#jackie is violent for once

[qlossytbh]

𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞? - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 where you find yourself with immense baby fever

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 baby fever, fem!reader, fluff fluff fluff, established relationship, reader and spencer are married, hotch x platonic!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 1.5k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 so i imagined older spence but younger jack so pretend jack is around 3 or 4 but spence is like around season 7/8 (?)

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“All I’m saying, you could’ve been a little nicer,” You turned to Morgan with a rigid sigh. If he didn’t know you better, it’d probably sound like you were deeply annoyed with him, on the verge of cursing him out. He knew you were only regarding the events of today's case.

“I think you’re mixing ‘being nicer’ with tough love,” You deadpanned at your friend, earning nothing but his signature snicker.

You shook your head, feigning that of disappointment. You rolled your shoulder back, craning your neck slightly to scan the files that rested between your fingers. God, how many files could one see in a day?

It was a few hours past midday when the case came to an end. Hotch had a sudden dilemma that he needed immediate solving, so he told all of you to make it back to headquarters. You and Morgan however, had been stuck together for the day and made it back a lot earlier than the rest of the team, prompting the two of you to get some necessary paperwork done.

You needed a day off— especially from Morgan.

The bullpens doors opened unexpectedly, drawing you and Derek out of your conversation. You turned, seeing the rest of the team waltz through the glass door— only this time, they were accompanied by a pair of small legs.

You couldn’t stop a reflexive smile from growing onto your face. “Is that who I think it is?”

Jack waddled into the bullpen, one of his tiny fists bundled up onto a small section of Hotch’s dress pants. You could’ve screamed, a reaction that was becoming more necessary every time you saw a kid, and most definitely when you saw Jack.

At the sound of your cheery voice, Jack looked up, biting onto his knuckles— something you learned was a sign of his bashfulness.

But when he realized it was you who was standing next to Morgan, his face immediately morphed into one that could only portray pure and innocent child joy, looking as if he couldn’t be happier to see you. Nothing could compare to how ecstatic that made you feel, chest getting fuzzy with endearment. Hotch placed his palm onto the back of his head. “Look who it is!”

You've taken care of Jack too many times you lost count, given since you and Hotch were close— practically family. You adored Jack and found yourself being struck with some newfound motherly instinct when it came to him— or any kid for that matter. He always gave you this very violent need to squeeze his cheeks and hug him so tight he might pop.

“Is that little Jackie?” Your voice was high and welcoming, trying to hide how utterly joyed you were with seeing him and failing miserably. Jack immediately pushed himself off of Hotch’s leg and began running towards you.

Well, he more so waddled his way over to you, small feet pattering roughly against the floor as he ran over to you in an unstable line. You met him halfway, crouching down and opening your arms for him. When he was close enough, he launched himself into said arms, voice loud with giggles and shrieks. “If it isn’t my favorite boy!”

You squeezed him tightly, rising once again to your natural height and hugging the small toddler. Morgan, of course, didn’t miss a beat to taunt. “Careful, Reid’s listening.”

“Oh please,” You rested Jack on your hip, keeping strong secure arms around him while he gripped the ends of your hair curiously. “Spencer knows that Jack comes first no matter what, isn’t that right Jack?”

“Yeah!” He laughed.

Spencer couldn’t keep in a single thought as he watched you interact with Jack so naturally. It twisted his chest in weird, scary ways. If it were anyone else he’d be terrified. But it was you. And he now found his head lingering with the idea of you as a mother— the mother of his children, specifically.

It was a conversation the two of you had once, very briefly a few months after you two got married. Spencer had been meaning to get back at it, but with the chaos of your jobs it had been really hard to think about anything other than serial killer and criminals.

But fuck, if Spencer said that seeing you interact so carefully and sweetly with not only Jack but many other children that had stumbled up on these last few cases— he’d be the biggest liar on the face of this earth.

Just the thought of starting a family with you was something that filled him with anticipation. It made his chest burn. Something he craved so deeply, it sometimes left him breathless.

“You’re getting so big and strong that I’m beginning to have a hard time lifting you up.” You huffed, setting him down onto the ground and crouching beside him. “You’re gonna give me back problems.”

“Derek says it’s because you’re getting weak!” His R’s were disguised as muffles W’s, which only caused your heart to clench further. A choke disguised as a strained laugh left your mouth.

“Is that so?” You turned over to him with a glare. Morgan scratched the back of his head and turned on his heel avoiding you and your piercing gaze.

“But who’s your favorite; big old chiseled Derek, or little weak me?” You squint your eyes at the boy, pursing your lips feeling very confident in his answer.

And to no one’s surprise did Jack point towards you and with a huge, wide smile laughed out. “You!”

You laughed victoriously, holding out a palm for Jack to clap. “Yeah, that’s right!”

“Oh, come on,” Morgan groaned.

After one last hug from the child, you ushered Jack over to Hotch, shooting an endeared smile towards him. God, you loved that kid so much.

JJ, Prentiss and Rossi made their way to the conference room. You look ahead, meeting the gaze of your husband and smiling profusely. It was a subconscious reaction your body had. You found yourself meeting Spencer halfway. “Hey,”

His hand rested on your hip as he leaned down, kissing you chastly. Spencer would’ve loved to actually take his time greeting you with a much proper kiss, but it was a middle ground the two of you found between professionalism and well— being married.

His hand, however, remained on the spot on your hip, thumb drawing circles instinctively. It was subtle, but his touch was still there. Your smile was big and lovestruck, looking up at him with soft eyes. “Hey,”

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, Jack's laughter ripped through the air as Hotch lifted him up. You and Spencer turned and you swear you could almost cry.

It was as if lately, when you allowed yourself to think even slightly about the concept of children you’d combust into a pool of tears and overbearing endearment. Spencer watched you looking over at Jack and noticed something pooling beneath your eyes.

You looked back at Spencer, lips tied in a pout. “I want one.”

“A baby?” He tuned, laughing slightly at how your body sunk against his, resting your forehead on his chest in exasperation.

“Yes,” You pushed yourself off his chest, throwing your hands around as you spoke. “The small hands, small feet— I swear everytime I see a baby, I get violent.”

You pouted. “Imagine a mini us Spence,”

And Spencer did. He thought about it in such detail that he forgot it wasn’t an actual reality of his. A little girl or boy, that resembled either of you, that held so many fractions and traits of the two of you— it seemed unreal to him.

“A mini us?” He repeated. You looked up at him.

“Well— yeah,” You reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean, we haven’t really talked about it but..”

Spencer wanted kids more than he had ever wanted anything before— but he knew that he only wanted it if it was with you. He couldn’t phantom the thought of starting a family with anyone else.

“We should,” He spoke. Your fingers played mindlessly with the bottom of his tie, looking up at him with a teasing smirk.

“We should talk about it or we should try?” A blush crept up his cheeks as his eyes widened just slightly. You always found ways to catch him off guard and you loved getting even the slightest reaction out of him.

“Uh—“ He dragged out his words, before his eyes landed back on you. “Both?”

You laughed and he smiled. He always smiled when you laughed, he couldn’t stop himself from doing so. You reached down, tangling your fingers with his. “I’m serious though,”

He hummed. “So am I.”

“You actually want to start trying for a baby?” This seemed like a conversation that was far too intimate to be having in the middle of the bullpen— where you usually discussed varieties of atrocious things, but here you were I guess.

“Yeah,” He said, almost in disbelief that you had questioned it. You found yourself growing oddly shy, just thinking of a small version of the two of you running around.

Before you could continue on the subject, Morgan, who now held Jack on his shoulders, was calling you and Spencer over to the conference room. You turned to Spencer, smiling softly.

“Can we get back to this once we get home?”

“Please,” He breathed, leaning forward and pressing a longer kiss onto your lips. You grew giddy and smiled into the kiss, pulling away sooner than both of you would like.

“I love you,” You smiled. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and placed a loving kiss on your forehead.

“I love you.”

[parkersgnome]

⭐️Mima Rants⭐️

I remember coming across slideshow on tik tok this about a year ago, and even *I* (as someone who used to be grossed out by proshipping) thought was ridiculous…

This is the title of the slideshow.

Just a heads up guys, just like our favorite ships, None of these stories are real.

And if they were based on actual events, wouldn’t it make more sense to make a video about that instead of making up shit that never happened?

But, Let’s go through each of these as if they were real stories, shall we?

First one

“Caleb uses the internet to deal with his trauma”, Alright, I’m gonna stop you right there.

Isn’t “Staying off the internet is beneficial for your mental health” something we learned in, idk, fucking grade school? Cyber safety PSAs in middle school? Something that dozens of people have screeched from the top of their lungs since social media was invented?

Who the heck told him that being on the internet was going to help with his trauma and improve his mental health???

His feelings are valid, I get that. He has every right to be disturbed by Sage’s writings and fantasies. However, it seems that Sage isn't encouraging these actions in real life and keeps them strictly within fiction. As long as it’s in text or art, Sage has every right to express his fantasies.

Anyways, Caleb should seek a better therapist who can teach him better coping mechanisms like going out for walks, yoga, baking, or some other fourth thing instead of browsing social media where there’s a good chance he can run into something that makes him uncomfortable.

Next one…

“Jackie is 10-”

Yeah no no no no no no.. no… NO.

10-years-old. That’s, like, what? 4th grade? Shouldn’t Jackie be watching cartoons, playing with toys, or better yet, playing outside? Why did her parents give her internet access? Why aren’t they monitoring what their elementary schooled daughter is watching online?

If Charlie was going out of her way to promote this to minors then I would say she’s in the wrong, but this story never implies whether her content was specifically targeted to and/or letting minors come on to her account.

I've never seen proshippers create accounts specifically targeting children. If Charlie makes it clear her content isn't for kids, then it's not her fault if some random little girl she doesn’t know ends up consuming it.

If Jackie started to think this was normal, then it is her parent’s fault for neglecting her online safety and allowing her to access adult-targeted content at an age when media literacy is at an all time low.

The last one

“dEGenErates LiKE hiM 🤓” 💀💀

Once again, unless you can present to me a REAL LIFE incest/pedophilia case where proshipping was involved, this is not a valid argument that fiction affects reality.

Alas, we're treating these stories as if they were real. If Trey feels compelled to SA his sister after seeing writings or drawings of problematic ships, this suggests he’s likely an untreated mentally ill individual, especially since he can't differentiate fiction from reality.

What? If Trey played GTA V and started shooting and robbing a bank because he wanted to be like Trevor Phillips, should we consider banning violent video games?

As proshippers, we do not endorse real-life criminals and genuinely terrible people. The essence of proshipping is that all negative or degenerate actions should be confined to fiction. Understand?

End of discussion.

Anyway, as ridiculous as that slideshow was, please refrain from harassing or bothering the artist who made it. They have the same freedom of speech we do, and stooping to harassment and bullying wouldn't make us any better than antis who promote such behavior.

[vintagegeekculture]

So, a friend of mine on Discord said something interesting, and I feel like you might have thoughts on it. So. What do you think of the idea of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles as being "The Shaw Brothers for kids", a sort of gateway drug for "the kung fu genre"?

Not the Shaw Brothers, but Golden Harvest. Let me explain: 

I’m going to sound like a conspiracy theorist when I say this, but I believe the New Line Cinema “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” (1990) movie was actually a money laundering scheme by the Chinese Mafia, specifically, the Sun Yee On Triad. 

Looking into the role of organized crime in martial arts cinema is a rabbit hole that goes very, very, very deep...and comes out somewhere very shocking at the end.

You mention the Shaw Brothers, but there was another Hong Kong Producer who was the only credible rival to the Shaw Brothers (and who eventually surpassed the Shaws) in martial arts movies: Golden Harvest’s Raymond Chow….a man who started off as the Shaw Brothers’ talent division, but who eventually founded his own rival studio to the Shaws (with rumored triad financial backing), and who made Bruce Lee, Angela Mao and Jackie Chan stars. Raymond Chow is widely, and extremely credibly, believed to be a middleman for the Hong Kong Triad, the Sun Yee On, who used Golden Harvest as a front facing money laundering scheme, as claimed by Frederic Dannen in "Hong Kong Babylon," and Yiu Kong Chiu in "The Triads as Business," books I recommend if you are at all interested in the topic of organized crime in the Hong Kong film industry.

Raymond Chow was also the producer and primary funder of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movies. I mean, what does it mean when your movie is entirely produced and funded by a guy well known for being a triad middleman and money launderer?

And all of this happened at New Line Cinema, a borderline independent film company…one known for having dodgy financials it’s entire existence, no less, which ultimately doomed it? One of the most extraordinary things about the 1990 Ninja Turtles movie is that it was, essentially, an independent film. New Line would later become a powerhouse as a studio and created Lord of the Rings, but at the time, it was a mainly low rent operation, rather like Cannon films, known for the success of the slasher series “Nightmare on Elm Street.” So yes, I do believe "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" (1990) was a money laundering scheme by the Chinese Mafia.

The triads in Hong Kong, Macao, and Taiwan take enormous interest in financing martial arts movies for the same reason that they take a tremendous interest in financing porn movies: they’re quick, cheap, dirty, and can be used as a mechanism for laundering money, and a way to claim money from illegal sources (say, heroin) comes from a clean and legal source that can be claimed on taxes, like say, a movie studio. In addition, Hong Kong’s strict rating system, the Category III (equivalent to a far stricter R-rating) meant that very violent movies were handled in ways that were outside the law in ways similar to pornography. And according to several Senate investigations in 1991 ("Hearings on Asian Organized Crime"), the triads were actively involved in money laundering as well outside of Hong Kong, including currency trading and real estate, and the idea they could back a studio is entirely possible.

Everyone working in Hong Kong cinema has a story of dealing with the triads, who are interwoven into the city. Anita Mui's manager was was shot dead by mafiosos. Jimmy Wang Yu, the first Kung Fu star, was a suspected member of the Bamboo Union triad, and once borrowed money from one triad to pay another....and may have used his reported connections with the Triads to get Jackie Chan out of his initial contract with Golden Harvest, a favor Jackie repaid. Golden Harvest studios were actually firebombed in 1984, an event suspected to be due to Triad activity. Raymond Chow’s fellow producer and good friend who discovered Steven Chow, film producer Charles Heung, is well known to be the son of Heung Chin, who founded the Sun Yee On Triad, the largest in Hong Kong with over 25,000 members. And you don’t have to take my word for it; a US Senate Committee in 1991 on Asian Organized Crime identified Cheung as a leader of the Sun Yee On along with his brothers. Because of his association with Charles Heung and the Sun Yee On, Steven Chow, director of Kung Fu Hustle, cannot enter Canada legally.

Jackie Chan asserted Raymond Chow’s triad connections in his autobiography, and also claimed that he only hired triad members and other people who were mobbed up at Golden Harvest. One example would be producer Ng See Yuen, who produced Once Upon a Time in China for Golden Harvest, and who Jet Li refused to work with ever again after his manager was assassinated by triad gunmen (Jet Li blamed Ng See Yuen for his manager's death).

There's also Lo Wei, a Shaw Brothers director and known “Red Pole��� enforcer of the Sun Yee On Triad, who came over to Golden Harvest, where he directed Bruce Lee’s Chinese Connection and Big Boss, and also directed Jackie Chan’s earliest “period” historical movies for GH. Jackie Chan, in his autobiography, stated that the reason he initially left Hong Kong to go to the United States for an American career was because Lo Wei, his director on Laughing Hyena, put a hit out on him for refusing to make Laughing Hyena 2, and Jackie had to flee the city when Lo Wei sent gunmen to his house to abduct him. When arriving in the United States, he had to avoid some men with machine guns at the airport. To this day, whenever possible, Jackie Chan goes out in public armed for fear of gangsters. 

Even Jackie Chan though, never made the assertion that Raymond Chow and the Sun Yee On had Bruce Lee killed. This is important to mention because if you talk to any Chinese person, nearly all of them believe with unshakable, absolute certainty that the Chinese Mafia killed Bruce Lee, which is literally the plot of Game of Death (which, incidentally, Raymond Chow produced). Everyone around Bruce was mobbed up, because everyone in the Hong Kong film industry was mobbed up; in fact, it’s an open question how much it existed for its own sake. It’s notable Bruce Lee died at the home of Betty Lo Ting Pei, Golden Harvest actress, and his known mistress…who was married to a triad gangster. It’s also known that the first person that Betty Lo Ting Pei called when Bruce died was not medical services but Raymond Chow, something that to this day, she has not attempted to explain. 

It can be hard to imagine what the motive is for Raymond Chow and the triads to kill Bruce Lee. After all, wouldn’t Bruce Lee be more useful to Raymond Chow alive than dead? I never saw the angle, here. But then, you consider that in the last few months of his life, Bruce Lee started to set the stage for his transition to behind the scenes roles like producer, and was assembling a lot of stunt talent around him (a lot of productions down the pipeline intended to have Bruce Lee in producer roles, like Circle of Iron). The rumor among the stunt players, as recounted by Sammo Hung, was that Bruce was attempting to form his own stunt and film production company (as Chiba later did successfully in Japan) and that would involve organizing and peeling off half the talent in Hong Kong….in a deeply triad controlled industry, no less. There was also a story recounted by witnesses that Bruce Lee, a temperamental and explosively violent man, physically assaulted Raymond Chow in his office with punches and kicks when he heard Chow had two sets of books in their shared production company, as Bruce was always keen to keep the triads out of his films. Ten days later, Bruce Lee was dead. And for weeks before his death, Lee told his friends "Hong Kong is getting too hot, I have to get out."

And you know something? A Ninja Turtles movie from 1990 is probably the least of it. In 2020, a few documents were declassified by the Taiwanese government that showed that the members of the Bamboo Union Triad had 19 top governmental positions in Taiwan from 1955-1984 (the era when Taiwan was in a complete state of military rule), including the National Security Bureau and all branches of the armed forces. In other words, Taiwan during the military rule era wasn't just corrupted by the triads, the triads were the government.

I never cease to be amazed at the incuriousness of the journalistic professions. Governments don't declassify documents - especially something as damning as triad involvement in government - unless they have to. So why would the Tsai Ing-Wen government reveal this now in 2020, especially when anti-corruption is the driving force of Taiwanese politics, and anti-corruption sentiment pushed the KMT out of power since the 90s? Outsiders believe that the single biggest question in Taiwanese politics is their relationship with the mainland. Kinda...the status quo is more or less a settled question. It's actually anti-corruption and anti-triad infiltration, which is why the DPP are the ruling party now.

The answer, I suspect, is that the triads are no longer working with the Taiwanese government, but with the mainland government. In the 1980s, Wong Man Fong, editor of the Xinhua paper of Hong Kong, said in several interviews he was asked by the People's Republic of China to reach out to the triads to help make a deal: no government interference in their activities, if they pledge to keep order in the city after the handover in 1997. I strongly suspect the mainland now has a similar arrangement with the Bamboo Union, Green Gang, and the Si Hai Bang they did in Hong Kong, especially since so much money is going back and forth with the release of trade to the mainland. In other words, the triads in Taiwan are active agents of the PRC.

Backdoor deals between government and the mob aren't out of the question, just ask the CIA, who used Giancana Crime Family assassins sent to kill Castro as a key plank of the Bay of Pigs Invasion, the role of the mafia in the Kennedy Assassination, or how control of opium was a key under-the-table reason for the invasion of Afghanistan.

What I suspect happened is, the Taipei government is turning on organized crime now after decades and decades of ludicrous and obvious corruption, because to the triads, the money to be made with the mainland and unification is far more lucrative. It's no coincidence that the largest pro-unification party in Taiwan is led by a triad gangster who spent time in jail for racketeering, Chang An Lo, nicknamed "the White Wolf." Like John Gotti, everyone knows he's a mobster and that's even part of the White Wolf's coolness and appeal (if you could vote for Tony "Scarface" Montana, boy, I bet a lot of guys would), but nobody can touch him. In fact, combined with how the "light world" financial institutions are intertwined along with the underworld, there's an argument to be made that the reason the PRC hasn't tried to take Taiwan is that for all intents and purposes, they already have it.

In other words, the triads have gone from using the Ninja Turtles to money launder to essentially setting global geopolitics.

[lancerslover]

Sibling Rivalry - Part 1

pairing: senator!john f. kennedy and bobby kennedy/reader

summary: senator jack kennedy and bobby kennedy both have an eye for you, and you can’t help but enjoy watching as they try to win your affection. but when the brothers’ competitive natures inevitably take over, you realize you might not have as much power in the situation as you thought.

warnings: 18+, nothing super graphic yet but descriptions of dub-con and infidelity

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this fic is based on this ao3 fic i read a while ago! i definitely recommend checking it out

sorry this took so long guys 😖 i decided to just go ahead and post it even though i’m not sure how i feel about it lol so plz let me know what you think. this may or may not be the worst thing i’ve ever written.

this section of the fic is basically just a set-up for the eventual smut, which will be in part 2 if you guys want it

The hour or so you spend in Bobby’s office every evening is the only time all day you can relax. You know Bobby feels the same way. That’s part of the reason why he stays so late after the rest of his big brother’s campaign team is long gone. And since you’re his personal secretary, you feel obligated to stay with him. He’s told you before that you can go home with everyone else, that you don’t have to stay with him, but you always insist. You and he both know he could use all the help he can get as he blearily writes and re-writes strategy sheets or tallies up the daily budget in the growing darkness. And you both benefit greatly from what usually happens between you two after the day’s work is done. Your fingers massaging the stiff back of his neck, his lips warm on your skin. These methodical, intimate evenings are a welcome interlude between a long day of the raucous, back-slapping, wolf-whistling fraternity party that is Senator Jack Kennedy and the rest of his campaign team and a night full of giggly questions from your roommates about the newest juicy details of your job. Tell us one more time what it was like meeting Frank Sinatra. Is it true the senator is sleeping with his daughter’s babysitter? Is Jackie nice?

On this particular evening as you walk into Bobby’s office, having just completed the work you personally wanted to finish in order to get a headstart on the next day, you find yourself chuckling a little at the sight you’re greeted by. It’s only seven, and Bobby has already abandoned his desk for the sofa. Usually, he doesn’t take a break until closer to eight. As your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, you notice he’s leaning almost completely sideways on the armrest, his eyes closed, head slowly drooping off of the closed fist it’s propped up on. His gray-striped tie is a limp tangle on the floor. His dress shirt has been untucked from his slacks in what seems to have been a pretty violent manner—you notice that its bottom two buttons came undone in the process. His red, fuzzy lower belly is squishing out over his belt.

Just to make sure he’s not asleep, you whisper, “Bobby?”

In response, Bobby opens one eye, looks at you for a moment, then shuts it again in a playful, darting way, like he’s playing peek-a-boo with one of his hundreds of kids. Then he pats his hand on the cushion beside him, and you’re immediately starting towards him.

His office is snug, tucked in a literal corner of Senator Kennedy’s headquarters. Your only source of light as you pick your way through the towering stacks of paper all over the floor is the golden streetlamps of Boston outside the window, which look smeared now from the raindrops that streak down the glass. The only noises you hear are the scuff of your heels on the carpet and Bobby’s breath whistling faintly in and out of his nose.

Once you’ve sat down beside him and are wiggling out of your heels, he finally opens both eyes. You watch patiently as he slowly sits up and swings his heavy head to look at you. Poor thing. He gives you a soft smile, his big front teeth just barely peeking out under his lip. His fluffy hair is slightly mussed—and extra-fluffed—on the side he was just leaning on. You smile back.

“Tough day,” you say.

He blows his cheeks up with air and nods. “Yeah.” His voice is just a murmur, even though there’s really no need to be quiet since you two are the only ones left on the entire floor.

He’s been working extra late and extra hard now that the senator’s presidential election is only about a month away. This is quite an achievement, seeing as, even in the earliest days of the campaign, Bobby spent almost all day locked up in his office, tirelessly barking orders into one of the three constantly-ringing telephones on his desk or scribbling incessantly in the margins of a drafted campaign ad. Only every few hours would his door would bang open and he’d come stalking straight into the middle of where the rest of Senator Kennedy’s inner circle lounged, feet up, in a lazy haze of cigar smoke. Then Bobby would launch into a passionate explanation of whatever incompetent mistake on their part had prompted him to leave his office this time. You remember one specific afternoon when Bobby marched out, planted his hands on his hips, and said, “Alright, now, I just finished with that biography draft, and I want to know who approved it because it doesn’t do Jack justice at all. I mean, God, why mention the Addison’s?” One of the men replied, “Well, see here, that was my suggestion, Bobby. We need to get out in front of these things.” Naturally, an argument ensued. Bobby can be combative on a good day, but with the weight of the campaign largely on his shoulders, there was no way he’d be able to stop himself from spitting back a fiery retort at the other man’s condescending tone—and not to mention, he hates when men who aren’t his brothers call him “Bobby.”

As the yelling got louder and louder and all eight of Senator Kennedy’s henchmen eventually tossed their cigars aside and surged up on their feet to try their luck against Bobby’s razor-sharp Kennedy wit, Senator Kennedy himself simply observed from his desk like a Roman emperor watching his gladiators, leaning back in his chair, opening and closing his lips around his cigar. You knew better, though, than to ever let the senator’s laid-back mannerisms fool you. You clocked how his eyes were shrouded in a dark, calculating shadow, how they lingered on each of the nine men in turn. He was testing them, watching to see what they’d do, what positions they’d argue for. You could tell he was deeply focused. He never flinched or even so much as blinked as the men continued to yell and shake their fists and get closer and closer to each other’s faces. You doubted this sort of thing could be good for team morale, but you’ve accepted by now that it was Senator Kennedy’s strange, mysterious way of coming to a decision on something.

At one point during the dispute, the senator looked over at you and raised his eyebrows as if to say, Get a load of this, huh? You smirked coolly back at him, but a small shiver seared down your spine as you did. Nobody makes you nervous quite like he does. It’s sort of titillating, this power he has over you, but it’s also why, despite the senator’s movie-star smile and smooth one-liners, you’ve always felt more comfortable with Bobby.

After several minutes of watching the men yell, once he’d evidently seen enough to make whatever judgment he’d been ruminating on, Senator Kennedy stood up from his desk. The room snapped into a ringing silence.

The senator ran a hand through the little curls that framed his forehead, then nonchalantly said, “Bobby’s right.”

Another stunned beat of silence. Instinctively, you looked to Bobby, who simply sniffed and scratched his nose, seemingly as unfazed by the whole debacle as his big brother was.

One of the other men, Bobby’s brother-in-law Steve, bravely piped up, “But, Jack—”

Senator Kennedy cut him off. “It’s the presidency, gentlemen,” he told them wryly. “Don’t overthink it.” And with that, he huffed back into his chair. Then, almost as an afterthought, he pointed a long finger towards Bobby, and with a barely perceptible teasing bounce in his voice, said, “Alright, back to your corner.”

Bobby chuckled and spun on his heel towards his office. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Bobby drops this tough, Irish-bulldog exterior around you. You’ve gotten pretty comfortable with each other in the past few weeks, ever since Bobby told Senator Kennedy that he needed his own personal secretary and that he’d chosen you for the job. This announcement, which you overheard from across the room at the little clump of secretary desks, was a bit of a surprise to you, despite the fact that it was well-known that you were the best typist in the office. It definitely wasn’t an unwelcome surprise, though. You’ve always been fond of Bobby. You think it’s sweet how he talks to you and the other girls in such an innocent, genuine way, like he’s actually interested in your secretarial skills and what you have to say instead of just your body and your face, unlike certain other members of the campaign.

It was immediately obvious, though, that your sudden closeness to Bobby agitated Senator Kennedy. Since you’re the only secretary who hasn’t slept with him yet, the senator has a particular fixation on you, and Bobby knows this well. You had to bite back a giddy smile that afternoon when you saw how the senator’s eyebrows dropped low over his face as Bobby informed him of your new job title. “Personal secretary, huh?” the senator sneered, teeth flashing. Bobby simply grinned.

Bobby and the senator were intensely, at times comically, competitive. You’ve heard them go back and forth over such trivial things as who played better in a weekend family football game or who could read the morning newspaper faster. Once Bobby made you his personal secretary, though, more and more often they’ve been going back and forth over you.

From day one of the campaign, practically, Senator Kennedy has been pursuing you relentlessly, looming over you, tugging at a loose strands of your hair as he teases you for coming in late, unashamedly eyeing the way your ass moves in your pencil skirt, saying things like, “Nothing makes my day like seeing that pretty smile of yours, sweetie.” And the longer you pretend not to notice his advances, the more relentless he is, and, admittedly, the more you find yourself wanting to drive him crazy. It’s fun for you, and honestly quite flattering, that you can get him all riled up by simply brushing against his shoulder as you drop a paper on his desk and whispering breathily in his ear, “Here you are, Senator. Anything else I can do for you?” You can’t get enough of the incredulous look that takes over his handsome, always-nonchalant face—his nostrils flaring, his eyebrows raising, his eyes firing up like a cat who caught sight of a mouse—afterward as you skitter away. On a serious note, though, you figure you’re actually doing him a service by holding out like this. The way he acts with women is absurdly arrogant. He’s like a spoiled child, always getting everything he wants. Secretaries. Call girls. Actresses. All delivered to him, pretty much, at the flick of his hand. You figure it’d be good for him to not get something he wants for once, all flirtations and teasing aside.

You came dangerously close to having your vow of celibacy broken at a celebratory dinner party a few months back. The senator followed you to the back hall as you were about to leave, pushed you up against the wall, and before you even knew what was happening, he stuck his hand up your dress. He’d had a little too much to drink that evening, and he was like a wild animal in that dark, empty hallway. Tearing at your stockings, practically snarling in your ear, cursing you for “driving him crazy” at the office.

“Senator,” you gasped, “please—”

“Please what?” he scoffed. “You think you can act like a little harlot all the time and nothing’s going to happen to you?”

After a moment, your inner desires took over and you gave up resisting. You spread your thighs and let him finger you. It’s not your proudest moment. You hated to let him have that little victory over you, but with the entirety of his body weight against you and his big hands holding you still, there was really no way you could’ve stopped him, even if you’d wanted to.

This game you have with Senator Kennedy has been taken to a whole new level now that you’ve actively chosen to spend almost all your time with Bobby. You can tell by the way the senator shakes his head as he watches you and Bobby walk around together, like you’re two little children misbehaving under his watch, that this is really grating on his competitive side. Bobby doesn’t help matters with the way he smirks and wiggles his eyebrows at the senator when he thinks you’re not looking. Sometimes, the senator will tease Bobby by saying things like, “Don’t you think it’s, uh, a little unfair that you’re not letting anyone else work with our best typist?” or “I’m starting to doubt whether you two are actually getting any work done. Don’t make me take Y/N away from you, Bobby. She’s just on loan, you know.” Bobby does his best to appear to be the mature one in front of you, opting to half-playfully shove the senator with his shoulder as he walks by instead of snapping back some kind of retort.

You still aren’t entirely sure what Bobby’s real motives were for picking you as his secretary, whether it had purely been about spiting the senator, or he’d genuinely admired your skills, or he’d planned to turn your evenings together into sexual rendezvous all along and he was much more like his brother than you thought.

But since, in the process of this whole thing, you’ve developed a genuine relationship with Bobby—and it’s pretty clear, you think, that he’s has bested his big brother in this little game—you suppose his pushing back against the senator has more to do with the pure competitive spirit of it all at this point than any possessiveness he might feel over you. But still, you get out such a kick out of the fact that they never fail to play right into your hand when you pit them against each other, flirting with one brother in front of the other, making flippant comments to the senator about how wonderful your evenings alone with Bobby are.

Sometimes, though, your confidence in your femme-fatale abilities wavers slightly. Almost daily, Bobby and the senator will convene at the senator’s desk for an intense, private conversation about what you originally assumed was various campaign matters, but every once in a while, you’ll glance up during one of these conversations to find them both looking at you from across the room. The senator will mutter something, and Bobby will nod, and the low sound of their confident, patronizing laughter will rumble across the office. You instantly drop your eyes back to whatever memo you’re working on, heart suddenly racing. What on earth could they be saying? And why do you have the creeping feeling that this game isn’t going to be so easy for you much longer?

thank you for reading!!

taglist:

@evie-gets-bitches

@kennediva

@secretwonderlandcheesecake

@melancholicstation

@southernpopprincess

@maudesgf

@neverellaxx11

@astro-vibes-bro

@h-l-vlovesvintage

@fortheloveofjos

@saturns-flowers

@raspberryknees

[treason-and-plot]

Jackie looks at Mia with an expression that is a mixture of excitement and trepidation. She takes a deep breath.

“I didn’t want to say anything yet because it’s still really early, but…I’m pregnant.”

Mia rapidly blinks. A violent rush of emotion is hurtling her towards unfamiliar territory, where she doesn’t know if she’s going to cry, or jump up from the table and start joyfully punching the air.  

“Woah! Congratulations!” says Kaleb.

“Mia?” says Jackie. “Say something!”

“Are....are you happy?” says Mia.

“Yes,” says Jackie. “So, so happy. Shocked, though. “

“I can’t actually believe it myself,” says Milo. “I went to the chemist and made her take the test another three times.”

“Well, I think this calls for a celebratory bottle of champagne!” says Kaleb. “Are you sure you won’t have any, Jackie? I remember my sister had a glass every now and then when she was pregnant.”

“I think a few sips would be okay,” says Milo. “You just shouldn't get drunk or tipsy, right?”

“I’d really prefer not to risk it,” says Jackie. “The thought of alcohol makes me feel a bit queasy, anyway.”

“Then I’ll order a bottle of vintage bubbly and some sparkling water,” says Kaleb. “Do you see the waiter anywhere?”

“I’d still prefer a Bellini,” says Mia.

“You can have your Bellini after we’ve drunk a toast to Jackie and Milo’s pending arrival,” says Kaleb.

“Actually, I might just go up to the bar and order one now,” says Mia. “Excuse me.”

“I think I’ll come with you,” says Jackie.

“Are you okay?” she says to Mia, once they are out of earshot of the table.

“I’m fine,” she says. “Just shitty with Kaleb. As usual.”

“Are you shitty with me?” says Jackie.

“Hell, yeah,” says Mia.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

I really love how s2e7 sets up Ed's growing panic throughout the episode. I sooo wish this episode had just a few more minutes, but I like how easy it is to see Ed's thoughts shift.

At the start of the episode, Ed's feeling pretty awesome. He's just had some great sex with the man he loves. Deciding to toss the Blackbeard outfit overboard was him finally feeling ready to say "I'm ready to leave piracy and all this Blackbeard shit behind, actually." He tries really, really hard to make Stede a lovely breakfast in bed. My man is thriving, he's getting to indulge in a bit of domesticity.

But then, Ed brings Stede breakfast, and he tries to tell Stede about his lovely mermaid vision thing. And then Stede starts talking about how near-death experiences are just a fact of life, in "their line of work," and Ed's uneasy.

Then Ed takes Stede on a date, and it's nice! He specifically mentions how the place they go to has a track record of not putting him in violent situations. And Stede's fans show up, and at first? Ed's thrilled! He's super happy for Stede (and the focus isn't on Ed for once, which is a bonus!). He's the one who suggests they go meet Stede's fans at Spanish Jackie'z, and in these scenes he's every inch the supportive boyfriend, giving Stede advice and happy that people are appreciating his cringe boyfriend.

But then, and this is where Ed's mood really starts to turn - Spanish Jackie points out Ed's in a "I wish I was a regular dude phase," Ed agrees, and she points at Stede, who is living it up, and says "does he know that?" And that's it. That's when Ed goes from being a bit uneasy about the violence of their profession to panicking.

Because Stede is having a fantastic fucking time. He's getting the approval he's longed for all his life for doing a "man's work" properly. And Ed doesn't think Stede will choose him over piracy, not when Stede's just found his footing in it.

Of course Ed tells Stede it's "everything about fishing!" He's not confident that Stede is going to support him in a life that isn't piracy. Of course he says "fisherman and pirates are nothing alike!" Ed spends this episode asking Stede not to get into more near-death situations and taking him on a date to a place he knows is safe. Piracy is fucking dangerous and Ed's sick of it, and just the day before he had to watch Stede get tortured in front of him - of course fishing, which is letting yourself be at sea in such a quiet, painfully non-violent way, feels like the natural opposite of piracy to him.

It makes the finale so much more beautiful, because Ed actually got to fully decide that he doesn't want to do piracy anymore, and he got to see that Stede will choose to be right there with him.

[nonpracticinghumanbeing]

So Izzy said a thing.

The thing seems to be a part of a redemption arc and makes him sound like a human rather than a monster.

The Canyon went wild with joy and jubilation. The haters are doing everything they can to rationalize the thing in a way that would fit their point of view. One of these things makes me feel like a part of a wonderful, welcoming, and very queer community. The other makes me perplexed, annoyed, and sad at the same time - in a way that feels very personal.

OFMD is an explicitly and unapologetically queer show. And not just that, it shows a variety of non-normative behaviors (Jackie’s polyamory, Geraldo’s humiliation kink, Lucius and Pete’s penchant for “having an audience” to say nothing of Izzy’s masochistic tendencies) in a completely non-judgmental way, making the viewer feel like all ways of performing one’s sexuality are valid.

Izzy wants to be a part of this world. For all his anger and manipulations, and (yes, let’s call him out for the sake of fairness) his abusive behaviors, he desperately wants to be a part of the world where he is free to love who he loves, in whatever way he is capable of doing so. No matter how much the haters don’t want to acknowledge it, this is ultimately a story about love. Both Con and Daddy Jenkins admitted Izzy is in love with Edward and the fact that the antis are willing to contradict not only the actor (who, may I remind you, was instrumental in shaping Izzy’s character) but also the showrunner is very symptomatic of the larger issue of how queer people have been treated in society.

No one in their right mind chose to become a pirate unless they had no other option. Piracy was fraught with constant danger and meant being an outsider everywhere. The only place one could be more or less safe was between people in the same lifestyle. In OFMD that is represented by the Republic of Pirates, where not being a pirate would get one in trouble. Sure, there is some violence but it comes with the territory and - much more importantly - it’s never motivated by someone being a pirate.

Izzy claims to hate the Republic - and for someone as repressed as him it makes sense. There are people being a different kind of a pirate than Izzy would like there - drunk, rowdy, and undisciplined. He clearly takes great pride in his work and has built his whole identity around being Blackbeard’s first mate. Seeing people be pirates while taking their responsibilities lightly doesn’t fit his worldview because he’s been taught that all of his energy should be spent protecting whatever freedom the pirates managed to carve out for themselves.

Someone once wrote that despite what the popular meme says, Izzy isn’t a real pirate dropped into The Muppet Treasure Island, but rather a hard boiled queer-coded character from a 50s noir movie dropped into today’s Pride. He’s had to keep vigilant against any threat for so long he hasn’t noticed that there was a way to be a pirate/queer and still enjoy one’s life. That one can like frilly robes and be a somewhat competent sea captain. That it is possible to pine for one’s boyfriend and keep one’s crew safe. That being soft doesn’t necessarily mean being weak.

He’s willing to do whatever it takes and sacrifice whatever has to be sacrificed (Stede’s life, Edward’s happiness, his own status of the loyal first mate) to keep his little pirate/queer world safe. It’s this conviction that puts him in the way of Ed and Stede’s relationship and makes him an antagonist. But - and it’s something the haters seem to be incapable of grasping - an antagonist doesn’t have to equal a villain.

Why does Izzy react so violently to Stede, exactly? Why is he willing to go against his captain's wishes in challenging Stede to a duel? Why does he sell Stede out, making a deal with the enemy in the process? Because Stede is a stranger infiltrating Izzy’s safe space. The English are a huge threat, sure, but they are easily identifiable from a distance. Stede seems to Izzy to be something far more dangerous - an outsider worming his way into the heart of Izzy’s world, where he can do truly irreparable damage. The English are cops who chase gay boys around the park. Stede has the potential of being an undercover cop sent into a queer bar in the 1930s to get the dirt on the patrons so they can be blackmailed and arrested.

Of course, he may not be that, but it’s a risk Izzy can’t allow himself to take. With his vision of what it means to be a pirate/queer he's sure he sees through Stede’s ruse. Now, I’m not trying to excuse abusive behavior, as some of Izzy’s choices were hurtful to everyone around him. But as a queer person I do have sympathy for someone (grossly) overreacting in defense of their safe space. Constant vigilance is an inherent part of the queer experience, especially for those living in conservative countries or remembering the times before the Pride.

Like, for example, Con does. Con, who - yes, I will repeat this because it’s super important here - played a huge part in shaping Izzy’s character. Con, who despite having a decades-long career where he often clearly gravitated towards queer characters, only got comfortable enough THIS YEAR (and thanks to this show and this fandom) to publicly come out. Con, who - as a friend wonderfully phrased it - is queer as in start a riot, not as in love wins.

And Izzy is the same. He is a start a riot pirate/queer in a show full of love wins pirates/queers. His way of being what he is is so totally different from everyone around him that it makes him an antagonist. (Sure, there are other start a riot queers in the show - Jim literally kills a man who wronged them and Lucius is very outspoken about his opinions in a way that makes him somewhat radical, but neither of them is as extreme in their ways as Izzy is and neither goes against the main characters’ romance thus becoming an antagonist.) But. The thing is, when you are a part of a minority, when you are being prosecuted and targeted for who you are, you need safe spaces. And those safe spaces need protection, because every freedom can be taken away if wrong people come to power. No doubt the queer movement would look much more tame and palatable to the bigots if we were all the love wins queers. But we desperately need the start a riot queers if we are to survive.

So yeah, you can say Izzy said what he said because he needs a structure and clear hierarchy in his life. He absolutely does. Some of it comes from his submissive and masochistic tendencies, sure (I wrote a lot about that, including a piece for the Above All Else zine). Some of it may come from neurodivergence (some people read Izzy as autistic, I’m not going to discuss this because as a neurotypical person I have nothing of value to say about it). But it also ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY comes from the desperate need to protect his safe space from outsiders.

And there is one more thing the haters conveniently forget about: OFMD is also a show about growth. It’s about Stede turning from a wooden puppet into a real boy and then into a man. It’s about Edward learning there is a life beyond the legend of Blackbeard and peeling off at least some of the leather. And judging from the trailer, it’s about Izzy learning you can be a start a riot pirate while being accepting of the love wins pirates in your life. 

The more I think about it, the more likely I find it that Stede’s “I don’t care what anybody says, he’s actually a good guy” line from the teaser refers to Izzy. But even if it doesn’t, I am 100% sure the haters will be proven wrong. This show never relied on stereotypes and cliches. In fact, it actively does everything to break them (from Jim’s sacred quest for revenge ending up with them befriending Jackie to the only names that get mispronounced being those of white characters) while killing off the real enemies of the pirate/queer crew (Badmintons, Jack, Geraldo) and giving all its characters place to grow.

So, maybe one day we will all learn to love Izzy? 

[werezmastarbucks]

shot to the head

masterlist

word count: 1645

warnings: smut

music: i'm on fire by bruce springsteen

He lit a cigarette and took the first drag when he heard the footsteps. His ears were already tuned to that specific trot, the ears of a disgruntled hunter that felt like this was going on for too long.

Usually this business takes one day. He clocks the chick, approaches her, makes her laugh, and shows them both good time, all under twelve hours. Here, this was already past a week. The conversations, the dancing, the smiles and flirting was all very good, but the longer Chibs dragged it out, the more difficult it would be to sever the ties later. He tried not to think of the future, readying his feet, as he listened to her approaching footsteps. Straight into his den, main office, she went. Probably confused it with the accounts room, the doors looks similar. His mind wandered lazily, reminding him that Jackie did ask her to help out a little.

You opened the door and stepped in, and it took you just one second to see Chibs, to immediately understand that you're screwed.

Shit, said the tiny voice, as you stepped back again, closed the door and started running away.

"Nope", he snapped. His eyeballs already took the picture: loose hair, summer necklace and a fucking green sundress. With tiny little flowers. Maybe daisies. He jumped up and all but tore the handle out as he opened the door. He caught you midway, lifting you above the floor with one arm.

"No, you're going to pay for this now", he rumbled lowly into your ear, pressing his face into the nape of your neck, as he dragged you back into the office. You giggled, losing your breath, as you swooped through the air, when he finally married you back with the floor. You stumbled a couple steps back, until the opposite wall cut your escape. You looked at Chibs who was closing on your like a wolf. No, the dog that's been tugged too violently. You weren't sure you hated it completely.

"A week and a half you've been clicking on me nose", he said, "you didn't really think you'd get off?"

You offered him a brave smile, your heart racing like this was an armed robbery. Chibs' face mirrored the smile, but darkened. A step at a time, he approached you, taking in every little detail of the body he was about to violate.

"Whatever am I going to do with ya now?"

"I hope you won't make me dance", you chuckled.

"Now don't give me ideas, you bratty mink", he rattled, grabbing you by the arm and then almost releasing, so that the hold is not too firm. He slid his hand up and down your shoulder, then tickled the ribs. His breath burned your temple, then your face flushed as you finally felt his mouth moving against yours. Chibs kissed you, aggressively at first, just like his touch was, to show how he felt about the whole situation. Then you could barely register what was happening. His tongue, filling your mouth, and one hand, sliding down the thigh and sneaking under the skirt; your knees caved in a little and you couldn't hold a stifled moan. He licked your trembling mouth properly, before letting you take a breath, and then sharply twirled you around like a puppet. Pulling a desk closer, he laid one hand on your back.

You were so wet at this point it was getting uncomfortable. Chibs took his time, probably thinking about how you pulled him apart, vein by vein, a big offense in his eyes; his wounded hand stayed down, massaging your thigh and cluthing on one buttcheek, almost too hard. The other, tugging in your hair, pulled your head back, and you closed your eyes.

"I hope you don't mind me asking", he croaked gently into your ear. His voice gave you shivers, and you twitched under him, the body screeching for some development. The office smelt like smoke, sweat and candy.

"But I'd like some context on that one time when Ned tried to fucken choke ya", you breathed through your mouth, the tip of your tongue restless, "cause I get the same impulse about once a day now".

"I thought you were better than that", you laughed out, excited.

"Didn't take ya for someone who only sees good in people", he uttered, before placing a small kiss on the back of your shoulder. His beard was delightfully tickly. You gasped as his other hand finally reached the hem of your underwear, before slithering inside.

"Oh, you got something for me", he whispered, "don't ya, baby".

You didn't feel like saying anything, arching your back so hard, asking silently, like you were trying to snap your spine. As his fingers started caressing you, you swayed your hips, your hands clenching his forearms.

"What is it? What is it that you want?" he mocked, keeping you in place with one hand on your neck. You laid on the desk, a rash thought visiting you, that you completely forgot why you were here in the first place. And where was, here. This was so good, as he demanded, you had to scramble for words.

"Tell me, what is it that you want from yer dog, Y/N", he insisted. You let another moan leave your lips, moving your hips, and yet his fingers refused to slip inside, because he was bringing his revenge on you.

"If you... don't fuck me now, I'll come anyway, and you won't have your fun", you whispered, your mouth dry. His low laughter vibrated into your back:

"You just can't bring yourself to ask, can you?"

You shook your head, then moved your body to let him know you wanna turn, but Chibs didn't budge.

"No, you'll stay here, sweethear. Now we're doing it my way".

You heard the buckle of his belt clink, and braced yourself. Chibs lifted up your dress, tracing the lines of your body with an open palm, as he gave a little soft squeeze to your shoulder, comforting, he slid inside of you, making you yell out with surprise, and pleasure.

He knew it would be good, but now he was finally celebrating. The view of your arched back, with this soft green dress, and the hair, the walls of your vagina pulsating fevereshly around his cock the second he was there; - he had to slow down for a second at first, searching for the pace, but it was all like a fever dream. Like he was high; the convulsions the body in front of him was going through, made it almost impossible to contain himself. The girl was so starved, so utterly untouched that he almost felt dirty; hell, he was dirty, a dirty bastard, and that's why he got this excellent, wet, hugry cunt. He always got the best one; a matter of skill, but this was pure heaven of reciprocity. He couldn't restrain the desire to bend onto her and taste the skin on her back; nipping, nibbling, as he went faster and faster. You were gasping for air, letting out only a small yelp every time he pushed into you, holding on for your dear life. You stood on your toes to change the angle slightly, so that his cock would slide against the clit every time, and felt the climax approaching. His hand cupped your chin so gently, in contrast with how he was hammering into you, and you mouthed his name on the verge of your might:

Filip, Filip, Filip.

You loved hearing his voice into your ear, low, like he was finally nibbling on a bone he's been chasing. You were almost that. Twisting your neck to an inhuman angle, you caught his mouth, and he filled you on both ends, and you finally came, tensing your whole body around his throbbing cock, and he hummed approvingly. You couldn't believe the relative quiet he demonstrated, as opposed to the whirlwind of sensory overload you just experienced. Panting, catching for air with your mouth, you still felt the electric clouds of mellow pleasure in your body, and Chibs turned you around like a toy again.

"You are very easy to please", he murmured favorably, the sight of his face making you blush again. You tried to shrug, which made him chuckle at the awkward movememnt. You threw your head back, unable to focus just yet. Your lips moved, with only a shade of a phrase. His hand was cupping one of your breasts through the dress, pressing lightly.

"What was that?" he bowed above you, took your hands and wrapped them around his neck. He wasn't done yet.

"Am I forgiven?" you whispered. The sound of his laughter made you wheeze with joy,

"You could never do wrong, my good girl", hand caressed the side of your face as he pushed his cock back. You felt like you saw something you weren't supposed to; the teeth, his smile, pulling his mouth open, his black eyes drilling you before he went on and pressed his face into the anterior of your neck. He started thrusting harder, his hands clutching your thighs, and you felt the second orgasm almost coming. There was a scent of violence in the last several seconds before he gave a big sigh, releasing one of your legs. You both went quiet for some time, and then Chibs went straight to kissing, plucking pecks like little targets onto your collar bones, your chest, neck, your face.

He did win, but he also felt like he fell into one of the snares. He had a distinct feeling like he was thigh-deep in it, because holding you was so nice. He would have to talk about it with the youngster for sure. Filip was an experienced human and he knew that, out of all the ways to kill, a woman knew the most intricate ones.

"Tickles", you yelped, shivering, and he helped you sit up.

"Kiss me".

He obeyed.

[lulu-spooks]

I’ve been trying to get into Hozier lately, and seeing as you seem to be the resident expert on him, what songs would you recommend starting with?

(I know his more popular ones obviously, like Take me to church, Too sweet, and Nobody’s soldier, but I want to know about some of his secret bangers)

EEEEEEEE!!!! You’re in for a treat!

And thank you for the acknowledgment of resident expert, I have 10 years experience in hozier listening and I don’t play about it.

So the thing about hozier is that I truly believe he has a no skip discography on all of his solo works. And pretty much all of his collabs are also bangers (with the possible exception of tell it to my heart. Don’t start there)

Ok so from his first album I want to highlight a few tracks, Jackie and Wilson, from Eden, work song, like real people do, and to be alone. They are all sonically very similar (as are most of the tracks on the first album) but they all sound totally different. The instrumentation stays the same for most of the tracks but I am literally incapable of mixing them up. They all have unique sounds while still remaining cohesive in the context of the album. Expect great guitar and vocals, very little to no synths, funky beats (including some fairly cool time signatures). Excellent lyrics, definitely worth reading along. Especially cherry wine which at first glance sounds like the most beautiful love song but if you read along you’ll see how violent it is.

Wasteland baby is the second album. Standout tracks for me are Nina cried power, dinner and diatribes, would that I, shrike, be, and the title track wasteland baby. This one is definitely the sexiest album. Expect much more exploration into bluesy tunes and sound effects, the beats are getting even funkier, the lyrics are catastrophic and feature a lot of references to Greek mythology. This is the kind of album that you sit at the end of the world and listen to while everything falls apart. Wasteland baby the song epitomises this. It’s the conflict between standing up and fighting the broken systems that oppress people vs the need to give up and wash your hands of everything. Admitting we tried our best and it wasn’t enough. At least I have you. The deluxe tracks for this one are some of his best work on this project so check out why would you be loved, nfwmb and moments silence too.

Unreal unearth. This one is my favourite and my being has been altered by this album in ways I can’t even describe. Every song is a grade A hit. It’s actually my favourite album of all time I think. Honestly everything on this one is worth listening to but at some point once you’ve listened to all of the tracks individually, I cannot reccomend enough that you sit down and listen to the whole thing in order. No pauses. The whole thing with this album is that it’s a journey into the underworld inspired by Dante’s inferno. Each song occupies a different circle of hell and discusses topics surrounding the cardinal sins that are punished in each circle. It’s worth searching uk which sings belong in which circle. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s a concept album but it uses the story as a great jumping point for exploring moral, political and religious topics that are not discussed in the original cantos. This album is a masterpiece and I could literally write about it for hours but my thumbs are already falling off so I’ll keep it quick. Standout tracks are Francesca, first time, eat your young, abstract psychopomp, who we are, unknown nth, all things end, first light, de selby part 1 and butchered tongue. If you want the more explicitly political tracks choose eat your young and butchered tongue and READ ALONG. I could write fucking essays just on eat your young. This album was also written in the context of covid 19 and the lockdown and songs like all things end really make a heartbreaking but uplifting anthem for this period in time. The general sound of the album is very different to the two preceding albums. Expect much more manipulation of vocals and distortion of instruments. Expect more instruments. Expect full orchestra and stripped back guitar. Expect drums that sound like thunder and lightning. And for gods sake read along with this one. Cuz it’s fucking fantastic lyric writing and a lot of it can be missed in his pronunciation. When Andrew learns to annunciate it is OVER for us all.

Extended songs from unreal unearth are numerous and you’ve said you’ve heard nobodies soldier (also very political) and too sweet. I’d also recommend wildflower and barley for a soft lockdown summer feeling tinged with hopelessness, empire now as an anthem for Irish liberation and how much it was fucking worth it despite the troubles that followed and that you are for the most year inducing love song also within the context if lockdown. Just see “that I’d be anyway that you are” which will I’m sure soon be written on my body in tattoo ink. Through the flood acts as the introduction to the full album experience, hymn to Virgil is the last one.

Anyway have fun I tried not to write a fucking essay but I did. For unreal unearth in particular I have read no less than 5 books to examine source materials for his lyricism. I also learned a fuck ton about production to understand how he gets the sounds he does in his music. All to say this guys music is my whole life. And it can be hard to tone it down. If it all sounds confusing I’m sorry I’ve been writing this for like 40 minutes and I just did a full day in the recording studio and my brain is fried and my fingers are dead and I need to sleep, where I will probably listen to ‘to someone from a warm climate’ to sleep. Bye :P

[bellysoupset]

I have an idea for mini stories if you’re comfortable with writing it. I was thinking Jonah as the sickie and his mom as the caretaker.

Jonah was trying really hard to keep an upbeat attitude. He only had two more days at his mom's and Matteo's place, before taking off with Angie for their next location, in Germany. He missed Leo already, despite them only being apart for three days, but Jon was bottling it up, focusing on spending the time with his sister and his parents.

Nevertheless, since the previous night he had been feeling sluggish, like his whole body was heavy, and a steady thump thump started to throb behind his eyes. He was curled up in the outside cushioned swing, watching as Angie cooed over the rabbit sitting in her lap.

"Darling," Jackie's voice was low and calm and Jonah craned his neck to look at his mom. She was leaning over the swing, a frown between her brows, "you're awfully quiet."

"I'm fine," Jonah mumbled, before shivering violently, "a little chilly, I think I'm gonna go inside-"

"No!" Angie piped up, then blushed as she realized how harsh she had been, "no, I'll go and get you a blanket... If you wanna stay out, that is."

He really didn't, but Jonah did not have the emotional structure to say no to his sister and it showed. He nodded wordlessly and Angie got up, dumping the rabbit she had been holding in his lap and rushing inside. Over his head, Jackie let out a chuckle.

"She's like a bumblebee buzzing around you," his mother commented softly, then glared at the rabbit, "you want me to take it away? I've told Matteo a million times to not let his animals inside the house."

"We're not inside, we're in the yard," Jon rolled his eyes, then tentatively petted the animal's ears, causing it to twitch and look at him, "no, leave it. It's cute."

"Uhm," Jackie hummed in a way that showed she didn't agree.

They weren't touchy people, had never been back when Jackie was still married to Jasper, much less during the years they were estranged. Now that she was back in his life for six years, Jon was used to her presence and personality, but certain things still took him by surprise. Certain things like his mother reaching without asking and stroking his cheek.

They let out twin gasps, Jonah at her sudden cold touch and Jackie as she realized how warm he was. She wrinkled her nose, thin bony hand coming to cup his forehead, "you're burning up, Jonah."

"Ah," Jon shrugged her off, curling up more, "that explains it."

"Explains what?" Jackie circled the swing in order to sit next to him and Jonah wanted to laugh. He couldn't remember being sick in front of his mother in a very long time and the worry in her face was alien like and weird.

"I was just feeling a little under the weather, that's all," Jonah petted the bunny once more, causing it to sniff his hand and Jackie huffed in a frustrated manner.

"You need soup. And a blanket. And a thermometer-" she interrupted herself, chewing at her lip as if she was trying to figure out what to do next and Jonah frowned at his mother.

"I'm fine, I'll take a tylenol in a bit-" he tried to say, but Jackie made a gesture like a maestro shutting down the concert, closing her hand in a fist and shutting him up.

"Zip it," she glared at him, hazel eyes just like his, with speckles of green and yellow all over, "get up, you shouldn't be out here in the wind."

"It's not windy," Jon pointed out, only to receive yet another glare. Jackie got up and waited, hands on her hips, a statue clad in a deep red dress, making it clear she was not about to argue with him.

Two could play this game and Jon only stared at her, causing Jackie to huff, "Jonah Isaac Banks," she said in a stern tone that was much more like her.

"Fine," he rolled his eyes, getting up, only for the world to twirl. For a horrible second he thought it was a vertigo episode, but it was a simple lightheadedness and Jon steadied himself by grabbing on the wooden swing. The bunny was now sniffling at his pants, long ears brushing the fabric and Jackie's frown had deepened considerably, a skinny hand clutching his henley.

Jonah glanced at it, "mum?"

"Are you alright?" She let go off him, but didn't step away, watching his face like a hawk.

"Yeah, I'm fi-"

"Here!" Angie rushed back out, holding a bowl of snacks now and a throw blanket. She skipped and halted, pouting, "ah, you're going inside...?"

"Sor-"

"He's sick," Jackie said, although her tone was slightly softer, it also left no room for arguing, "he needs to be in bed."

"I'm not sick," Jon rubbed at his face, frustrated by the whole situation and hating Angie's disappointed expression, "I have a little temperature, it's not-"

"Get inside," Jackie pointed the two french doors leading to the second living room of the chateau and Angie straightened up as if the woman was talking with her. Jon rolled his eyes at the whole interaction, but standing up was making him more and more woozy and he'd very much like to be horizontal and left alone, so he obeyed without a word.

Jackie had married Matteo during the time she had still been estranged with Jonah and the elderly tennis player didn't have children of his own. So the first time Jon visited the chateau, it had been a huge surprise to find out he had a room of his own in the place. Not a guest room to be shared with possible visits, an actual bedroom that was only his.

Leo had been over the moon with the place, loudly declaring he wanted to come back many times, and Jonah let out a small sigh when he he buried his face in the pillow, resenting the fact Leo didn't wear a perfume. His faint scent of pine had already vanished.

Jackie followed him inside the room, privacy not even crossing her mind and she promptly went for his dresser, causing Jonah to let out a groan, "mum, I'm fine, you don't have to-"

"Get dressed," she fished out a pair of pajamas and socks, planting it at the foot of the bed, "I'll go ask Eloise to prepare the soup."

"I'm not hungry," Jonah groaned, struggling to peel off his henley and shivering violently.

"You'll eat," Jackie ignored his complaint, circling the bed and lowering herself next to him, undoing the cords of his shoes as if Jonah was a ten year old kid. He jerked away, so she slapped his knee sharply and grabbed his foot again, "do you only have a fever? Does anything else feel bad?"

His stomach was turning and his throat starting to scratch, but Jon shook his head, "everything is fine, it's just a small cold. Nothing to worry about."

"I'm not worried," she shrugged and someone else might've bought his mother's smooth tone, but Jon didn't. She was fussing over him.

"Yeah, alright," he grabbed on the bed to pull himself up in order to strip his pants, "a little privacy?"

The woman stood up as well, nodding briskly, "I'll be right back, get under the blankets."

"I'm a doctor, mum, I know-"

"In my house you're not a doctor," Jackie walked to the door, "you're my child."

It made Jonah's stomach fill up with butterflies and he sighed, cheeks hurting with a blush, "yeah.... Uhm, okay."

She opened a luminous smile at another won battle, "okay. Get under the blankets."

[tabithatwo]

very deeply in my jackie nat feelings would you care to take a rambling walk with me?? natalie takes the brunt of so much from these girls, she’s so often an outlet for their teen anger bullshit and she so deeply doesn’t deserve it and jackie is only ever truly Mean to nat of all the girls, so it stands out so fucking much.

jackie also constantly taking a different type of heat from the team, both of them wanting to protect and love the girls the best they can, nat never once questioning whether she would hold that shit against them, nat immediately assuming role of protector and sustainer. jackie trying but failing in this setting, jackie being bitchy to nat after she screws around instead of hunting AND pulling shauna out of the wreckage as she tries to save van AND supporting the attempt to hike out and the attempt with the plane AND AND AND—all For and About shauna. shauna eclipsed the rest of the girls for her so deeply and immediately, shauna was jackie’s priority and she failed her, she lost her, she never had her (or so she died thinking).

we see nat and jackie start to push back, start to team up, start to try and protect the girls from themselves. both of them are seeing the danger of the violent shit going unchecked and the terrifying paths of spiritualism/psychosis/whatever it is, but jackie loses THE girl, the ONE girl that she cares about more than the rest combined and she takes those hits in a series of discovery, and ignored opportunities for honesty, and begging for one tiny hint that shauna loved her, and those hits took her out completely. she cared about ALL of them, but she abandoned them all, because for jackie there was never a life without shauna. there was no everyone EXCEPT shauna, there was only shauna AND everyone. but natalie didn’t abandon them. nat couldn’t. nat wouldn’t. no matter what cruelty she’s faced or continues to face, she won’t leave them. that isn’t an option to her.

so jackie stops eating. she stops caring. she begs for a reason to stick around one last time and shauna doesn’t give it to her. so jackie just keeps sleeping. nat wakes up before dawn and she hikes and she comforts and she tells lies that tear her up inside because even if she loves one individual more, or in a different way, above all natalie loves the team. jackie is the reason they survive that first winter, and nat is the reason they make it out alive.

you’re lucky, you know? I think shit is gonna get a lot worse out here, but you’re already dead, so way to make everyone jealous of you one last time. I’m sorry for what we did. but who knows, eating you might be the reason we survive the winter, so…thanks. rest in peace, jackie.

who thinks jackie’s lucky, who’s jealous? certainly not everyone. ben probably. but the rest of them? they’re trying to survive. natalie is the one who’s jealous. natalie is the one who wishes she could avoid the darkness. but natalie knows she’ll stay alive, because they need her. and, just like she let’s go of the shit that jackie said to her and gives her the most genuine honoring and thanks of anyone (when she is the only one jackie was ever that harsh with), she’ll forgive the rest of them for their much deeper cruelties.

jackie served them in death, but nat is forced to serve them in life. and that is so much fucking harder.

[canonizzyhours]

New Year New Vent, and this one's coming in hot.

I genuinely do not understand the obsession behind Izzy, or why he amassed such a cult following out of all the characters in the show. There, I said it.

I am aware that this opinion is somewhat rhetorical. Because, the reason lies in the troublesome fandom trajectory of "let's form a cocoon around the shitty white man and make him the saddest, wettest, poorest little baby boy and turn a blind eye to characters of color and women," so I know there's explanation to be had there, but even still. So much of what people argue makes him so special can be found in so many other characters, and then some.

Wanting prosthetic or physical disability representation? Lucius is right there with his prosthetic finger. Jackie is right there with her fierce prosthetic hand. Ed is right there with his knee brace.

Older queer representation? Broadly gestures to basically every single character, most of which have much more solid and visible representation anyway.

An older man coming into himself and accepting parts of himself he had long been fighting with? Aggressively gestures to our two leads.

A character having to deal with their past and with subsequent trauma? Once again aggressively gesturing to our two leads, but also many other characters, too. Jim had an entire subplot dedicated to them and their trauma in Season One for crying out loud.

A pirate stepping away from the harsher and more violent nature of piracy? Ed is right there, and with a solid character arc at that.

A man dressing in drag? Wee John is right there (and I feel like his performance and look really got eclipsed for the song but that's a whole different rant).

Gender non-conformity, or trans representation? Jim is right there, and I believe one of the writers pointed out how many of Ed's arcs have trans/gnc symbolic ties (Don't even know where the aggressive insistence that Izzy is canonically trans even came from either, but again, whole different rant).

There is just so much goodness and representation to be found in so many characters. They are all so rich and developed and wonderful. In my opinion, that makes it so easy to feel seen and heard, as there are pieces of comfort and visibility to be found in such a wide scope. The show wants us to feel seen in that regard.

Yet, the focus lands on the angsty masc white man once more. I mean, really? Is fandom racism and prejudice really so rife? Again, rhetorical, but it just boggles my mind.

Also, all of this isn't to say that people can't make Izzy their favorite character. Just the "he's the main character" and "he's a victim and no one else" and equivalent behavior is just unfathomable to me. The bullying and the toxic insistence when there are so many other wonderful characters with wonderful arcs is absolutely unfathomable.

It would just be so fun and nice to appreciate him for the character he is, ie an antagonistic presence who is later shaped and swayed by his environment. Putting him in a jar and shaking him around makes sense (big thank you for this space), not whatever we've been left with.

#228.

[thestalkerbunny]

If you got any more serial killers oc I would give them death game powers.

Oh let me share some of my little SCAMPS.

Sue. E is a sort of Carrie-esque slasher, instead of just getting blood dumped on her-she had a whole pig head shoved on her head. Her name is a pun on Sooey, which is the noise you make to call a pig.

Calvin Black is also known as Prom King; he was a queer teen who was voted Prom King and then brutally murdered by the Prom Queen's infuriated boyfriend and his crew thinking Calvin's plan was to fuck the Prom Queen. He comes back as an undead revenant hell bent on revenge for his brutalization and torture. Calvin Black is just the masculine form of 'Carrie White' (I like the movie Carrie.)

Ephriam is a relatively harmless slasher. He lives on a pig farm with his parents and a violent accident involving a shot gun is what destroyed his face and ancient power on the property near the woods made him akin to a Shape-a semi-immortal,borderline mute creature with supernatural strength. He accidently wanders onto a porn film shoot and is persumed to be the 'hung talent' they were waiting for. No. He's just the local farmer's son who is very eager and amicable. He's a reference to Vincent from House of Wax and Bubba from Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

Mortimer isn't a slasher himself. But he is a happy accomplice to one as well as the enabler. His girlfriend is the sack faced Jackie who essentially is a homeless girl who welds a supernatural talking blade called Slashy that has passed hands of hundreds of 'Jacks' in history. Mortimer is her eager enabler, supporter, and number one fanboy.

I tragically have no proper art of Undead Ted because I can't settle on a design for him. But he's a Camp Ground slasher. He was once the grounds keeper of a Summer Camp and was well beloved until while trying to intervene on some councilors horrifically abusing a camper resulted in his death and his body being hidden on the property. Now he's violently hunting them down now the summer camp has reopened.

A new one that came up tonight is a Model whose face was corroded by toxic skin care products and as a result, she goes around killing people and harvesting their skin to give herself DIY skin grafts and her named is Scarlet; she's a reference to female rage movies as well as Patrick Bateman. No art of her yet. Maybe later.

[riverswaltz]

I truly believe that the real evil isn’t the wilderness, it’s what is inside the mind of these girls. The wilderness just let them be their true self which they could never be in a civil society. That’s why the adult version of these characters couldn’t resist the game even though they had every option to do so. Once you taste the way of wilderness, it never leaves you. It makes even more sense when you think about the animal metaphors like deer, bear and rabbit. Jackie symbolizes bear which is a vulnerable animal. It says a lot about her fate.

The wilderness also makes me think about ancient religions. Isn’t that how those fire, sun gods got invented? People will always either worship or loath something they can’t explain, in this case it’s the wilderness. Human’s natural urge to submit themselves to these inexplicable things. Who knows what our ancestors did to survive during those ancient times. This violent animalistic instinct has always been trapped inside a faraway corner our minds. Human mind is so complex and nobody is immune to “it”. The girls are only different than the average person because they were in that situation which brought out their violent side. Those who refused weren’t allowed to live by the “wilderness”. Jackie would’ve killed herself before participating in that game and eating javi. By that theory, misty and shauna are likely to be the final girls. Misty has always been fucked up and she owns it. Shauna can adjust to anything with a straight face no matter how gruesome that might be.

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

Just finished rereading the iliad, so thinking about Shauna and Jackie and Achilles and Patroklos, because the similarities are there.

The fight scene where Jackie (Patroklos) tells Shauna (Achilles) to get out because she can’t be around her at the moment, is, to me, similar to the scene where Patroklos is telling Achilles to go out and fight the Trojans.

And then Shauna (Achilles) tells her no, she won’t go out and if Jackie doesn’t feel like she can be around her that sounds like her problem, so maybe she should go out. Similar to Achilles not going out to fight the Trojans and save the Greeks, but instead agreeing to let Patroklos go out with his armor to help them.

Agreeing to go out is what causes both Jackie and Patroklos to die.

Before Jackie dies she has a dream (vision? whatever that was) where Shauna goes out to get her and bring her back inside, apologizing and giving her food. Similar to how Patroklos, before he died, killed many Trojans and believed he might be saving the Greeks after all.

Then it snows, and Jackie freezes to death outside (different to how Patroklos died, killed by Hector) and Shauna realizes what happened when she saw the snow through the window, and she runs outside to find Jackie’s corpse buried under the snow.

My friend is dead, Patroclus, my dearest friend of all. I loved him, And I killed him.

Now where the parallels get good.

Shauna, like Achilles, keeps Jackie/Patroklos’ corpse and visits it daily, talks to it, even does her makeup once. Achilles kept Patroklos’ corpse on their tent, and it wasn’t until Patroklos’ spirit came to him during a dream to tell him to give him a funeral, since otherwise he couldn’t enter the underworld, than Achilles started his funeral. Similar to how Shauna kept Jackie’s body until Tai said they had to get rid of her corpse and than what Shauna was doing wasn’t healthy.

They cremate Jackie, just like they cremated Patroklos.

Do not lay my bones apart from yours, but let them lie together

That’s what Patroklos spirit tells Achilles during that dream, which reminds me of “I don’t even know where you end and I begin”.

When he rejoins the battle, Patroclus does so as Achilles' surrogate, literally impersonating him by wearing his armor, and he represents Achilles' double as well as his opposite.

-Sheila Murnaghan, introduction of the Iliad, Stanley Lombardo’s version (1997)

In the most extreme moments of his grief for his most beloved person, Achilles presents Patroclus not as his child, parent, or wife, but as himself. The ultimate form of love is to see no difference between the self and the beloved. Patroclus' journey into battle wearing the armor of Achilles transforms him into his friend, in the eyes of the Trojans. He becomes Achilles also, tragically, in his violent death before the walls of Troy, killed by Trojans through the help of Apollo, just as Achilles soon will be. Once Patroclus is dead, Achilles tries to transform himself into his dead friend, by rolling in the dust and, like a dead man, abstaining from food, sleep, or sex. He anticipates joining Patroclus again, and becoming indistinguishable from him in death, when their bones are together in one jar."

-Emily Wilson, introduction of her version of the Iliad (2023)

Meanwhile Shauna (and the other girls, but she did it first) eats Jackie, Achilles doesn’t do that with Patroklos, but he does say this line

I wish my stomach would let me / Cut off your flesh in strips and eat it raw / For what you've done to me.

He says that to Hector, Patroklos’ killer, before killing him in revenge. Since Jackie didn’t have a killer (and if she did, it was Shauna, even if she chose to go out), Shauna has no one to kill in revenge, no one to wish to eat for the intense grief, so she turns to Jackie.

Also Jackie was always meant to die, she was doomed by the narrative, she died because she was meant for life outside the woods, for a normal life, the life they had before, she wasn’t meant for a cannibalistic cult, that’s kind of what Jackie’s death represents, she was a symbol of societal norms and hierarchies (being this popular prom queen and Shauna talking about how back home they were probably “missing their perfect little princess” and how Jackie tells her than she’s such a cliché for thinking of her and their relationship like that), whatever, but also Patroklos. He’s constantly described as gentle, kind. Which is weird to see given than he has one of the highest body counts in the book (if not the highest). Also people who are always described by those adjectives, kind, gentle, sweet people don’t usually belong in a war. Smh.

while Achilles is violent, quick to anger, and jealous of his own honor, Patroclus is gentle, concerned for the bonds of friendship between members of the army, and compassionate, and he reenters the war out of pity for the many Greeks who are dying because of Achilles' absence.

-Sheila Murnaghan, introduction of the Iliad, Stanley Lombardo’s version (1997)

Our Patroclus was, gentle and kind to all / When he was alive.

Then they gathered the bones of their gentle comrade

As Hector, who killed your gentle, valiant friend.

I will never stop grieving for you, forever sweet.

You killed his comrade, Gentle and strong,

Also, Achilles is described as having man-slaying hands. Isn’t Shauna the butcher of the yellowjackets?

[multiplicationdivision]

Nuclear Fission

Clint stood nervously by the door of Dr. Carlson. His nerves were fueled by a combination of anxiety and excitement as he waited, fiddling with the paper in his hand. A basic report he’d bunched up for delivery to the man, the perfect excuse to get to ask his big question.

Jackie was out for the week, which meant that Clint was left alone for once. A student assistant running all laborious operations in the lab, without his pesky supervisor to overthink everything. Jackie wouldn’t have let Clint do this, not under his careful watch. Clint would’ve just been pushing random objects through the device and gathering the products, ticking off checks on the data sheets and jotting down mundane observations.

Jackie was a fool for thinking Clint wouldn’t do this. Clint had been quite explicit in why he wanted to do the research that they did. Hell, he’d been hired because of those motivations. Dr. Carlson had said Clint had the crazy to do this research, that Clint was an ideal candidate. Jackie had remained vigilant in “protecting” him still, sweet but annoying with his lab safety.

Clint was nervous but confident in what the Doctor would say. He’d even dressed up for the occasion, although it would likely be impossible to tell. New cargo pants, new hiking boots, new long-sleeve. Everything new, even down to his fresh haircut. Clint was ready for today.

He’d knocked minutes ago but that was just how things were for Carlson. Always lost in his thoughts, that man. Never missed a thing but sometimes he took a bit to answer something like a knocked door. It came eventually with a strained “Come in” and the door gently swaying open with a loud creak.

Carlson was a beautiful man, somewhere in his sixties with warm dark skin. His face lit up with a shock of a white beard, finely shaved and sharp as a knife. He was dressed classily, in a brown suit and well-worn work boots. Muscular enough for the suit to be tight in all the right places.

It all served to contrast with the crazed dilation of his eyes, bright blue staring right in Clint’s. It was matched with an equally gleeful smile, although it was slightly tight from exertion. Dr. Carlson was currently wrestling a large squid back into his salt water tank, pressing its twsisting tentacles back into place amongst the anemone.

“Hello Clint!” the man’s happy and high voice sounded as the squid finally relented, squirming back under its hide in the corner. “You know how miniature krakens can be, so curious and violent” he said as he clipped the flimsy aquarium ceiling back down into place.

Miniature krakens did not exist. Not in most places.

“Hi Dr. Carlson, just wanted to check in today. Have the daily report for you, everything’s nominal. Zero molecular corruption with fission as usual” he drolled out, on the same script he did most days. Today was different though.

“Perfect!” Carlson exclaimed, happily tearing through the report. Writing down what looked like notes, but were in fact likely just happy faces and stars. Carlson could read these in his sleep, but always failed to contain his excitement. He quite literally tore off the last page in a flurry, it flopping down behind him.

His wild eyes once more fixated on Clint, intense and interested. “Great job keeping up with all this work Clint, considering the Jackie is out. Has he been doing well in his search?”

“Yup, sent a text yesterday. Says the haunted mansion was a success, chock full of ghost particles”

“Excellent! Always good to see Jackie making strides in his research. He should be making his way back in a few days. California is quite a long drive.”

Carlson’s eyes stared through Clint and sweat prickled his back. He needed to ask his question, but it was hard to voice it. Carlson was who he wanted to be when he finally got his PHD, all deranged and confident.

The doctor saved him from his misery.

“Anything you need Clint, considering that Jackie is gone?” he said, voice thick with an invitation. Clint would almost be tricked into believing it to be a flirtation had he not been around the man enough. Jackie called it his trouble voice, saturated with the eternal scientific question of “can we?” rather than “should we”. It made Clint smile in viscous return, his own crazy resonating alongside his mentors.

“I figured it was time for a different sort of testing on the machine now. It’s been cleared for all materials, biological and in-organic. Perfect fission is consistent and errors are in the zero. Safety has been completely assured with animal testing, specimens have been unaffected and thrive.” He rattled off, vomiting out the script he’d repeated in his head for the last two months.

“So much testing performed with completely perfect results, I know. The only barrier left had been Jackie, unfortunately” the doctor hummed. “He is an excellent PHD candidate, but he is too anxious. Won’t let us do the most fun parts of science. The dangerous and exciting bits. I’m sure you know what I mean”

Clint nodded and hoped with all his heart.

Carslon raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Like I’m gonna stop you from doing what you want. I’d be a hypocrite to stop a prospective scientist from sciencing their little heart out. I approve of this new line of testing, although I must supervise for fun”

“Fuck yeah!” Clint said, unable to stop himself. He couldn’t help himself. Four months of work all leading up to this point. Four months of work to succeed in the greatest dare he’d ever received.

“Fuck yeah.” The doctor repeated with a grin, getting up and heading to the door.

Clint was already sprinting down the hall.

——————————————————————————

Jackie knew he fucked up before he even opened the door. He’d been rightly distracted by his own needs. One simply can’t refuse capturing the consolidated theme park spirits of Disney world to use in hard science. Its completely irrefusable.

He still cringed as he heard the moans from inside the lab. Clearly Clint’s, but echoed a few times. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what had happened.

They were a lab specializing in the splitting of matter. Not the weak sauce splitting of atoms, the kind that was always liable to explode and reduce everything in a mile to cinders. They dealt in the proper splitting of the atom, a complete mitosis resulting in two daughter atoms. Both completely and perfectly identical to the original. Revolutionary work, defying the previous laws of physics with the creation of new matter.

Dr. Carlson often said that Oppenheimer could suck his dick. They held the real science of nuclear physics in this lab, so far from the low tech shit the rest of the world was dealing out.

Clint had been their first student in years. They weren’t a very exciting lab, consisting of only Jackie and Carlson. Compared to the size of the genetics lab headed by Dr. North down in Wester Hall, they were an insect. Why play with particle physics in the Carlson lab when you could study how to rewrite an entire genetic code at the North lab. It’s just what most STEM kids did at Melton Valley community college. That or animal and cryptid sciences. People went wild for Moth Man these days.

Clint had been a nightmare from the jump. He was insane from the moment he started talking in his interview and Jackie’s blood pressure had immediately shot up. The kid shared the same mad science as the twisted heart of Dr. Carlson and they were an unhealthy pair in running the lab into their shared insanity. They got along like a house of fire and Jackie was frantic in putting out the inferno they often literally produced.

Clint was working for them on a dare. He’d been honest about that and it had been why Dr. Carlson had hired him. His old frat mates had supposedly challenged him to be his own frat after a party. Clint had specified that they were still his buddies, no bad blood. Frat row had just had an empty house that no one wanted. A perfect cursed beauty, but MVC had never gotten enough students to fill all its housing.

He’d stated with conviction that they were going to help him fill it. They were a matter duplication lab and Jackie understood well the implication. Dr. Carlson had been out of his wits excited for such a ridiculous motivation. In his words, “It was a mark of genius to break physics on a dare”.

Clint was a sweet kid nonetheless. Always on time and always ready to work hard, whether it be on engineering or carrying things to and fro. Even surprised Jackie on his birthday, despite how Jackie had been stalling on human testing for so long. Jackie was just terrified of another crazy in the lab.

Hearing at least three identical voices exerting themselves past the door, he kicked himself for not having been there to at least pump the breaks a bit on the kid’s intentions.

He tried to keep it in his mind that he was supportive as he opened the door.

As expected, Dr. Carlson was typing away at his computer, completely ignoring the tangle of limbs next to him. He had his ear buds in and his phone screen clearly depicted the latest season of “Ice Road Truckers”. His data sheet was a mess of binary and random words, flowing across his screen in a constant pour.’

Clint meanwhile was the pile of bodies on the floor. The possibly contaminated floor. Jackie had thought he’d taught the idiot better.

There were four of him, pushing and repositioning themselves. Two were mostly clothed, their shirts pulled off or their pants pulled down enough for their cocks to dangle out. Two were entirely naked except for their shoes, one of them giving oral to the other. The one giving was also receiving, another Clint stroking his cock as another Clint in turn stroked his. A loop of sex, duplicates mumbling half pleas of “more” and “please”.

They were almost too far gone to notice Jackie make his way up to them, displeased expression apparent. He’d caught Clint masturbating before, but that was fine as long as the guy was careful. Jackie couldn’t care less, breaks were breaks. These dipshits could get glass in their buttholes or something though. Lab floors were gross.

“Boys” he interrupted. He heard the Clint sucking cock choke on it in surprise. Those with free mouths gawked at him, color flowing into their cheeks.

“I got permission” one of them said.

“Yeah, Dr. Carlson shot the neutrino himself. Felt surprisingly good, you’d be surprised”

“Don’t sweat it Jackie”

“Yeak don’t worry”

The little troupe of twenty-three-year-olds were all rushing to getting their pants up enough to cover their cum soaked briefs. The two naked Clints quietly bickered over a single set of clothes. Jackie could guess that one Clint had been thoroughly undressed before a duplication. One of those Clints appeared to give up, letting himself be the single with his dick out as the others became a little matched set. They each put on their innocent little face, squeezed against each other. Jackie didn’t fall for it.

“Get the fuck off the floor boys, you know better” he grumbled, moving past his student assistants to settle a jar in front of the Doctor. It glowed slightly, tiny bright dusty shapes swirling inside it. The action seemed to break Carlson out of his trucker trance, his excited smile directed straight at Jackie. The teeth were blindingly bright.

“You got your dreaming ghosts I see” the Doc exclaimed, shaking the jar and agitating the souls inside. “These will be perfect for your intangibility particle exercise!”

“Didn’t stop Clint, I see” he said, dead inside.

“Why would I” the doctor muttered as he inspected the jar. He moved to type the word “Spooky” onto the binary code before tossing the jar back into Jackie’s waiting hands. “You should make sure to centrifuge out the fanatic spirits, their slimy ideals get stuck in the purification analyzer.”

“Yeah sure….” Jackie sighed, watching the man press play on the video of the trucker reality show and reenter his trance of the data sheet. That left Jackie to the Clints.

They were messing with each other, having transitioned from fucking to a light rough housing. Bickering comfortably like old friends, each Clint unabashedly clicking into place in the company of their doubles. They each kept a constant contact with at least one of their doubles, seemingly on the edge of falling back into their orgy. Jackie had to deal with this mess of new student assistants another time. It was 7 PM on a Friday.

“Ok boys, I’m tired I just drove twelve hours to get here. I don’t understand why you shits are even here this late, the floor is a wild place to fuck. Go home please”, he said, rubbing his eyes. Not even his favorite podcasts could make that long in his truck bearable.

The naked Clint made to argue, but another quickly shut him up with a tug on his dick. That now dominant Clint spoke up, keeping the other quiet with an absentminded stroking. “Yeah yeah, lab safety and shit. Pretty uncomfortable here on the floor so I get it, all cold and dusty and covered in chemicals.”

“Yeah, we’ll head home, should be nicer” another spoke up.

“I didn’t get to finish though” the naked one whined.

“We’ll finish you up in the car bud” one of the clothed Clints promised.

“Yeah bud” another reassured, hooking his arm around the naked one with a grin.

“Boys I love this new development in our lives, but I just need you to leave the lab” Jackie said in his best boss voice. “Ya’ll can’t fuck here, its nasty. Being naked is against PPE rules, you could get a shard of glass up your butthole. I really shouldn’t have to explain this.”

Jackie watched the four boys roll their eyes as they lifted each other up, mumbling about how Jackie probably masturbates to the safety protocol. Clint had made that joke before, but Jackie just took it as a point of pride. He was, for instance, the only one in the room who hadn’t had a mutagenic parasite rearrange his bones. Lab safety in a place like this paid off.

The naked Clint stole a lab coat to cover up his glory as the others exited, one up front heartily claiming that he was driving and that the others could deal with their naked self. Technically taking a potentially contaminated lab coat out of lab was also against the protocol, but Jackie wasn’t going to argue against his student assistant avoiding flashing their janitor Carol on the way to Clint’s Nissan. Carol was too nice and had already seen too much eldritch garbage. Clint’s surprisingly large dick was too much on top of that for the poor forty-year-old.

“Bye Jackie” four identical voices harmonized; a sound Jackie would need to get used to. Jackie mustered a “Bye boys” before the lab door slammed close. The dear old Doctor even muttered a goodbye through his haze, but about twenty second too late.

Jackie glanced over at the machine that had done this, the obelisk of a matter duplicator taking up the lab space in the back. Pure white and still beeping and booping with system reports, its door still releasing a little bit of steam from multiple successful doublings. Surrounded on all sides by various duplicated objects, from pairs of Clint’s sneakers to two identical parakeets that just sort of lived there now.

Jackie couldn’t lie that it was at least a little bit inviting, in the way that the call of the void always was a tad tempting. He could imagine himself being lured into it after the Clints inevitably ran him ragged, two Jackies (or more) to take on the world. It was a ridiculous thought, no matter how insidiously interesting.

Jackie walked out the door before his tired brain could betray his sanity, leaving Carlson to his work. He wasn’t sure if the man slept, although he wasn’t really sure if the man was even human. He was inhumanly driven by a single-minded stupid goal. Just like Clint and just like Jackie.

Jackie liked to judge those two for being crazy but he was just as mad. Hell, he’d ridden a Disney ride for four hours straight collecting the souls from the ashes of crazy fans spread in it. He was creating equations that would bend science so he could get off too. He was amongst his people.

At least he was subtle about it.