s like hot damn this heavy commentary came out of freakin no where.

Anyways, this is stuff most kid’s shows will delicately skip over but nah, Yugioh is going to go here, and they are going to steamroll directly through it with massive tanks.

So, lets kill this kid’s entire family and talk about the terrors of the World War of 1995 and all the war orphans who get recruited to become soldiers at the ripe old age of 9. Alister was 9 when he was recruited to be a child card soldier.

This kid’s show.

Alister is...basically Raiden, right? Like as long as we’re talking about Metal Gear, this kid is just one step away from cyborg implants and weird colored blood?

Better wear bright red when you visit the war crime scene, surprised Gozaburo didn’t invite like an entire photo -op crew to incriminate him even further.

Now we did look up “where the hell is Alister from Yugioh from?” (there is no answer) and we did find out a little factoid. In the Japanese version of the show, Gozaburo had bought the land and was just forcibly evicting Alister and his family from their home with tanks.

Which is wild.

He just straight up evicted an entire metropolitan city????

Like the dub did a way better job than the sub at this one, I’ll give them that.

It’s just so weird that Gozoboro just didn’t like...raise the rent like a normal bad landlord. Instead he was like “rather than gentrify my land and save me a ton of money, I’ll just destroy everything I just bought and murder everyone here” which is like...

...Seto did the world so many favors when he kicked out his Dad, right? Like Damn. I don't understand why Alister isn’t freakin worshiping Seto right now when his whole deal is “I must kill Gozaburo” and Seto’s like “yo I already did that. Twice. I didn’t even have to literally kill him either, I just embarrassed him so bad that he killed himself. His stupid tank company sells joke games now. I literally turned the man into a joke.”

Then again, Alister is on the green magic and like I think it alters your brain chemistry somewhat.

(How ripped did Alister get in this episode, by the way? The kid is like 16 years old or something so how did this happen? ...The perpetual horny line running straight through Yugioh, man. Look at it run. That 16 year old is drawn like he’s 28 and really into Crossfit and his crop top gets smaller and smaller like every scene.)

So like this is a very gray issue that I cannot believe they brought up in a kid’s show (like can you imagine if Scrooge McDuck had to face facts that his company murdered tons of people???), but also this is Seto Kaiba. Seto grew up in the system, so like he doesn’t need to be lectured to about dirty money because he was on the losing end of that not too long ago. Seto is himself basically a upscale war orphan since he was adopted by Gozaburo to continue the machine like a freakin maniac (a Solidus Snake, if you will) so of all the people on this show I don’t get why Seto would care about this. This is just how Seto views the entire world as either losing or winning and no reason to feel bad about it because he’s been both.

Also...Seto stopped the machine. Kind of. He was unaware that cards were the same thing as weapons, but at least he stopped the sale of huge child-stealing tanks.

So they play the game for a little while and Seto does kind of poorly as usual, and just when I thought this episode couldn’t get any weirder...

And just like that, Seto peaces out. Like he does almost every single time he has ever played a card game solo except for that one time he was playing Joey Wheeler. (Which was also one of the few times Seto ever won.)

Like I just want to remind you that this segment is in the same episode as WWIII and the tonal whiplash is pretty remarkable.

That’s right, we’re back in the Unnamed Monster World, which is not the Shadow Realm, and which I thought you could only access if you were dreaming and able to search through the puzzle maze.

Apparently this can just happen at any time and all that stuff with the guiding Kuriboh and Yugi and Pharaoh trying to find this place was just...them wasting time.

Again he ditches the legendary sword so freakin fast because who needs a sword when you have a dragon? Only this anime.

And that’s how Seto, who was absolutely going to lose this game, somehow just barely came to a draw.

So just to recap, Seto has yet to win a card game that he didn’t get prophetic help for via a hallucination or Yugi telling him what to do. Unless you count Joey and grandpa.

Then, the one last adult I forgot about, the driver of Yugi’s car, decides that it’s about time that he also died and left this show as adult free as possible.

THE HELL ARE THEY?

Also...maybe it’s the angle but the writing on that gas station looks a lot like kanji.

Yo, what if this is the backgrounds for a different show and they’re just sharing? I mean I doubt it because Yugioh had a good enough budget but...what if? What if that’s why they’re in Arizona?

Anyway, next time we’ll find out if this guy just drops dead or has been a Yugioh monster this whole time, and I think maybe both?

And if you just got here, this is a link to read all my Yugioh recaps in chrono order

[vulpinmusings]

Letters from Buxcord 2 - Razorback

After much delay, my RPG group returned to our Monster of the Week campaign for our second mystery.  This time, Ash and his new companions look into strange happenings surrounding a rich family and an old slaughterhouse.

Samantha,

Any doubts I had about sticking around Buxcord are well and truly squashed now.  It’s only been about a week since the Santa-squatch incident and I’ve already squared off with something much bigger and purely magical.

It started just a couple days after Christmas.  I was trawling about town for more details on local legends in the hopes of finding some common sources or threads to follow, and wound up at Bayou Boating, the main tourist attraction in this small town.  They had a list of “local cryptids” posted on the wall, but it included several creatures that, unless the names apply to different mythics than they do in Taryn, do not tend to live in or around wetlands.  The one person on staff at the time – it is the off-season for boat tours – proved to be less than well-informed about the one local legend I asked him about.  People occasionally go missing in the bayou after foolishly going out there on their own at night.

Well, I can’t really put all the blame for my not getting a lot of info on the clerk.  I‘d only asked a few questions before I experienced a major pulse in the magic fields.  It was almost a textbook example of the ripples caused by an inexperienced Mage casting spells beyond their ability.  The pulse carried some lingering effects of the original spell, as I had a brief vision of a grinning shadow floating over the bayou.  I set off in search of the source, but as messy as the spell had been it was also far enough away that the magic settled and the trail grew cold before I got more than a block.

Nothing else happened for a few days, until I crossed paths with Nollthep and Lea again.  I hadn’t really seen either of them since the Santa-sqautch, and the simple fact that Nollthep was not in his shop and was asking after somebody should have tipped me off.  Whatever that fellow is, he seems to work for some higher being and has little to no personal needs outside of running errands for his “Boss.” Lea is normal other than her instinctual persuasion magic, but her paths and mine just hadn’t crossed in the last week.

At any rate, we three happened to meet up at the local park where Lea was performing with some small-time Punk Rock band that sings in Spanish.  That’s… I think the language matches best to Iberrian.  Anyway, Lea’s singing was infused with a mesmeric effect that had everyone (except yours truly, naturally) in love with the whole performance despite her not knowing the language or the words very well. Nollthep wandered up to us after the show was over, asking everyone he came across if they knew of any Wiccans or anybody named Clemonte.  When he got to Lea and I, his questions turned to the topic of whether or not humans need blood and hearts to live.

I don’t think I need to say how concerning that was, but I didn’t get a chance to press for details before our attention was stolen by a group of local law enforcement suddenly taking off in response to a call from a “Clemonte mansion.”  That got Nollthep’s full focus, of course, and Lea finally recalled that the Clemontes were a wealthy but reclusive and disliked family in Buxcord.  She alluded to some previous encounters with them that had left her particularly soured, but she agreed to lead us to the house.

The Clemontes live on a hill on the southern outskirts of town, with their driveway reaching all the way to the base of the hill.  As mansions go, it wasn’t all that large, but the fountain in front had the ostentation of true Old Money.  The butler who answered our knock at the door sealed the impression, and he would have turned us away on principle if Lea’s magic hadn’t kicked in and scrambled his senses enough to make him tolerant of three random gawkers intruding on his employer’s private business.

I don’t want to become to reliant on that kind of manipulation, but without the reputation I’ve got back home I might not have much choice for a while…

The police – a sheriff and two deputies to be precise – were in the living room questioning a young woman and paid us little mind as we peeked in for a look.  The reason for the call was glaringly obvious: a disemboweled corpse had been hung on the wall over the fireplace with a graffiti-style pig’s head and the words “I’m back” scrawled in blood below it.  A most disturbing sight, although only Lea showed any physical reaction.  I, of course, am too experienced to let my revulsion get in the way of solving a problem, and Nollthep is too inhuman to even have a visceral reaction to such sights.

The sheriff and pair of deputies who were on-site were surprisingly fine with the three of us stepping in and asking our own questions.  I’m hoping that it was just them thinking that we must be welcome since the we’d gotten past the butler, but it’s too early to rule out general incompetence yet. The girl was Sophia Clemonte and the corpse had been a security guard at the Clemonte slaughterhouse and had no reason to be in the family mansion.  Sophia was shook up by the corpse, but she was more concerned about her younger brother, Cyril, who was missing.  The police told us that the rest of the family were upstairs, so we decided to go up and interrogate them while the police were still busy getting Sophia’s story.

The Clemonte parents are named Archie and Penelope.  Archie’s a bit of a boor and seems to hate magic on principle, while Penelope had the aura of someone with the talent for magic, albeit one she hasn’t used in many years thanks to her husband’s influence.  From Archie, we got an explanation for what the message painted on the wall could have meant.  About twenty years ago, an employee at the slaughterhouse had suffered a psychotic break after being fired and killed several people before committing suicide.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t get more than that out of Archie before Lea insulted him and he told us to get out.

On our way out, we decided to check in on the last Clemonte, the eldest son Zachary.  I didn’t get any sense that he’d inherited any of his mother’s ability, and he was callously unconcerned about the whole scenario and intent on heading out for a little walk despite all common sense.

Penelope caught up to us at the top of the stairs and, now out from under Archie’s gaze, opened up a little more about her history with magic as we headed back to the crime scene.  She used to practice the Wiccan traditions, but gave them up years ago and hid her books away. Young Cyril had shown an interest in those books, and Penelope had given him one of the less dangerous tomes to look through.  I convinced Penelope to show me where she’d hidden the rest of her books, and she took us to a surprisingly large room hidden behind a secret door in the kitchen.  The room was full of not just books but all kinds of the stuff you typically find in the collection of those who follow ritual-based magic traditions. There was a book missing from the shelves, but it wasn’t the book Penelope had loaned to Cyril.  Penelope said the missing book was primarily about summoning and controlling spirits.

(Be sure to clarify that I’m not talking about Spiriter Warlock stuff here when you relay this to the M’Dales.  They’ll probably have a conniption otherwise.)

The sheriff had already had the corpse body-bagged when we returned to the sitting room, but I took a crack at searching the spot where it had been hanging, in case there was any lingering magic I could trace.  I got more than I bargained for; somehow, I managed to briefly link myself to the mind of an otherworldly entity (other than Nollthep) for a few seconds.  Demonic seems like an adequate adjective.  I had to sit down and catch my breath, and Lea charmed the butler into bringing us some coffee while Nollthep went to search Cyril’s room and one of the deputies was sent out to bring Zachary back. Nollthep came back with the missing tome, and we discussed whether or not to let Penelope know about it. We opted to keep her in the dark until I’d had a chance to look through it.

After much too much time had passed without either Zach or the deputy returning, I felt a ripple of powerful magic underlaid with that same sense of the demonic and led the group outside to see what was up. Standing by the fountain, holding Zachary up like a stuck pig and with the deputy lying broken at its feet, was an 8-foot tall humanoid figure dressed like a butcher and wearing a leather pig mask that was bleeding from the seams.  Reacting quickly, I wrapped the figure up in a Tangler while Nollthep produced a stack of playing cards and flung them one by one at the figure, as expertly as myself but without any spells attached.  The thing barely reacted.

Lea ran over to try and save the deputy, but her magic betrayed her, draining life out of the man rather than putting more in.

I tried to engage the creature in conversation, just to establish that it wasn’t sentient, and then tried to see how it liked a bullet in the head.

Did I mention I acquired a revolver shortly after the Santa-squatch incident?  It’s not my style, but without Carmilla around to handle the non-magical aspects of combat I have to make do.

Not that the bullet did any good in this event.

Nollthep tossed the spellbook to me and told me to try to find a counter-spell to whatever had summoned pig-head while he kept it busy.  I quickly found a likely looking spell and started Weaving it together to the best of my ability.  I hadn’t gotten far, though, before pig-head sensed the gathering magic and fled via dematerlization.

So, I learned that in this universe, evil spirits can sense when you’re trying to counteract the spell that summoned them to the mortal plan and can just get out of range before you’re done.  That’s an unwelcome complication.

Once the dust had settled, an ambulance was called in.  By some miracle, the deputy was still alive.  Zachary, on the other hand, was missing all his internal organs as well as having bled out.

In the course of informing the Clemontes and the sheriff about what had happened in the driveway and some of our suspicions, Nollthep and the Sheriff got into a bit of an argument about whether or not magic is real.  I could have gotten involved, but I was occupied with more important matters such as studying the spellbook and only rejoined the conversation when Nollthep left the room for a private conversation with Penelope and I overheard the Sheriff mention to Archie that there were reports of strange noises at the old slaughterhouse.  Over Archie’s protests, the sheriff insisted that everyone stay put until the morning and left his remaining deputy to keep an eye on us.

Once the Sheriff was gone, I made it clear that I did not intend to wait around or leave the case in the hands of people who didn’t even believe in the existence of magic.  I tried to conjure a basic mage-light to convince the deputy that I knew what I was talking about, but wound up with a tiny fireball instead.  It was sufficient to convince the deputy, at least.  Nollthep came back from his business with Penny and, naturally, agreed to accompany me.  To my surprise, Lea also wanted to come along, because she figured that since I’d chased pig-face off once, the safest place to be was at my side.

It was a long walk to the slaughterhouse.  It must have been abandoned shortly after the incident twenty years ago, because the place was empty and full of rusted equipment.  I felt the presence of pig-face as soon as we entered the building.  We decided that since pig-face had a… particular theme to him, we should start our search in the pork slaughtering section.  The plan was to locate pig-face and figure out how to restrain him so he couldn’t escape while I cast the banishing spell on him.

In the pig area, we heard the sounds of actual pigs in the preparation pens and went to look.  The things we found were mostly identical to normal pigs, but their eyes and teeth were more human than porcine, and they were munching on offal that included at least one intact human hand.  Nollthep, working on the assumption that the pigs were sapient, attempted to cast a translation spell on himself and wound up just speaking gibberish and apparently losing his ability to comprehend Lea or me for several minutes.

Then we saw pig-face up in the rafters, holding a blood-soaked mallet. Nollthep produced his throwing cards and put some actual magic into them that briefly set fire to pig-face’s sleeve.  The beast dropped down on us and walloped Nollthep.  As I Wove a lightning bolt, Lea ran for cover behind me.  She grabbed onto me briefly and, in that brief moment, the magic fell into place with my normal natural grace. The lighting struck pig-face, then arced off him and unlocked one of the pig pens.  The pig-thing inside charged at Nollthep, but he swatted it up and into another pen with ease.

Pig-face came after me next, and I threw up a barrier to try and stop his mallet.  I must have miscalculated, because the blow shattered the shield and knocked me back a bit.  Could have been worse, I guess, but still…

Nollthep pulled out a chain of tied-up handkerchiefs and tried to tie pig-face up with them.  It held for a few seconds, but not nearly enough time for me to even start the banishment.  Lea suddenly ran off into the heart of the slaughtering area, and pig-face chased her once he broke loose.  I got him in a Tangler, but it barely held him long enough for Nollthep to club him once.  I heard Lea say something about finding the meat grinder that pig-face had first died in as I ran to keep up with the fight.  I pushed past Nollthep and, in a bit of foolish desperation, tried to tackle pig-face and flip him off the walkway and into the machinery. You can probably guess how well that went.  Pig-face had me by the neck and dangling over the suddenly active grinder before I could regain my balance.  Nollthep whipped his hankie-chain around the specter’s arm to try and haul me out of danger, but pig-face resisted the pull and tossed a knife at Nollthep with his free hand. Then Lea found a meathook and chucked it at pig-face, and I was falling toward a mass of whirling blades and serrated rollers.

Reflex kicked in and I cast my Transport spell without thinking about how it would need to be adjusted.  By pure luck, the spell not only worked but deposited me safely on the walkway away from the fight.  As I made my way back to the action, I saw that my companions were in a bit of a panic thinking I’d just died (Nollthep apparently thought meat grinders just magically transmute flesh into meat or something and Lea didn’t see what happened).  Lea’s grief was so great she actually summoned a big root up through the walkway and into pig-face’s arm just as the creature made a move to throw Nollthep into the grinder after me.

As for myself, I was starting to get annoyed.  I’d cheated death by pure luck and pig-face was proving to very, very bothersome.  Simply restraining him was no longer an option for me.  He had to suffer a bit.

So I set him on fire.  It didn’t do much on its own, but Nollthep threw on some sort of powder that exploded and knocked pig-face off the walkway.  The creature threw the hooked chain from its belt and caught Nollthep by the shoulder, but I broke through the rusted chain with a simple Breaking before Nolly got pulled in after pig-face.

For reasons I don’t quite understand yet, being subjected to the same form of death a second time proved to be enough to end pig-face’s return to the physical world.  Once he’d been thoroughly ground up, that persistent, buzzing sense of his presence vanished along with the human-toothed pigs.  The gore they’d been feasting on remained, however.  I took the hand I’d seen earlier for the police to check, in case it happened to have belonged to Cyril Clemonte.  Nollthep went into a panic when I mentioned that theory and he swiftly dug through the viscera looking for anything that could be a heart.  Once he found something, he vanished in a blink, presumably to deliver the goods to his Boss.

Lea and I returned to the mansion just long enough to tell the deputy what to expect when the cops went to the slaughterhouse and to hand over the hand.  I then made sure Lea got home safely before returning to my hotel room.

When I arrived, I found a card on the bed.  It invited me to visit a Madam Weaver, who apparently knows something that would be of use to me.

How useful it will actually be remains to be seen, but you may be seeing me or these letters sooner than I hoped.

With guarded hope,

Ash

[makeste]

more discussion about BnHA 237, and the “bystander effect”

Makeste, it’s been hinted for a long time now that Tomura had personally experienced the bystander effect when he was younger. When he had his little therapy talk with Midoriya at the mall he was pissed at how the people around him were just going about their lives and ignoring other people’s problems, thinking only about themselves. And when Midoriya pointed out that a hero would arrest him, he brought up that although anybody’s quirks could let them fight back and perhaps stop him, no-one would do so if he went on a rampage- their complacency and trust in hero society meant that they couldn’t conceive of such a thing happening to them, and so they would default back to letting heroes or the authorities arrive and save them, rather than saving themselves. Like sheep to a slaughter, they just couldn’t bring themselves to act, because they would rather support a peaceful society that protects them than willingly fully endanger themselves.

I actually liked that Horikoshi made it clear that some people were willing to help Tenko, so it wasn’t that Tenko coincidentally wandered into a street full of uncaring assholes, but his ghoulish appearance was a major factor in driving off the help he so desperately wanted. Just, looking at him, you can see the kid’s gone through something horrible, and if they got involved, they might have risked whatever caused it to happen to them next. They were scared of him, and didn’t want to risk getting involved in something they weren’t equipped to handle. Better to leave it to police, or authorities who have trained for similar situations and can protect themselves. Whereas the ‘defenceless’ citizen could tell at a glance that Tenko was something beyond their ordinary lifestyles, an unspoken threat to their peace and safety. Maybe some did call the police and authorities and Tenko had wandered off. But you can see why, for a society that, because of the whole ‘restrict your quirk and don’t perform heroic actions without a licence’ stuff, has been taught that they’re supposed to act normal and not get involved in dangerous situations or criminal activity, helping Tenko was too personally involving for those citizens.

You also got a hint of that when Tomura was restrained at the bar- the flashback’s words even spell out that “before long a hero will…everyone said things like that, but they all ignored you, didn’t they?” Maybe AFO had a hand in helping Tenko get isolated here. He could have had a subtle quirk that manipulated their emotions and fears to drive them to ignore Tenko, or he could have simply just used his connections to stifle any calls or reports of Tenko’s appearance to the proper authorities, and left him in the ‘care’ of the nearby public. Personally, my money’s on the latter. Either way, his appearance here definitely rings too good to be true- he was probably shadowing Tenko whilst he walked through the streets- but I get the impression that he honestly didn’t do much to make the general public act the way they did towards Tenko. He just let the boy experience the isolation and apathy of a society focused on ignoring danger unless there’s someone authorised to handle it.

It’s actually something that’s pretty common in some Japanese media. There’s a great example of this in the Anime ‘Psycho Pass’, set in a futuristic society that’s kinda a mashup of Minority Report and Mega-City One, wherein a city-wide monitoring system called the ‘Sybil System’ constantly monitors people’s emotional and mental states. Should they exceed an accepted threshold that denotes how likely the person is to committing a crime even in advance of them committing any crimes, that person is pursued by law enforcement and either arrested or executed, so they don’t spread undue stress and emotional instability to people around them and cause more people to become ‘crime co-efficient’.

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(interrupting here to add a *spoiler warning* for season one of Psycho-Pass, just in case anyone is planning on watching it at any point, which I would recommend actually; it’s a pretty good show.)

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 The main Villain of Season 1 is a psychopath that, due to his unique mental mind-set and view of people, doesn’t register as9)crime co-efficient when thinking about or committing crimes, rendering him effectively invisible to the system and incapable of being judged or sentenced under it, which is a problem since it’s illegal to hurt others unless authorised by the system. Despite this advantage, much like Shigaraki, the villain can tell how screwed up the world he lives in is, and seeks to awaken others from their blind dependence on the Sybil system, to think and act for themselves. In ep 14, he starts distributing helmets that shield the wearer from the Sybil System’s monitoring, allowing others to commit crimes to their heart’s content. This leads to a harrowing scene where a helmet-wearing stalker, in the middle of a busy, crowded street in public, walks up to his target and beats her to death with a hammer, in full view of everyone. No-one does a thing to stop him, their dependence and complacency making them think it’s some kind of performance art piece, incapable of thinking that it’s anything sinister or a problem for them to take action against. Even as the woman screams for help, they don’t lift a finger, and the Sybil monitoring robots actually start cornering the victim as she bleeds out, confronting her on how her emotional stability has exceeded the acceptable threshold, and she’s now crime co-efficient, even as she dies.

This isn’t the last time the Villain performs social experiments to demonstrate the inherent flaws of humanity in a society that lets a system control and define their actions. He lures the protagonist to an isolated room with a chasm in the middle, no way for them to cross to him, but no obstacles on his side to hide behind. Thanks to his invisibility, even as he speaks of killing more people, admits to his guilt, and tells the protagonist that he will keep hurting more people to prove his point, the Government-issued gun keyed to the Sybil system won’t fire on him. The villain has located and loaded an ordinary gun and left it on the protagonist’s side, challenging them to use it to shoot him dead. The system is incapable of judging him, so the only way for the protagonist to save lives is to take action without it, to act on their own initiative and do the right thing, even if it’s illegal in the eyes of society. The villain is fully willing to risk his own life if It means he can wake one person up for their society-wide bystander syndrome and make them act and think for themselves.

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(END PSYCHO-PASS SPOILERS)

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 Honestly, I’d love it if, going forward, Shigaraki took similar steps to underline the inherent flaws in a hero-worshiping society, running social experiments that force heroes to avoid participating and ordinary civilians to make the heroic actions and save the day, just like the twin ferry scene from ‘The Dark Knight’, perhaps closely monitoring everything so he can publicize how they made the correct decisions if the government tries to condemn them for taking illegal actions to save themselves. It would be a great way of causing an indirect attack on ordered society. And freeing up people to use their quirks more freely would also tie into the MLA’s vision of society, so that could be a case for what’s left of the army to work with Tomura for now, rather than get steamrolled by Giganto again and their cause forgotten.

If that’s what ends up happening, then that could be the main cause for Deku and Shigaraki to clash time and again against each other, as Midoriya keeps interfering in these experiments and performing heroic deeds to save those in need. Because the one thing that’s always been consentient about Deku- powerless or not, legal or not, he will step in to save someone regardless of the reasons not to get involved. It’s a shame, really, that Tenko and Midoriya didn’t meet when they were kids- you know Deku would have helped him because he needed it, regardless of the potential danger.

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first off, I just want to clarify that I do understand this scene, and I understand that the series has been clearly hinting at a scenario like this almost from the start. I can also understand and accept the logic behind it. it’s just that I dislike it. I understand the point it’s trying to make; I just disagree with it. I think it’s cynical and dystopian. I think the world is better than that, and I think people are better than that. I’m not gonna go into a whole rant, but there’s this psychological phenomenon called negativity bias that basically means that negative things tend to leave more of a psychological impact in general than positive things. put that together with the constant bombardment of negative shit in the media and online and basically everywhere, and over time that tends to lead toward people perceiving the world as being worse than it actually is. this is something that really bothers me about modern online culture, actually, because the overall effect it has on a lot of people (myself included) is to leave them feeling overwhelmed and depressed, and depression in turn drains your energy and makes it more difficult for people to actually do anything about the bad shit. which, I suspect, is intentional on the part of the institutions responsible for most of said media. let’s energize the far right, and dishearten and discourage the left.

but anyways, that’s getting off track and veering towards territory I don’t have the spoons to discuss further lol. okay, so back on topic. a lot of people pointed out that we don’t actually know whether anyone called the police or not, and it’s very possible that they did. this is a fair point. as for AFO subtly having a hand in influencing the passerby’s emotions as well, I’m all for that too. that was always my original theory. because it’s always been clear that, at least from Tomura’s perspective, this is exactly what went down -- something bad happened, and no one tried to help him. we’ve always known that was the case. I just hoped that it wouldn’t prove to actually be the case, and that we would learn that Tomura had misunderstood, or that AFO had intervened. I didn’t hope for this because I thought it had canon support and was logical; I hoped it because I, personally, disagree with the supposition that the average person, when faced with a situation in which a child is in trouble and needs help, would not help, regardless of the potential danger to them. my own personal belief, supported by my admittedly limited personal experience, is that they would.

lastly, I have seen Psycho-Pass (the first season, anyway; I need to check out season 2 one of these days) and enjoyed it a lot, actually. but it’s one of those things I enjoy simply as a what-if, kind of like The Hunger Games. it’s great entertainment if you’re in the mood for some dark and gritty stuff. but it’s a very 1984 type of worst-case scenario government-controls-your-thoughts type of story, and not something I personally would go “oh yeah, I could see this happening in real life” while watching it. it’s more of a fun cautionary tale warning people about the potential consequences of taking extremes too far, even in the name of the greater good. plus it has these really awesome guns that transform and look really cool and splatter the shit out of people. and Amano did the character designs, so if you liked the character designs in KHR it’s definitely worth a watch for that alone, just putting that out there. 

anyway. I’ve completely run out of time, so I’ll just post this and I apologize for not wrapping up my argument neatly. or, you know, at all sob.