#murder runs the globe

[ellisdee161]

Plantation USA

[unsolicited-opinions]

Russia started a war that’s killed over a million people. Russian diplomats aren’t murdered. China runs concentration camps. Chinese diplomats aren’t targeted. Iran funds terrorism across the globe. Iranian diplomats aren’t gunned down. Turkey bombs civilians and jails dissidents. Turkish diplomats aren’t hunted. Sudan is collapsing in genocide and famine. Sudanese diplomats aren’t executed. Pakistan harbors terrorists and persecutes minorities. Pakistani diplomats aren’t ambushed. Syria used chemical weapons on its own people. Syrian diplomats aren’t shot outside museums. North Korea starves its citizens and threatens nuclear war. North Korean diplomats aren’t attacked. The list is endless. But out of all these countries, only Israel provokes such obsessive hatred that someone would throw away their entire life just to murder two innocent Israelis in their 20s. Today is a terribly sad day. May their memories be a blessing.

Yehuda Teitelbaum

@chalavyishmael

[rudyboxman57]

Vladimir PUTIN of Russia condoled the Family of Prigozhin, the leader of the Wagner Group who murdered thousands of people around the globe. How sick can you be as running a country like #Russia as president. That's why Puttin is on the most wanted list

#news #Putin #prigozhin

[fairuzfan]

“It should surprise no one that we, Black and Third World people everywhere, attach fundamental importance to the question of Palestine,” says Jordan in her response to Rich’s statement. Driven by her grief and outrage at the massacres at Sabra and Shatila in September 1982, in which thousands of Palestinians were murdered by militia groups over the course of two days, Jordan wrote an open letter called “On Israel and Lebanon: A Response to Adrienne Rich from One Black Woman,” dated October 10, 1982. Her address to Rich was both personal (she names Rich alone among the signatories of the two letters) but also pedagogical (it is an open letter to be published in WomanNews and thus intended for public consumption). Using the words “genocide” and “holocaust,” Jordan lays out the shocking array of war crimes committed by Israel over five months—phosphorous bombs, the destruction of civilian infrastructure, the massacre at Sabra and Shatila—and criticizes Rich’s failure to take responsibility for these things as the tangible outcomes of the Zionism she claims to espouse. This idea of responsibility runs through Jordan’s response like a live wire, culminating in this astonishing statement:

I claim responsibility for the Israeli crimes against humanity because I am an American and American monies made these atrocities possible. I claim responsibility for Sabra and Shatilah [sic] because, clearly, I have not done enough to halt heinous episodes of holocaust and genocide around the globe. I accept this responsibility and I work for the day when I may help to save any one other life, in fact.

— Moving Towards Life: Exploring the correspondence of June Jordan and Audre Lorde, Marina Magloire assembles an archive of a Black feminist falling-out over Zionism.

[naga16]

DCDP Prompt 6: Breaking the Portrait for Picture

(Don't mind the title, I just thought there neat)

Things happened that altered the the whole story. It's nothing bad really, dare I say, what happened turned everything into Michaelangelo's Obra Maestra.

Everyone's parents lives and redeemed themselves. That being said, Batman never appeared nor his band of chaotic good of children.

This means that Gotham has no protector, but that's not an issue? Since no one is troubled enough to cause mayhem.

Joker? Who are you talking about?

Riddler? Who's he?

Poison Ivy? Ohhh, that one environmentalist, she had a murder mystery podcast and she's really great!!!

Enigma? Ahhh, that one attorney who's also Bruce Wayne's friend!!!

What the fuck is the Court of Owl? Some kind of cult?

League of Assassins? Never heard of that. (Yeah, no Damian in this AU. Poor baby)

That being said, Gothamites faces no problem. The one who's troubled is the other heroes and their cities.

For some reason, the curse of Lady Gotham has been ripped apart into pieces and has been passed towards the other cities near her. It's nothing to bad since it's still manageable. They can protect their cities from their own rouge galleries but problem arises when extraterrestrial beings are involved.

Since Batman do not exist to be one of the Founder of the JL (financially speaking, JL will stay a dream since Superman and Wonder Woman don't have the resources and the adequate knowledge to run it by themselves) heroes around the globe finds it hard to connect to each other and like, create a support group for each other.

Now, when Gods appears to be the villain, they scramble to fight them. Just fight with no strategies, just pure might and strength.

This led to the end of the world.

Which was not supposed to happen, mind you.

This lead to Clockwork sending Danny for a mission to secure that the Bats and Birds exist. Even if it means killing the parents or giving them severe trauma or addiction that changes their whole behavior. Even if it means making sure certain villain returns. Even if it means ruining the lives of people living comfortably and contently. Even if it means that it goes against his very core.

Cue, Danny blasting "I'm Just A Man" while doing all this

[bradleysass]

Value - @rosekillermicrofic - wc: 686

“You do realize how valuable that vase was?” Evan hissed, holding onto the shattered remains of Barty’s crime like it could somehow restore his dignity.

Barty, ever the picture of nonchalance, twirled a jagged shard between his fingers. “Probably really expensive?”

Evan stared at him, dead-eyed. “Really expensive, Barty. Priceless. As in, this belonged to a dynasty. As in, you just committed a cultural hate crime.”

Barty winced. “Hate crime is a strong word—”

“Strongly accurate.”

Barty shrugged. “Listen, it was an accident.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Evan’s voice climbed an octave. “You reached out. You touched it. And then—oh, and then—you picked it up, waved it around like a lunatic, and dropped it!”

Barty had the audacity to pout. “It was slippery.”

“IT WASN’T MEANT TO BE TOUCHED.”

A throat cleared behind them. Evan turned his head, stomach plummeting. A museum guard, a broad man with a radio clipped to his vest, was standing a few feet away, arms crossed. He was staring at them like they were an exhibit labeled Idiot Criminals in Their Natural Habitat.

“Uh.” Barty blinked. “Hey.”

The guard took a slow step forward. “Step away from the vase.”

Evan, in a rare moment of telepathic understanding with his boyfriend, met Barty’s eyes.

Run?

Barty’s grin was blinding. Run.

Evan barely had time to curse before Barty grabbed his wrist and took off.

“HEY! STOP!” the guard bellowed, but they were already sprinting.

Barty, being the psychopath he was, immediately dove behind an exhibit, dragging Evan with him. “Shhh,” Barty whispered, like they weren’t still panting.

“Shhh? Shhh?” Evan whisper-yelled. “You just—Barty, I swear to God—”

Barty clamped a hand over Evan’s mouth, grinning. “Relax, love of my life. We just need an escape plan.”

“There is no escape plan!” Evan slapped Barty’s hand away. “They have cameras, guards, probably even snipers, because—oh, I don’t know—it’s a high-security museum?”

Barty peeked around the corner. “Well, if they had snipers, we’d already be dead, so I think we’re good.”

Evan let out a quiet scream. “I’m breaking up with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I should.”

Barty grabbed his face, grinning. “You love me.”

Evan scowled. “Against my better judgment.”

They heard heavy footsteps. The guard was close.

Barty looked up, then at Evan, then up again.

Evan narrowed his eyes. “What?”

Barty pointed. “Vents.”

Evan followed his gaze. “No.”

“Yes.”

“That is not a viable option.”

“You’re thinking too inside the box, Evan.”

“The box is reality, Barty.”

Barty was already climbing onto a display case. “Come on, I’ll boost you up.”

Evan was going to die. Right here, in this museum. And it was going to be Barty’s fault.

“You are an actual menace,” Evan grumbled, but he grabbed Barty’s outstretched hand anyway.

The guard rounded the corner just as Evan hauled himself into the vent.

“HEY!”

Evan barely had time to pull Barty up before the guard lunged. They both scrambled forward, metal groaning under their weight.

“I hate you,” Evan muttered.

Barty, crawling ahead with an infuriating bounce in his step, flashed him a grin. “You say that now.”

The vent creaked ominously.

“Barty.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you check if the vents could support our weight?”

Silence. Then, “The what now?”

The vent collapsed.

They dropped straight into the museum gift shop.

Barty landed perfectly, crouched like a Mission Impossible agent. Evan landed in a display of overpriced postcards.

A cashier screamed.

A child pointed. “That was so cool!”

Evan groaned. “I’m actually going to murder you.”

“Maybe later, darling, we have to go.”

The guards were still chasing them. Barty grabbed a snow globe off a shelf and launched it at one of them before yanking Evan to his feet.

“Run!”

They bolted through the gift shop, past horrified tourists, and out the emergency exit, alarms blaring behind them.

Outside, panting and exhilarated, Barty beamed at Evan. “Well, that was fun.”

Evan took a long, slow breath. “I am never taking you to a museum again.”

Barty kissed his cheek. “No promises.”

Evan glared at him. Then sighed.

“Fine. But next time, we wear disguises.”

[otp-after-dark]

🔥 Absolute Blasphemy: They Butchered Nick and June — And They Butchered the Whole Damn Point of THT

Oh, I'm going scorched earth now.

A love story built on blood, sacrifice, and rebellion… reduced to nothing.

TL;DR: Nick gets on a plane that might be rigged to explode. June just lets him. The show runners expect us to call that “love” or “closure.” No. This is character assassination, a betrayal of everything Margaret Atwood built, and a complete erasure of the core themes that made The Handmaid’s Tale matter. And if I have to hold onto my own damn ending to make peace with it, I will. Because the one they gave us? It’s a disgrace.

❌ Nick Blaine Would NEVER Do This. And June Would NEVER Let Him.

Let’s rewind to who these two actually were.

Nick Blaine isn’t just some brooding side character. He’s been a co-lead since Season 1 — a man caught in a fascist regime who chose resistance every single time it meant protecting June.

In Season 1, he coordinates June's escape to the Boston Globe.

In Season 2, he makes sure June survives childbirth and helps coordinate her escape (again) to get her out.

In Season 4, he literally helps orchestrate Fred’s murder as a gift to June.

In Season 5, he makes it clear he’ll never let her go and love anyone but her.

So now you're telling me this man — this careful, bleeding, haunted man — just gets on a plane he has to at least suspect is rigged with no contingency plan, no warning, no desperate last-minute glance, no whispered plea? He might not know the plane is rigged — but he’s not stupid. And even if he didn’t know, it makes it worse that he left without a word, without a glance, without any instinct to reach for her. The Nick we knew would never walk away from June like this. Whether he knew or not, the show robbed him of his voice, his fire, and his final stand.

And June — the woman who launched a rebellion, helped smuggle dozens of children out of Gilead, murdered her rapist, survived ritual torture and psych ops, and stared down Serena Joy and Aunt Lydia with fire in her eyes — now just watches him go?

She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t run. She doesn’t fight. She accepts it.

This is not them. This is not the Nick and June we bled for. This is emotional fraud.

😤 And the Worst Part? FRED WAS RIGHT?

“Every love story is a tragedy if you live long enough.” – Fred f***ing Waterford

Let me tell you something: When FRED, the rapist, tyrant, manipulative narcissist who tried to justify every monstrous thing he did with flowery biblical metaphors, becomes the voice of thematic truth in your show? You’ve failed. Spectacularly.

Because when Fred said that line, it was supposed to be ironic. It was supposed to highlight how he romanticizes suffering while enacting horror. It was supposed to expose his hypocrisy.

But now? Now it’s just… true? Nick and June — the one relationship built on shared survival, silent sacrifice, unspoken longing, and acts of revolution— are left with nothing? And we’re supposed to nod solemnly like, “Yes, Fred was right. All love dies eventually”?

NO. NOPE. HELL NO.

The whole point of Nick and June was that their love transcended the regime. It was never allowed. It was never convenient. And it still endured. That was the story. That was the point.

If Fred was right, the entire narrative collapses in and of itself.

🤬 This Is Narrative Cowardice.

Let me be clear: I can handle tragedy. I can handle heartbreak. I’m not asking for sunshine and babies.

But this isn’t tragedy. This is narrative negligence.

A tragedy would have been:

June dragging Nick off the plane at gunpoint, only for them to be captured.

Nick sacrificing himself but leaving behind a message, a choice, a voice.

June choosing to go with him, knowing it’s doomed, and facing the consequences together.

What we got instead was:

Nick walking to a likely death like a resigned bureaucrat.

June barely reacting.

Zero resistance. Zero passion. Zero truth.

It’s not tragic. It’s lazy. It’s gutless. And it reeks of a writing room that either lost its nerve in the current political climate or no longer believes in the story they were telling.

🧨 This Is Not Atwood's THT. This Is Prestige TV Pretending to Be Smart and Politically Safe.

Let’s not sugarcoat it. This finale isn’t just disappointing — it’s cowardly. It’s prestige-washed, watered-down, and terrified of its own legacy.

Margaret Atwood didn’t write a metaphor. She wrote a warning. Every horror in The Handmaid’s Tale was pulled from history. The pain. The punishments. The systemic control of women’s bodies. All of it has happened before.

At its core, her book carried one thesis: Oppression thrives on silence. Resistance lives in memory, desire, and identity. Even in captivity, even when stripped of everything, a woman can still rebel — by remembering herself.

That’s who Offred was. That’s who June used to be. A narrator who named her pain. A woman who found rebellion in wanting, in loving, in refusing to disappear.

And early on, the show got that. It gave us fire. It gave us June spitting in Fred’s face. June orchestrating Fred’s murder and kissing Nick like a blood-soaked thank-you.

Her love with Nick wasn’t soft. It wasn’t quiet. It was survival. It was resistance. It was a threat to Gilead itself.

But now? Now June is muted, judgmental, and a hypocrite. Nick is neutered and pro Gilead. WHAT?! And their love — once radical — is treated like a tragic inconvenience.

The final insult? Fred f***ing Waterford gets the last word.

That line should’ve been mocked. A narcissist’s delusion. A warning of how tyrants romanticize the violence they cause.

Instead? The show treats it like the truth. Like the point.

That’s not a tragedy. That’s a betrayal.

This finale isn’t bold. It’s not emotionally mature. It’s not a reflection of trauma or nuance.

It’s storytelling that’s scared of passion. Scared of fire. Scared of the very themes it once claimed to stand for.

This isn’t Atwood. This isn’t feminist. This isn’t revolutionary.

It’s politically safe. Emotionally hollow. And I reject it completely.

✅ The Ending That Still Makes Sense (a summary of my ending)

Forget this muted finale.

In my ending — the only one that makes emotional sense — Nick finally snaps. He stops playing the good soldier. Stops pretending he doesn’t care. He shows up at June’s door like a man on fire.

And June? She’s already past the point of no return. Done with pretending Canada is salvation. She’s ready to do something reckless. Dangerous.

He opens the door. She gets in the car. There’s blood on her hands. Tears in her eyes. But clarity, too. And she says it:

“We’re in this together. Fucking drive.”

That’s it. That’s all it ever had to be.

Two people who loved each other too hard for the world they lived in. Who chose each other in the face of death. Who didn’t walk away.

Not passive ghosts. Not tragedy porn. Not whatever the hell this finale tried to sell us.

This Finale? UNFORGIVABLE.

You don’t get to build Nick and June as a story of love under fire, love as resistance, love as something holy and real in the middle of hell — and then tell us that none of it mattered.

You don’t get to give Fred Waterford the final word on love. You don’t get to strip June of her fight. You don’t get to neuter Nick and erase his heart.

We remember who they were. Atwood got it right. And we’re not buying this lame ass crap.

[sourrpatched]

𓉸ྀི l.mk LIKE A VIRGIN

Pairing > Yandere!Lee Mark x Fem!Reader

Genre > Horror (slasher type), Murder Mystery, College frat AU, smut (MDNI), loosely based in late 90s (there may be minor inconsistencies)

Sypnosis > As the fifth year anniversary of what the public coined the 'Vestal Murders' approaches, strange occurrences begin to happen. Leaving the public frightened there may be a copycat killer on the loose, and you worried that he might be there to finish the job.

Warnings > Cursing, drinking, smoking, death, Major character death (but also not really?), SMUT (MDNI), Dry humping, oral sex (f recieving), protected sex (wrap it up yall come on), stalking, Mark is actually crazy just an FYI

Word Count > 13.6k

A/N > This is the first to a series i’m working on for halloween so i hope if u enjoy this you enjoy the others! This is also my first time writing such a long fic and smut so bear with me please.

playlist > Like a Virgin- Madonna, Oblivion- Grimes, Somebody’s watching me- Rockwell

Lucville, October 12th

October was a fun month for most people. There was the official start of fall and of course halloween season. There was no one happier than your friends, you on the other hand were not a fan.

Something about Halloween just gave you the creeps. Which, yes may be its exact purpose, but that didn’t mean you had to like it. Besides, you preferred Spring anyway.

You sat on your desk chair next to your bed, head hanging back as your body laid limp on the seat. Your friend, Yuqi, was sorting through your closet. Well what was left of the clothes in your closet. She had thrown half of your wardrobe onto the floor, searching for the perfect outfit for tonight.

“Do I have to go?” You groaned, “Like really?”

It wasn’t like you to want to go out and party and your friends knew that, which is why tonight was a special occasion.

“Your parents aren’t going to let you stay home alone, considering recent events.”

“I’d say five years ago is hardly recent.”

There was a series of disappearances that led up to Halloween when you were in your early years of high school. It was three different people who happened to live within your town, some even attended the same school as you. It was a small town, yet you wouldn’t have considered yourself close to any of the students, except for one.

Jihoon was one of your older brother, Inhyuk’s longest and closest friends. You remember how they’d always hang out at your house after school playing video games. Jihoon was always so sweet to you, inviting you into their hangouts so you wouldn’t be alone. Even with the four year age gap you couldn’t help but develop a puppy crush on him.

A week had passed since his disappearance, everyone expected that the kids were playing a senior prank and would return shortly, your brother knew differently. He grew more distressed as the days passed. You remember how annoying it was that he wouldn’t allow you to go anywhere without him right by your side.

That protectiveness only got worse when the bodies had been discovered. The TV was playing a re run of IT in honor of Halloween when an emergency news broadcast appeared.

“It appears the bodies of multiple missing persons have been discovered after police received an anonymous report leading to an investigation of Velvet Lake.”

Chills ran down your spine as the names of the kids appeared on screen, Jihoon being one of the three. Your brother had taken it badly, he couldn’t leave his room for months. That’s why as soon as he graduated he took a scholarship across the globe and never came back.

It only made the house emptier. Your father was always traveling abroad on business so he was hardly ever around, and your mother who was a surgeon at S.E.S, the towns local hospital, was working overtime. That left you alone most of the time when you weren’t with your friends.

“I’m not talking about that Virgin killer, i’m talking about those people who were mauled by a bear or something in Melody.”

Melody was the neighboring town to yours closer to the city, and as far as you knew, there wasn’t much wildlife there.

“A bear? How would a bear even be there?”

“How would I know. My dad just said what he saw on today’s paper.” She shrugged pulling a shirt from your closet and bringing it up to your chest.

“It’s not Virgin Killer by the way, it’s Vestal.”

“Same difference. I think this is it by the way.” She motioned her head to the mirror behind you. It was a green and brown tube top with a turtleneck she had chosen for you to wear. It was cropped, exposing your waist down. You’d argue it wasn’t exactly appropriate for the weather but Yuqi never took that into account.

“Perfect.” She smiled and headed back to your closet. “Now we gotta find matching pants.”

“Isn’t it kind of stupid that they’re hosting a party already. Halloween isn’t even til three weeks from now.”

“Y/N you should know already they will throw a party for any reason.” Her voice comes out muffled. You roll your eyes knowing she’s searching the deep depths of your closet.

“What’s the point in that, aren’t parties supposed to be special?”

“Y/N, college parties are an excuse for us to get drunk and have fun. What’s more special than that?”

You trace out the words ‘HELP ME’ on the desk with your finger, whining. “Nothing for me, so do I have to go?”

You’re suddenly hit on the side of your head. You look down at a the floor where a juniper maxi skirt lays on the floor.

“You play this same game every time and end up dragged to the party anyway,” Yuqi bursts, “We’re going. So put those on and stop your bitching.”

You sigh in defeat, grabbing the skirt and beginning to change into the clothes before the sound of the doorbell goes off.

Yuqi lets a breath out. “That’s probably Minnie I’ll go get her. Stay here and don’t try and get away.” She pleads with emphases on ‘ don’t ‘ before leaving your room.

You change into your clothes, staring at yourself in the mirror. The amount of skin showing makes you a bit uncomfortable so you reach for a black leather jacket on the floor from Yuqi’s assault on your closet. You put it on feeling much more content hearing the approaching voices of your friends.

“You should really learn to stop popping up out of nowhere and call before you’re coming over.”

“I paged you guys.” Minnie spoke evidently.

You snicker, “You still carrying yours around?“

She rolls her eyes, “Okay you’re just lucky your mom and dad can afford to get you a cell.”

You shrug.

“It’s getting late, we should get going.” Yuqi says putting her own jacket on. You grab onto her before she can slip out the door.

“And this mess?”

The entire room looked as if it was part of the titanic wreckage. You could hardly see the floor with the piles of clothing covering it. She looks around then at you with an innocent smile. “I’ll help later.”

You take a breath knowing that was a lie, but following your friends out of the house nonetheless.

This better be worth it.

The frat house is about as messy as you would’ve expected. Red solo cups are left on every surface of the house, and you were sure not a single one of them was filled with water. There was a crowd in the living room surrounding a game of foosball between two guys you were sure were on the football team.

At some point your group separated to go meet up with other people. This was exactly why you hated coming to parties. Within a minute of walking through the front door, Yuqi would met up with her drama club friends and Minnie left with some group of stoners. You walked around hoping to find something to drink to pass time.

You walked into the kitchen finding a small trio of familiar faces hovering around the fridge. Two of the three idiots were taunting the youngest while he stood confused. You slowly sneak up and approach them startling them at the sound of your voice.

“You guys some sort of watch dogs for the drinks or?”

“Jesus fuck when did you get here?”

You shrug, gesturing your hands for them to move from the fridge. “Like twenty minutes ago.” You grab a coke out of the fridge and crack it open taking a sip.

“You came alone little fox, or in your usual set?”

You cringed at the nickname used. Johnny, the eldest of the frat, loved to call you that because of how sneaky you were. It wasn’t ever purposely, you just happened to ‘pop up out of nowhere’ sometimes according to others.

“Yuqi and Minnie went to go find their own cliques.”

“And left you to fend for yourself? That’s not good manners.” Yuta was the second eldest although he acted far from it. He and Johnny had been underclass men to your brother when they were in high school so you guys were pretty close.

“Stealing one of Kun’s cokes isn’t well mannered either.” Johnny teased.

“He’ll live.” You say taking another sip.

“You really shouldn’t be wandering around all by yourself y/n, it’s not very safe.” Mark, the youngest chimes in. Mark was in a grade higher than you, you had never been very close with him until a year ago though, seeing as he began to spend time more with your friend group.

He was a quiet type, kept to himself a lot of the time, and was usually the victim of a joke. He was very sweet though. Minnie pointed out that the last frat party you couldn’t attend, he wouldn’t stop asking her about you.

When she told him you were sick he seemed concerned and gave her shit for just leaving you behind. You felt a blush creeping in at the thought of him carrying so much about you.

“Awww why do you care so much about y/n?” Yuta says squeezing the younger’s cheeks. He slaps his hand off of him and Yuta only bursts out laughing.

“He’s right little fox,” Johnny says directed to you. He was always trying to sound wise. “I mean didn’t you notice the way Sungchan has been eyeing you all night?”

You didn’t. Sungchan had hit on you at the last frat party your friends attended in which you respectfully declined. The way the guys were talking though was as if he was some stalker, your skin crawled at the thought.

“You’re just saying that.”

“It’s true. His attention is always on you, even when you’re not paying attention.”

“Let’s face it, she’s never paying attention.” Yuta adds.

“And that’s exactly why you gotta be careful. College men can’t be trusted.”

You scoff, “You do realize you are included in that generalization. College man.”

Yuta pokes Johnny, putting him on the spot. “She got you there.” The eldest only rolls his eyes. Yuta might seem drunk to most people, and maybe he was, but you and your friends knew he was just the playful type.

“I think Johnny is right, especially around this season. You never know what could happen.” Mark’s sentence trails off.

“Oh chills,” Yuta says raising his arm, “You gave me chills Mark. You’re talking about that Virgin taker right?”

Johnny’s eyebrows furrow, “I don’t think that’s the name.”

“Whatever you know what I mean. He slaughtered all those puritans didn’t he?”

“A little insensitive don’t you think?”

“What? You mad he couldn’t take yours too?” He replies with a wink and sip of his beer. You take it back, he was definitely drunk.

This time you let out a giggle, it was always fun being around these idiots. “Vestal. Can’t believe i’ve had to correct two people on that today.” You shake your head.

“Who was the first?” Mark asks curiously.

“Yuqi, speaking of, I should probably start looking for her. I’m ready to bounce.”

“I thought I saw she left out earlier with some girl with short hair?”

“Great. So she left me and Minnie to get laid.” You say sarcastically.

Johnny clicks his tongue. “You must’ve broken a mirror, little fox. Minnie left out with the boys to go get some food. Munchies, you know.”

You groan, sinking your head into your hand. “They drag me here for no reason. Okay i’m leaving now, i’ll see you guys when I do.”

“You walking alone?” Mark‘s voice comes out full of concern.

You shrug. “Seems like it.”

“I can walk you home if you don’t mind?” He suggests.

“Thank you, but really It’s okay.” You’re already heading towards the door, throwing your empty can in the trash when you hear Yuta’s voice.

“Careful Y/N, don’t let the virgin killer get ya.”

You keep your sight forward, flicking him off as you leave.

You walk through your front door, sliding the locks on instantly. Your shoulders drop, the stress leaving your body. Walking home alone was what you did regularly, only this time it felt different. It felt like someone was accompanying you, even if it was only you walking your regular route home.

The fifteen minutes felt longer than usual but that could’ve rang true since you stopped a few times to look around swearing you could feel eyes on you. That’s why as soon as you got home you turned on all of the lights in your home.

Stupid Yuta. He was always saying something to put you on edge.

You turn on the TV and are shocked to find that the news is still on.

“Due to a power outage the following locations have been left with no power over sixty percent of people are left with no clue on when it will be repaired. Schools and Universities have decided to postpone classes for the time being. People are outraged, some believing this upcoming blood moon could be the reasoning for the power outages.”

The list of cities and towns comes up. Melody, Lucville, Graze town , and 0 mile.

Lucville. That couldn’t be right, you had power right now. The phone rings loudly from the kitchen, pulling you from your thoughts. You get up to check, walking to the counter and pulling the phone to your ear.

“Hell–”

“Did you hear??? The campus closed down cause of some weird power thing, it’s not coming back til November.” Yuqi’s voice cuts yours off.

“I did yeah but that doesn’t make any sense,” You object, “my power’s working.”

“Yeah it’s only effecting places like the police stations and schools, some hospitals too. Don’t read too much into it just be happy we have no classes.”

“Yeah I guess you’re right.”

“I gotta go now, my bed calls me. I only called to make sure you got home. Minnie told me you left alone.”

“The bed or the person in it,” You hear her squeak like she’d been caught. “Don’t forget you owe me a clean room.”

“I’ll get to it tomorrow, promise.”

“Whatever.” You hang up.

At that moment you hear a knock at the front door. You check the time. 1:40am. Weird, your mom was held up at work and your father was still out of town. You walk over to the front door checking the peep hole and seeing nothing.

That’s strange.

You unlock the door and open it, looking around the area. It was just an empty street, not a single light was on from any house. You close the door guessing it could’ve been from the TV, when the phone rings again.

You walk over to the kitchen grabbing the phone. “Hello?”

You’re met with silence.

You scoff, “Yuta? If this is your idea of a prank you should really move on. Everyone’s seen Scream by now.” You hang up.

Even though you were very sure it was just Yuta who was prank calling, you can’t help but feel a shiver run down your spine. You reach up over the counter opening the cabinet to grab a glass when the phone rings again.

You jump, the glass dropping from your finger tips and crashing into the ground. You groan, carefully crossing the glass without stepping in it and reaching for the phone.

“Yuta I swear to god the next time I see you, you better have a jockstrap on!” You shout before being cut off.

“Woah y/n are you okay?”

You sigh in relief. “Mark?”

“Yeah, I was calling to make sure you got home safe. Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing, just got a bit spooked with a call earlier.”

“I’m guessing Yuta?”

“Ding Ding Ding. Guess i’m victim to his little halloween pranks.”

“I’ll talk to him about it.”

“Don’t bother, I can handle him.”

“I’m sure you can,” He chuckles, “Jockstrap?”

“It’s a clear warning in case he does want kids in the future.”

You can hear his smile through the phone, it helps ease your mind. “Assuming he doesn’t already have some running around?”

You let out a chuckle. “You’re right. He’ll be fine without any more.”

The laugh he lets out is contagious. “I gotta clean up a bit here, i’m glad you called though.” You meant it.

“Of course, wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. Who else would keep the guys in check?”

You can’t help the blush that fills your cheeks. “Bye, Mark.”

“I’ll see you later y/n.” The call ends.

You quickly clean up the mess before heading back into your brother’s old room to sleep. It was completely empty save for the TV left on a counter and a loan poster of Madonna on the wall.

You turn off the lights hoping to god you will make tomorrow’s morning shift at the diner.

It was about thirty minutes left of your shift before you were finally free. You rubbed your face to keep yourself awake. It was Monday morning shift and usually they weren’t that busy, but since classes were all canceled for the next week, you noticed a lot more students came to the diner.

You worked at Salty & Sweet Diner for over a year already. It gave you something to do when you weren’t at school so you wouldn’t have to spend all your time at home by yourself. It also gave you money you could use to go out with friends instead of depending on your parents.

“Looking terrible y/n.” The man who is next in line looks up at you with a mocking smile.

“As do you, What can I get for you today YangYang? Same as usual?”

He nodded, “Extra whipped cream don’t forget it.”

You write down his order on a notepad. “And you?”

“Are you on the menu?” Jaehyun jokes.

“Limited time only and you just missed it.”

Jaehyun and YangYang were usually in the frat basement getting high when they weren’t attending classes, so their presence today was surprising.

“The guys should be getting here soon.” Jaehyun comments, “Something about it being your shift so we should come over to annoy you?”

“I thought I mentioned if i see any of you in here i’ll have my manager ban you guys.”

“Nice try, Your manager was busy last night getting high with us.” YangYang points his finger at Minnie, who’s counting the register behind you.

The diner was owned by Minnie’s parents which is how you landed the job in the first place. You were great full most times, but not now. At that moment the door rings signaling another customer coming. You can spot the idiot from miles away.

“Y/N, how are you did you miss me?” He says enthusiastically. You roll your eyes.

“I wouldn’t even miss you if you died.”

“Ouch.” He grabs at his chest dramatically. Before you can berate him you’re cut off by the familiar, comforting voice.

“Hey y/n, how’s your shift going?” Mark says, his attention fixed onto you.

“It’s fine. What are you doing here?” You respond shyly.

“The guys wanted to annoy you but I only came to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m okay.” You could feel the awkwardness radiating off of your body.

“That’s good,” He clears his throat. “So, the guys were actually going to host another party this weekend. I was wondering if It’ll be okay if i keep my hopes up to see you.”

You wait a second before responding. “I can’t confirm whether you will be disappointed or not.” He nods at your answer when a voice cuts into your conversation.

“You won’t be. She will be there.” Minnie’s voice rings out.

You look at her, eyes wide. She only gives a tight smile. It’s her signature ‘Don’t even try it’ look.

Yuta speaks this time, “Great, so i’m guessing you will all three be there?”

“You guessed correctly.” She grins, “I’ll let Yuqi know about it. Y/N you can go now.”

“My shift isn’t over?”

“Yeah well I’m sure Hyungseo has no problem covering your shift for you.”

“Who‘s Hyungseo?” Yuta asks teasingly.

“The chef who can’t keep his eyes off of our little Y/N here,” Minnie winks at you. “Go on now Y/n, you can go.”

You give her a look before heading to the back to change out of your apron. Before you’re completely out of sight you can hear the group tease the youngest.

“You’re as red as Minnie’s old wash cloth right now.”

“Hey man knock it off.” Minnie replies.

Mark can only turn away, “I’m heading to the restroom.”

On your way out, a voice stops you in your tracks. Sungchan sits in his seat, a milkshake in front of him.

“Sungchan, i’m off the clock if you needed something I could let Minnie know.”

“Huh?” He turns his head to his drink realizing what it looks like to you, “No actually I just wanted to ask you.” He trails off his sentence. You stand there confused waiting for him to continue. “You’re going to be at Yuta’s party right?”

“I don’t really have a choice.”

His laughter is strained, “Well I was wondering if I see you there, would you want to–“

His voice is cut off by the yelling coming from where your group of friends stand. You see that two of the boys have decided to try and race to see who can finish their milkshake first, glad you clocked out before having to deal with that.

“Yeah i’ll see you there,” You say to Sungchan, leaving him to his drink. “I gotta go, enjoy your food.”

He nods giving you a small smile, “Bye Y/N.”

Once you’re home you can’t wait but head straight to the shower. You set the water to warm before stripping and standing directly under the stream of water. The warmth hits you and you let out a sigh, letting the water run down your body and soak into your hair.

Minutes pass of silence, the only sound being the running water. Your eyes are closed as you begin rinsing the remaining shampoo in your hair. You hear the faintest tap of the door, opening your eyes in an instant.

You turn the facet off stepping out of the shower and grabbing your towel, only now realizing your clothes weren’t there.

I swear I brought clothes?

Your heart drops as you begin to hear muffled voices coming from your house. You stand frozen in front of the bathroom door. You can hear your heart thumping as if it’s directly in your ears.

After moments of contemplating you choose to open the door. You follow the voices that are coming from the living room. The TV is on.

“Parents stand here today at the memorial sight with flowers and candles to honor the upcoming five year anniversary of the Vestal Murderer’s victims. The victims–“

You turn off the TV, deciding to ignore it and head back into your room to change into a pajama set.

October 19th

This party is boring. You had chosen to stick by Minnie’s side after experiencing the weirdest phenomenons for the past week. You had about three other times items had been misplaced in your home. You were slowly growing more agitated than anything, so when Minnie suggested you join them in their smoke session you didn’t decline.

You sat in between Minnie and YangYang, opting out of smoking after a single rotation. You weren’t a smoker so three puffs and one coughing fit later you were done for the night.

Your friends sat in a circle, recounting stories to one another. You couldn’t really focus on anything but keeping your eyes open though.

There’s a knock at the door, pulling your attention from the cup in your hands and towards the sound. Jaehyun gets up to get the door, speaking to the man on the other side with a hushed voice. It’s only when you lean to the side that you notice it’s Mark.

You turn over to Minnie by your side, tapping her shoulder to get her attention.

“I want to go get another drink.” Minnie nods her head, letting YangYang know she’s gonna be right back. You both sit up heading towards the door where Jaehyun looks annoyed.

“Is something wrong?” Minnie asks, inserting herself into their conversation.

“Just Johnny stealing our room for the night. He needs some ‘privacy’ for that girl he brought over.” He says rolling his eyes.

You couldn’t help but let out a giggle, it was funny that he was so bothered by something you knew for a fact he was very guilty of.

“You mad you couldn’t book it first?” Minnie jokes.

“Y/N, I thought you left?” Mark questions.

“No, well I was but then Minnie invited me up so,” You let out a breath motioning your hands to the room. “I’m here.”

You can hear laughter from Jaehyun and Minnie who find your current condition hilarious. It only makes you join their cackling. Mark stays watching the three of you very confused.

“Right,” He says slowly. “You guys are leaving now?”

“Just getting a refill.” Minnie brings her cup up showing the emptiness of it.

“You guys getting more drinks? Get me a–“

“Get it yourself.” You knock down Jaehyun before he can finish his sentence. He frowns. “Come on Minnie.” She follows you out the door, leaving the two boys to their own conversation.

You and Minnie stand in the kitchen, well Minnie stands. You’re sat on the counter as she searches the cabinets for more booze. You look over to the living room where you see a mix of unfamiliar and familiar faces engage in a game of Cup Pong.

“Here,” Minnie grabs your attention, handing your cup back to you. You grab it and take a sip, frowning at the taste. “It’s water. God knows you need it.”

You take another sip, setting it down on the counter afterwards. “Thanks.”

“You heard earlier right?” She says, taking a drink out of her own. You cock your head to the side, not picking up what she’s saying. “Siwon was asking what I was doing later tonight and if i wanted to ‘hang’.” She adds quotation marks with her fingers.

If you had the water in your hands you were very sure it would’ve spilled everywhere. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was.” Her face full of disgust.

“I too, wish you were.” Yuqi adds from behind you. You jump at her sudden appearance. “When did you get here?”

“Just now. Which reminds me,” She brings herself up onto the counter leaning in to the two of you. “You know that high school kid I told you guys about who joined our club, Minjae?” You both nodded. “He tried putting moves on me.”

Minnie chokes on her drink. Yuqi immediately hitting her back to help her catch her breath. “What the hell is wrong with you.”

“Right now?” You question in disbelief.

“While you two were busy getting stoned.”

Minnie lets out one last cough, “What did you say?”

“Of course not. That’s a kid, I want nothing to do with that.” Yuqi says almost offended that Minnie even had to ask.

“You were a high schooler when you hit on Soyeon.”

“Well yeah, but that’s different. Me and Soyeon were only a year apart. He’s like two years younger.”

Minnie shrugs, “You’re just scared he’s going to get attached if you take his V-Card like you did with Soyeon.”

“Hey,” She hits Minnie’s shoulder, “Next time i’ll let you choke.”

“You remember how you were, puppy eyes always following her around.” Minnie says bringing fists to her cheeks. “You were so cute before you chose to become a heartbreaker.”

Yuqi hits Minnie’s hands off of her. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Ah you’re so mean now.” Minnie whines, “Y/N, when you finally get to bed don’t become like Yuqi.”

“As if that would happen any time soon, guys aren’t exactly all over me. Besides, I want it to be special.” You say bringing your arms to your chest.

Yuqi makes a face at Minnie. The girls sharing a glance you aren’t able to understand.

“What?” You press.

“Don’t worry about guys not being interested in you, worry about the guard dog of yours keeping them from approaching.” Minnie speaks as if it’s an obvious answer.

“What do you mean?”

Before you can press any further a figure approaches your circle. “You guys okay?”

“Never better.” Yuqi smiles, hopping off of the counter.

You face where mark stands. You weren’t able to really take in his appearance earlier but now that he was leaning on the counter, you were able to dissect him as if he were a test subject on a science lab table.

You thought the water was helping sober you up but apparently not enough with the way your brain was making up horrible comparisons.

You couldn’t help the blush on your face as you noticed the outline of muscles on the man’s forearms. He wasn’t even flexing and they were still apparent.

His plain white tee didn’t stop your brain from what your friends would call ‘eye fucking’ the man in front of you. It fit him like a glove, capturing his broad shoulders and his chest the way you wish you could.

“You okay y/n?” He spoke, pulling you out of your trance.

“Uhh, yeah.” You turn to where your friends are smirking at you, reading you easily. “What were we talking about?”

“How it’s pretty late and you should get home soon.”

“And how Mark should probably take you back home.” Minnie adds smoothly.

“Would you be okay with that?” Mark looks over to you.

There’s a brief silence as everyone waits for your answer. You give a tight smile, “Sure.”

“Great, well we have to go.” Yuqi says pulling Minnie with her out of the kitchen, “See you tomorrow Y/N!”

You were lucky the man in front of you was so oblivious to your friend’s actions. You put your arms down to help get you off of the counter the way Yuqi did earlier. A pair of hands find their way around your waist before you can.

“Here let me help you.” Mark pulls you off the counter with no struggle. You can’t help the warmth creeping in your stomach from his grip around you.

“Thanks.” You say, his hands leaving your waist as you stand steady on your own feet. You hope he doesn’t notice the way you can’t look him in the eye. “Let’s go.”

The cool autumn air was enough to sober you up if only by a little. Mark walked silently beside you noticing the way you wrapped your arms around yourself trying to keep warm. You’re too busy thinking about how much longer this walk will be when you feel hands wrapping around your shoulder.

“You were shivering.” He says leaving his jacket on you.

“Thanks.” You mumble, feeling instant relief from the cool air.

You can smell a hint of vanilla on it, his signature cologne. You smile silently to yourself bringing your hands to your mouth to warm them, and to keep him from noticing the faint pink in your cheeks.

“I’m glad I can walk you home, I was a bit worried last time you answered the call sounding panicked.”

You recall the memory. He did sound a bit startled through the phone. “I’m okay, i’m glad you get to walk me home anyway.”

There’s another round of silence. You notice your street in the distance, trying to come up with what to say. He speaks before you’re able to utter a word.

“You look really pretty tonight by the way.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. He realizes how his sentence came off, backtracking his earlier statement. “You always look pretty I mean. I just– You really suit my jacket.”

“I don’t know if I should thank you for the jacket or the compliment.”

“You don’t have to thank me at all, i’m only stating the obvious.”

You look up smiling at him which feels so easy to do whenever he’s around. You notice the beauty marks all over his face and neck, wishing you could analyze them closer.

“That’s my place over there.” You break the silence pointing over to your house. He looks to you, “I’m glad you have arrived safely.”

“I’m glad you could bring me.”

You both are standing face to face for a moment, observing each other and waiting for someone to make the first move. He speaks first.

“I don’t want to hold you in the cold for any longer.”

You reach to take off his jacket, “Oh, here’s your–“

“No need,” he cuts you off. “You pull it off better than I ever have.”

“I beg to differ.” You’re hoping he can take a hint. “But I guess once I wear another clothing item of yours we can see who pulls off your clothes better.”

“Feel free to invite yourself over anytime for access to my wardrobe.”

“Or I can pull this one off you now?” You joke, pulling him closer by his shirt. You’re unsure where your sudden boldness is coming from, perhaps you weren’t completely sober after all.

He leans in closer, staring into your eyes and shifting his gaze to your lips. He was definitely not as dense as you thought. You lean in closer, his fingers grazing your lips.

A sudden noise pulls you guys apart from each other. You look to the ground, embarrassed by how brazen you came off. He reaches into his pocket, grabbing his pager and reading off a message.

“Do you need to go already?”

He lets out heavy sigh as if he was disappointed in the distraction, “Yeah, that was Yuta he wants for me to stay over the night.”

You’re shocked, always having assumed he had stayed with the rest of the frat members. “Oh, I thought you lived there?”

“No, My parents actually got me a place here for my studies so it’s just me.”

“I see, it’s the same for me.” You point again at your home. “Thank you for walking me, please make sure you get back safely.”

“My pleasure, have a nice night Y/N.” He waves his hand as you begin walking towards your home.

“Ditto.” You shout out loud enough for him to hear you as you walk up to your home pulling your key out.

“What did you do!” You let out a gut wrenching scream. The entire floor was painted red, you look down and notice your hands full of blood.

You jump out of your nightmare, sweat lining your body. The house is silent, your alarm clock emitting a red gleam. It reads 4:26am.

You sit in bed rubbing the last of the tiredness in your eyes deciding it’d better to keep yourself awake for a while longer. You get up heading towards your kitchen to grab a glass of water.

As you reach the kitchen you decide to turn the TV on to calm your nerves for the time being. The news is on again. You take a sip out of your water paying half a mind to what is being reported.

“It’s been 48 hours since the disappearance of Jung Sungchan, his parents report he was last seen on October 17.”

Sungchan? He had said he would go to the party when you last saw him just a few days ago. You think back realizing you hadn’t seen him at all tonight. You feel your heart sink, placing your glass down and running to your house phone.

“Hello?” Minnie’s voice comes out hoarse. You can tell you’d just woken her from her sleep but you’re too startled to apologize.

“Sungchan is missing.”

“Huh?”

“He’s gone I just saw on the news they said it’s been days. I’m freaking out I just talked to him on Monday this has to be a joke right?”

“Y/N–“ You can barely hear her over your panicked thoughts.

“This is happening all over again, they’re saying it’s him again.”

You feel your eyes begin to water, “There’s been weird things happening, I hear knocks and my TV turns on all the time for no reason.” “Y/N.”

“Minnie, He was so close before,” You take a breath, “What if I’m next?”

“Y/N!” She yells out causing you to jump. “Relax, you’re okay. Nothing is going to happen.”

You don’t say anything so she continues, “I’m pretty sure I saw Sungchan after you left with Mark okay? Also, those knocks are probably just neighborhood kids. Remember when you said they’d always egg your neighbors around halloween?”

You let out a breath, “Yeah, you’re right.”

“See so there’s nothing to worry about, it’s all in your head cause Yuta kept saying shit. You’re okay and nothing going to happen.”

You realize how stupid you might’ve sounded now. Minnie was right, nothing was wrong until Yuta put all of that into your head. You’re just overthinking it.

“Thank you.” You let out softly.

She gives a sound of acknowledgment, “You know if you ever feel scared, my house is always open to you.”

“It’s fine I think I was just paranoid but i’m okay now.”

“Well just letting you know. Do you want to stay on the phone?”

“No it’s okay, i’ll let you get back to sleep.”

“Make sure you’re getting some sleep too alright?” She yawns. “God knows we need it for tomorrow.”

“Oh crap.” You had forgotten about the annual fundraiser held at the frat house. It was meant to raise money for the victims families of the Vestal Murders. You and your friends had promised to be there. “It totally slipped my mind.”

“If you can’t go don’t sweat it, you have a lot on your plate anyway.”

“No, i’ll be there.”

“Okay well I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight Y/N.”

“Night.”

October 20th

After a day of setting up different games for the fundraiser you were able to sit and relax. Yuqi, who’s sitting beside you passes a bottle of coke to you.

“Thanks.” You reply, taking a sip of the drink and setting it down.

“Can’t believe we had to help set up, i just want to go home.”

You give a wry smile, “Yeah i’m pretty exhausted, had a tough time sleeping.” She’s about to respond when someone calls her from the distance. “I’m going!” She turns to face you, “Go, we’re done here anyway.”

She walks away meeting with YangYang at the steps of the house. You close your eyes lying back against the couch you’re on. You can hear voices around you but don’t try enough to make out what they’re all talking about. Footsteps approach you, you open your eyes to see who it is.

“The games haven’t even began and you’re tired already?”

Mark is standing above you, you take in the fitted black shirt he has on. You admire the turtleneck he has on, it really fits him even though it covered his neck moles you loved to stare at.

“I’m only resting, it’s been a long day.”

He hums, taking a seat beside you. “Then i’ll join you, you can use me as a pillow if you’d like.”

You take his offer, lying your head on his shoulder which is much more comfortable than the couch if you were being honest. You close your eyes and feel his hand start to play with your hair, purring at the feeling.

“Yo, you guys gonna just sit there or you wanna join?” Johnny shouts to you and Mark.

You look up at him, still resting your head on him. His face is so close you pull away and get up. “We’re going.” He follows behind you.

You can see a few of your friends lined up to play apple bobbing. You remember how you played once when you were younger, you freaked out and inhaled the water. Inhyuk had to pull you out to stop you from choking.

“You wanna play?” Yuta says, smirking at the two of you.

“Uh I’m good.” You say, looking up at Mark.

“Come on, show them how you use that mouth of yours.” Minnie winks at you from in line.

You shove into her with your forearm, she laughs it off. “Really I’m okay, Mark?”

“Actually mind if I show you something instead?”

“Ohhh, he’s going to show you what his mouth can do.” Yuta mocks, this time he earns a shove from Mark.

You give her a scornful look, “Sure let’s go.”

He holds your hand pulling you from behind him, leading the way. You guys walk past the crowds of people, making your way through the house. You realize he’s taking you to the basement so you speak up.

“Didn’t know you were a smoker, Lee.”

He chuckles, “Not quite.” You both are still hand in hand when he takes you to a corner room in the basement that you hadn’t noticed before.

“What’s this?”

“You’ll see,” He opens the door revealing a room filled with Halloween candy and a blanket on the floor. You look around noticing the TV in the room with VHS tapes of different movies laid out on the floor. “Do you like it?”

You look up at Mark seeing how he’s awaiting your answer. You pull him in for a hug, squealing in delight.

“This is so sweet.”

“Minnie told me you had been having a rough time, thought this might cheer you up.” He smiles, “Did it work?”

“It did more than work. Mark, thank you.” You look up at him, holding his gaze for a moment. You’re both only an inch from each other, you look at his lips wondering how soft they’d feel on yours.

His voice comes out rough, “We should watch a movie, yeah?” though he makes no effort to step away from you.

You take a look at him, his eyes won’t leave your mouth so you move in closer. “We can always watch later.”

He lets out a chuckle before pulling you in for a kiss. His lips feel so soft on yours, it’s everything and more than you had imagined. It’s rough and possessive, stealing your breath right from your mouth.

He bites onto your lip earning a moan from your lips, you pull away embarrassed by the noise you’d let out. “I’m sorry I don’t know why I did that.”

He lets out a breathless laugh, “Don’t apologize, I love those sounds from you.” He pulls you in again, the kiss becoming even heavier than before.

You can feel his tongue trace the bottom of your lips asking permission to deepen the kiss. You accept, beginning to explore his own mouth. You bite his lip, earning a groan from him, you thought that might be the sexiest noise you’d ever heard before.

He grabs onto your cheek with one hand and your waist with the other. “Fuck, Y/N. You’re so perfect you know that?” You can barely respond before he begins to pull you in once more.

“Mark,” You plead breathlessly, pulling away from him. “I need to tell you something.”

He hums, beginning to kiss down your neck. You squirm at the feeling. “I haven’t– Fuck. I’ve never done this before.”

He slowly pulls away from you, confusion evident on his face. “Oh.” He can tell how embarrassed you feel admitting it so he adds promptly. “We don’t have to do anything. I’m not going to force you to do anything I just thought a movie would be nice.”

You find his distressed state amusing, “I– yeah that’s fine.”

He smiles, about to put a movie in when you hear a knock from the door.

“Y/N, we gotta go. Yuqi’s parents want her home already.” Minnie appears at the door.

You nod remembering the plans you guys had made to hang out after the fundraiser. Fuck, you wished you could stay with Mark for longer, especially considering how much effort he’d put into spending time with you.

“Yeah, okay i’ll be right there.” You say a little breathlessly, hoping she doesn’t notice it. She gives you an all knowing smile as she closes the door, “Be quick.”

You frown at the fact that you have to leave early, Mark quickly comes to your defense. “Hey it’s okay, we can save it for next time.” He puts his hands on your shoulder pulling you for a hug.

“I wish I didn’t have to leave.” You pout.

He laughs, finding you adorable. “I wish you didn’t have to go either, but we have plenty of time together, right?”

You nod, “Right. I’ll see you next time okay?”

“Get home safely y/n.” You head for the door before stopping in your tracks and turning around. Mark looks confused until you pull him in once more for a short and sweet kiss.

“Goodbye Mark.” You say pulling away and leaving out the door.

“Naughty naughty girl, y/n.” Minnie tsks, tapping her finger over your head.

You push her hand away. “Shut up, let’s go.”

She laughs following you close behind.

“I still don’t know why my parents felt the need to be party poopers, they could’ve asked the neighbor to feed that damn dog.” Yuqi complains.

Minnie gasps, “I love Haku!”

“Whatever, Oh there it is!” Yuqi, says pointing down at Phantom Halloween Store.

Your friends race down to get there first, you choose to continue walking instead. There’s a TV store to the right showing a news report.

“There’s been yet another disappearance reported since a body was discovered earlier today. Police have not made a comment on the identity of the individual or what another disappearance could mean for the town of Lucville. The public demands answers. Could it be possible that the Vestal Murderer is back for another halloween or a copy cat killer has taken his place?”

“Y/N!” Yuqi’s voice calls after you from ahead. “You coming?”

You choose to ignore the rest of the report, “Im going!”

“I think this would look great on you.”

“Cat Woman?” Minnie raises her eyebrow.

“You’d look really sexy, that’s what halloweens all about, right y/n!”

“Exactly, come on Minnie, you gonna finally try and get the attention of Yuta?”

She scowls at the both of you, snatching the suit out of Yuqi’s hands. “I’m trying it on, that’s all. No promises.”

“Yesh right, you’ll rock it anyway.” You both tease her as she steps into the dressing room.

“So y/n, what are you dressing as?” Yuqi asks.

“I don’t know i’ll probably just dress as is.”

She looks as if you ate her dog, “It’s halloween. A costume is a must. No ifs or buts!”

“You think rhyming is going to help me change my mind?” You raise an eyebrow at her, minding your business looking through the masks.

“What about Mark,” You stop in your tracks, feigning a cough. “What about him?”

“Don’t you wanna do more than just make out in the basement of a frat house?”

You roll your eyes, “Minnie told you.”

“Yeah well i’m offended you didn’t!” She retorts. “If you want to impress him then you have got to dress up.”

You sigh, halloween costumes weren’t really your thing, but you didn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb being the only one not dressed up.

Yuqi smirks knowing she’s got to you. “Who knows,” she shrugs, “Maybe he will end up killing your virginity.”

Your ears go red, “Yuqi!” Her eyes go wide, stepping away from you. “Why are you so loud! Do you know how embarrassing you are?”

“Please spare me okay!” She yelps as you grab onto her shirt.

“Wow y/n I didn’t take you for a bully.” Johnny’s deep voice sounds from behind you both. You let go of Yuqi, allowing for her to fix her shirt.

“You make it a habit of stalking us?”

“Ah yes, cause we came here purely to track your group of friends down.” Yuta remarks sarcastically, “A halloween store, when it’s is less than a week away.”

“We came here to look for some last minute decorations.” Mark comments before you and Yuta can begin your bickering.

“We’re here for costumes, Y/N here has got the perfect one planned.” Yuqi states, her arm sneaking around your shoulder.

“Really? What is it?” Mark looks to you.

“It’s a surprise!” Yuqi squeaks out. You’re thankful for it because you wouldn’t have known what to say at all.

“Good, you should show us at the Halloween party we’re throwing this weekend.” Johnny utters, reaching into his pocket. He pulls an invitation flier to the party, passing it to you. “It’s a costume party so make sure you’re all there.”

“All of you.” Yuta adds, “Speaking of, where’s your third?”

At that moment Minnie walks out of the dressing room. The latex suit wraps around her body hugging her figure, the mask is on too bringing out her natural cat eyes, and in her hand she grips a whip as a signature weapon.

“So do you guys think–“ the words die on her tongue. She freezes looking at the group in front of her, one of them being Yuta.

“You wanna be my dominatrix Minnie?” Yuta jests.

She turns red at his comment and closes the dressing room door, hiding behind it.

“We’ll be there.” You say.

October 30th

It felt like Halloween had came early, there were piles of candies and treats left all over the kitchen counter as well as a punch bowl you were eighty percent sure was spiked. The blood moon stood bright in the night and true its name, painting the dark sky red.

You had just arrived no longer than ten minutes ago and your friends had already happened to disappear out of sight. You made your way to the counter grabbing a red solo cup to serve yourself the blood colored punch.

“You actually want to drink that?” Mark’s voice startles you, causing you to drop the ladle back into the punch.

“Well I guess not.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think you’d get scared.” He says, his hands going up in defense.

“It’s fine, i’ll just take a beer.” You reach for the refrigerator.

“You look beautiful,” He states, “Carrie right?”

You look down at the silk champagne colored dress you have on. “Yeah, did the crown give it away?”

“More so the blood on the costume but the crown too.”

You let out a giggle, “And you, Michael Myers?” You say almost as a question.

“Ding Ding Ding! I had my mask earlier but Yuta insisted on letting him borrow it for the time being, something about prancing the neighborhood kids?”

“Wow, he really is a menace. Is it bad i’m glad i’m not the target of his pranks though?”

He laughs, “I mean it is trick or treat right? The kids shouldn’t be that mad.”

You smile at him, he was always so playful with his words. You felt as if he understood you in ways not any other person could. You couldn’t stop your mind from remembering the kiss you both shared not too long ago.

He opened his mouth but no words came out. You felt a surge of boldness in the moment so you decided to speak for him.

“So Mark Myers, you wanna head back to the basement and finish what we started?”

You never could get used to the way he kissed you. He was always so quiet it was shocking to see this side of him. The one that was almost starving for your lips.

You sat on his lap, legs wrapped around his waist, his hands gripping your hips on him. You pulled away to take a breath, his lips attaching themselves to your throat.

“Fuck– Mark.” You groan, his mouth beginning to sprinkle bruises all over your neck. He kisses behind your ear, causing you to involuntarily grind your hips down.

He gasps at the sudden contact, “You’re driving me crazy.”

You let out a moan, continuing to grind your hips down.

You whine, the fabric in between you both making it hard for you to feel relief.

“Y/N baby,” He stops your movements with his hands on your hips. “ I don’t want to push you to do anything but you’re really making it hard.”

“You’re not pushing anything. I want this, I want you.”

“Fuck– I can’t hold you back.”

“Then don’t.” You say, pulling him in for another deep kiss. He kisses into your mouth, his tongue exploring you. You moan into the kiss beginning to build up the pace of your hips, his bulge growing as you continue to work yourself onto him.

“I feel so close.” You let out eagerly.

“Come on baby, come for me.” He begins to force your hips down, building more friction to your heat.

You can feel your high approaching rapidly, gripping onto his shoulders tight, your nails digging into his skin. He hisses at the feeling, you let out a weak apology.

“It’s okay, just be a good girl and finish, yeah?”

His words are enough to bring you to the edge. You feel your legs shake as your orgasm takes over your entire body. You bite down on his shoulder, trying to keep from screaming at the euphoric sensation.

He helps you ride out your orgasm until your body begins shaking with aftershocks. He lifts your face to look at him, his features soft. “How are you feeling?”

You can’t help but pull him in for another kiss, he’s shocked but returns it. You pull away looking up at him, pupils dilated and your voice coming out shy, “I want more.”

“Are you sure?” He asks slowly.

You nod your head, “Please.”

He hums, lifting you off of him so he can get up to check his counter for protection. You sit on the mattress waiting for him to find it, growing shyer as the seconds pass.

“I’ll go check upstairs for one, I’m sure Yuta’s got some lying around.” He states, “I’ll be back quickly okay?”

You nod your head, he steps out of the room to go look. You lift the blanket to cover your face, realization of the events hitting you. You were glad nobody was in the room so you could have time to blush over how good you felt.

You heard foot steps approach the door, assuming Mark had found Yuta’s pack of condoms. “Come in!”

Mark opens the door, looking tense. “We gotta go, police showed up crashing the party. Everyone has to leave.”

You both make it to your front door, out of breath for semi running the entire trip home. His hand never left yours throughout the trip and it doesn’t leave yours now. You can’t help but fidget with his fingers that you’ve only now noticed are so much bigger than yours.

“I wonder what tipped them off.” You say referring to the way the police had shut down the party.

“Something about a curfew, no parties for the time being.” He shrugs. “Listen y/n.”

Your fingers don’t stop tracing his palm as you await his sentence. “How about we hang out soon like a date?”

“Oh!” Your hands stop, taken aback by his unabashed state.

He continues, linking his hand into your own. “I’m more than just interested in you, and i’d like to show you that.”

You offer a measly smile. “I’d really like that.”

His answer’s coy. “Great, I’ll see you next time then yeah?”

You nod, he releases your hand beginning to walk away. “Bye Mark.”

“Goodnight Y/N.”

You ran into your home closing the door behind you hoping he didn’t notice your bashfulness as you bid him farewell. You bite your lip to calm yourself down, letting out a squeal of excitement.

A ring coming from the kitchen pulls you out of your cheerful state. You head towards the phone picking it up as it’s on the last ring.

“Yuqi? Minnie? DId you guys get home safe?”

The line is silent until you make out a strangled scream through the phone. You instantly drop it, beginning to panic. You hear muffled wheezing through the phone, choosing to pick it up again.

“Who the fuck is this? Is this the same number as before?” Your voice comes out horror-struck. “What the fuck do you want.”

The voice comes out restrained, “You.”

The line goes dead. You hear a knock on the door, grabbing a knife from the counter top and hugging it to your chest. The knocking gets louder, the doorknob twisting.

“Please just leave me alone!” You cry out.

“Y/N, it’s me. Please just open the door.” Marks voice rings out.

You run towards the door unlocking it and letting him in. He picks the knife out of your hands tossing it to the side and pulling you into his arms. You aren’t sure when you began hysterically crying but his embrace helped soothe you.

“What happened baby, talk to me.” You take in a breath, looking over to the phone.

“They won’t stop calling. I don’t know who it is or what they want from me.” You struggle to speak.

“Hey hey it’s okay.” He holds onto you tighter, “I’m here okay?”

Your sobs dwindle, your breathing becoming more steady.

“Do you want me to stay?” He asks.

You shake your head, “I don’t want to be here, not right now.”

He contemplates for a moment, “Would you want to stay at my place for tonight then?”

You nod your head, wiping your tears from your face.

“Please.”

You take in the place, it’s empty besides the couch and TV in the living room and a few plants scattered around. The house smells oddly clean, which wasn’t something you expected from a college man but you weren’t going to complain.

“You can take a seat i’ll get you a water.” He says pointing at the velvet couch in the corner of the living room.

“Thank you.” You smile, taking a seat. It’s pretty comfortable for being a living room couch, you decide you can stick to sleeping there tonight. Leaving early tomorrow so you won’t cause any disturbance.

You look to the wall, a clock hangs on it reading 2:30am. You wonder if Yuqi or Minnie made it home earlier, hoping that none of them ended up in a jail cell tonight.

Mark appears in front of you, a glass of water in his hand. “Here you go,” He offers. You accept the glass taking it out of his hands.

He takes a seat next to you, offering some distance so you can sit comfortably. You chug down half of the water, setting it down beside you onto the floor.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” He asks with a soft tone as if to not scare you.

“It’s everything I said before, I just feel very paranoid these days.” You shake your head, “I keep getting this weird feeling, I feel like someone’s been stalking me.”

His eyes go wide, “Do you know who?”

You let out a sigh, “I haven’t seen anyone, I just feel in my gut like something bad is going to happen if it hasn’t already.” He remains silent allowing you space to explain.

“I never told anyone this, but I keep having like a weird sense of deja vu. I remember so clearly that around this time five years back there was always this same feeling, like I was being followed or watched in every corner.”

You release a shaky breath, “I don’t know why but I think this person whoever he is. I feel like he wants me next.”

Mark breaks his silence, “The Vestal killer?”

“I think so.”

“That can’t be the case right? The police said he must’ve disappeared when he could after the murders right?”

You shrug, “I don’t know if that’s true. All I know is someone has been using me as a pawn in their game for the past weeks.”

“You’re right,” He responds. “Do you want to talk to Yuqi or Minnie maybe? Maybe they might have had the same feeling?”

You nod in agreement, “Yeah okay, can I borrow your phone please?”

“Of course, it’s in my room first door to your left.” You thank him before heading through the hallway into his room.

You pick up the phone beginning to dial in Yuqi’s number, there’s no answer. You try giving another attempt this time to Minnie’s number, she doesn’t pick up. You opt for sending a message to Minnie’s pager, glad you happened to remember to carry yours with you tonight.

911.

You hear Mark’s footsteps approaching, opening the door to check on you.

“None of them picked up, i’m hoping they’re not in jail or something.”

Mark chuckles, “I doubt it, I got a call from Yuta. He ran out with Minnie before the cops showed up.”

“Wow, glad to know they were having fun while shit hit the fan.” You reply sarcastically.

“They wouldn’t be the only ones.” Mark teases, referring to the events that took place between the two of you moments before the party was crashed.

You blush at the memory. “I don’t believe I recall, mind reminding me?”

He offers a coy smile, approaching you slowly. “You sure you don’t remember?” He closes the distance between you two, his arms locking you in between him and the counter.

Like muscle memory, you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Not at all, You going to try and jog my memory?”

He contemplates for a moment, “I’ll make sure you don’t forget again.” He says before leaning in for a brutal kiss.

His mouth tastes sweet, youd guess it’s from the halloween candy you noticed on his counter earlier. You grip his arms pulling him closer to lick and taste all over his mouth.

His arms find their way around your waist pulling you even closer to him if that’s possible. You begin to feel the growing bulge against you, disconnecting yourself from the kiss to suck on his neck instead.

He lets out a gasp, feeling your hands find their way down to his bulge and palming it through his pants.

“Fuck– I thought you said you’d never done this before.”

“I haven’t.”

He pulls in closer to your neck, whispering directly into your ear. “Then how is it that you’re already so perfect for me.”

You suck in a breath, your neck sensitive to his touch. He takes advantage of your position, biting down into your neck. It’s not enough to draw blood but enough to get you to release a moan.

He pulls your dress from off of you, your body shivering from the exposed air. “You’re beautiful.” He says, pulling you in for another kiss.

Your body feels on fire, the pleasure is only building up making you want more. You undo his belt, your hand pushing into his pants to grab onto his dick.

He lets out a groan, pulling you up from the counter and onto his bed instead. He pulls away, lying you down on the flat surface. “Tell me now if you don’t want to go any further.”

There’s no way in hell you were going to stop anytime soon. “Let’s finish what we started.”

He took his shirt off, and you took in a breath. His body was toned, his chest and collarbones looked perfect to leave bruises and bites all over.

“Take them off.” He growled. You began to unclasp your bra, your chest falling free. He falls to his knees, tugging your legs closer to him. His head in between your thighs.

You can feel his breath on your cunt, “Fuck baby your pussy is soaking already.”

You gasp, feeling his knuckle begin to trace your slit. “Markie please.” You plead for him to touch.

“Please what baby? Use your words.”

“Please touch me.”

The second the words leave your lips, you feel his mouth on you. You yelp, his mouth connecting straight to your clit, sucking onto it roughly. He eats you out with the same harshness he kisses you with. You can’t complain though, not when his mouth makes you feel like you’ve reached the gates of heaven.

The wet sound of him eating you out only adds to your arousal. You can’t help but squirm, his arms keep you from moving too much though. “Careful baby, i’m trying to feed here.”

His tongue begins fuck into your pussy, pulling a loud moan from you. You cover your mouth to muffle the sounds as much as possible. He pulls away, you whine at the loss of contact.

“Don’t hide your noises, I want to hear how loud you get when I make you cum.” You uncover your mouth as he gets back to work, this time focusing on sucking your clit. Your hips roll feeling your orgasm fast approaching.

“Markie please don’t stop” You beg.

You feel two fingers slide into your pussy, the stretch feels so good. You roll your hips chasing your climax. The stimulation from his fingers penetrating you leave you breathless. You repeat his name over and over like a mantra.

“Markie please I want to cum. Please let me cum.”

With one last thrust of his fingers and a suck on your clit you reach your high, your eyes seeing white. He draws out your orgasm, stopping only when you hiss at the overstimulation.

You let out a breath, looking him in his eyes as he begins to undresses himself. He grabs the condom from the drawer and pulls his cock out of his boxers.

You can’t help but stare right at him, your mouth watering at the sight of his long and thick cock. There was a large vein that ran through it, his tip glowing red. You weren’t experienced but you’d seen films before, and his looked like one straight out of a porno.

He gives it a few pumps before tearing open the packaging and wrapping it around his shaft. “We’re not done yet.”

You feel him lay over you, lining his cock with your entrance. He looks to you before pushing inside, “Are you ready?” You nod. “Yes.”

He pushes himself into you, taking breaks in between to help you catch your breath. “Relax baby, god you’re so fucking tight.”

His dick looked big, but it felt even larger. You felt a slight pain as he slowly pushed himself fully in. “Fuck– Mark you’re so big.”

“It’s okay baby, it’s almost fully inside.” You nod your head, your eyes closing wishing for him to just get on with it.

His dick pushes inside you once again pulling a gasp from you. You swear you can feel it in your stomach.

“That’s it baby.” You open your eye to look down and see his hips connecting to yours, he’s bottomed out. He tests a small thrust and you let out a moan.

“Markie, you can fuck me already.” Your words are enough to snap him back into his lustful self. He starts a slow and steady pace, thrusting into you.

You let out a few noises, tears beginning to line your eyes. He notices, wiping your face with his hand. “Please kiss me.” He leans into you, kissing you gently.

You close your eyes into the kiss, feeling his lips suck your own. You pull away, a moan escaping your lips once he hits your sweet spot. “There– right there.”

He quickens his pace, pistoling his cock attacking your g-spot. Your legs wrapping around his waist, to keep him from pulling any further away from you.

“I’m close–“ You let out, his thrusts getting quicker and stronger.

“Me too.” He groans. His fingers slipping to your sensitive bud, rubbing circles making you scream in pleasure. With the next few thrusts you feel your body convulse, clenching down on him. Your nails scratch down his arms, he hisses at the sting. You reach your second climax of the night, your legs shaking from the aftershocks.

He lets out growl, the feeling of your climax triggering his own. With one last thrust, he’s finishing into the condom. He pulls out of you, you let out a whine at the feeling.

He disposes of the condom, pulling a blanket over the both of you and wrapping his arms around your body.

“I don’t think I can work my legs anymore.” You joke, closing your eyes and catching your breath.

He laughs and pulls you in closer, “That’s okay, you’re all mine now so you have no use for them anyway.”

You let out an awkward laugh. His joke coming out a bit empty. You have no time to comment on it before you feel your eyes begin to shut on their own.

You wake up the next morning bed empty. You remember the events of last night, pulling the covers over your head to hide your embarrassment. The shower is running from what sounds like the room over.

Mark is showering, I should probably go join him.

You smile to yourself and try getting up from the bed, your legs wobbly.

Oh fuck.

You slowly and carefully try walking out of the room, finding the TV on from the living room.

“After days of searching, two bodies have been found early this morning by Velvet lake. No suspects have been identified as of now, though police have said a mask was found at the crime scene.” You inhale sharply at the mask on the TV.

No, it can’t be.

“Halloween festivities have began despite police efforts to ensure proper curfew. The mask found, one of Michael Myers, will be hard to trace back, as the costume happens to be a popular one.”

You stand frozen, hearing the words repeat in your head.

There’s no way it was Mark, he was here the whole time last night.

“This just in, the bodies are presumed to be missing persons Jung Sungchan and Choi Minjae. They were discovered only an hour ago, police reporting it’s possible they could’ve just missed the killer.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Mark woke earlier than you, is it possible he’s showering now to get rid of the evidence. You begin to slowly make your way towards the bedroom to make a phone call.

You dial Minnie, praying to any god that she picks up. There’s no answer. You let out a frustrated sigh, redialing to try and see if it’ll work this time.

Come on Minnie, pick up.

The shower stops. You panic, leaving the phone on the counter and slowly stepping out of the room to leave the house. It’s as you turn the corner that you hear a click from another room.

You turn to the room on the right, finding the door slightly ajar and squeezing through it. You hear another sound of clicking coming from below the steps.

You tiptoe down the steps, finding the room filled with field tools and rope scattered everywhere. It isn’t until you turn the corner that your eyes are filled with horror.

You spot a familiar figure tied to a chair, repeatedly hitting his watch against the seat making a clicking noise. You let out a gasp, his eyes finding your own in pure terror.

Hyungseo? What the fuck was he doing here tied up.

You head over to him pulling the rope from his mouth. “Y/N you have to leave now.”

“What are you talking about.” You whisper, beginning to untie his hands.

“He is insane. You have to leave now it’s not safe.”

“I’m not going to leave you here for yourself.” You dismiss his words. “Come on we’re going.”

His hands are tied with a rope, you lean down to try and undo the knot, not finding success in tugging. “Y/N?” You hear from upstairs. Your eyes go wide at his voice calling you.

You stand, putting a finger over your mouth gesturing for Hyungseo to keep silent. In the corner of your eye you notice the wall of tools again, grabbing a sickle from off of it.

You can hear Mark’s footsteps closely approaching. You cover your mouth and hold in your breath hoping he doesn’t notice you. The door closes from up the stairs. You take in a breath before standing from your hiding place.

“There you are.” His voice comes out from behind you. You jump walking backwards as he steps forward. “Was looking all over for you little fox.”

You can barely let out any words, “What the fuck is this. Why is Hyungseo here.”

He looks genuinely appalled at your question, “What do you mean what is this? It’s all for you.”

“What?” You speak in a whisper.

“I did this for you.” He says stepping closer. “These guys are nothing compared to you, their perverted minds thinking they could ever please you the way you need.”

You hit the wall, sucking in a breath as his hand cups your face. “You’re so pure y/n I had to make sure they wouldn’t get in the way of that.”

His thumb traces your lips, you turn your face away. “That’s not what I want. You’re hurting innocent people.”

“It’s what you need y/n. It’s a shame you can’t see that.”

He pulls away, grabbing onto your wrist that’s holding the sickle. He takes it from your grip throwing it off to the side. “Was that for me? You think i’d let that happen?”

“Leave me alone,” You feel a tear roll down your cheek. “Please.”

“Hey,” He wipes your face. “I’m not going to hurt you baby. I’m protecting you.”

He walks over to where Hyungseo sits, “From him.” He pulls a knife from his pocket, “These fuckers.”

“Don’t hurt him please. Come on let’s talk about this.” You step to the side, closer to the tools on the wall.

“There’s nothing to talk about y/n. He doesn’t deserve to even breathe your air.” He drags the knife against Hyungseo’s throat. You hear the man cry out from fear.

“These men surround themselves around you hoping for a chance to take you for themselves.” He punctures his arm, Hyungseo screaming from the injury.

“Mark stop.” You grab a screwdriver from the wall, hiding it behind your back. “Please just let him go, I’ll stay with you just don’t hurt anyone else.”

He stops, looking into your eye. “I’m not asking for you to stay with me forever, that’d be unfair to you.” He frowns stepping closer to you, “I love you y/n. I’m doing this for your own good.”

You shake your head, “You’re doing this because you’re fucking insane.” He lets out a cold laugh, “If that’s what you think so be it, but I know what you need.”

“You don’t know shit.” You say, grabbing the screwdriver from your pocket and shoving it through his abdomen.

“Fuck–“ He grips his side, you push him away running to where Hyungseo sits, cutting him free from the rope. “You want to play it like this? Really babe.”

“Fuck you, i’m not your babe.” He grabs onto your hair pulling you closer to him with one hand. “I already did.”

You knock your elbow into his wound, escaping from his hold as soon as his hand lets you go. “Hurry.” Hyungseo says from up the stairs, grabbing onto your hand and helping you run up further.

You both run through the hallway, Mark close behind. “You have to go. I’ll call for help.”

“I’m not going to leave you here.”

“Go,” You warn him sternly, “I’ll hold him back.”

“I’ll look for help.” He says before running out of the door. You pick up the phone from his room dialing 911. The phone line is dead.

“You really think i’m that stupid to leave the phone connected?” You jolt from his sudden appearance. “Just leave it alone y/n if we leave now we will catch him in time. His leg is pretty bruised he won’t be able to make it so far.”

“Don’t do this please.”

“I think i’ve told you already, I’m doing this for your own good.”

His hands smoother your face, the blood left on them transferring to your face. “That’s exactly why I got rid of Sungchan, he strayed too close. He knew you were mine and yet he couldn’t hold himself back so I had to take him out.”

“No.” You cry.

“And Jihoon, he was all you ever looked at. You were falling right into his trap, into his temptations.��

“Then what about Minjae, huh?” You yell out, “He never wanted me he wanted Yuqi.”

His smile was deranged, “Honestly he was just fucking annoying.”

You shake your head, tears streaming down your face. Your body shaking in fear. “You’re evil.”

“I’m your executioner.” He looks into your eyes. There’s no more of that sweet Mark you knew before. His entire being is unhinged. He hears a sound coming from the front door, becoming distracted for a second.

You take that moment to reach for the lamp on the desk and breaking it on his head, setting yourself free from his hold. He’s stunned for a moment as you run towards the kitchen grabbing a knife from the counter.

“Get away from me!” You scream out, he stands in front of you, his head bleeding from the hit he took. “Put the knife down.”

You shake your head, “I said get away!” He puts his hands up. “Y/n you’re acting crazy, put the knife down.”

“I’m crazy?” You scream, “You’ve killed people.”

He ignores you, stepping closer. “Which is exactly why I know, you don’t have it in you. So just drop the knife.”

You pause for a moment, frozen in fear. He takes that chance to reach for your hand and grab the knife out of it. What he doesn’t realize is that you are quicker than you seem, you dodge his movement stabbing the knife through his back.

He turns slowly, blood dripping from his mouth. “Fuck, you always were smarter than anyone ever took you for.” He drops to the floor, unconscious giving you the time to run out of the house.

You’re running with blood all over your clothes. The knife is still in your hand, piercing through your palms but even the sting isn’t enough to shake off the adrenaline in your body. You can hear voices calling out to you but you can’t stop running.

It isn’t til you feel a pair of hands grabbing onto you that you stop running. “Y/N.” You break out of your thoughts, your brother’s voice stopping you in your tracks.

“Inhyuk,” You let out a shaky breath. “What are you doing here.”

“I came here as soon as I heard, you need to calm down okay? We’re here to help you.”

You look around noticing the police and paramedics parked outside of the house. Some making their way towards you already. You look at your brother finally caving into his hold and sobbing into his shoulder.

“It’s okay, I’m here.”

“Did he mention any other victims?” You shake your head, the officer had been asking you questions for the past fifteen minutes but you could barely answer. You sat on the back of the ambulance, the paramedics checking you to make sure you had no major injuries.

Hyungseo was rushed to the hospital already, they said his injuries could be fatal if not treated quickly. You had a feeling he was going to be okay though.

There was no word on the state of Mark, and you weren’t sure if you even wanted to know. It was hard enough to face the officer right now. “Can you give her a moment, she can always head to the station if she had any more details.” You hear your brother’s voice interject the officer.

“Oh yes, of course.” He steps away from the two of you walking over to where the sheriff stands. You were thankful for Inhyuk’s help, the last thing you needed was to be reminded of the amount of victims Mark had killed all for you.

“Mom just got here, i’m going to go talk to her okay?” You nod, “I’ll be right back.” He says, still very worried about your condition.

“You’re okay. You might experience some soreness and pain but your blood pressure is fine.” The paramedic says while removing the cuff around your arm. “I’ll give you a moment to yourself.”

He walks always leaving you alone. Your breaths become less frantic, you look up from your hands and into the house in front of you. You remember the way you’d fought Mark off, the police wondering how it was that you’d been able to escape with little to no injuries.

You didn’t have it in you to explain everything. Not the way he had told you that you were his motive for killing, or the way you’d had to stab him multiple times before running out successfully.

There’d be a time for when you’d come clean about everything, and you were fine with that. Except for one.

You had felt a rush the moment you stabbed him with the screwdriver. It was different from any adrenaline rush, no this was a rush of excitement. Then the second time, when you saw him drop to the floor, his eyes rolling into his head unconscious, you’d felt it again.

You enjoyed the way his warm blood dripped down your hands, the way he let in a sharp inhale the second you punctured his back. You loved the way it felt to see him half dead on the ground, and that was something you’d be taking to the grave.

[mariacallous]

Early this morning, a gunman apparently impersonating a police officer targeted two Democratic Minnesota state lawmakers in their homes. First, he shot State Senator John Hoffman and his wife, who were seriously wounded. Law-enforcement officials believe the same gunman then shot Melissa Hortman, who served as Minnesota’s speaker of the House from 2019 to 2024. She was killed, along with her husband, Mark.

In September 2023, shortly after Donald Trump yet again encouraged direct political violence against his opponents, I wrote this: “As a political scientist who studies political violence across the globe, I would chalk up the lack of high-profile assassinations in the United States during the Trump and post-Trump era to dumb luck … Eventually, all luck runs out.”

That luck has now run out, in an idyllic Minneapolis suburb.

Although details are still emerging, law-enforcement officials are searching for a former appointee of Democratic Governor Tim Walz in connection with the killings, which Walz called “politically motivated.” The gunman reportedly had a manifesto and a list of targets that included the names of other Minnesota politicians as well as abortion providers in the state. Law-enforcement authorities intercepted but were not able to arrest the alleged shooter shortly after Hortman was assassinated. Had they not, it’s possible that he would have made his way to the homes of other Minnesota officials, trying to murder them too.

Political violence—and assassinations in particular—are notoriously difficult to predict, precisely because the violence is often carried out by “lone wolf” attackers. Just one deranged zealot is sufficient to carry out an act of consequential violence. In a country of 340 million people and even more guns, there will always be a small pool of potential killers eager to wreak havoc on the political system.

That’s why researchers who study political violence, including myself, try to understand what elevates or reduces the risk of violence, even if it can never be fully eradicated. In a context such as the United States, three key factors stand out: easy access to deadly weapons, intense polarization that paints political opponents as treasonous enemies rather than disagreeing compatriots, and incitements to political violence from high-profile public figures. When you combine those three social toxins, the likelihood of political violence increases, even as it remains impossible to predict who will be targeted or when attacks might be carried out.

Again, law-enforcement officials still don’t know the attacker’s precise motivations, and trying to draw conclusions from any single act of political violence is foolish. Because they are rare, randomness plays a role in these instances, and many perpetrators are mentally unwell. But consider this comparison. Although we can’t say that climate change caused a specific hurricane, we know that climate change produces stronger hurricanes. Similarly, we may not be able to draw a direct link from rhetoric to a specific act of violence, but we do know that incitements to violence make killings more likely.

The United States has repeatedly refused to do anything about easy access to deadly weapons, despite having, by far, the highest rate of mass killings among developed democracies. As a result, the only feasible levers are reducing polarization and stopping high-profile incitements to commit violence. Instead, during the Trump era, polarization has sharply increased. And over the past decade, Trump himself has been the most dangerous political actor in terms of routinely inciting violence against his opponents, including against specific politicians who could become assassination targets.

Such incitements matter. When a person with a massive public platform spreads information that encourages violence, attacks become more likely.

From the beginning of his first campaign for president, Trump encouraged supporters to beat up hecklers at his rallies, saying he’d cover their legal bills if they “knock the crap” out of them. He floated the ideas of shooting looters, shooting shoplifters, and shooting migrants crossing the border. Trump also targeted the press, sharing a variety of violent memes involving specific outlets. He endorsed Greg Gianforte, now the governor of Montana, specifically because he violently attacked a reporter. (“Any guy that can do a body slam, he is my type,” Trump said, to cheers.) And, at the end of his first term, Trump’s speech on the National Mall on January 6 inflamed an already tense environment, culminating in a violent attack on the U.S. Capitol building.

Trump’s rhetorical incitements to violence extend to politicians too. He has called his political opponents “human scum.” Even more worrying are Trump’s endorsements of violence against specific Democrats. In 2016, he suggested that maybe there was something that “Second Amendment people” could do to deal with Hillary Clinton. In October 2022, when a QAnon disciple who had peddled Trump’s lies about the 2020 election attempted to assassinate then–Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi—and fractured the skull of her husband, Paul, with a hammer—Trump made light of the incident. (His son Donald Trump Jr. posted a photo on Instagram of a hammer and a pair of underwear like the ones Paul Pelosi had been wearing during the attempted murder, with the caption: “Got my Paul Pelosi Halloween costume ready.”) Less than a year later, Trump openly mused that Mark Milley, then the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, should be killed.

When such language becomes normalized, deranged individuals may interpret rhetoric as marching orders. In 2018, Cesar Sayoc, a die-hard Trump supporter, mailed 16 pipe bombs to people who frequently appeared as targets in Trump’s tweets. (Nobody died, but only because Sayoc wasn’t skilled at making bombs.) In 2020, Trump tweeted that people should “LIBERATE MICHIGAN!” in response to its COVID policies. Thirteen days later, armed protesters entered the state capitol building. A right-wing plot to kidnap the governor, Gretchen Whitmer, was narrowly foiled months later.

It also matters that Trump is one of the biggest vectors for spreading conspiracy theories and misinformation in the United States. When a major political figure disseminates lies about shadowy plots and treasonous acts carried out by the “human scum” on the other side of the aisle, that can increase the likelihood of violence. (Several followers of QAnon, which Trump has repeatedly amplified himself, have carried out political violence based on the conspiracy theory.)

Trump often makes a brief show of condemning political violence—as he has with the killings in Minnesota. While trying to play both the arsonist and the firefighter on social media, his actions in power make clear where his true loyalties lie, sending much stronger signals. One of his first official acts at the start of his second term was to pardon or grant clemency to people convicted for their involvement in the January 6 riots, including those who had violently attacked police officers and were targeting lawmakers. In recent weeks, Trump has floated the possibility of pardoning the far-right zealots who sought to kidnap Governor Whitmer in Michigan. The message is unmistakable: Use violence against my political opponents and there may be a pardon waiting. Joe Biden abused his pardon power to protect his son from tax-evasion charges. Donald Trump abused his pardon power to condone those who attacked cops and hoped to murder politicians. Both abuses were bad. But they are not the same.

Trump, more than anyone, should be aware of the risks of political violence. After all, he narrowly escaped an assassin’s bullet last summer. He would be dead but for a gust of wind or a slightly different tilt of his head. But when that assassination attempt happened, Biden didn’t mock it; Kamala Harris didn’t float the idea of pardoning the assassin; and House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries hadn’t previously mused that Trump should be executed, or that he was human scum, or that Jeffries would pay the bills of people who used violence against Republicans.

Neither party has a monopoly on the risks of political violence. Democrats and Republicans in public office are targets who face credible threats in a hyper-polarized political climate. Likewise, supporters of Democrats and supporters of Republicans are both capable of carrying out political violence. (There have also been a small number of statements by Democrats that could be interpreted as incitements to violence, including some by Representatives Maxine Waters of California and Dan Goldman of New York. Goldman apologized for his phrasing the following day.)

The difference is that only one party is led by someone who uses his megaphone to routinely normalize and absolve acts of political violence. There is overwhelming evidence of this asymmetric rhetoric between those in party leadership.

The United States is a fraying society, torn apart by polarization, intense disagreement, and ratcheting extremism. Cheap weapons of mass murder are readily available. And into that tinderbox, Trump adds incendiary rhetoric. We don’t know when or where the deadly conflagration will strike next, but more flames will no doubt come. We may still be shocked by tragic acts of political violence like the assassination in Minnesota, but we can no longer feign surprise.

[sicksadgames]

As the Sun Forever Sets - Terror in the time of the Telegraph

It’s nuts I’ve been working on this game for over 4 years at this point. As the Sun Forever Sets is for sure my biggest and most capital G Game. It even has a publisher and everything. It’s also my first game! Wow! It's been tough, though. We'll get into it!

Britain, 1899

As the Sun Forever Sets is a survival horror sandbox based on the War of the Worlds, utilises the Forged in the Dark ruleset, and is about ordinary people surviving a Martian invasion of Victorian era Britain. We play to find out how they rise to meet the storm of destruction, the ways in which it shapes them, and if they survive to see a new world emerge, or die amidst the rubble of the old.

In the last years of Queen Victoria’s reign, the British Empire stretches across a quarter of the globe, and under the guise of genteel progress and civilisation, it commits theft and murder on a global scale. Britain itself is on the verge of the modern era, the Second Industrial Revolution pushing people into the cities to drive the factories and forges owned by the greedy industrialist class. But beyond the common causes of humanity and unbeknownst to the men who impose their rule over it, vast wheels have begun their inexorable turning. Across 40 million miles of void, the Martian invasion hurtles Earthward. Screaming across the stars, instruments of annihilation unlike anything believed possible lie ready for assembly, alongside the Martians themselves. They are truly inscrutable beings, but their intent is as clear as it is terrible – they will suck the literal and figurative blood from the Earth, and nothing less than the complete and utter subjugation of humanity will be enough.

If this sounds cool to you... well, you gotta wait, it’s not done yet. Sorry! But you can come and hang out in the Sick Sad Games discord, where I post excerpts and occasionally organise playtests.

The Hard Times of (Old) England

Be warned, this is a long one - over 4000 words (if you don't have a Tumblr account, you won't get to the end before it starts bugging you to register one, so go read this on Medium instead.) It turns out when you work on a game for a long time, you have a lot to say about it. Strap in, grab your gin and laudanum, and let’s destroy an evil empire just by existing.

Thanks to the wonderful @hendrik-ten-napel for taking a look over my disorganised thoughts.

(Potential) Spoilers for: The Bear, The War of the Worlds, The Last of Us, Children of Men, Threads, When the Wind Blows, Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs, The Thing.

Roleplay in the Pre-Post-Apocalypse

TTRPGs love a good post apocalypse. It's understandable - gas up and ride glorious on the legally distinct fury road, run a commune of like minded weirdos in the ashes of the old world, go digging through retro-futuristic ruins to find retro-futuristic treasures. Who wouldn't want to do any of these? But As the Sun Forever Sets is about an apocalypse as it begins, not after it’s over. 

There's a lot of crossover, of course. There’s a focus on similar things - disaster and spectacle, relationships and trust, scavenging and survival. But the bonus of the world not yet being over, is that we get to roleplay out dealing with that terrible, inexorable reality.

HG Wells wrote a book about blowing up all the places he used to live, and it's a banger. I was surprised to find there wasn't a TTRPG based on the War of the Worlds, being the tantalisingly public domain ur-alien invasion story it is. As the Sun Forever Sets is very explicitly an adaption of it, to the point that before I came up with the name it almost got released as The War of the Worlds: The Roleplaying Game (lol). I'm glad I didn't, doing my own thing has meant both me and the people playing are way more free to fuck around without the expectation that it must adhere to a canon.

The book is good, strikingly modern feeling in parts, and obviously massively influential - so much science fiction can be traced back to our nameless Narrators tormentuous trek across the south of England. But Wells’ prose is typical Victorian - overly wordy and florid (any book that contains the word “ejaculating” meaning “to shout” might be difficult for readers who aren’t used to the style), so when it comes to recommending an actual adaptation, there’s only one true king. Whenever I bring up Jeff Wayne’s The War of the Worlds, the usual reaction from anyone outside of the UK is to say "... they made a what?"

My mom was very keen to get me into musicals, but nothing really stuck until she tried this, the secret best War of the Worlds adaption (sorry Steven Spielberg, but you were doomed from the start.) It's the bombast and drama you'd expect from a disaster film, the horror and pathos of Wells’ classic, all expressed through vivid narration and sick nasty prog rock - wailing guitar and crunchy 70's synths operating at full effect. It's not completely faithful to the book, it doesn't matter. It’s the best.

Ah yes, the film bro's favourite mid 2000's film. Did you see that sick oner? That’s six minutes without a cut, that means the film’s good right? Children of Men is a slow burn apocalypse, dressed up like a world that’s already ended. Plenty has been written about all the little ways the film is prescient about the state of the UK - the slow belly-crawl into facism and nationalist fervour, the particularly British decay and class divide exacerbated by the desperate times, even the willful ignorance and the explicit sense that everyone’s just given up, it’s all here.

All that thematic stuff seems like it’d be really relevant to As the Sun Forever Sets, right?

Unfortunately, we are in fact here to talk about the long takes. The unbroken moment-to-moment action scenes evoke The War of the Worlds to a tee. Theo navigates danger with the same fraught tactical tension as War of the World's Narrator - dashing between doorways, groping for an axe handle in the darkness, desperately trying to start a car as assailants sprint towards him. What’s the best way out of this situation? How do I get from here to where I need to be? He lives his life in rolling, fleeting 5 second intervals, because he’s forgotten what it means to think in the long term - about the future, and what it might hold.

I was always fascinated and terrified by the idea of nuclear war. I guess it comes from watching a lot of 90’s disaster movies, but those are often ultimately fun romps where the day gets saved at the end, or at least the main characters find themselves alive and well at the end of the saga of destruction. Instead, As the Sun Forever Sets asks you to reflect on the horror and sadness present at the end of the world. Things are going to change forever, and change is always hard.

There’s not many clips of Threads and When the Wind Blows online, so it’s a little hard to demonstrate their particular nuclear inflected pitch black darkness. They’re grim - Grave of the Fireflies grim - differing in focus but united in their horrible impact.

When the Wind Blows is a story of an elderly couple living in rural England when the bombs drop, based on the comic by Raymond Briggs. Yes, The Snowman’s Raymond Briggs made a film about 2 lovely grandparents dying of acute radiation poisoning. Jim and Hilda are completely unprepared for what’s to come, their only reference is the Blitz - terrible in its own way, but not a patch on the scale of death they’re about to experience.

They survive the blast and wait for the good old British Government to arrive to save them, as it did in the 40’s. Slowly liquifying in the nuclear fallout, they hold onto each other and keep their spirits up, eventually making the decision to clamber into the paper sacks they mistakenly believed might protect them from the blast. Clutching their medical cards and birth certificates (for the ambulance, sure to be along any minute now), Jim mumbles painfully through a final prayer that morphs into a misremembered Charge of the Light Brigade, and they slip into a perpetual slumber together.

The most tragic part is Jim and Hilda’s unshakeable faith that their government is there for them - ready to catch them when they fall - borne out of Britain’s post WW2 renewal but absent in the 1980’s of the film’s plot, and the Britain of today. It’s a masterful film, shockingly sad, but the shock is the point.

Instead of aiming for your heart, Threads aims for the head. It’s a drama that aims to be as accurate as possible to government research into what a nuclear war might look like, plainly and forensically setting it out without any thought of softening these hard facts for its audience. Rather than focusing on a personal story, Threads flits around several groups of characters - minor government figures and ordinary families. Like Jim and Hilda, they too are woefully unprepared for the end of the world, and those in charge know there’s no way the UK could ever be ready for such a thing.

As mundane life is quietly intruded upon by news updates detailing far off geopolitics and the subsequent escalation that leads to war, the tension rises subtly then suddenly, like a spacecraft on the launchpad. People we’ve seen pottering about their normal lives are maimed and evaporated in the subsequent shocking nuclear exchange, whilst stark statistics flash on the screen - the hundreds of thousands instantly killed, how long the millions more fatally irradiated have left to live, the woefully inadequate tonnage of stockpiled food to feed those who survive. Each zero hits like a gutpunch.

And when you think the film must nearly be over, it keeps going. 1 week later. 1 year later. Threads grinds to an excruciating halt 13 years after the bombs fall, after year upon year of failed harvests from a destroyed earth barely able to support a population level equivalent to medieval Britain. At one point, mute children watch a warped and scratchy VHS of classic kids educational programme Words and Pictures on a TV powered by a steam generator.

The friendly presenter spells out the word “cat” through the thick veil of static, accompanied by a picture of one - an animal the children watching will likely never see. As they watch with blank, emotionless faces, the image of the cat fades to one of its skeletal form. “A cat’s skeleton” the presenter enthusiastically intones. The unrelenting bleakness might feel like a punishment, but Threads doesn’t mean it to be. This is just what would happen, after all.

Love in the time of the Heat-ray

In fact, someone in a Reddit thread said As the Sun Forever Sets “wasn’t just endless misery” and I’m glad that comes across. I wanted there to be moments of tenderness, quiet joy, anger, frustration, love and loss to punctuate the action and the horror.

People are messy and complicated even at the best of times. Under pressure, this is amplified a thousandfold - a little crush becomes a whirlwind romance, small disagreements become full blown fights, and not fully understanding someone might transform them into an enemy in your head.

The little town Bill conspires to be left alone in ends up comparatively untouched by the horrors going on elsewhere, as untouched as anywhere can be in The Last of Us. He hated the world anyways - so he isolates himself as he prepares for it to end, and it makes sense that his life only really begins as the show does. When Frank arrives, Bill is forced not to just engage with the broader world outside of his little enclave, but in the act of truly living in it.

There’s no prepper’s guide to romance. A human heart can’t be field stripped for maintenance. By choosing to exist as a vulnerable, emotional being, Bill opens himself up to a different kind of apocalypse. Frank becomes the flowering vines that slowly crack the flat concrete wall of a world that Bill created, and when those vines die, the wall can only crumble. It’s so fraught and lovely, delicately yet absolutely gut wrenching. At least their apocalypse was one they decided to have together.

“I’m old. I’m satisfied. And you… were my purpose.” - "Long Long Time”, The Last of Us

While several of my TTRPG writing friends were gushing about how great The Bear is, Em Acosta, author of the wonderfully inspirational Exile pointed out something super interesting - a lot of the show is about how you deal with people you’ve found yourself stuck with. No matter how much they piss you off, or whatever they do wrong, there’s something that means you can’t ever let them truly exit your life. They’re there, like it or not, until the bitter end.

Turns out this is very similar to how As the Sun Forever Sets handles Player Character relationships. In both it and The Bear, nothing’s ever truly resolved between characters - every relationship is like a cooking pot perpetually simmering. You might’ve apologised, made a truce, or just ignored your issues for so long that they seem to disappear, but no matter what, you’ve got to keep your eye on that pot.

Because suddenly a crisis will hit, and someone says something, or a diceroll comes up bad and all of a sudden the pot boils over and things are once again fucked. You storm out, start screaming, throw a fork. Even in the worst case scenario where a Character leaves because they’re absolutely sick of the rest of the group, they might show up at the end of the game for one last scene. Who knows how you’ll all feel at the end - nothing is ever truly fixed, and only the dead are truly broken. 

“I quit, chef, is what’s going on. You are an excellent chef. You are also a piece of shit. This isn’t on me. Goodbye." - “The Review”, The Bear

I’ve talked about The Thing a little before, John Carpenters sweaty, paranoid antarctic masterpiece. Along with the incredible effects and the (mostly) restrained use of action and bombast, the thing that makes... The Thing work is that the staff of the stricken research base lack any and all emotional intelligence.

It’s sort of the ultimate reverse Dudes Rock movie. Nobody knows anything about each other, so when their bodies and minds are colonised by the titular chameleon from outer space, they’re just another stranger to the rest of the crew. I’d ask you a question only you would know the answer to, but uh.. I don’t know anything about you. Whoops!

Over the course of the film, the whole operation falls apart as they try their best to work together to deal with the alien interloper, but their complete lack of ability to trust or relate to each other - present even before the crisis they find themselves in - is their ultimate downfall.

That final excellent shot of MacReady and Childs sat in the snow at the end of the film as their compound burns around them is the subject of a lot of unnecessary theorycrafting youtube videos, which kind of misses the point. Each suspects the other, but ultimately it doesn’t matter if one of them’s a Thing. One stranger is the same as another. Why bother getting to know each other now?

“Well...What do we do?” “Why don't we just... wait here for a little while? See what happens.” - Childs and Macready, The Thing

Science Fiction Revenge Fantasy

I’m not a historian, but the parallels between 1899 and now are pretty plain to see. Increasing class disparity, a lack of political will to help those in need, rampant cronyism and profiteering. As long as you’re in the place for it, roleplaying in a fictionalised version of the past to air out the issues of the present can be super fun and cathartic. You’re not expected to get a degree in British history to make it work, either.

The title is a play on the phrase “The Sun Never Set on the British Empire”, and it’s plainly stated in the book that Britains Empire acted as a mechanism of genocidal oppression, and that the Martians are here to end it - intentionally or not. It’s appealing as a premise on the face of it, but it goes a little deeper. Memories of Empire echo across time in Britain like the ringing of a malevolent bell, a cause celebre for braying Tories and fascistic right wing cunts (two very close circles in the venn diagram.)

We used to be a great country before this woke nonsense. Things were better back in the old days. The DEI contingent is trying to destroy our noble past. Yada yada yada, fuck offff. I’m sure someone somewhere will accuse me of “wokewashing” the past for including explicitly trans and queer characters as part of the book, along with the historical facts around how we fit into the oppressive Victorian conception of sex and gender. Unfortunately for them, we’ve always been here.

To be a little pretentious about it, every game of As the Sun Forever Sets reaches back into the past and cuts the myth of a glorious and benevolent Empire, and the good old days enjoyed within it off at the neck, purely in the act of beginning one. That sparks a little joy for me. Destroying a racists dream is fun, even if it’s only in the abstract.

A horror game about the most literalist Victorian industrialist imaginable hearing the phrase “Eat the rich” and getting right on that. I’ve not played Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs despite fond (??) memories of playing The Dark Descent in a room full of jumpy friends, and seeing Dear Esther played live on stage, with a live orchestra and narrator - an exquisite way to experience that game.

The mechanical chops of Frictional Games mixed with the narrative verve of The Chinese Room, how could this game be anything less than incredible?

After The Dark Descent I fell off’ve the “scary guy chases you around” genre of game until Alien: Isolation revitalised it, and the reviews of A Machine for Pigs were mixed - kind of boring, middling gameplay, too dark - so I never went back. I was planning on writing a little about its vibe - dark, gothic Victoriana that rhymes nicely with As the Sun Forever Sets - but after a bit of research, Mandus’ quest for his missing sons strikes an unexpectedly resonant and terrible chord.

The writing and voice acting is phenomenal, Mandus’ split consciousness - the self you play and the other half of him that’s seen the horrors of the forthcoming 20th Century and is compelled to act, imbued into the myopic machine he built - is extremely compelling. He feels compassion for the poor and wants to save them, but they fill him with fear and disgust. He knows the industrialist class is killing the world, but feels a deep shame in the fact that he counts himself amongst them. So his machine grinds the rich into meat for the poor, who it distorts into grotesque pig homunculi and forces them to operate the machine’s inscrutable workings.

It’s Mandus’ twisted way of saving the world - kill the rich for their crimes, enslave the poor for their own good, all hail the new machine/god/manager of the 20th century. It’s a neat reflection of the way modern politicians contort themselves to the whims of big business and AI snake oil salesmen to avoid doing the simple and obvious things that’d better the world. It’s a nightmarish refutation of Victorian Liberalism, that only the upper class know how to fix the problems of the lower class. It’s brilliant, and we should play it. 

"Do you hear me Mandus? This is what you planned! This world is a machine! A Machine for Pigs! Fit only for the slaughtering of pigs! Whores, beggars, orphans, filthy degenerates. Pigs all. But I will purify the streets, cleanse this city, set the great industry free. I will clean the world, make it pure." - The Machine, A Machine for Pigs

Song of the Year, of the Century

Not long after I came out as trans, I was asked what (in an ideal world) would make transition easier. I replied - never having to leave the house. One day I'd shut the front door as a man and another day, months or years later, I'd open it again as a woman, neatly sidestepping the terror of being perceived in a notoriously transphobic Britain.

In 2020 I shut that door and didn't open it for 4 months. At work, I remember calling the nearby shelter to donate our excess hand sanitizer and toilet roll, figuring out at the last second how support workers could take calls from their already isolated clients via their mobile phones, and fixating on the steady stream of scared coworkers leaving early. Tearfully, I felt the urge to hug those that remained as we locked up, before we remembered we probably shouldn't.

I've never been more aware of the minutia of moving through a space on the way home - How many people had their hands on this handrail? Have I touched my mouth or eyes without realising? Is anyone in the office already sick? Or on this train? How many more people are going to die? - My heart was in my chest, I heard the blood whoosh through my head to the beat of my steps on the pavement. At home, I realised my boyfriend had to go into work the next day. After he went to sleep, terrified he might die, I cried.

"I remember I felt an extraordinary persuasion that I was being played with, that presently, when I was upon the very verge of safety, this mysterious death—as swift as the passage of light—would leap after me from the pit about the cylinder, and strike me down." - "The Heat Ray", The War of the Worlds

Writing As the Sun Forever Sets was my way of coping with the disconnect with the world I felt, the fear of both Covid and the rising transphobia kept me inside even as the lockdowns eased. That feeling of throbbing death creeping at the window took a long time to wrestle under control, and getting deeply obsessed with a big project became part of that process. It seems incredibly maudlin to make a TTRPG dealing with darkness and death during a pandemic that killed (and continues to kill) millions of people, but I suppose I’m kind of a maudlin person.

“I haven't written a song in a month, So I'm playing the same chords again. I know I need to get lost in the moment, But I get lost before it begins. Fingers stretching out into space. Reaching as a thought slips away.”

It also burnt me the fuck out. After years of constant work and testing (beginning long before Evil Hat picked up the game), I ran out of steam. I spent the months after Evil Hat’s public playtest ended not really able to write anything ATSFS related at all. The game kind of froze - I knew what I wanted to change or fix or add, but the moment the google doc opened I couldn’t make myself start typing. It was incredibly frustrating to have the switch flip from endless obsessive writing to constant nothing, and I don’t think I truly recognised the burnout I was feeling until recently. It turns out spending years staying up past midnight writing is bad, who know!

A lot of Forged in the Dark games don’t get finished (or more accurately, get stuck in perpetual development), something that the excellent and dearly missed +1 Forward podcast recognised in their episode collecting their thoughts on the FITD games they looked at back in 2021. I think that’s because, at least to me, writing a Forged in the Dark game is like trying to hold a plate of spaghetti without the plate. It’s deceptively simple at its heart, but the system squirms when you poke at it - write one thing and it affects 3 other things. Tug one piece of pasta out and you lose a meatball without realising it.

When I listened to that episode, I took it as a challenge. Part of me now wonders if it was a curse. I'm being hyperbolic, of course. But a little part of me did think it might be better to give the game up.

That’s not going to be As the Sun Forever Sets' fate, thankfully. Evil Hat has been there to support me when I’ve felt guilty about shifting another deadline or replying to a check-in email with another late “Not much progress this month, sorry!” The frozen writers block is thawing, and I’m so tantalisingly close to finishing the final text. This blog is part of that process, another chip in the icy dam.

The wheels of dread Martian terror turn once again, and it feels good. Part of that is down to not beating myself up about a lack of progress. The more important part came when I realised I felt able to return to the world again - living in it, not hiding from it. Staying connected to it, even when there's times I'm not able to inhabit it physically. Covid, Britains particular brand of transphobic brainworms, and the shadow of Empire all continue to exist, and so do I - a weird maudlin transsexual woman - in spite of them all.

“The day seemed, by contrast with my recent confinement, dazzlingly bright, the sky a glowing blue. A gentle breeze kept the red weed that covered every scrap of unoccupied ground gently swaying. And oh! the sweetness of the air!” - “The Stillness”, The War of the Worlds

You made it!

Thanks for sticking with my messy thoughts. If what I talked about here sounds cool to you, please stop by the Discord, we'd love to have you. Look forward to seeing As the Sun Forever Sets come to a crowdfunding platform of Evil Hat's choice (I assume backerkit) at some point in the future ♥.

[phantomchick]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

Jason Todd/Batfamily/DC Comics

Ye Who Enters Here by Wisetypewriter

Trips to hellish dimension are, well, not routine per say, but they have lost their edges after the tenth Titans mission. Even the invasion that triggered the need for an incursion in the inflamed realms would ultimately another day for Nightwing and his team, if not for the trial. Confess your biggest regret truthfully. Heroes have plenty to regret, but to share it is another matter entirely. And it just so happened that Dick's little brother had joined them for the ride. Or, the Red Hood’s regrets are about death, but not in the way Nightwing hoped.

Field Notes by SalParadiseLost

short stories in a demon au.

One Rule by Wisetypewriter

A promise. An oath. And a threat. Batman does not kill. Nor do his allies. Even if he has to personally ensure that they don't. Or, a dead pimp found in Crime Alley leads to Batman and Ma Gunn meeting again for the first time in years.

If all the soul-and-body scars by GavotteAndGigue

The Bat family is left reeling after Jason succeeds in taking his own life. Bruce struggles through grief as he grapples with more questions than answers. Then, over a year later, Jason is found miraculously alive inside his tomb. But Jason’s mysterious resurrection isn't the simple blessing it appears to be. For Jason, nothing has changed since the day he died for a second time, and he's still hell bent on ending himself for good. Bruce desperately searches for answers as he contends with how to keep his violently suicidal assassin-trained son from taking his own life once more.

Let the Night be Dark for All of Me by GavotteAndGigue

Jason Todd and Talia al Ghul have a complicated relationship, to say the least. They've drifted apart and had little contact ever since Jason's reconciled with the Bats. However, one night after a disagreement with his family, Jason reaches out to Talia as a last resort to help him travel across the globe undetected. Why does Jason trust her even after their history of manipulation and lies? And does Talia still have enough affection in her heart to save Jason's life once more, or will she shepherd him to his doom?

Mine by Covenyt2950

But with all the bad luck he'd been having, he should've known he wasn't ready for the sheer terror that took over his body when the driver's window rolled down, showing the face of one of the most dangerous men in Gotham. Oh shit There it was, Richard Grayson-Wayne. Nightwing. Personal executioner, right-hand man, and dear son of Gotham’s most infamous crime boss: the Bat. Or Jason is a young prostitute who's just trying to take care of his little brother. Until one night he meets one of the Bats and has to struggle to survive and run away with Tim. Or so he thinks.

Flatline by dragonpyre

Jason's an idiot. A fucking idiot. He thought he could take some goons no problem, and now he's stuck on a warehouse floor with next to no heartbeat and his family crying over his "corpse". How the hell is he gonna fix this?

The Extremely True Story of the Titans Tower Attack by Wisetypewriter

Red Hood, evil, evil bastard, decides to murderize Robin. Yeah, right.

Lazy Sunday by foxglovefriar

Shipfic nsfw

Jason Todd does not have a boyfriend. He has a dom, because vulnerability is for chumps and Jason's playing it to win. It doesn't matter that Foley likes picking soft clothes for him, or eating breakfast together, or sharing chores— look, he's only here to get hypnotized straight out of his trauma-induced cycle of self-punishment, okay?? The blow jobs are just necessary to hit that end goal! That's all!

Two Robins in the Hand by MeiliSheep

While on patrol, Jason and Dick are both turned into their 13-year-old selves. To Everyone's surprise, Two Robins get along. Specially when both realize there is something the others aren't telling them. And if Batman doesn't have Robin's back, well, another Robin will just have to do. Specially if the Robins look so alike.

Thunder Screaming in the Sky by Ellegrine

Dick stares at the dirt with horror, the taste of stomach acid thick on his tongue. No, it’s not possible. He’s hearing things. He’s hallucinating. There’s no way in hell that Bruce buried Jason alive.

Kyle Rayner's Complete Guide to getting a Malewife by MeiliSheep

Kyle stumbles his way into getting himself a male wife.

Little bird by ittybittypenguins

During Dick's visit at Jason's apartment, some things are said. All while working together to get past an impossible boss in a level where Jason had been stuck on for weeks now. He didn't expect to have such a genuine good time with the older.

HOPE THE LOVE WE SHARED CAN RESURRECT THE LAST. by orpheusaki

"I would never be mad at you for this," Bruce tells him clearly, leaving no room for misunderstanding, blue eyes sharp and clear as they meet Jason's steadily, "I think you know this Jason, deep down. You know I would never blame you for any of this." Jason's heart is tight, "I'm —" Bruce places both hands on his shoulders, "Don't apologise. Just breathe with me." Jason takes a deep breath in, matching Bruce's unshakeable calmness. It's the first time in a long time that Jason feels like he can actually breathe. (Jason survives Ethiopia and returns home; this is the beginning.)

king of the lost boys by noharlembeat

This fic says Dickjay but nothing happens so you can ignore it and read it as platonic if you want. It's very very good and I love how it handled the ableism angst.

The clock stops and Jason closes his eyes. He wakes up at the manor. ~~~ or: Jason Todd lives, and how that changes things.

and when I wake up, let me be by forgotten_daydreamer

« Jason is used to his body and mind going numb, he’s used to his breath hitching, to his heartbeat slowing down so drastically that he sometimes finds himself sprawled on the freezing tiles, clutching the shirt drenched in cold sweat that’s plastered to his chest, just above his heart, mouth gaping as he regains feeling in his body. “Fine. Just一” he swallows, throat dry, “I’m only staying one night. I’m leaving at dawn.” » Jason reluctantly spends a night at the Manor, omitting some crucial information regarding the Lazarus Pit side effects.

Phone Alarms by quotidian_void

"Just imagine Jason recording Batman angrily yelling "Nightwing!" then setting it as the sound of Dick's phone alarm so in the next morning when it goes off he flips the fuck out"

Naruto

denizens of the sands of time by CherShare

Happy accidents were less rare than they used to be, even if they still had a trend of making things worse before they got better. Gaara would take what he could get.

The Milieu by funkmasterjo

Aka a series of oneshots written after gaiden but before boruto came out, a fun take on a good-at-his-job hokage Naruto.

POST SHIPPUDEN. Set after ch 1 of Naruto Gaiden: The seventh Hokage, though prior knowledge isn't really neccessary. Just some talks. Just life. A milieu.

Harry Potter/HP/Fuck JK Rowling

Letters by Morning Lilies

In the final months of the war, Harry entrusted Ron with a bundle of parchments marked 'just in case'. More than seventeen years later, Teddy accidentally unroots a bit of the past. But once he starts reading, he can't stop.

Cocktail Time by the real snape

Not many people know that Rita Skeeter and Gilderoy Lockhart were flatmates once. He invited her to parties, she Transfigured his clothes, they stole each other's hair products rampantly. And now Rita Skeeter has written the full, true, frank, and delicious account of the years they spent together. Don't miss Rita's Latest Blockbuster!

Geminio by Portus

Have you ever thought "It's kind of strange that such a competent and hyper-vigilant veteran auror went down so quickly offscreen in HP." This fic might help you understand. This story has everything: Mad-eye Moody waking up and murdering his way through death eater after death eater, a time loop, a tragic backstory, a perfect title, it's a self-contained oneshot that does SO MUCH in so little time, incredibly satisfying. The tale of Alastor Moody's last day on earth, from his point of view. Followers of the Dark Lord beware! or Some things never change, no matter a past which no longer sleeps. This is a lesson Alastor Moody must learn first-hand.

If we can't find where we belong, we'll have to make it on our own by Biromantic_Nerd

Neville's shoulders hunch further. It's not just his hands that are shaking now; his entire body trembles. It's not fair. And, when push comes to shove, Harry always has been a Gryffindor through and through. (AKA sometimes it's easier to be compartmentalize your own abuse than someone else's; life isn't fair to Harry but that doesn't mean he'll allow life to be unfair to his friends)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Every internet fight is a speech fight

THIS WEEKEND (November 8-10), I'll be in TUCSON, AZ: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

My latest Locus Magazine column is "Hard (Sovereignty) Cases Make Bad (Internet) Law," an attempt to cut through the knots we tie ourselves in when speech and national sovereignty collide online:

https://locusmag.com/2024/11/cory-doctorow-hard-sovereignty-cases-make-bad-internet-law/

This happens all the time. Indeed, the precipitating incident for my writing this column was someone commenting on the short-lived Brazilian court order blocking Twitter, opining that this was purely a matter of national sovereignty, with no speech dimension.

This is just profoundly wrong. Of course any rules about blocking a communications medium will have a free-speech dimension – how could it not? And of course any dispute relating to globe-spanning medium will have a national sovereignty dimension.

How could it not?

So if every internet fight is a speech fight and a sovereignty fight, which side should we root for? Here's my proposal: we should root for human rights.

In 2013, Edward Snowden revealed that the US government was illegally wiretapping the whole world. They were able to do this because the world is dominated by US-based tech giants and they shipped all their data stateside for processing. These tech giants secretly colluded with the NSA to help them effect this illegal surveillance (the "Prism" program) – and then the NSA stabbed them in the back by running another program ("Upstream") where they spied on the tech giants without their knowledge.

After the Snowden revelations, countries around the world enacted "data localization" rules that required any company doing business within their borders to keep their residents' data on domestic servers. Obviously, this has a human rights dimension: keeping your people's data out of the hands of US spy agencies is an important way to defend their privacy rights. which are crucial to their speech rights (you can't speak freely if you're being spied on).

So when the EU, a largely democratic bloc, enacted data localization rules, they were harnessing national soveriegnty in service to human rights.

But the EU isn't the only place that enacted data-localization rules. Russia did the same thing. Once again, there's a strong national sovereignty case for doing this. Even in the 2010s, the US and Russia were hostile toward one another, and that hostility has only ramped up since. Russia didn't want its data stored on NSA-accessible servers for the same reason the USA wouldn't want all its' people's data stored in GRU-accessible servers.

But Russia has a significantly poorer human rights record than either the EU or the USA (note that none of these are paragons of respect for human rights). Russia's data-localization policy was motivated by a combination of legitimate national sovereignty concerns and the illegitimate desire to conduct domestic surveillance in order to identify and harass, jail, torture and murder dissidents.

When you put it this way, it's obvious that national sovereignty is important, but not as important as human rights, and when they come into conflict, we should side with human rights over sovereignty.

Some more examples: Thailand's lesse majeste rules prohibit criticism of their corrupt monarchy. Foreigners who help Thai people circumvent blocks on reportage of royal corruption are violating Thailand's national sovereignty, but they're upholding human rights:

https://www.vox.com/2020/1/24/21075149/king-thailand-maha-vajiralongkorn-facebook-video-tattoos

Saudi law prohibits criticism of the royal family; when foreigners help Saudi women's rights activists evade these prohibitions, we violate Saudi sovereignty, but uphold human rights:

https://www.bbc.com/news/world-middle-east-55467414

In other words, "sovereignty, yes; but human rights even moreso."

Which brings me back to the precipitating incidents for the Locus column: the arrest of billionaire Telegram owner Pavel Durov in France, and the blocking of billionaire Elon Musk's Twitter in Brazil.

How do we make sense of these? Let's start with Durov. We still don't know exactly why the French government arrested him (legal systems descended from the Napoleonic Code are weird). But the arrest was at least partially motivated by a demand that Telegram conform with a French law requiring businesses to have a domestic agent to receive and act on takedown demands.

Not every takedown demand is good. When a lawyer for the Sackler family demanded that I take down criticism of his mass-murdering clients, that was illegitimate. But there is such a thing as a legitimate takedown: leaked financial information, child sex abuse material, nonconsensual pornography, true threats, etc, are all legitimate targets for takedown orders. Of course, it's not that simple. Even if we broadly agree that this stuff shouldn't be online, we don't necessarily agree whether something fits into one of these categories.

This is true even in categories with the brightest lines, like child sex abuse material:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2016/sep/09/facebook-reinstates-napalm-girl-photo

And the other categories are far blurrier, like doxing:

https://www.kenklippenstein.com/p/trump-camp-worked-with-musks-x-to

But just because not every takedown is a just one, it doesn't follow that every takedown is unjust. The idea that companies should have domestic agents in the countries where they operate isn't necessarily oppressive. If people who sell hamburgers from a street-corner have to register a designated contact with a regulator, why not someone who operates a telecoms network with 900m global users?

Of course, requirements to have a domestic contact can also be used as a prelude to human rights abuses. Countries that insist on a domestic rep are also implicitly demanding that the company place one of its employees or agents within reach of its police-force.

Just as data localization can be a way to improve human rights (by keeping data out of the hands of another country's lawless spy agencies) or to erode them (by keeping data within reach of your own country's lawless spy agencies), so can a requirement for a local agent be a way to preserve the rule of law (by establishing a conduit for legitimate takedowns) or a way to subvert it (by giving the government hostages they can use as leverage against companies who stick up for their users' rights).

In the case of Durov and Telegram, these issues are especially muddy. Telegram bills itself as an encrypted messaging app, but that's only sort of true. Telegram does not encrypt its group-chats, and even the encryption in its person-to-person messaging facility is hard to use and of dubious quality.

This is relevant because France – among many other governments – has waged a decades-long war against encrypted messaging, which is a wholly illegitimate goal. There is no way to make an encrypted messaging tool that works against bad guys (identity thieves, stalkers, corporate and foreign spies) but not against good guys (cops with legitimate warrants). Any effort to weaken end-to-end encrypted messaging creates broad, significant danger for every user of the affected service, all over the world. What's more, bans on end-to-end encrypted messaging tools can't stand on their own – they also have to include blocks of much of the useful internet, mandatory spyware on computers and mobile devices, and even more app-store-like control over which software you can install:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/05/theyre-still-trying-to-ban-cryptography/

So when the French state seizes Durov's person and demands that he establish the (pretty reasonable) minimum national presence needed to coordinate takedown requests, it can seem like this is a case where national sovereignty and human rights are broadly in accord.

But when you consider that Durov operates a (nominally) encrypted messaging tool that bears some resemblance to the kinds of messaging tools the French state has been trying to sabotage for decades, and continues to rail against, the human rights picture gets rather dim.

That is only slightly mitigated by the fact that Telegram's encryption is suspect, difficult to use, and not applied to the vast majority of the communications it serves. So where do we net out on this? In the Locus column, I sum things up this way:

Telegram should have a mechanism to comply with lawful takedown orders; and

those orders should respect human rights and the rule of law; and

Telegram should not backdoor its encryption, even if

the sovereign French state orders it to do so.

Sovereignty, sure, but human rights even moreso.

What about Musk? As with Durov in France, the Brazilian government demanded that Musk appoint a Brazilian representative to handle official takedown requests. Despite a recent bout of democratic backsliding under the previous regime, Brazil's current government is broadly favorable to human rights. There's no indication that Brazil would use an in-country representative as a hostage, and there's nothing intrinsically wrong with requiring foreign firms doing business in your country to have domestic representatives.

Musk's response was typical: a lawless, arrogant attack on the judge who issued the blocking order, including thinly veiled incitements to violence.

The Brazilian state's response was multi-pronged. There was a national blocking order, and a threat to penalize Brazilians who used VPNs to circumvent the block. Both measures have obvious human rights implications. For one thing, the vast majority of Brazilians who use Twitter are engaged in the legitimate exercise of speech, and they were collateral damage in the dispute between Musk and Brazil.

More serious is the prohibition on VPNs, which represents a broad attack on privacy-enhancing technology with implications far beyond the Twitter matter. Worse still, a VPN ban can only be enforced with extremely invasive network surveillance and blocking orders to app stores and ISPs to restrict access to VPN tools. This is wholly disproportionate and illegitimate.

But that wasn't the only tactic the Brazilian state used. Brazilian corporate law is markedly different from US law, with fewer protections for limited liability for business owners. The Brazilian state claimed the right to fine Musk's other companies for Twitter's failure to comply with orders to nominate a domestic representative. Faced with fines against Spacex and Tesla, Musk caved.

In other words, Brazil had a legitimate national sovereignty interest in ordering Twitter to nominate a domestic agent, and they used a mix of somewhat illegitimate tactics (blocking orders), extremely illegitimate tactics (threats against VPN users) and totally legitimate tactics (fining Musk's other companies) to achieve these goals.

As I put it in the column:

Twitter should have a mechanism to comply with lawful takedown orders; and

those orders should respect human rights and the rule of law; and

banning Twitter is bad for the free speech rights of Twitter users in Brazil; and

banning VPNs is bad for all Brazilian internet users; and

it’s hard to see how a Twitter ban will be effective without bans on VPNs.

There's no such thing as an internet policy fight that isn't about national sovereignty and speech, and when the two collide, we should side with human rights over sovereignty. Sovereignty isn't a good unto itself – it's only a good to the extent that is used to promote human rights.

In other words: "Sovereignty, sure, but human rights even moreso."

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/06/brazilian-blowout/#sovereignty-sure-but-human-rights-even-moreso

Image: © Tomas Castelazo, www.tomascastelazo.com (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Border_Wall_at_Tijuana_and_San_Diego_Border.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Five Fics Friday: January 31/25

Happy Friday everyone! I hope your January was alright, and that you're going into the weekend ready to check out some awesome fics! Enjoy!

JOHNLOCK FIC CLUB SELECTION (Feb 2)

A Quiet Life by DiscordantWo rds (M, 25,176 w., 6 Ch. || Retirement, Family Dynamics, Established Relationship, Minor Character Death, Questionable Parenting Choices, Non-Linear Narrative) – There had been three days of silence and a funeral. Sherlock had the terrible feeling that whatever happened next would depend, entirely, on him.

RECENT MFLs

Sherlock in Oz by ChrisCalledMeSweetie (T, 7,207 w., 8 Ch. || Mystrade and Johnlock, Post-S1, Illustrated, Friends to Lovers, Tornado, Humour, Lucid Dreaming, Bed Sharing, Friends to Lovers) –When Sherlock and John travel to Kansas to help Mrs. Hudson’s niece, the motel has only one room left — with a double bed. So far, everything is predictable. But not for long… Part 1 of No Place Like Home

Your Visible Ghost by anactoria (M, 22,142 w., 1 Ch. || Sherlock/OMC & Johnlock || Rape/Non-Con, Rape Recovery, Gang Rape, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Awkward Conversations) – During an investigation, Sherlock runs off alone without telling anybody where he’s going. Nothing unusual there, and nobody bats an eyelid. But then John receives a video message that tells him things have gone very wrong indeed.

Unbreakable by Nymeria578 (E, 111,687 w., 18 Ch. || Omegaverse AU || Post-HLV, Omega Sherlock, Alpha John, Gender Issues, Bonding, Knotting, Mildly Dubious Consent, Slow Burn, Crime Scenes, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Homophobic Prejudices, Romance, References to Murder-Suicide) – Sherlock lives in a changed world where Omegas has been declared extinct. Twenty years ago a deadly virus ravaged the globe, but only the rare gender was affected and, over the course of years, the world lost its most precious treasures. Only a few survived, living hidden and keeping the governments in the dark about their existence. Too many died in the hands of scientists in search of a cure, and their faith has been shattered. Sherlock is one of them, always looking out to not reveal his true gender when suddenly ghosts of his past catch up with him.

MYSTRADE FIC REC

Soul Mate by Mottlemoth (T, 4,068 w., 1 Ch. || Mystrade Soulmate AU || Fluff, Romance, True Love, Virgin Mycroft, First Meeting, First Kiss, Vulnerable Mycroft, Happy Ending) – The words appeared on Mycroft's arm aged fourteen, foretelling the first thing his soul mate would ever say to him—and horrifying his respectable parents. He's now lived with the unfortunate words all his life, not certain that he even wishes to meet his soul mate if that's how the man talks. But when Sherlock befriends a Scotland Yard inspector named Lestrade, Mycroft might just change his mind.

[bullet-prooflove]

The Good Book: Tim Gutterson x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @fallmoreinloveeveryday @elenavampire21 @floralfloyd @lamaudite

Companion piece to:

Lucky - Tim's assignment doesn't go to plan.

Stars - Tim's not like other men.

You make good on that gift basket. Tim finds it sitting on the welcome mat outside his apartment one day when he arrives home from the gym. There’s a couple of IPAs in there, classy chips and chocolate,  that special brand of coffee he’d become obsessed with when in Indonesia, one he knows costs a fortunate to import to the US. And then there’s the book, the one you were telling him about that night underneath the stars.

It’s a Brandon Sanderson novel, The Way of Kings. He’s not much into fantasy. Magic and shit ain’t really his thing. He much prefers the darker writings of Stephen King and James Herbert, he thinks those fellas get the human condition in a way most people don’t. However he’d promised you he’d give it a go, so he does.

He spends the night devouring it, poring over the pages until the sun comes up and even then he doesn’t stop. He reads it on the treadmill at the gym, in the line at the coffee shop, even on the john because he has to find out what happens next.

After he’s finished that one, he finds himself at Barnes and Noble buying the rest of the series, along with a few others.

“It’s like a gateway drug.” He tells you over on the phone that night as he lies on his couch, book open on his chest. “What have you gotten me into?”

“Something much healthier than killer clowns and men who try to murder their wives in hotel rooms.” You tell him over a crackly line because you’re still deployed out there in buttfuck, nowhere. Tim’s shipping out again in a few days’ time because there’s a shortage of snipers and his services are required.

“Admit it, you were worried about me.” He drawls as he recalls the conversation the two of you had that night. “You think I was starting to fade into the darkness.”

Truthfully you were a little concerned about Tim. His job isn’t like yours, it’s dedicated to killing and it’s something he’s exceptionally good at. His kill count is already well above what it should be for a man of his age and rank. Your country, they’ll just keep using him, utilising him like a tool until he breaks and the thing is Tim will never see it coming, because no one ever does.

That’s what the books are about, a method of escaping the madness, of immersing himself in a world that still has hope because you don’t see much of it out there in Afghanistan, not with a job that deals in death.

“Yea.” You say honestly because Tim is the one person you will never lie to. “You started to get a little quiet there towards the end. I’ve seen it before…”

You trail off then and Tim, he picks up on what you’re not saying. You’ve lost someone, someone in the service. Probably by their own hand. You don’t want to see that happen to him.

“Lucky…” He murmurs into the receiver. “I promise you, you’ll never have to worry about that with me. I’ll get out long before it happens.”

“I hope that’s true.” You say softly and he can tell you don’t believe him. He doesn’t blame you, he’s sure the man before him said the same thing too.

“What are you reading right now?” He asks you changing the subject because he hates the idea of you out there all alone in the desert, feeling sad because of him.

“Cowboy romance.” You reveal and he huffs out a laugh, his palm running over his weary features.

“Is this because I told you I spent summers working on my Uncle’s ranch back in Indiana?” He asks you and he can hear your smile over the phone as he cradles it under his chin.

“Tim, the idea of you walking around in flannel shirts and a tight fitting pair of jeans, it does a little something to a woman.” You tell him and he groans in response to your words because it gets him off knowing that you’re thinking of him when you’re almost half way across the globe.

“I wish you were here right now.” He tells you, his voice turning a little rough as he thinks about that night, his mouth ghosting over your skin, those pretty little sounds you made as he sunk inside of you. It was only once but once was enough to make a man fall in love.

“Me too.” You whisper as you stare up at a starry sky in Afghanistan. “Christ Tim. You have no fucking idea just how much I miss you.”

Love Tim? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

You know what?

Reverse Robins is a fun sounding enough idea and all that, it has charm to it

But…

May I propose something else fitting in the spirit of that but what I feel can truly make things fun (or at least delightfully messy) to explore?

Mismatched Ages Robins AU

Here their ages, mantles and character dynamics are all sorts of switched up away from the typical oldest to youngest line up, who’s big sibling and baby sibling competently flipped on its head.

For said line Up itself (Cracks fingers)

Damian - The Oldest at 29-30; Originally starting out as Bat-Shadow from 10 up to 18 when decided to peruse his own path from his father and mother, now regularly patrols the skills of Dubai, UAE and is best friends with Super Solar aka Jonathan Samuel Kent. Nowadays he goes by the mantle of Desert Eagle

Steph - Second oldest at 23; Was originally the Spoiler from 13-15 until a very bad run in with Black Mask left her bleeding and presumed dead. In reality, she was taken in by Shirke, formerly of the League of Shadows and healed via Lazarus Pit, now hell bent on taking down Black Mask along with other crime lords like him globally by any means necessary thanks to enhanced lethal training and partially filled by her resentment for being rejected by Batman. Thus she’s now reborn as resident globe trotting anti hero The Violet Cowl

Jason - The Middle Child of the Bunch at 17; As per usual a 13 year old street orphan taken in after swiping the tires of the Batmobile who helped Batman take down Two Face, whom Jason had a personal beef with due it the latter executing his father. Hoping to harness that inner temper into a force for good and let Jason be a better self as a hero, Damian offers him his old mantle of Bat-Shadow as he was in the midst of transitioning to his current role anyways, to which Jason happily accepts and despite his rough edges and temper, is a decent and lovely young man, loving the fact he’s finally able to attend school for the first time and even recently reunited with his lost long birth mom Shelia

Dick - Second Youngest of the Batfam at 12; Four years prior, Haly’s Circus had made their once in a decade stop at Bludhaven, Dick’s family being the headline act. However while the Batfamily had dealt mainly with the Rouges, the Joker and occasionally Ra’s undergoing a fit of madness, the very small pockets of Haven’s old crime lords can still stir some trouble as is the case here with the last of them, Antonio ‘Boss’ Zucco. As per usual, John Grayson, Dick’s father has Zucco’s henchmen turned away and snubbed from a protection racket attempt, which then of course that night leads to the Grayson ropes getting tampered with and breaking at the climax of the act….heres the twist: John was the only one on those ropes while Mary and Dick we’re safe. Despite the paramedics and the doctors at Thomas Wayne General’s best efforts, by the end of the night, Dick is left fatherless and Mary a widow. Naturally of course, while the Graysons moved out of Haly’s as a cost cutting measure due to many parents’ lawsuits over the ‘avoidable accident’, Dick overhears the gloating goons then collect their racketeer money from a grieving Haly himself, making a small vow to take down the ones responsible for their third degree murder of his father. Due to Dick being a fan of Superman yet with some influence from the Batman, Dick creates a mantle to blend in, using his old circus suit with an added domino mask and utility belt, Robin the Boy Wonder, inspired by both Robin Hood and his mother’s nickname, a mantle he wears with pride until only just recently by his own choice. Nowadays, Zucco has been brought to justice thanks to Dick forming an alliance and tight partnership with Batman and the two had worked together on many cases, helped by the fact Bruce is Mary and Dick’s new landlord while the former Grayson has a new job as an acrobatics teacher. Dick looks up to Bruce in a way as a cool Uncle….maybe even a second father figure though he’ll deny it. Nowadays, after having met Superman himself and his adoptive son Nightwing, Dick ask the latter if he can borrow the mantle or at least they split it between them, allowing him being the Nightwing of Bludhaven.

Reasons for all this change for Dick? It’s because we finally we get to…

Tim(my) - The baby of the whole bunch at a mere 8 years old; that said, it’s not very wise to underestimate this small child of Janet Drake at all, due to his craftiness, unbreakable willpower and sheer dumb good luck, he’s a totally giggly and frankly dorky menace to the crime and villainy of Gotham and Bludhaven. A fan of Dick’s first mantle as Robin the Boy Wonder and quickly learning his secret identity via seeing that Quad Somersault he saw that day the Drakes saw the Graysons fly…and John fall, such memory locked itself deep in Timmy’s mind. A fact he brought up when he saw his hero..his big brother of sorts move away from Robin, begging him to keep it still. Dick however knows his time as a Robin, started ever since he first took flight at 4, was about to end soon as his childhood was and his mind was made up. However, seeing those big and glimmering sky blue eyes the little fella was giving him, Dick makes Timmy the offer to instead let him become Robin, as the latter already had some tiny basic gymnastics training from PE at school so Dick can teach him actual acrobatics if he wants to and the two can be crime fighters together. An offer Timmy was all too excited for once he got an answer from Dick If he really means it. Thus Timmy is now Robin, a sidekick to Dick’s Nightwing and just an overall delightful baby brother to him and the Bats, despite both of them still having moms.

[chesnat]

Did Che kill gays?

There is this popular notion of Che killing people who were part of LGBTQ+ community. So to debunk Che executed LGBTQ+ people we need to talk about the source of this misconception fabricated by western medias.

Was Che Guevara homophobic? We have no evidence to confirm or deny, since the only thing of significance Che Guevara ever said about gay people, from The Motorcycle Diaries at age 24:

He was an introvert and was probably gay, too. The poor man was drunk and desperate because they hadn’t invited him to the party. He began to yell and insult people until some of them beat him up and gave him a black eye. This episode bothered us, because apart from him being a sexual pervert and a bore, we liked him.

Some edition of The Motorcycle Diaries might even just translated the description of the man as "sexual pervert." I can't speak Spanish and I have no copy of the book in the original language but what I have is an example of the other translation:

From Isaac Wess on Quora:

Che Guevara was probably homophobic to same extent that heterosexual men of his time were. He never wrote or spoke extensively about homosexuality or homosexual people and nothing exists to say he was an exceptional homophobe. He certainly did not call for the killing of homosexuals. Anyone telling you otherwise is simply misinformed or dishonest.

People often talk about how Guevara murdered gays and put them in camps and everything. Time for a history lesson.

The camps people are referring to are called UMAPs — Military Units to Aid Production. These were labor camps run by the Cuban government between November 1965 and July 1968 for people who did not want to or could not serve in the military. Openly homosexual people were barred from military service at this time and so were conscripted into camps where they suffered frequent abuse. Other people deemed a “counterrevolutionary” to the new Cuban regime were also present in the UMAP camps, such as religious folk, political enemies, and conscientious objectors. It is generally understood that the Cuban government was unaware of the injustices taking place, closing the UMAP system as soon as they were aware. Homosexuality was decriminalized in Cuba by 1979. The Cuban government continues to present the UMAP system as a mistake.

During the years of the UMAP system, Che Guevara held no public office in the Cuban government. His farewell letter to Fidel Castro months before the opening of any UMAP camps, in April 1965:

formally reject my positions in the leadership of the party, my post as minister, my rank of commander, and my Cuban citizenship. Nothing legal binds me to Cuba. The only ties are of another nature — those that cannot be broken as can appointments to posts.

Before the UMAP system even existed, Che had resigned from Cuban affairs, even leaving the nation for a stretch of time. He would ultimately make several appearances throughout the globe before his summary execution in Bolivia in 1967. No evidence exists to say Che Guevara was aware of the existence of the UMAP camps, meaning he could not be aware of its practices. He did not execute gays, or really anyone unjustifiably.

In conclusion:

Che Guevara was probably a homophobic since at the time he was alive (1928-1967) people who identified themselves as homosexuals were constantly prejudiced and abused.

It's a fact that gays were sent to camps (UMAPs) but before UMAPs even existed Che had already resigned from Cuban affairs.

The misleading informations were proven to be fabricated to diminish Che Guevara's image by the western media who were threatened by Che Guevara's presence.

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