#maybe the real crime here is being fucking boring

[astxriai]

the changes in tone are SO abrupt. there are ways quick changes in tone can be done well for dramatic effect (like the in gang confrontation in my neighbors the yamadas, for example) but here it’s giving whiplash, 2+ contrasting screenplays frankenstein’d together type vibes.

the theme of disillusionment with americana, which vladimir nabokov was sure to emphasize when talking about his vision for lolita’s cover is so pitifully underutilized. so is humbert’s narration. why even include it at all? it only pops at points where the movie can’t think of how to get its point across visually.

i’ll have to look into how much involvement nabokov had with the alterations made to adapt lolita for the screen. because who did this. who let this happen. how does one even manage to turn lolita into an aimless slog where an overwhelming majority of the emotional beats completely miss the mark???

hi all, i just finished reading/listening to vladamir nabokov’s fucking book of all time, lolita (the version narrated by jeremy irons). arresting as all get out, but i recommend it if you have the stomach for the subject matter.

i yelled, i cringed, i died, i had to pause the shit at multiple points and brace myself to continue. super tragic and heartbreaking, but i was completely morbidly fascinated by it. and it is so carefully written. the prose is masterful. the whole thing was super fricking coconuts, as one might say.

anyways, i’ve decided that i am going to watch both film adaptations, probably today (i finished the book at 4am this morning in a fugue state). mr. hitchcock is first on the chopping block and i do not have high hopes :D

[chugging-bleach]

"SOMETHING TO LOOK FORWARD TO." - the 4 times you almost met jason and the one time you did.

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✩ ⋅ ⋅✩ ⋅ ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ⋅✩ ⋅ ⋅✩ ⋅ ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ⋅✩ ⋅ ⋅✩ ⋅ ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ⋅ ✩ ⋅

summary. you regret not speaking to jason todd in high school. then, another masked vigilante by the name of red hood seems to make all your regrets dissolve.

tags. fluff, light angst, slight hurt/comfort, slow burn, eventual happy ending

a/n. this idea came from a jason todd x <y/n> fic i am in the process of writing (if you would like to know when it comes out, follow or check out my ao3). i hope you enjoy reading this <3 feel free to request anything you would like to see me write.

the first time.

gotham high, located at the heart of crime alley, was for lack of a better word shitty. you hated studying, you never got along with anyone and prayed that the time went by fast. the only thing that made you keep going back to high school was staring at that handsome boy with bright blue eyes and ratty black hair who sat a seat ahead of you. how he made it to first place each year was a mystery to you since he was constantly skipping class.

what kept you going was looking forward to that one day he would attend class and then you could stare at the back of his head to make the time go by faster. one day you knew that you would want to freeze this moment and make it last forever, but for now, staring will do. not like jason would care and catch you looking.

then one day he completely stopped showing up. you thought he would come back. but then you graduated. without him ever returning. you hated yourself for never trying to talk to him. you should have spoken to him rather than staring holes into him. actually, staring at him must have been super creepy. were you the reason why he stopped coming to school? creeped out by the girl who bore holes into him, just staring and staring? regardless of the real reason, you know that you would always regret not talking to him. not being able to thank him for making school a little better.

the second time.

as was routine for gothamites, you get saved from some large attack from some big shot criminal at the hands of batman and robin. you were a bit upset at being saved since you really wouldn't mind dying at the hands of a rouge robber. you had nothing to look forward to. there wasn't enough money to go to university. bills piled up no matter how many jobs you worked.

you snap out of your thoughts when robin puts a shock blanket around you and instead of being grateful, you throw it on the floor. you remember that you have to get back to work otherwise you'll be behind on rent again.

"where are you going?" batman placed a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

"work," you simply say.

"stay put for a while. we need to make sure you're alright."

"well, i won't be alright if i don't work and miss rent. again."

you just talked back to the batman. maybe he will kill you and then you might die quicker than working yourself to death.

"let me handle this one," and then robin is making you sit down next to him. you were trying to avoid robin knowing that you will project your regret on to him. the regret of never being able to talk to jason since both jason and robin have eerily similar features. work is just an excuse. you need to leave.

"please. i won't make rent. let me go."

"mad respect talking to him like that. but, you inhaled some poison gas. take the antidote. then you can go back."

"give it to the others here. i don't give a fuck."

you know you shouldn't be this angry. but you are this angry. at yourself. and robin has made that anger surface.

"how about i give you something to look forward to? then you'll stay for the antidote?"

"the person i looked forward to seeing disappeared before i could talk to him," you say before you can stop yourself. you feel ridiculous admitting it, that just staring at some random boy gave you hope. but it did. and now that boy wasn't there anymore.

"that dumbass didn't know how lucky he was."

you shook your head. "he truly is lucky. he was adopted by bruce wayne. i just... he made school less shitty even though he doesn't even know who i am and before i could thank him he was gone. it's stupid, i know, but i just wanted to say thank you to him. like, thank you, jason. that's it. and i'll never get to say it."

robin puts the shock blanket around you again. he was silent. "i'm sorry for saying all that. but now that i said it, i'll thank you instead of him." you turned and stared at robin's eye mask, imagining it was jason. it wasn't that difficult, considering they both had the same bright blue eyes and ratty black hair.

"thank you, jason for not getting creeped out by all my staring." you feel much lighter. maybe you just had to talk to someone. robin rises from your side.

"i'm sure that dumbass heard your thanks, though i'm sure he doesn't deserve any of it."

third time.

life at gotham, heart of wacky and dangerous criminals, was for lack of a better word still shitty. you never saved up nearly enough to go to university but managed to get a decent-ish job at three diners which paid nearly enough for being located in gotham.

you were wiping down table tops and listening to the news playing the death anniversary of jason todd, bruce wayne’s adopted son. it was tragic to die that young. and you were surprised the news didn't leave you as heartbroken as you had thought it would.

you continued wiping down the counters, when for the third time today, thugs burst in and demanded to be served. as per policy, you served anyone especially the dangerous sort. before you could get menus for them and think of how to explain to the next diner that yes, thugs broke in after her shift ended yet again, a person wearing a red helmet/mask comes inside, drags the thugs outside with a "not so fast," and that's that. your shift's over. instead of missing the next job, you will be arriving late, which won't be that difficult to explain.

you finish tidying up and leave.

the strange man with the red helmet has tied up the thugs and left them at the side of the pavement. he is ready to leave on his motorcycle. you make a move to leave, accustomed to strange costumed people taking care of thugs like this.

"for all that trouble, want a ride?" you think being kidnapped won't be too bad. not like you have anything to look forward to.

"sure."

just as quickly as he had tied those thugs up without fanfare, you were sitting behind him, arms wrapped around his waist. you whispered the directions of the place adding, "didn't know this was part of the whole hero thing. giving people free lifts to places."

"you would be surprised how much money i burn on gas for these free lifts."

he drove way too fast. you tightened your hold on him, afraid you were gonna fly off. any conversation was impossible with the loud noise of the engine. but it felt freeing to go this recklessly fast.

"wonder who you need to see here."

oh no. you gave the wrong directions. you were not planning to do this. damn the news for reminding you. you promised last year was the last time you would do this.

before you can stop yourself, you're crying. you were heartbroken after all. "i don't know why i do this to myself each year. he never even knew me," you choke out. you had gotten off the bike at some point, expecting this person to leave.

"if it gives you peace to visit this person, you should. besides this punk is lucky to have you visit him."

ignoring the sense of deja vu you were getting, you shook your head. "jason was anything but lucky. he died so young. i never knew him. i wish i knew him better." he lended you his shoulder to cry on. you had more regrets than you had previously thought. "he did not deserve to die young."

your tears sat on top of his leather jacket and you moved to wipe them away with your napkin. instead, he stops you, wiping your tears away with the pads of his gloved fingers.

"he seriously is a lucky boy to have you visit and cry for him"

fourth time.

you were saving up money to move out of this shithole. nothing was tying you down to this place and there were new vigilantes and new villains rising everyday. none of the other cities were safe, but you had heard they offered better jobs and more affordable bills. less leaky ceilings. you never went to college so jobs still were a little difficult to get, but otherwise, you would be paid more as a server at anyother city, except gotham. if not working for wayne enterprises, jobs were a struggle in gotham. life was a struggle. you remarked upon how you made it this far.

then, someone broke through your window.

the first thought - for fuck's sake, who was gonna pay for it?

second - oh it's red hood, he will pay for it.

this is not the first time a vigilante crashed through your window. being a gothamite sucks.

you brushed the pieces of glass away from his leather jacket and surveyed him for damage. he did not seem hurt. only mildly annoyed. the red helmet wouldn't be enough to conceal his reaction from her.

"coffee as per usual? along with the window repairs and cleanup?"

you swear he is frowning under that helmet. not at you, but at the person who threw him. you don't wait for his answer, already preparing his coffee.

"help me up?"

"what? are your legs broken?"

"they are if you will carry me."

"red, combining you and the rest of your little clique this is the tenth time my window has been broken. sixth time by you, alone."

the person you met on jason todd's death anniversary was red hood. he was an anti-batman vigilante and you couldn't have given two shits. except, red made you give two shits. after that first day at the diner, he kept coming back to pick up food during your shifts. when the diner inevitably burned down, he came to the other diner you started working at. then it was crashing through your apartment window. then it was crashing with robin through your apartment window.

you were overjoyed when he came, but it was best you push him away before he got too close, and up and disappeared like jason had. looking forward to things like this was a curse.

"hope i make it to a seventh. seventh times the charm."

"charm for what?" you say, slamming the mug in front of him, with a little more force than you wanted to.

"for my charm to work on you." he winked and took a sip from the cup. his other hand rested on top of yours and your heart wrenched in your chest. you really wanted to know red hood better. you wanted him to keep crashing through your window instead of entering through the front door. but then he would die during patrol and you would have nothing more to look forward to. again. you carefully free your hand from his, ignoring his puzzled expression and the dejection you feel separating from him.

you have to stop this. "listen, you shouldn't see me anymore."

"why?

"i don't...don't need you to disappear too. jason disappearing was horrible and he wasn't safe with the most powerful billionaire in gotham. you break in through people's windows. what if next time you break something? like your spine or..."

you expect red hood to laugh at you. you were a minuscule, microscopic part of jason's life. he shouldn't be this huge a part of your life. if he were alive, you knew the regret wouldn't eat you up inside. but he wasn't alive. you couldn't hold that moment as a happy memory of a stupid thing you did in high school.

"all i'm hearing is, breaking your window is fine but not my bones. i guess that's doable."

you smack him, knowing that it wouldn't even hurt. "i'm serious. besides, once i have enough money, i will be moving out of gotham. don't come here. please." you were miles away from moving out. you knew red hood knew that.

you did this to save yourself the hurt and regret, but as you saw him leave from the front door, you knew you caused yourself more hurt and regret than last time. jason was far away from the beginning. you had chances to get to know red hood better. used to have chances.

jason was dead. red hood was right in front of your eyes and interested to keep seeing you. you had messed up.

he would never come back.

the last time.

instead of wallowing in your heartbreak, it was time to give back to the community you grew up in. moving out was an impossible dream you gave up on. instead, you got more involved in elder homes and joined their knitting circles.

it had been a month since red hood was gone. you couldn't believe it had been an entire year since you saw him, on jason's death anniversary of all days. yes, you couldn't help but regret that you made another mistake. red hood knew about you and wanted to know you better, to the point where he broke into your house.

like clockwork, you went to go see jason's grave, finding out that the grave wasn't there anymore. it wouldn't be there anymore at the request of the wayne family.

you cried outside the gates of the cemetery, knowing that this wasn't where he was laid to rest. jason's real body was in wayne manor, not here. this was for the public.

with red hood gone, you had nothing left to look forward to. you were a dumbass.

"need a ride?" you thought you were hallucinating. you looked up with teary eyes and confirmed it was the red hood. except, his helmet was off. you stared at him, dumbfounded. he had dishevelled black hair and bright, blue eyes. you sniffled, letting him drag you to your feet. you shook your head.

"jason's grave isn't here."

you were clutching the flowers in your hands. the red hood took them from you and bowed, pink flushing his cheeks.

"yes, that's 'cause i'm here. thanks for the flowers."

you gaped at him. "you're jason? you mean your name is jason too?"

guess it checks out. red hood knew about your strange connection to jason todd so he didn't tell you his real name. he chuckled, pulling you close, pressing a gentle kiss on each of your glistening cheeks. if you weren't shocked, you probably would be ecstatic about this development.

"it's time you learnt more about jason todd rather than staring and let me learn about you, <y/n>. i have been looking forward to learning more about you."

//bonus//

jason had no idea about before the diner incident. he remembered the (y/n) from when he was robin, once they arrived at the cemetery. but, he didn’t remember anything from high school as he barely attended. then, his crush on (y/n) was born.

the batsiblings were tired of seeing jason delay his confession, so they threw him through the window. once jason took tim with him. this totalled the count - three times tim as casualty, one time jason and tim, six times jason. all the costs were billed to bruce wayne as 'civilian casualties' code for ‘of course we broke through the window. it’s the batmove to pick up chicks.'

[undreaming-fanfiction]

In honor of Easter...

Eddie Munson can't sleep. Maybe it was the almost expired can of spaghetti that he had for dinner, maybe it's the new campaign he's itching to plan, maybe it's being back in the Hawkins High with yet another fight for graduation he's bound to lose because his literature teacher was yet another victim of Danny Munson's petty crimes, and what better revenge than to repeatedly fail his son that Danny lost to social services ten years ago?

Or maybe it's the weird rustling under his window.

Now Eddie, he's a survivor. He runs, yes, but that's because there's nothing to protect. His honor? Oh please.

But if there's someone trying to break into the only real home he's ever known? That's different.

He grabs an empty beer bottle that he's been intending to throw out for a week or so and heroically - and stupidly - jumps out of his window. He expects to maybe land into a bush. Do a superhero landing or something.

What he doesn't expect is a pained wheeze and "what the fuck?!" yelled by his landing zone.

Eddie scrambles back to his feet and raises the bottle. Perhaps he should have broken it first to make it more threatening? He swings it against the trailer wall and it shatters almost completely, leaving him with a small ring of glass in hand.

The figure he landed on curses again and tries to scramble back on their feet.

Eddie raises the pitiful remains of the bottle. "Uh. Stop you...you scoundrel!" he threatens, except it doesn't sound like a threat, more like a plea. "Or I'll stab you with this..." he looks at the glass ring again, "...with this."

He hopes the intruder will flee. More likely, he's going to be jumped, punched and killed. But what Eddie absolutely does not expect is the town's pretty boy, Steve Harrington, dusting his knees and glaring at Eddie with hands on hips like a pissed off soccer mom. "Jesus Christ, Munson, are you trying to wake up the whole park?" he hisses.

Eddie suddenly feels very stupid. He lets go of the broken bottle and it lands in the dirt with a quiet clink. "Harrington? Uh...dude, I mean no disrespect and all, but why are you under my window?"

Steve's look could kill. "It's Easter tomorrow, what do you think I'm doing? Hiding eggs." He points to the basket full of eggs nearby.

It makes sense. Except it doesn't. Eddie pokes the eggs and they don't explode, so at least that's good. "Why on earth would you, Steve "the Hair" Harrington, be hiding eggs in a trailer park? Don't you have like, a fancy neighborhood to do this in? With Belgian chocolate eggs and champaigne for the bored moms and stuff like that?"

Steve sighs and runs fingers through his hair. Eddie notices with a pang of guilt that it's flattened where his foot landed. That's also a good moment to realize that he's only in his boxers and a t-shirt and barefoot.

But Steve doesn't seem to notice. He just vaguely gestures around. "Those neighborhoods have committees and stuff like that. And it's normal there. Look, I don't think local kids have a lot of good stuff going on. I know one of them, and she deserves to have one day like a normal kid, no worries, no thinking if her mom can afford it. So I'm preparing an egg hunt here. Or I was, before someone half-naked dropped on top of me and shattered a bottle over a pretty good hiding spot I found."

"Shit! Sorry!" Eddie immediately starts picking up the shards, or at least tries to in the dark. At least until a large hand grabs his own.

"Christ, Munson! Stop!" Steve hisses. "Do you want to cut yourself? I will just move the egg somewhere else and pick up the glass before it starts in the morning. And for fuck's sake, stop moving! Do you want to step on a shard?"

That finally calms Eddie down. He sighs and hangs his head down. "You know, Harrington, one might think you're a good dude. If one wasn't careful."

Steve nudges his side. "One should be careful. Now come on, I will give you a boost." When Eddie stares at him, he adds: "to your window. You want to go back to sleep, no?"

Eddie clears his throat. "Actually, I was thinking I'd love to grab my sneakers and help you, I know a lot of good hiding spots. Is that cool?"

Harrington thinks for a moment, then he nods. "Yep, cool. Now, do you need a lift?"

Back in the familiar clutter of his bedroom, Eddie thinks it was a fever dream, a hallucination from a food poisoning, the final revenge of the spaghetti can.

But then he hears Harrington whisper after him: "Don't you dare come out without those sneakers, Munson! No bare feet are getting near shattered glass on my watch!"

And Eddie just snickers, leans out of the window and whispers back: "For you, big boy? I'll even wear pants!"

[void-dude]

Shapes and Pines AU FAN-MASTERLIST

THAT'S RIGHT FOLKS YOU GUYS GET YOUR OWN LIST BECAUSE YOU'RE DROWNING ME WITH CONTENT!

Canon content -> Masterlist 1

!Fanart?! (I LOVE IT ALL)

Money <3

Crossover time

Taking whats not yours

MARRIED LIFE

obsessed with this guy

Crossover time 2

⚠️ superior shape 🟪

Las Vegas shenanigans

Mornin' hun

Stan the greaser

Eepy sleepy

old man seduction

infected with this freak

Crime Husbands

Peas and Love

crossover 3

I think they are delightful

concept human ted

TAD MOTHER FUCKING STRANGE

He makes me laugh...

Human Tad Strange kinda

Mister Mystery Tonic

Human Tad Plus Euclydian Stan

Notebook doodles

TAD TAD TAD

12 long years and now he's back!

Tiny Tads

HOT TO GO

Square…shape of evil

Smash or pass

Human Tad plus tiny doodles

Human Tad but he's silly

They are resting and snoozing

Despite the scars

OC time?!?

Tad in theraprism?!

Human Tad and the best sweater ever

If you call my name there will be no answer

Let me kiss it better

Mary Poppins

THEY MOVE

Swooning over stan

SHAPES!!

Widdle baby square

Pine rumors

You took away my buddy...

Human Tad he's so fancy

Paper puppet oh my goodness

Boy why are you so

HOT TO GO

Happy and safe

He's sad :(

IT SHOULD'VE BEEN ME!!!

Squares and man

Did this actually happen?

doodles of young Bill and Tad

They're pretty, right?

tad strange but brain rot

They are sleepy

IM FINE

The boys are fighting

Birthday boy

Well that was tragic!

Humanization beam

What a boring white space

He loves him!

Human strange man

The third journal

Trust me

anxious wreck

eepy sleepy

don't look

save me..

I'm not Billy anymore

He kinda funny lookin

Ya wanna keep holding my hand?

Worlds collide

I feel totally normal about this man….

Billy’s caretakers can never catch a break

Human Tad again

Being disgusting on that boat

Is this a Relativity Falls AU?

Silly shapes

*randomly drops Stadley*

HES REAL

Them cooking!

brought "irl Tad" into being CW DRUGS

!FANFIC?!

Baby it's cold outside

Nightmare Tad

Did you forget our anniversary?

A stupid idea

Dipper & Mabel VS The Multiverse

Well… this is a tad strange

Keep your eye clear

Maybe...

And for the rest of the night, his dreams were quiet.

Then get your ass over here, big guy

I got game

[casanovawrites]

random sentence prompts  ━ from various tv shows, part 11

you’ve been such a pain in my ass.

you’re the most fascinating person i’ve ever known.

can you stop needing to be the hero here?

people don’t just disappear. 

we are saying goodbye. just not to each other. we’re saying goodbye to everything else, our old lives.

everything that kept us safe is gone.

i would rather prepare for the worst before the worst happens.

i am basically 100% headache right now.

you’re the only one who ever let me feel normal.

maybe i suck too. i just don’t know how yet.

i’m not choosing anyone. i’m choosing work over play.

doesn’t it feel like everyone wants us to be someone we’re not?

a sleepover? am i invited?

it has to be you. you’re all we’ve got.

you know me. we know each other.

it’s called keeping up with the times, asshole.

but fuck all of you, and i mean that.

people don’t usually follow my lead, if you know what i mean.

there’s nothing wrong with us.

i want your point of view on things.

you’re killing me. you get that, right? that’s what you’re asking me. to die for you.

i’ll follow your rules. that’s all you get.

i’d love to trade witty one-liners with you.

you’re the worst. you know that, right?

today is the first time in my life that feels like the right time.

there is a point to everything. there are answers.

god doesn’t just play games with people for fun.

the sun just keeps coming up every day, and you can’t cry forever. 

you have to have hope, don’t you? because who knows. maybe tomorrow.

you don’t get to decide what matters.

a lot of what’s happening is us being scared, and alone, and bored. so we do scary things to each other, we hurt each other. 

it’s like she wants to turn the whole world upside down.

who’s been there for you more than me?

bullshit. we’re not the same person.

you didn’t pick me. because you didn’t think i belonged.

if i had to pick anyone in the world when things got bad, i’d pick you.

this isn’t about us. this has nothing to do with us.

there is no us. because of everything.

i love you. i know i don’t always show it, but i do. i love you.

the universe does not care about your love life.

i’m not sad. i’m pissed off.

you say too many things you don’t mean.

i’ve thought a lot about dying. i’ve gotten used to that. but i don’t like to be afraid.

sometimes when i’m angry, i want to hurt people.

i’m worried that i’m not real.

all you can do is have an advantage, and this is mine. it’s all i have.

what i did is not the worst crime in the world.

given everything, can’t i get a tiny break?

why? what’s so special about me?

are we going to fight each other over food? that’s fucking crazy.

you can live wherever you want, just not with me.

we should get some food, before it’s all gone.

what if things don’t go back to the way they were?

don’t give me a fucking speech. you have no idea.

i guess i can learn to get along with a few more people.

what’s so hard about being honest with yourself?

it’s been ten days. i’m not the same person i was.

if there are things that need to be done, i want to do them.

there are no sides anymore.

you’re the best decision i’ve ever made.

we’re the same. you have to stick with your own.

i’m scared, and i have to take care of myself.

i live in your shadow, and now you suddenly want to disappear?

you know that you’re the love of my life? and whatever comes after this.

if this is it, this is where i want to be. i mean not here, but with you. you’re where i want to be.

i was a different person before we fell in love.

thank you. for loving me. 

right now, we could use all the love we can get. 

you get scared, and you get mean.

is this how you want to spend the time you have left? always looking over your shoulder?

you’re giving me a headache instead of having my back.

it’s just, sometimes i know what i want, i just don’t know how to say it.

the only feelings that anyone cares about are yours. 

people keep dying around me.

i feel really lucky to have you. you’re my rock.

the end is none of your business.

i like you exactly the way you are.

i’m so sick of feeling different from everyone else.

after “fuck you,” i don’t have much.

i think about you too much.

i don’t think about you.

i’m not scared. i’m just realistic.

it feels like i’ve been starting forever.

no one cares about the best player on the worst team.

i’m tired of losing. i just don’t know what to do.

that’s hopelessly romantic. and this isn’t hopeless.

i haven’t been happy all year. why start now?

i’m sorry i can’t turn off my feelings whenever you want.

seems like everything i do hurts your feelings.

i care about you. i just don’t know how to prove it.

i like who i am in your eyes. i like how you see me.

i’m not sure i like myself in a relationship.

i’m way easier to replace.

when it ends, it’ll hurt.

the right thing is just to be here with you.

death is not beautiful, it’s final.

i keep failing everyone, and i don’t know what to do.

i don’t feel sad. i feel numb.

i ask people if they’re all right too much.

you never needed me. you needed someone.

i made myself sick to make you feel better.

this whole time i thought it was dying, but it’s living what scares you

you’re afraid to commit, and i need constant validation. 

you don’t belong here. not after what you did.

there is no mystery here. nothing to avenge.

i made a wish, and it came true, and i couldn’t take it back.

he was a bad person and a worse father. the world is better off without him.

you never know when to stop, do you?

you do whatever it takes to survive. or you die.

you think i didn’t try everything to get back to my family?

[too-much-tma-stuff]

I Never Blamed You (Part 6)

So, where has Dick been?

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Dick was not going to reach out to Bruce first, he absolutely was not. He wasn’t wrong, and Bruce was never going to change anyway! Their fighting was the reason he had gone to Bludhaven in the first place, and their relationship had only gotten worse when Bruce had taken in Jason, and worse again when he died. Dick had blamed Bruce, but he had blamed himself more, for not being a better brother to the kid. Ya sure he hadn’t wanted a brother, but that was how siblings usually worked! He should have been there! And now here he was, not being here for Tim either, and feeling like complete shit about it.

He apartment was a fucking pigsty and he didn’t clean it. He hadn’t been taking care of himself, he’d been eating junk, he was barely sleeping. He was not doing well and he didn’t care. He didn’t care about much other than his patrols and being Nightwing, he didn’t care about much besides saving people. Like maybe if he saved enough strangers he could make up for not saving his brother.

He couldn't. 

He still checked in on the rest of the family sometimes, and he never blocked Batman on official channels so if they really needed help they could call him. Bruce had never blocked Dick either, or locked him out of their servers, if he did Dick would probably cry.

It had been a few months so it was time to check in again. He still wasn’t locked out thankfully, so he had a look around at the most recently updated files. What were Bruce and Tim having issues with in Gotham?

The most accessed file in the last few weeks was the one on Red Hood and his partner Hyena. Dick really didn’t know that much about them besides they were Gotham’s new crime lords, and he had heard on the news Hyena had killed the Joker. Dick felt like he owed Hyena for that. He had succeeded where Dick had failed after all. He still held a small grudge against the people who had resuscitated the bastard, Nightwing had killed him on purpose after all.

Dick opened the file on Hood, propped his chin on one fist and leaning against the desk, bored and tired, ready to skim the file before moving on. He froze, his body going completely rigid as any trace of his previous fatigue fled his body.

Alias: Red Hood

Civilian name: Jason Todd

It couldn’t be the same Jason Todd, he was dead, it had to be an awful coincidence surely! But he read on with rebid hope anyway. It wasn’t a coincidence. It was Jason, the Baby bird. He’d grown so much, he’d changed so much! 

Dick barely remembered to turn off his computer before he grabbed his suit and headed straight for Gotham, and Crime Alley. 

It was half a miracle that Dick didn’t crash on his way to Gotham with how fast he was going, and how little attention he was paying. He wound in and out of traffic to get to his little brother as quickly as possible, ignoring everything else till he reached Crime Alley. He abandoned his bike more than parked it, and went looking for Red Hood.

They must have access to the cameras in the Alley, or maybe just a network of informants, because they came to meet him long before he would have found them. Both Hyena and Hood were there, but as soon as Dick saw Red Hood he zeroed in and barely noticed Hyena, didn’t even hear the way he snarled when Dick rushed towards Jason.

Jason made a ‘down’ gesture to Hyena who subsided and stopped growling, fading partially into the shadows, though he was still watching them intently. 

“Is that really you Little Wing?” Dick breathed, he felt like the hope was choking him and he didn’t even know if it was real. He’d had delusions and hallucinations before, and Jason featured in them regularly. Hood looked tense, his arms were crossed and his posture closed off, he didn’t seem exactly happy to see Dick.

“What do you want, Big Bird?” He asked. The nickname, even through the modulator Dick recognized the way Jason said it.

Dick was shaking he realized, and he could feel the burning of tears behind his eyes as he crumpled in on himself. Hardly a warm reception, but of course it wasn’t. Why would Jason want to see him? He had been a terrible brother, he hadn’t been there when Jason needed him, he hadn’t been there for Tim. He shouldn’t have come, shouldn’t have intruded on Jason’s new life. He was probably better off without Dick anyway.

“I’m so sorry,” He managed to choke out. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, that I wasn’t here. B didn’t tell me, you- No, you didn’t have to tell me, you don’t have to accept my apology. But I wish-” He was interrupted by a little hiccupping sob. He shook his head and brushed away his tears with the back of his hand, furious at himself for his useless self pity. “I wish I’d been a better brother to you. I should have been there, I should have saved you.”

A pair of strong arms wrapped around Dick and he surrendered to them immediately, if Jason hurt him he probably deserved it. But no, Jason just… held him. “I don’t blame you Dicky,” Jason said softly and the floodgates just broke. Dick wrapped his arms back around Jason and sobbed into his broad chest, clinging like a child and barely processing it as he was picked up. Hyena leading the way and Jason brought him to their nearest safehouse.

Dick passed out before they got there. 

----------

Danny opened the door for Jason and quickly disabled all the traps so Jason could carry Dick in and lay him down on the couch. He covered Dick with a throw blanket and slumped down into a chair, taking his helmet off and took a deep breath, letting his head fall back against the chair with a soft thunk. 

Danny trotted to the kitchen and put a pot of coffee on to brew. Once it was done and Jason had a moment to collect himself Danny poured Jason a cup. He pressed it into Jason’s hand and curled up on Jason’s lap purring softly, Jason was sure he wasn’t actually happy right now, but knew Jason found the sound soothing and was doing it for his benefit. He appreciated it.

He absently rubbed Danny’s back while he processed his feelings. Danny didn’t say anything, they never really demanded answers of each other, Jason appreciated that too.

“I didn’t know he cared this much, or that he was doing this badly,” Jason told Danny softly. “I should have reached out to him. I thought he already knew and just didn’t care.”

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t have a great relationship with him before did you? You didn’t think those things for no reason,” Danny told him. 

“Ya, he’d left by the time Bruce took me in and he was barely around. And when he was Bruce and he would fight and he’d storm off,” Jason said with a sigh. “But he’s thinner now, and so tired. I didn’t realize-” He cut himself off, hiding his face in Danny’s shoulder.

“He’s here now, we’ll work it out,” Danny promised, and his confidence did soothe Jason, at least enough to come out of hiding and sip his coffee.

---------

Dick woke up to the smell of fresh baked bread and cinnamon. For a moment he thought that he must be at the manor, and it felt like it had when he was a kid, but when he stretched he realized he was sleeping on a couch. He paused for a moment, and all the memories from before came back. He sat up abruptly and looked around wildly. 

“Well welcome back Sleeping Beauty. Seriously, how long has it been since you slept?!” Jason asked, and the other man sitting at the kitchen island cackled. He recognized the laugh, even if Hyena was out of his suit. “You’ve been asleep all night, I made cinnamon rolls.” 

As if to prove it Hyena held up his half eaten cinnamon roll, and then took another big bite. “There’s coffee too,” Hyena said with his mouth full, Jason whacked him with a spatula for it and Hyena dramatically pretended to be hurt. Jason rolled his eyes. 

Dick blinked and got up, warily approaching the counter as if he expected them to reject or attack him. Jason just got him a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll as he sat down. Dick picked it up and nibbled it, it was delicious enough that he kept picking at it, even though he didn’t have much of an appetite. 

“How long have you been back?” Dick asked Jason softly. He should introduce himself to Hyena properly, but he couldn’t seem to focus on anything but Jason right now. He’d grown so much, he looked older than he was. Where had that little boy gone?

“I came back about six months after my death but I wasn’t all there,” Jason said, turning away to pour his own cup of coffee. “The League of Shadows found me and dumped me in the Pit. I had the worst case of Pit Madness afterwards. It took me a year of training with them, and another year with the All-Cast before I really knew who I was enough to come back to Gotham, and I’m still not the same as I was before. I never will be,” Jason said like a warning as he pulled up a stool and sat down across from Dick and Hyena. 

“They’re pretty common ongoing side effects of resurrection like that,” Hyena added, finally drawing Dick’s attention to him. “Increased violence and obsessive tendencies are pretty normal. So are the grudges and the need for closure, I mean, it makes perfect sense doesn’t it?”

He stretched across the table towards Jason, and Dick finally noticed the white in his hair. It matched Jason’s now, though the placement was different. Jason absently brushed his fingers over Hyena’s open palm in a brief but practiced caress. Hyena grinned up at him fondly. It made Dick feel out of place.

“How would you know?” Dick bristled, he didn’t mean to, and he shouldn’t have. He just hated how well Hyena obviously knew Jason when Dick didn’t know him at all. He had always been a bit of a jealous person.

“Because I died too and I was the same! And I wasn’t even exposed to this Pit stuff,” Hyena explained with a little shrug before straightening up again.

“Oh,” Dick sounded, deflating again, he really shouldn’t be picking fights. He'd rather focus on Jason anyway. “Why didn’t you tell me you were back,” He said looking at Jason and trying not to cry again. “You’ve been back for, what, 8 months? You could have reached out.”

“I didn’t think you'd care, we weren’t exactly close,” Jason said with a  shrug. Dick felt like he had been punched in the gut. “When I revealed myself to Bruce and asked why he hadn’t avenged me he threw a batarang at me to stop me from killing the joker and slit my throat,” He said, tilting his head to show the scar. Dick felt like he might throw up at the sight. “I guess I didn’t want to risk reaching out again.

“I figured I was pretty well disowned and didn’t have a family anymore-”

“Besides me!” Hyena chirped, smiling at Jason who gave his partner a look of fond exasperation. 

“Yes, besides you. So I just kept going with what I was doing, making Crime Alley a safer place and stuff. I did reach out to Tim and we’ve had dinner a few times, but I guess I figured… I heard through the grapevine you didn’t come to my funeral. I didn’t think there was any reason to reach out.”

“I was just in denial,” Dick admitted in a near whisper. “I didn’t want to believe you were gone. I never got a chance to be a better brother, I thought that I’d have more time I guess. Bruce and I, we both fell apart after your death. He got violent to the point Tim felt like he needed to step in,” Jason was nodding, Tim must have told him about that. “But I did too, I had nightmares, and didn’t sleep to the point I started hallucinating you. I beat the Joker to death and never forgave the fucking EMTs who resuscitated him, even though I couldn’t bring myself to do it again.” He sighed and rubbed his face. “I missed you.”

“Damn… I’m sorry Dick, if I'd known it fucked you up that bad I would have reached out. I just assumed since Bruce and Tim knew, you must know too. I wasn’t that surprised you didn’t come, but I didn’t blame you.

"Not this time, and not when I died either. I was mad at Bruce, not you, you didn’t ask for a brother and I understood that. I wasn't your responsibility.

"But, I guess, you’re here now, and I am too. We can try and start over. It’ll have to be slow though,” he glanced at Hyena, who nodded encouragingly. “This is going to be… a lot. For both of us I’m sure.” 

“Right,” Dick agreed sheepishly. “Whatever you need Little Wing, I’m sorry I just showed up without warning last night. I just needed to see you.”

“It’s okay, I’m… glad to know you care. No one told me that you tried to kill the Joker.” Jason paused and shoved the plate of cinnamon rolls towards Hyena. Huh, Dick hadn’t noticed him trying to sneak another one. Hyena looked sheepish as he took another, Jason shook his head at his boyfriend before continuing. “Just take better care of yourself okay? Next time I see you I don't want you passing out in my arms again,” Jason chided him.

“Ya, ya I will,” Dick agreed with an embarrassed little blush. “I’ll reach out to Tim too.” It was way past time to do that.

“Good, he’s a good kid but his self worth is in the fucking gutter. He’s going to work himself to death before he’s 30 if someone doesn’t give him a healthy role model, and some support, and we all know Bruce won’t do it,” Jason huffed, rolling his eyes. 

“I’ll do my best to help,” Dick vowed. This was a second chance he never expected, he was not going to waste it. 

[orbital-obvious]

Throwing my hat to the Team Black/Green Discourse

I'm bad bound due to shoulder pain, and I've been reading Team Black/Green takes and you guys, it's so fun. Here are my personal takes:

While exploring the changes from the book (and the reasons those changes were made) is interesting in a meta way, you can't assume book only details apply to show characters. What you see is what you get, for better or for worse

The show clearly favors Rhaenyra and tries to weave this "girlboss won't let the MEN put her down" narrative, and at the same time does her a great disservice because Rhaenyra and her faction are boring as fuck as a result. The greens faults are not only acknowledged but highlighted - which make them more interesting, human, and multidimentional, but then again the narrative goes and minimizes their fears and hurt, so, well, double edged sword.

Aegon only cares for his legitimate children. I also don't think the greens as half as unified as they are precived to be.

The question of "Did Aemond steel Vaghar?" is actually "are dragons property?" with extra steps.

Aegon was a usurper, and the Greens (Otto, if we're real) used the inherent misogyny of Westeros to instill him on the throne.

WITH THAT BEING SAID, I have a hard time thinking Rhaenyra is this feminist queen. It's freedom for Rhaenyra, and maybe other women with dragons. I think it makes Rhaenyra a better character, actually.

How can Alicent or her children trust Rhaenyra which never acknowledged that Luke maimed Aemond, and acutally DEMANDED Aemond to be further hurt via questioning? The messege in Driftmark was clear: Rhaenyra (and by extention, her children) are more important than you, they can hurt you, maim you, even kill you, and you will STILL be at fault. There's an element of survival in the Green's usurpation, not only greed.

Rhaenyra suffers from misogyny. I don't think she would have no problem ascending the throne if she were a man and she is one of the most privileged people in the realm, but there are challenges she faces for the crime of being a woman alone.

I don't think Alicent thought that by serving the patriarchy she'll be the exepction - not consciously, anyway. I think this requires an understanding she does not possess. and, again, Rhaenyra being put on the throne isn't a big win to all women, just Rhaenyra. To side with Rhaenyra meant siding against her family -that was Alicent's decision in my eyes. The world is bleak and one must use any power that they have - same way Targaryan used dragons, Alicent + greens used the built in sociatal norms.

I don't know who needs to hear this, Aemond is not a little kid anymore. I'm not saying his life is perfect and no one is mistreating him, but he is not defenseless and he does have that cruel streak to him and he did very much undermines his brother, grandfather, and mother.

Aegon is implosive, Rhaenyra hardly acts. Aegon coronation started the war, and his decisions have propelled the war forward . Rhaenyra refusal to act pushed team black into a position where the only advantage they had was dragons, ergo, they had to get dragons involved and voila- bloodshed.

Daemon would not have let the Greens live, even if they had bent the knee. TBF, Daemon would probably find a way to kill Rhaenyra's older children to put his on the throne. "Rhaenyra would never allow this!" Rhaenyra can't control Daemon. We've seen it time and time again.

I really hate the "Rhaenyra put her children at risk because their bastards". Rhaenyra was married to a gay (possibly infertile) man and if she had no heirs of her own, it itself would weaken her claim more than having bastards (ask if most of the realm would know or even give a shit they are not legitimate - that's mostly house Valeryon's problem and people in their immidiate surroundings that see it as "immoral").

No, Rhaenyra did not put her children at risk for having bastards. She put her chidlren at risk by having trueborn, perfectly blond and Targeryan children with Daemon.

I said it in my last post, I'll say that again: Raehnyra fucking off to an undercover mission in King's Landing and not telling ANYONE about it was a dumb move in a list of dumb move. She essentially left her side without a ruler at a time of WAR, not to mention the panic of a queen being gone closely after an assassination attempt on her life that was barely stopped.

Alicent was one of the most powerful people (if not the most powerful) in the years leading up to Viserys death, practically running the kingdom while Rhaenyra never visited even once. Alicent was changing Kings landing in her own image (changing Targ decoration for the Seven symbolism). Alicent had power, authority and the ability to rule that neither Rhaenyra nor Rhaenys exhibited.

Viserys failed Rhaenyra for not teaching her how to cement her throne and make connections and allies. Rhaenyra grew into an adult who never had to fight for what she was given, a so called heir who sceluded herself in Dragonstone and never bothered to cement her claim which she would have needed to do even if she was born a man. The cycle continues, with the hints she never worried about securing Jace's spot or his legitimecy (Jace wanted to learn high Valerian and was clearly concerened, Rhaenyra doesn't see the issue and that itself is a problem)

Honestly kudos for Jace for securing the North/Vale. The show paints supporting Rhaenyra as "the right thing" and we never got to see Jace working and using his diplomatic skills. God forbid the boy will have a personality.

Criston Cole was a man of ethnic minority (Dornish, most cast is Andal/Valerian) from lower class and the power imbalance with Rhaenyra would not have flown if the roles would've been reversed. She pushed him to sully his own life work (becoming kingsguard) and he is right to be hurt about her not taking it as seriously as him - she does not have to face consequences, he does. I'm not even talking about the weird state of consent of the relations between them.

WITH THAT BEING SAID, that does NOT justify Criston Cole calling Rheanyra "Whore" and "Cunt". He uses her gender to hurt her - the only power imbalance in his favour in this relationship is him being a man and her being a woman, and he weaponizes it. "but it's accurate to the society he lives in!" cool, the society is shit.

There's probably more, but I'm tired and need to lie down. So. yeah. Feel free to comment, I'm interested in others thought about it.

[newrhys]

im insane and a nigel defender for life so heres my theory/take on like minds

i truely think that its likely Alex was the manipulator and nigel was the victim (to a degree).

this is kinda all over the place and just my thoughts so take everything with a grain of salt im just bored

we all agree that Alex is an unreliable narrator, and when it comes to the interrogation, it would but likely that Alex changed the story for a “solid” alibi to seem at least not guilty, which is very common behavior for people, especially younger people who have committed a crime to do.

most of my reasoning for this comes from the fact that he makes sure to include the detail that *somehow* nigel got into his room in the middle of night (assumably) and put a bloody knife and playing card on his desk.

it could be very likely that he had this whole alibi, that he "missed" his date with susan was entirely made up, that he made it seem like nigel was the one who planted the knife for "for fingerprint insurance” making nigel seem like this criminal mastermind to a degree.

that and also the hand that nigel “gifted him” could have also been a cover up for (maybe) that alex could have very likely been the reason why his friend let go of the train, by messing with his hand. idk on this one tho for sure honestly, though i feel like nigel care a lot about anatomy and dissection that it would be out of character for him to sever a hand.

AND that when alex was asked “how he was sure it was his friends” he said that it wouldnt make sense otherwise (or something along those lines) which honestly is kinda strange bc i would rather rationalize that its not my dead friends hand and just some fucked up prank but maybe thats just me.

you can look into real interrogations and its not unusual for people to make up these crazy complex and wild stories to victimize themselves to seem innocent, even when the story is strange or off putting or has holes.

especially because this is a time when the attention is all on them and what better way to ganer sympathy and attention that alex could have possibly lacked in his childhood then now in the interrogation. with someone who alex could have possibly seen as some sort of mother figure, because she listened to him, and embraced him when alex talked about nigel.

“well susans body was “disected” it had to be nigel” it could have also been alex copying in the way of something that nigel would have done to again, make the evidence point at nigel.

now, this theory is a bit spotty and honestly its not great I KNOW its just my thoughts ive had that ive wanted to share, because honestly i dont have a great reason for why nigel would have invited alex over to his house if not for nigel being a little shit, but who knows, that could have also been made up, and alex really was planning on killing nigel, and just happened to show up at that time

but that being said, im also not saying nigel has never killed anyone, i am just saying alex’s series of events is a bit weird, i do think nigel has some issues, but those probably due to the obvious abuse he as suffered as a kid, and his weird interest could be a symptom of that and his curious for dead things, i wouldnt be surprised if he had witnessed death early as a child seems how it was mentioned in the show that it can result in mental illness.

which kinda leads me to my next point, at the end, when alex totally doesnt kill nigel, and nigel kills himself, alex has a sort of smile at the end, that either he was happy nigel died or that he, really *did* kill nigel and he “enjoyed” it.

to add onto this, alex never really cried when he talked about his friends dying, he cried when he talked about how it made *him* feel and how when nigel had wanted him to get “freaky” per say with susan, he was crying in the interigation because it upset *him* and it was something bad that happened to *him*. im not a professional at all and i only know a little bit about mental illnesses but in certain personaility disorders,, its not uncommon for people to have intense feelings when it comes to something that effects themselves, and apathy towards other people.

and at the very end of the show, it shows that alex clearly has a pattern of this behavior, of manipulating people in certain ways. that its not something unusual for him to do, when he asks the teacher if it’s possible to get into someones head, its likely because hes the one who, atleast thinks, he has control of nigel.

anyways thats kinda just my collection of thoughts ive had about this movie for a long time so i thought id throw them out here, do with this as you wish. dont be too mean tho i am dyslexic and not the smartest lmfao. i just like yapping. obviously i dont know everything and i likely got information wrong which like whatever.

anyways im sick and bored and wanted to yap so maybe someone actually read this

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Innata Malevolentia - Part Two

Summary: Dibs gathers the prisoners for a devastating announcement | Word Count: 2.8k ~ | warnings below the cut!

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Ettore Taglist

warnings: mentions of past non-con crimes (but vague), intimate examinations, Ettore being creepy, mentions of forced pregnancy, forcing others into sexual situations, manipulation, mentions of a menstrual cycle and ability to bear children, violence, threatening language and actions

Nothing strikes fear in the heart like the feeling of being followed.

Completely helpless. With no weapons but your own fists to use should you need.

Against a man, broad and tall, muscled and fit, what chances were there for her?

If he so wanted, everytime he walked past her cell, looking inside with barely-contained malicious intent, he could do anything.

She dreaded Dibs coming into the room at night, to tighten the zip ties on their wrists to keep them in their beds.

"Is this really necessary for all of us?" She'd asked with a stiff look once.

Dibs didn't reply, and kept her eyes averted to the task at hand, and as punishment had even tightened them somewhat compared to normal. The plastic dug into her wrists uncomfortably, even making it difficult to relax and go to sleep in the first place.

Maybe Dibs knew what Ettore wanted, and thought, that she should be awake to see it happen. 

"You shouldn't make her hate you more than she already does" Mink mused, her wrists bound loosely at her sides, only her head turned towards her cellmate.

She scoffed, "You think she hates me?" She asked sarcastically, rolling her eyes, "forgive me for not wanting to be tied down to my bed while I sleep"

Mink sighed and looked towards the ceiling.

"Not ideal" is all she replied with, "Boyse has really dropped us all in it, huh?"

She wasn't in the mood to make a joke of it. For her, it was a real fear she felt. And the idea that the threat named Ettore looked ever closer the more she thought about it.

There were only so many more times he'd simply walk past her room, before paying her a visit.

Mink slept like a fucking log. And he probably knew this, having walked past many times, his steps increasing in volume as if to rest if anything would rouse her into wakefulness.

He was making a meal out of it. Well and truly.

Stalking his prey. Seeing which way was best to tear her open.

Days didn't exist on the ship. Only periods of time between sleeping.

Of course they'd try to replicate days and nights with the lighting but it never felt natural. And it always felt it dragged on more than it would have done on Earth.

When Dibs came back in one morning to cut the zip ties from each of the women's hands, she left with parting words.

"Infirmary. 1 hour"

Simple as that.

She'd given Mink a weird look. 

It couldn't mean anything good.

Was it everyone? Or just them?

But they soon found out when they walked to the opposite side of the ship, that it wasn't even the entire population of prisoners, though few. But more like 5 or 6.

The infirmary wasn't large by any means, so when they all piled on, they were practically shoulder to shoulder. Apart from her, who managed luckily to nab a chair in front of Mink, who stood behind her with her hand on her shoulder in comfort of what was to come.

However bad it would be.

Dibs was waiting in her chair near her desk. With a file in hand. Looking stiffly at everyone as they entered.

It wasn't just women, Monte and Tchemy had also joined after a moment. And lastly, three minutes late, Ettore also. He stood leaning disinterested against the doorway, tall enough to see everyone inside.

She didn't miss the way he threw a smug glance in her direction. Her head whipped forward, even the briefest of eye contact made all the little hairs at the back of her neck stand on end.

"Thank you all for dropping by" Dibs started.

As if you haven't forced us to be here, she thought.

Every one of them looked wholly disinterested. Bored even. Monte had his arms crossed over his chest, his chin tipped upwards with his eyes looking down on her.

What was the deal with those two? There was something more to it than met the eye.

"I know the rumours that have been circulating, about the purposes of your frequent appointments" she continued, crossing her legs and playing with the end of her long braid slumped over her shoulder.

"I am here to tell you now that they are somewhat true. In line with my research I wish to create a healthy fetus, to check the effects of radiation on development"

She wanted to scoff.

It sounded so sick when she said it out loud. And yet, she seemed almost proud of it.

"For months, I have been collecting sperm samples, but so far any attempt at conception through artificial insemination have been…unsuccessful"

Good.

She felt Mink's hand on her shoulder grip just that bit tighter. Confirming, she was right. She'd always been right.

"Therefore, I am planning to endeavour upon a new method. One I hope will prove fruitful to our cause"

Our cause.

Who did she think she was? Did she think they were all grateful to be stuffed like a Christmas turkey given the first opportunity?

She was fucking delusional.

Before she could open her mouth, Boyse beat her to it.

She always had a short fuse.

"Just get on with it" Boyse shifted from foot to foot, putting on a front of toughness, despite being afraid herself.

Every woman was thinking the same thing.

What the fuck did this have to do with us?

But Boyse's inability to hide her fear only made Dibs smile.

"I have examined all the females, and have come to the conclusion that you three" she pointed to them, all huddled together to make themselves appear bigger, "have working reproductive systems, and semi-regular menstrual cycles"

And?

"You will be paired up with a male based solely on your genetic compatibility. Opposing immune systems. With the goal of creating a strong, healthy fetus"

What. The. Fuck.

The air was sucked out of the room. 

Mink's hold faltered and fell to her side. Shocked.

Dibs smiled as she carried on, "to create a child in the natural manner"

Oh fuck that.

"This is hardly natural" she spat, with poison in her voice. Dibs hooded her eyes as she looked at her.

But it didn't deter her one bit.

She was entitled to give her every bit of anger she felt.

"You're playing god"

Dibs didn't respond to that. But her lips twitched, as if she were holding back the urge to smile.

"And what if we refuse?" Mink asked, her fingers trembling with anger.

"With all due respect" Dibs answered quickly, "I'm afraid that's impossible"

"You can't make us!" Boyse exploded, her cheeks all red, stance like a cat ready to pounce.

She wanted to be sick. It felt like being sold, without even the decency to exchange funds.

Some of these people were murderers. Rapists. The worst of the worst.

It felt wholly wrong to be betrayed by your own sex. Given to the opposite like a fully wrapped present they hadn't been allowed to touch til Christmas morning.

Some of the men, she knew, were just aching for the permission to touch them. Having been restricted for so long inside prison, as well as unable to do anything whilst incarcerated on Earth.

To do anything they wanted.

And all of the women felt betrayed that Dibs had given it, without thought of their pain, their honour and dignity.

She had thrown blood in shark-infested waters.

And she didn't know if something like that could be forgiven.

There was nowhere to hide from them. 

Because now, those men they were forced to live alongside in fear felt entitled to them.

To their bodies.

To enact their barely-contained violence in a manner which struck fear into all the women involved.

A fear only a woman would understand.

The fear of suddenly realising that these men were so much larger than them. Stronger.

And it wouldn't take any effort whatsoever to hold them down and do what they liked.

It was like walking home at night all over again, tugging your coat over your body tighter to appear smaller, with each key nestled between your fingers, and the echoed laughter of a group of men behind you.

Women had good peripheral vision.

It was sickening to think it was evolutionary.

A needed skill.

But here, when outside of these cold, metal walls, there only existed emptiness, dread widened a pit in their stomachs.

There was no escape.

Dibs read from her file.

"Based on genetic compatibility, Boyse shall be paired with Monte"

Boyse argued, and Monte simply stated he wouldn't do it, preferring to keep his fluids to himself.

But her gaze remained on Dibs in front of her, arms crossed across her chest instinctually, waiting to hear her name.

"Mink with Tchemy"

She closed her eyes, bracing for impact. Like waiting for an oncoming car to hit you, the headlights becoming brighter, anticipating the air being punched out your lungs.

"And Ettore with-"

Fuck.

Even her name next to his made her want to vomit.

And then came the thought of what they'd have to do.

And that nearly made her gag in reality. An acrid, sour taste flooding her mouth. Her limbs feeling numb, like all the gravity had been sucked out from the ship.

She dare not look at him.

Her eyes immediately went about the room until she spotted what she'd been after.

A scalpel.

She looked at Dibs with indifference. Not wanting to give her the benefit of thinking she cared enough to act out.

Dibs knew what Ettore was.

And still, relinquished her fellow woman to him. In pursuit of a fucked up, unethical experiment on a child.

"You may begin tomorrow. Share a cell if that is easier"

Fuck you, you old cunt.

You know 'he' will not wait a day.

"I will book in weekly appointments, to check your progress"

And I will cave your fucking face in.

It was difficult to say nothing.

She still didn't spare Ettore a look when she got up, slipping past Mink, who was stood still in complete shock. She used this brief moment with Mink blocking her body to slide a scalpel off the table and slip it into her pocket.

Boyse was verbally abusing Monte, stating that she wouldn't let him touch her.

Mink and Tchemy simply stared at one another from different ends of the room, resigned to it.

When she reached the door, his arm was across it. 

She lifted her eyes to his, and saw what she expected. A smirk pulled at his lips, his features, sharp and defined, were exaggerated with the harsh clinical light. His otherwise blue eyes, were pushed to the edge with the black of his iris, glimmering.

Like an animal with a meal in front of it.

Unchained.

He leaned back, dropping his hand, to let her pass.

She almost didn't want to walk past him, like she'd be tangled in his vine like hold if she dared. As if he'd drag her beneath the depths and give her no air just to watch the way she clawed at her throat in desperation.

Even when she was walking down the hallway, to the toilets to be sick, she felt no respite. No sense of safety in being away from him.

She knew he'd be back for her.

That he'd let her go now, to play with her. Make her second guess if she was really safe.

It was dizzying, the dull tingle in her gut she got when she saw him now. Like being punched square in the face with your ears ringing, before your body falls limply to the ground with nothing to cushion your fall.

It was unclear if the tingle was a nice one or not. For the sake of her sanity, she hoped not.

They were expected to go about their daily duties as if nothing had happened.

As if their lives weren't going to be irreparably changed the following day. 

Whereas before, she saw him everywhere. 

She hadn't seen him once since the infirmary.

It was a blessing and a curse.

Not seeing him felt safe, grounded. And that perhaps on his hellscape of a ship, there was something to feel grateful for.

But not seeing him, not even hearing his footsteps, meant that there was anticipation there. A morbid suspence.

She knew what kind of man he was. Heard the rumours of what he'd done to women before, enough to land him in this hellhole.

Who was to say he wouldn't do the same, especially now he was given permission.

But not consent.

Perhaps that's the bit he liked.

Mechanically, she folded the clothes on top of the dryer as it shook violently back and forth, the clothes being tossed inside. The loud hum vibrated the air around her, filling the otherwise quiet space.

The laundry room was a place of respite. The light in there was broken, so it didn't have the same stark vibrancy as the others. It had a dull glow, making the room look as if it caught the sunset.

Those were the things she missed about Earth. The natural things like a sunset.

But she couldn't deny that seeing the stars in a certain way made her feel calm.

But it didn't last long.

She dropped the shirt she was folding when a large, male hand slapped over her mouth, tugging her body back to crash into his. Her first instinct was to fight back. 

Her breath hissed quickly against his hand through her nose as she fought, fighting the urge to gag when she felt his breath waft on her neck as he spoke.

"Stay still or I'll break your fucking neck"

His voice was dark and low. Unlike anything she'd heard before.

He sounded like an animal.

Ettore had finally come for her.

He grunted and fought as she thrashed around, his other hand coming round to wrap around her chest to keep her arms from hitting him. But he couldn't keep her from wiggling out of his grasp, and she got one elbow free and hit his jaw with a crack.

"Fucking stupid cunt" he hissed, barely reacting and as soon as she turned he struck her across the face. It wasn't even the force of it that had her vision blur and ears ring, but the abruptness of it.

Ettore grips her face with an iron hold, his fingers digging painfully into her jawbone. Holding her in place, forcing the back of her head harshly against the wall and pressing himself against her.

Even in the orange hue of the room, he looked utterly terrifying, with no warmth to him whatsoever. Only his blond hair gave off some semblance of radiance.

There was that look again.

No colour to his eyes. His jaw tight with rage.

"Don't be a spoilsport. I'm the only entertainment you're likely to get around here" he grins, "Just let me take what I want and we call it even"

Her wide eyes feel like they're shaking looking at him. And while he's preoccupied pressing his erection against her clothed core, her hand rifles in her pocket, fingers wrapping around the scalpel she'd swiped earlier.

"And if you're lucky, I might be gentle" he smiles.

The smile doesn't falter when she reaches up and presses the blade, as small as it is, against his throat before he has a chance to close in on her.

In fact, he looks amused.

"That's cute" 

She can hear the blood roaring in her ears. His fingers flex against her face. 

She presses the blade flush to his skin, wondering what it would be like, what it would feel like, to slash his throat, and feel his thick, oily blood cost her arms and hands.

"You're out of your league, sweetheart"

"Don't fucking call me that" she says in return, the best she can when he holds her face.

Ettore smirks, "You have no idea what I'm capable of doing to you if you continue to challenge me"

She swallows.

In a way he's right.

She had no idea what he's capable of doing.

And she doesn't want to find out.

"Touch me again and I'll slit your fucking throat"

She laughs through his nose, his fingers slipping from her face, and she takes the first genuine breath she can, after a while of holding it.

He has a way of doing that.

"I look forward to it" 

She's only aware of just how close he'd been when he's gone. His tall, broad form seemed to encompass hers entirely. His aura was like the deepest poison, sinking into every pore and crack there was, turning her insides.

He could have overpowered her.

He could have.

And as he slips out of the laundry room, his gleaming eyes looking back at her trembling form with her back pressed against the washing machine, a tiny slit against his neck bleeds where the blade was pressed.

He wipes it away with his thumb like a paper cut.

He said it himself.

'I like a little struggle'.

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[vitanithepure]

Can we talk about Gale again? And Mystra, one last time? Or at least let me vent? I know it seems like I can't shut up about it, but deal with me this one last time?

It's a long one, an fervent one, and possibly the last one on their relationship because there isn't much to tell for me after this. I just want to lay it to rest on my part, it's too emotionally draining, but I wanted to do this.

Spoilers for them ahead.

It was some time ago I did the talk with Mystra and Gale as an origin character and I needed some time to process this and gather my thoughts. Because I was left reeling with how personal it felt for me and I hated seeing that to bo honest, even though I think whoever did write this scene did it... very well. I feel a lot of thought went into it, so even though it does touch a delicate subject it does it as tastefully as possible.

Okay, let's begin with a real banger.

Why? This will forever read as "I gave you a solution, explain yourself why you didn't die when I asked you to." for me. What kind of messed up question is that to ask someone?

But can I say how there is absolutely no wrong anwser to that asinine question? You can roleplay however you wish, but none of them are bad anwsers. Some of them are more heartbreaking then the others, but none are in any way making excuses. There is nothing to excuse and I'm glad whoever wrote this dialogue recognized this.

I chose the "I have someone else to live for" one here, because I felt that Gale, at this point, really found that special someone, be it a friend or lover, to live for. It's gut-wrenching that he needed someone to keep him alive in the first place, but this is what having an abusive ex does to you.

But the other choices here? All of them fair. She absolutely had no right to ask that of him, no matter the crime, that's just a fucked up thing to expect.

Being afraid to die? Valid, this shouldn't be put up to question.

Two last ones? Pure gold. I treat the fourth one as a direct jab at her own teachings, on how all magic needs to be preserved and studied? It's like him saying "Hey, I did what you expected and now your mad?".

The very last one is poetic justice. "I owe you nothing." and if that were me this would be the absolute end of this discussion. Mic drop, I'm out of here.

And okay, I did take he self-pity route with "I let you down." here becuase this is what I believe is closest to how "canon" Gale feels about this. That's the most heartbreaking thing about it, that he believes he was not worth enough before and is even less now and doesn't deserve love, of any kind.

What are the other options? Well, all in character and each seems like a valid way for Gale to feel. But me, the player, who is fortunate to know some meta knowledge? Oh boy.

"I was a danger to you." No you weren't. She is the goddess of magic, one of the most powerful out here. She is magic. All you could do is make her day worse.

"I disobeyed you." Yeah, you did. And she sentenced you to a slow death for it.

"You were threatened." Eh, not really. But what comes after that statement? "You realised you couldn't control me."? Yes, that is the only thing she felt threatened about - loosing control.

"Our relationship bored you. The orb was just an excuse to end it." I mean... maybe? Not enough is known about it but seeing how all reincarnations of Mystra are fickle lovers at best I would say it's a possibility. Even if it is just his ego speaking here - damn, what a way to end a relationship.

She has the audacity to tell him "he only thought of himself". Pot calling the kettle much?

Oooh, but I love what we can say here. The amout of vicious call outs here is superb.

We get to call out how much of a control freak she is. Then we can say how out of place was her punishment. Because I feel like it was a fucking equivalent of throwing a child into a dark cellar for breaking your favorite cup, while all they wanted to do was wash it for you. That is how imbalanced this whole thing is and I'm not taking criticism on that.

We also get to straight up ask what was the lesson if she never let him know what he really did and left him without means to make things right?

Then my favorite. Straight up ask her how many lives was she willing to sacrifice to get rid of the problem?

And last but not least - call her out on her lies. That's what she did. Why? I don't know. Was she afraid? Possibly, because the Karsite Weave + Crown of Karsus combo could potentially threaten her. Potentially, because as we saw in one of the Gale endings, she has no problem with just getting rid of a newly ascended god wielding them. That leads me to believe she is not afraid of loosing power as much as just being rivaled with. The indignity she has to suffer, truly.

Hit a nail on the head here. Who cares about mortals, if they live or die and in how many droves? Competition comes knocking, so all gloves are off. And that is what I believe to be the crux of the matter. Mystra wants to remove the Absolute (because that's the new upstart god breaking the status quo), the orb containing he rival Weave, the Crown which threatens her rule over magic all in one swoop. Oh, and that one guy who tries too hard and refuses to die. No biggie. Who cares, she has a line of followers who would replace her Chosen at any given time.

I'm a salty bitch over the fact we can't keep the Crown of Karsus, but instead of using it - just hide it away again. Stablize Gale's Karsite Weave and keep that thing around, hidden away. Let her sweat over the idea someone else might find it one day and rival her rule.

I know I'm way too emotional about it, but like I said, it's very personal - I been there, done that, and never recovered in full after it. I'll die defending anyone and any pixels who are struggling with their self-worth and trying to get over an emotionally abusive relationships.

"Be the better person, die saving the world and I'll 'forgive' you." Fuck. You.

And a bonus, for those of you who stuck around till the end, because I was totally naming the screens and yelling at my monitor while doing this.

[miaitzia]

My review on episode 5 + some comparisons with manga and ln1.

It's mainly about Souheki because if i don't talk about them every chance i get i will explode.

Start of the episode ,i love the idea of using the sound the Ramune bottle and marble to attract Atsushi's n audiences' attention.It's a shame that they didn't animate Kunikida's soft smile when Ranpo was being even more rude in the manga.

annnnnnd ofc he's gonna focus on the marble and leave Atsushi sitting there awkwardly. Ranpo autism moment.

Atsushi thought Ranpo can't do anything without an ability is funny.Atsushi sweetie that's some wild assumption for a guy you just met a few days ago.He really just saw Ranpo can't take the train and assumed the worst lol.

this scene is always interesting to me because this is the only time we saw Ranpo paying respect to the dead like this.Now i have a few guesses of the reason.

1.a simple one is that maybe he did this all the time,after all we only saw him solve crimes with real bodies like two times.in perfect crime arc they were on rush.

2.Ranpo actually said "oh it's a lady",so yeah maybe he only did that to certain people

3.it's the start of the series so eveything is still uncertain

I don't have anything to add here,i think we could all agree dazai being there wasn't a coincident.

Another thing i mourn not making into Anime is that Ranpo saying even Dazai is an enigma to him in manga.it adds more layer in their relationship.tbh it's a bit boring if Ranpo always knows what Dazai is up to.

Now it's cute seeing Dazai defending Ranpo like that because i dont think minoura would actually hit him or something,maybe Dazai just wants to stop the bickering.

I love Ranpo's motto "All's well that's well for me" because it just like him.It seem self-center at first, but if you know him a little better, you'll know it actually means as long as he's fine he can make sure everyone else is fine.It's not just the meaning,this is how everyone's impression of him at first vs when they get to know him.

this part annoyed me the most cause Dazai looks so fond in the manga ,but he looks passive and serious in anime.LIKE WTF WAS THAT???DAZAI NEVER LOOKED AT RANPO LIKE THAT>>this leads to my biggest complaint of this episode⬇

//spoil for light novel 1

it has been talked many times how messed up the azure messenger arc aka light novel 1 adaption is.But I want to add it was so poor that it has already affects this episode.In the manga, Dazai didn't explain how he knows Ranpo didn't have an ability to Atsushi.The explanation here is actually straight up pull up from ln1 what he told Kunikida after he first met Ranpo.BUT because Bones don't wanna properly adapt the novel, they have to stiffly add it here.So that's why Dazai seemed serious when testing Ranpo,they want to add the impression this is the first time he discover it.

Do you want to know another fucked up thing about this scene is?They phased it like Dazai never work with Ranpo , that they're unfamiliar with each other.But in reality, Dazai has saw Ranpo's "ability"the very first time they met.They have worked together so well that they received their own name "Souheki".Dazai admires Ranpo so much that he constantly compliment him.

End the post of my favorite shot of this episode<3 Look at my son having the best time in his life🤩🤩🤩good for him good for him.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hi, I'm the Anon that wrote to you a while ago desperately seeking assurance about the drop. Want to thank you again for your insights and patience. You are a gift to this fandom. I'm sorry to bother you again but this episode crushed my heart completely.

The added context ended up being the same out of character BS which did nothing to allay my fears over the direction of Lestat's character. And I felt the writer having him "break script" during the trial to make sure that viewers understood that "this asshole is the real Lestat who intentionally dropped his partner from the stratosphere for the crime of defending his daughter but wait he feels really bad about it but also don't forget he's still Domestic Abuser POS" seemed like an insidious choice. The decision to make that drop real and the vile speech about "wanting to break Louis" (wtf) is a total betrayal of who Lestat fundamentally is and for me was kind of an event horizon (because no matter what, that *isn't* Lestat in any universe) It's been 2 years of this and I'm so exhausted. 

Sadly, I'm not nearly as excited for Season 3 as I was before this episode. I no longer feel like I can trust these writers to write Lestat with care and do TVL justice- especially after they inexplicably endowed their version of Louis with several of canon Lestat's character traits and story beats( literally why?)- or anything that comes after. How can you tell Lestat's painful self loathing storylines in QotD and TotBT when you've already written him as the exact kind of shallow violent inherently evil brute that Akasha tried to groom him into believing he was? What would be the point? No one would believe him.

Right now, for me the only bright spot of show!Lestat, is Sam, who is truly doing the lord's work. Much like the character he is playing, he is mesmerizing as an actor and so full of light even as he's playing the part of a monster. He's so brilliant, constantly making lemonade out of lemons and trying valiantly to infuse this evil ooc shell of Lestat with the spirit of the canon character.

And maybe I'm a brat, but we've waited long enough. I want the real Lestat de Lioncourt: the eternally optimistic, impulsive, naive to a fault, enduring, brash, impatient, irreverent, airheaded, sometimes unstable, ridiculous,  traumatized, vicious, obstinate, wicked,  cocky, narcissistic, short tempered, endlessly forgiving, capricious ,vampire to the core, Brat Prince- full of too much love for everything and everyone, who can be an absolute pain in the ass, who is the emperor of really bad impulsive decisions, who is stupidly honest about the terrible things he's done but tries to downplay the terrible things done to him, who finds revenge boring, who would never ever maliciously hurt Louis or Claudia, who tries so hard to be a good father more than once, who fears that he is an evil thing because he thinks his innate light seems to hurt everyone he loves; and that innate light and goodness is so in conflict with the existence he was raped into but he decides "Fuck it. I'm gonna just be the best vampire I can be". And I really really want to see Sam play *that* Lestat.

Of course I completely understand that everything we are seeing is still not the full story and that we are deep in the middle of Armand's Wattpad fanfic. But with the choices made in this episode, I just don't see how we can *ever* have *that* Lestat- (even if or when next week, Armand's story falls apart spectacularly) and unfortunately no spoilers I've seen about the finale give me comfort or hope. It's all too much and it just hurts my heart and my head. I want off this ride. I'm so so tired 😢

Hmmm :)

While I... understand you, I don't quite agree, and... I think I would just like to redirect you to this interview with Sam here, which really lays a lot of it out:

And... it also confirms a lot of what I have been pointing out before, and what has been hinted at.

So. While I get where you are coming from I still think "Lestat" is in very good hands... we haven't had his POV yet. But we will.

And after that... we can judge.

[tropes-and-tales]

Just Be

Day 4:  Sex Work (Benny Magalon x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 

CW:  Light angst (if you count sad thoughts); smut (erotic massage; sex work; PiV, protected); 18+ only.

Word Count:  3059

AN:  This was requested by an anonymous person!

No one would ever accuse the men of Major Crimes of having their shit together.

Zapata and Connors both teeter into full-blown addiction, the two of them binge drinking on the weekends and days off to make up for the days they can’t drink.  Henderson prefers party drugs and women, runs through both at an alarming rate.  Everyone knows Big Nick’s disaster of a life, cheating on his wife and often missing major moments in his young daughters’ lives because he’s busy partying or playing at being the big man.

Borracho?  Borracho dabbles with alcohol, with the tamer drugs—weed, mostly, but sometimes coke or molly.  But his real vice is women.

Married twice.  Divorced twice.  A failed engagement in between.  Countless girlfriends, and as many one-night stands and hookups as there are stars in the sky.  He likes his women a little crazy, off-kilter enough to keep things interesting.  It’s what always attracts him at the beginning, that scuffed-up angel with a tarnished halo thing.  The type of woman who’s game to blow him in public, who will take his hand eagerly and fuck him in the dirty bathroom at a dive bar.

Unfortunately, those type of women are also the same type to slash his tires or show up at a crime scene to scream at him.  The type to stalk him, follow him to a Major Crimes party and fight with him, then slip off with Big Nick as revenge for some perceived slight.

And maybe none of it mattered when he was young, but he’s creeping closer to middle age now.  He finds the game exhausting now.  He can’t muster up the energy to go out every night like he used to.  The weekend meat market at the bars and clubs feels more like a chore than anything else.  And he goes home alone more often than not:  he’s bordering on creepy now, no longer young, and he sees the side-eye some of the women give him, the wide berth as they walk past the silent man with the salt and pepper facial hair and blurred neck tattoo.

At least he has you.  For awhile now, he’s had you.  The steadiest woman in his life.  Sometimes—when he’s in the throes of a new divorce or curling up alone in his bed after a wasted night out—he’ll contemplate how sad it is that you’re his steadiest relationship. 

You and Borracho, together all this time.  You, the woman who gives erotic massages that lead to more.  Him, the man who pays for your services.

-----

Benny would have never thought himself the type of man to pay for a rub and tug on the regular.  Calling it a rub and tug, though, fails to capture what you really do.

What do you really do?  Benny misunderstood, the first time he paid for your services.  He thought of sex work as a monolith, considered all the sex workers he knew through work and Big Nick’s parties, and he blundered badly.  He got a little rough with you that first time, called you a filthy whore, and you had shut it down immediately.  You had gripped his jaw hard enough to hurt, and stared down at him with cold eyes.

“No,” you’d told him that first time.  “There’s a million girls out here who will let you treat them like shit.  I’m not one of them.  You speak to me respectfully or I leave, understand?”

He did understand.  He had nodded, gulped hard, apologized. 

Everything between the two of you has been smooth ever since.

He calls you when he needs relief, and if he ever gets caught, that’s how he’ll explain it.  It’s just relief, release, whatever.  He’s just a man in need of a woman.

But deep down, he knows it is more.  There are a million girls who will let him treat them terribly, but there’s only one you.  Benny knows he keeps returning to you because you give relief, release, whatever…but you also give comfort.  When he’s heartsore and exhausted to the marrow of his bones, you’re there for him. 

Sometimes—like when he’s watching his brother and his young family living so happily together—he’ll contemplate how sad it is that he has married and dated absolute disasters but how he has to pay the sweetest, gentlest woman he’s ever known for her time and company.

-----

In the beginning, you met in neutral territory, hotel rooms, mostly.  Then you started going to his apartment, leaving a ghostly trace of your perfume on his pillows that would linger for a day or two.  For the last year or so, though, you’ve allowed him to come to your place—your home, where few clients are even afforded a glimpse—because you’ve known him so long and trust him.

You have a little bungalow in Silver Lake, and Benny wonders if your neighbors know what you do for a living.  He knocks on your door, and he doesn’t wait long before you’re opening it and ushering him in.

“It’s been a while,” you say, and you have the same soft smile you always greet him with.  You’re in your usual casual outfit, a wrap dress he knows has nothing underneath it.  You bring him to your guest room—reserved for your work—and you offer him something to drink.

He declines.  He’d been tipsy that first time with you when he badly erred, and he always remains sober since that night.

“This is for you,” he says, and he hands you your fee—an exorbitant amount plus tip, but worth every penny.  He slips it in a greeting card each time, a flimsy pretense in case you get caught.  But you never do.

You take it, thank him.  You slip the card out of the envelope, but you don’t count the cash in front of him.  He’s earned enough trust that you don’t verify his payment, but you do like to see which card he’s selected for each tryst.  Sometimes it’s a birthday card, and sometimes it’s a different sentiment or holiday.  Sometimes he looks for more obscure holidays, just to make you laugh.

Tonight’s card makes you laugh.  It’s a genuine laugh; you throw your head back, open-mouthed, and laugh full from your belly. 

“’For a wonderful pastor and wife’?” you read.  “Seriously, Ben?”

He lifts a shoulder in a shrug, bites back a smile.  “Found it in the ‘Clergy Appreciation’ section of the store.”

You laugh again, then you thank him.  You tuck the card and money in a discreet drawer on the table that holds all of your various massage tools and implements, and you turn to face him.  Your broad grin has been replaced by your soft smile again.

“Shall we?” you ask.

-----

If Benny Magalon had a therapist, they’d have a better handle on his psyche than he does.  Benny doesn’t spend much time ruminating on what makes him tick, what his likes and dislikes and fears and hopes say about him.  If asked, he’d say he’s a simple man, a guy’s guy who likes beer and women and sports, who is generally unphased by life. 

A therapist would peel past all of that and declare it complete bullshit.

Benny is a child of a broken home who grew up to be a detective.  He’s been shot at.  He’s shot suspects.  He has killed.  He stands over the bodies of murdered people—men, women, children.  He sinks down into the underworld on a regular basis, touches on the darkest parts of human nature.  He unwinds with alcohol, drugs, and women, and his only real relationships are his Major Crimes brothers and his multitude of hot, crazy women.

His Major Crimes brothers don’t really know him.  His multitude of women don’t either.  Hell, Benny hardly even knows himself.

A therapist wouldn’t need much time to figure out what he gets out of this thing with you.  What he gets from you, the lone woman standing amongst failed marriages, a failed engagement, and countless failed relationships.  What no one else has ever given him.

Gentle touches.  A care and attention to his body, the gnarled knots of muscles, the twinging nerves pinched from sitting in a car all day for a stake-out.  Soft kisses on every part of him, your skilled hands stroking him, working him into a state of relaxation he’s never known anywhere else but with you.  Soft music playing in the background, soft light illuminating the room.  The soft scent of your perfume, your shampoo, your body wash. 

Everything about you is so fucking soft, and you make him soft too, and if Benny ever bumps against that realization, he shoves it away, doesn’t examine it.  But the fact remains:  you are the one person who makes him soft, and you give him the safe space to be soft.  Benny gets to leave it all behind—the sad childhood, the disappointing relationships, the loneliness, the unhealthy coping mechanisms, the filth and grit of his job.  He gets to shed his tough-guy persona, the whole stiff-upper-lip thing.  He doesn’t have to pretend to be okay, doesn’t have to bury his feelings deep for fear of having Big Nick call him a pussy or worse.

Benny gets to just be.

Tonight, you undress him slowly.  You never hurry.  He’s bought your time, and you never cheat him.  You unbutton his shirt, push it off of his shoulders and arms.  You undo his belt, unbutton his jeans, push them down over his hips.  You push his boxers down too, and you drag your knuckles lightly over his half-hard cock but go no further.  You drop sweet little kisses along the parts of him you expose, his chest and his shoulders, and once he’s naked, you gesture for him to lie down on the bed.

Benny knows the drill.  He lies face-down on the bed, and already he feels more relaxed.  More himself, whoever that may be.  He sloughs off the past few months, the awful cases he’s worked, the failed dates and relationships that never left the ground.  He’s not ruminating on the past and he’s not worried about the future.  He’s just here, now, with you.

A moment later, and he hears the plastic snap of the bottle, the massage oil you warm between your palms before you climb on the bed and join him.  You straddle his waist, and it’s a comforting weight on him.  A moment after that, your hands on him:  warm, slick, accompanied by the light scent of sandalwood.  Stroking him from head to toe.

You start at his scalp.  Your fingernails scratch him lightly, you tug at his short hair.  Down to all the small muscles in his neck, the larger ones in his shoulder and back.  You have a rhythm that makes him sink into the bed:  light strokes that makes him spark to life, makes goosebumps prickle along his skin.  Harder strokes, your fingertips seeking the knots and whorls and loosening them.  Then your bent head, your lips light as air, like you’re sealing your massage work with a chaste kiss to push the magic deeper into him.

You scoot lower, straddle his thighs.  You work his lower back, his ass, and you always give him a flirty little smack that makes him laugh after so much squirming, since he’s especially ticklish there.

Then lower.  You massage his hamstrings, work out the stiffness there, then the knot in his calf that snarls up when he sleeps, always wakes him up with the pain.  Then his feet, finally, and you sometimes joke about breaking out the belt sander to keep his hooves soft, but tonight you just hum and ask him to turn over.

He does, and Benny is never so happy to have this time to be soft as he is when he turns over.  You always look so gorgeous in the soft candlelight, the sight of you straddling him in your dress and him naked, like you’re some sort of goddess coaxing him to life from the common clay of the earth. 

He knows he pays for it, but this is nothing like his usual dalliances.  It’s nothing like he had in his two disastrous marriages, his disastrous engagement.  He can cede control to you and not feel like less of a man; he can let you soothe him, he can focus on the way he feels instead of endlessly worrying that he’s performing well, that he’s the biggest, that he lasts the longest out of any other man his partner has been with.

Besides, when he turns over, that’s when you kiss him in earnest.  That’s when you snake a hand into some inner, hidden tie within your dress and loosen it, let the soft fabric pool around your shoulders and over the swell of your breasts before you toss it aside.  That’s when you turn those clever hands of yours to more promising parts of him:  his chest down to his belly, then down to where his cock strains for you.

But you don’t rush it.  You give the front of him the same amount of attention, if not more.  You pause more to return to his mouth, to kiss him, alternating playful pecks against more passionate ones where you seal your mouth over his, where you lick against him until he’s groaning and squirming underneath you.

You put your mouth to his chest, nipping against his pecs, laying the edge of your teeth lightly against his nipples before you lave his tender flesh with your tongue.  Benny always thinks of it afterwards, this simplest of movements, but how you’re the only woman to ever put her mouth to his nipples, to explore this most obvious of erogenous zones on him.

Through all of it, praise.  You tell him in your quiet voice how good he is, how perfect.  You praise every bit of him—the muscles he works so hard to maintain in the gym, sure, but also the parts no one else ever notices.  His eyes, his hands, his legs, his ass.  You seem to genuinely like his hands, so when he reaches out to steady you against him, you don’t push him away.

Benny wonders sometimes if you’re like this with other clients or just him, but he never allows himself to get obsessive about it.  He’s savvy enough to know that he’s not that far from jealousy, and it would be a fatal mistake to mix feelings with this relationship.

Okay, so he only allows himself to get a little jealous.  Only sometimes.

You can always judge when he’s reached the limits of his patience.  Benny gets squirmy, wriggles underneath you, but you always ask the same question, a paragon of consensual sex.

“You ready, handsome?” you ask.

His answer is always the same, and Benny can be corny with you, can run the stupidest of lines on you because he doesn’t have to play it cool at all.

“I was born ready, beautiful.”

Which always makes your soft smile widen, and then you reach past him to snag a condom.  You tear the foil, and you roll the latex onto him, and this is the sole moment where Benny has regrets:  he’s not against condoms, but he wishes he could fuck you raw.

He wishes he knew what it feels like to slide into you, to feel not just the warmth and tightness of you but also the slickness of your arousal.  Some primal part of him—the jealous part, he guesses—wishes he could come inside you, mark you as his.  He could convince you to retire, could have you for himself—

You cut him off, cut off his usual fantasy, by grasping his cock and lining it up with your entrance, then mounting him.  Slowly.  You always go slow.  You take him inch by inch, gaze into his eyes as you impale yourself on his throbbing length.  Benny tries to gaze back at you, wants to be fully in the moment, but you always feel so fucking good that he ends up squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his jaw against the urge to thrust up into you and come immediately.

And you always do the same thing here, too.  You reach down and grip his jaw—an echo of that first night together, but you’re gentle now.  You hold him until he opens his eyes again, and you chide him softly.  You run the tip of your thumb over his lower lip, the touch so featherlight he wants to weep. 

“This is about you, Ben,” you remind him.  “Don’t you dare hold back, okay?”

He doesn’t hold back, but he still manages to make you come nine out of ten times.  He doesn’t hold back as his hips press up as you bounce on his cock, your tits gorgeous as they bounce too, your thighs strong and rounded as you work yourself on him.  He doesn’t push away his orgasm as it approaches, but he shifts a hand to where you’re joined to him.  He rubs against your clit, slick and swollen, and Benny knows you’re a pro, but he doesn’t think you’re faking it when your rhythm gets sloppy.  He thinks it’s genuine, how you whine out his name, how your bracing hand on his chest spasms against his pec.

But he knows that you aren’t faking it when you come a beat later.  There’s no way you could fake the way your cunt seizes up and grips his cock, the way your smooth muscles ripple against him like they want to pull him deeper inside of you.

He’s never far behind you.  He’s grateful for the condom in this moment because it affords him those final few thrusts, his hips leaving the bed as he fucks up into you, before he comes too.  The languid heat that has been pooling low in his belly all night finally spills over, molten hot as he comes harmlessly into the latex.  The heat spreads outward from his belly to his limbs, up into his head, and Benny thinks, I could die right now and I’d die happy.

Perfectly safe in your cozy little cocoon of a room.  Perfectly relaxed from your skilled hands and clever mouth and perfect pussy.

Perfectly just himself.

[sherlockholmes-real]

Kinktober day 4- Under the Table

Sherlock BBC- Johnlock

Sherlock had this strange habit of claiming himself bored and just flinging himself across John's lap. This usually ended up with Sherlock asleep in John's lap, either that or both of them equally fucked out.

On the rare occasion that Sherlock would decide he wants to really get to John, he does something while he is working. Most of the time, John works by himself, but every now and then, he has to have a meeting or interview for his blog.

Today, he decided he'd bring in Lestrade for an interview. It'd be real quick and just a few words from him on their latest crime. Once Lestrade knocked on their door, John brought him over to where his desk was, and the two sat down together.

The way John's desk was, the back was fully closed on the bottom, and he pulled himself into the desk. He bumped into something but mostly just ignored it. "So, Greg, what did you do to contribute to the latest murder solved?" John asked him. He then felt a hand on his thigh. He glanced down and saw a devious looking Sherlock. Fuck. This is gonna he the longest interview of his life.

This seemed to be a kink of Sherlocks. Something about the fear of getting caught got him aroused. Maybe it's the adrenalin junkie in him.

Lestrade finally answered, "Oh well, you know, Sherlock really does all the stuff my team should be doing." He groans.

John laughs lightly, Sherlocks hands trailing up his thighs and to his belt. "Uhm," John pauses, "Yes, but you still help with the basic information and stuff like that." His belt was being unbuckled. He was already half hard, and as much as he hated to admit it, he got off on this, too.

"Yes, my team does all that, you know, we get the cases, and then when we can't deal with it, we usually bring it to the two of you."

John hums in response, Sherlock pulled John dick from his pants and puts his mouth around it, licking a stripe from his balls all the way to the tip. John groans lightly, Lestrade gives him a strange look. "Everything alright?" He asks.

"Yes!" John's eyes dodge, "er, and just one more question." Sherlocks lips remain on the head, his hand going between stroking John's cock to fondling his balls.

Lestarade nods, and John starts to speak quietly, "Do you enjoy your job?" John sort of draws out the last sylablle of the word 'job' as he asks it. He feels Sherlock swirl his tongue on it. How Lestrade doesn't hear this is a miracle.

"Oh yes, I love my job," he nods and pauses, "helping people and stuff is very nice, and the pay is good." He draws off his sentence then looks around, "where is Sherlock anyway?" He asks. John panics slightly.

"Uhm, I'm not sure, anyways you can go now. That's all I needed." John says quickly, trying to get Lestrade out of here.

"Oh," he sounds a bit sad, "Uhm, alright." He stands up and smiles awkwardly at John, "Bye then." John waves at him as he exits.

"My god, Sherlock, you're such a prick." John looks down at him, shoving both his hands into his brown locks.

Sherlock pops off for a moment, "You're so hot when you're trying to act normal, John." He then goes back down onto John, deep throating his whole cock. At this point John was basically already done for, after a couple more times of Sherlock going down on his cock he came into the tallers mouth.

John pulls Sherlock up from underneath the table and places a kiss to his lips tasting his own cum, he doesn't mind much though, he'd kiss Sherlock regardless. Forever and always.

~~~

Sorry it's a day late, you guys, I'm on vacation 😭 October is always a hectic month for me.

[sarasade]

Part of me almost hopes that Viren's story arc will end in a disproportionately cruel way, you know.

I'm just so tired of seeing a character doing one good thing before they die or trying to change before they die and instead of the audience taking that as purposeful ambiguity the discussion will center around if the character was "Redeemed".

But imagine if he was punished so harshly that even the Viren haters would feel bad for him. Now that would be interesting! I've seen some dark speculation around season 5 so I'm looking forward to seeing how the show will contextualise his arc.

I don't understand why "Redemption" is such a popular talking point when centering villains (ok I actually do. I'm looking at you, Zuko).

"Sin and Atonement" and "Redemption" are deeply Christian themes. I don't think those should be a universal frame of reference to all stories.

Yes, yes, this is more of a fandom problem, not a show problem. But if people want to see a bad character harshly punished for their crimes maybe they should get that for once. I don't really mind because I think Viren, while unlikeable, is a sympathetic character already. Of course I feel for a character even if they are "irredeemable". That's what stories are for.

I don't mean it's a completely useless way to look at art but it's just- I don't know- I'm bored? Especially YouTube commentators talk about redemption constantly instead of engaging with the themes that actually are there.

Sometimes villains can't even really make up for everything they have done, just like some people in real life. Viren has committed so many crimes- like how do you even fix that? However it'd still be interesting if he tried to change. That's what I'm here for. Like Viren and Claudia are not just an antagonistic counterforce to our heros but they have a lot of going on as unique characters.

Viren has his saviour complex and values domination over cooperation. Claudia is interesting because she's both the victim and the perpetrator. It's interesting how self-sufficient she is while being deeply emotionally codependent on Viren. She has a ton of agency as a physically (magically?) strong person but not a ton of agency as an independent, emotionally strong individual. Viren and Claudia love each other but it's isolating kind of love where they don't really have anyone else but each other (Terry is really trying to get in there. Like sorry Terry you don't know how fucked up these two are lmao).

No wonder it was so easy to Aaravos take Viren's place as an authority figure in Claudia's life after Viren died. Or at least that's what I took away from Lost Child short and TDP season 4 in general.

I still think about the first information we got outside Viren and Claudia's POV about Aaravos's mirror: Runaan's warning about "A Fate Worse Than Death".

This framing device sounds really important. I've been wondering how it'll play out eventually. Is it something about Viren losing his old life he worked so hard to build, or will he lose Claudia in some metaphorical or literal way? Is it something even more personal?

Personally, I'd love to see Viren live and change as a person. There are plenty of high-fantasy male characters like him who go through that kind of transformation: Guts from Berserk, Geralt of Rivia, Jaime from GoT, Ged the Wizard... You know, characters who realise that the things they value are unsustainable or even harmful to themselves and to people around them and even to the world as a whole. Or they realise that superficial things like status and power are unfulfilling and only serve status quo. There are some parallels to toxic masculinity/ hegemonic masculinity, too.

However, I think it'd be interesting if Viren's story will be a deeply tragic one. Anyway I'm here for this.

[honeysucklethornsandalligtrhorns]

Lex's List: Truths, Advice, Quotes, Mantras, & Words to Live By:

Fuck it, we ball.

Take it easy, but take it.

Life is not measured in a series of wins and losses; some things just are.

Don't approach a horse from the rear, a cow from its side, or a fool from any direction.

Perform random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty.

Be gentle with yourself. You are still learning.

Be gentle with your past self. They were still learning.

Treat yourself as you would treat your daughter.

We all die, you either kill yourself or get killed.

Fuck around and find out.

To accept queerness, disability, neurodivergence, mental illness, differing religions, differing cultures, and a differing world, is to accept 'weirdness' and learn how to properly educate yourself on new (sometimes only to you) ideas, subjects, concepts, ways of life, etc..

One essential way to properly educate yourself on new ideas, subjects, concepts, ways of life, etc., is by listening to the stories and experiences of people who are of that specific group, from them themselves.

"Because I'm sexy! And chubby, man." "Why aren't you on a diet?" "Because I like to eat, is that such a crime?"

There are two types of anger-- explosive and implosive.

Intrusive thoughts are not from you, your brain is a wrinkly hunk of fat with lightning in it and it doesn't always know what it's doing. Just let them pass on and don't dwell on them.

Maybe they're just new at it.

You need to love yourself before you try to love others.

Saying sorry doesn't guarantee forgiveness. It's an offering, not a fix-all.

Trust, like respect, is earned.

In that sense, respect & trust can be given and taken away. They are privileges. You have to uphold them.

Phases are a natural part of life. Embrace them.

Everybody talks.

Whatever you do, there is a child out there doing it better than you.

Comparison is the thief of joy.

Everything is a social construct because we live in a society.

Family is not just blood or genetics.

It's okay to need help, but clean up your own messes.

If you leave towels crumpled up instead of spreading them properly, they won't dry correctly.

If you leave issues untouched instead of addressing them and communicating, they won't dry correctly. They will fester.

Water damage is real. Clean up your spills.

This is your only body. Take care of it.

At the end of the day, it's only meat, fluids, electricity, and bone.

You have free will for a reason.

Homosexuality is present in over 1,500 species. Homophobia is present in one.

Never make assumptions.

Fact check everything.

Do not get involved in drama that isn't yours.

It's just fabric, get over yourself (in regards to judgment of others' clothing).

It's just fat, get over yourself (in regards to judgment of other people).

It's just skin, get over yourself (in regards to judgment of other people).

Admitting you were wrong takes more balls than arguing over who's right.

Ask first.

Mean what you say and say what you mean.

Use deodorant.

Vaccinate your kids.

If you can afford it, go to therapy.

Don't expect rewards for basic human decency.

Healthy, safe, and well-informed sex education is vital and should be taught in schools.

Don't purposefully walk into a strip club and then act shocked and offended to find strippers.

The axe forgets, but the tree remembers.

Your ancestors looked like you, and they all managed to get laid. There's hope.

Spite is the world's greatest motivator.

Do it bored.

If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.

You are the light. It's not on you, it's in you. Don't you ever in your motherfucking life dim your life for nobody. Don't you ever stop being who you are and dimming your light for none of these motherfuckers out here.

Art should calm the disturbed and disturb the calm.

Thousands of years ago, ancient peoples got bored.

There's a likelihood that you are not the first in your family line to be queer.

Nine days before the Wright brothers' flight, it was predicted that man would not achieve flight for another million years.

To love and be loved-- that alone is what makes this lifetime bearable.

Those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.

Language is fucking weird and accents are natural.

To laugh is to feel such joy you cannot contain it.

90-year-olds still go on dates. You will find someone.

Don't put metal in the microwave.

Taking 'unnecessary' precautions is favorable to getting unnecessarily hurt.

You can switch religions whenever you want.

And the universe said I love you/ And the universe said you have played the game well/ And the universe said everything you need is within you/ And the universe said you are stronger than you know/ And the universe said you are the daylight/ And the universe said you are the night/ And the universe said the darkness you fight is within you/ And the universe said the light you seek is within you/ And the universe said you are not alone/ And the universe said you are not separate from every other thing/ And the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code/ And the universe said I love you because you are love.

To be willfully ignorant is to welcome death.

The Nation that makes a great distinction between its scholars and its warriors will have its thinking done by cowards and its fighting done by fools.

Coercion is not consent.

Make sure you have a safe word set in place.

Grief does not disappear. You simply grow around it. You live with it.

Your conscience is a triangle. It pokes you when you do something wrong. If you ignore it enough, it'll smoothen out and become a circle. You won't feel the pokes anymore.

To live is not to survive.

Change your perspective, even if you think you're seeing clearly.

Don't be a dick to kids.

Money may not buy happiness, but it buys comfort.

First, you have to forgive yourself.

Don't panic. Panic drowns thought.

Carelessness is to die.

Your art hot like potato chip.

Remember to take your meds + drink water + eat a snack + unclench your jaw.

If you wouldn't take their advice, don't take their criticism.

'Bad' art that's made with passion is better than 'good' art that has no soul.

Hate is a learned trait. No one is born intolerant.

Love was the law and religion was taught.

Arrive early.

Just because someone looks like you does not make them a friend; just because someone does not look like you, or is unfamiliar, does not make them an enemy.

There are different temperatures and steeping times needed for different types of teas. If you get it wrong, your tea will turn out flavorless or bitter.

Don't store raw meat next to vegetables.

You can't 'just cut the mold' off of soft cheeses, fruits/veggies, or most dairy products.

Boiled water is not the same thing as boiling water.

Bake flour to remove the bacteria. Boil water to remove the bacteria. Put toxic things (such as tarantulas) in boiling water and boil for at least an hour to remove the toxins.

If you don't take yourself seriously, neither will others.

Defeatism is to die.

We are made of stardust.

Never make generalizing statements.

If small things bring you joy, fill your home with small things.

To be cringe is to be free.

Punch 'em in the throat.