#of course the exact circumstances aren’t the same

[crystallinecardinal]

Something about love and loss and being on the other side of the tragedy idk

[bunnygirllover45]

— THE THRILL OF THE HUNT.

♱ TRIGGER WARNINGS: Johann literally hunts down the reader, Small outburst at the end, and a lot of bullshit talk about hunting because I like it, DEAD DOVE. No violence was used.

Synopsis: You escape from Johann, he has to track you down. WORD COUNT: 1.6k

Johann wasn't exactly the thrill-seeking kind. He always preferred a slow-paced life, not filled with many excitements or tragedies. He wasn’t an adventurous spirit or a fiery soul in search of greater meaning. In his head, the only thing he needed was you.

And maybe that’s why this exact moment made his blood boil with newfound rapture, he could swear for a moment his skin bumped at the feeling of his heart throbbing so quickly against his ribcage. The thrill of the hunt, like his father used to say, made mere men become beasts, some because it was vital for their survival, others because of the rush of power it gave them.

But he couldn’t quite understand it until now. For him, hunts weren’t that exciting. The game was always too easy to track down, the footsteps effortlessly concealed. The gun didn’t feel heavy enough. His breath didn’t quicken at the mere chance of letting his prey slip away; he’ll always find a way to reach them again, after all. Animals have their habits; they’re easy to decipher once you know their true nature.

This is the type of hunt he’s been craving for so long. Johann had to press a hand against his mouth to prevent a low chuckle from escaping. Oh, how right his father was. This was truly trilling to the core, the kind of thrill that made a foreign heat rise towards his head and seep into his very brain tissue.

Humans aren’t like animals, their behavior is a little more erratic, animals can be divided between highly intelligent beings and straight-up dumb ones, but humans? All of them had their quirks, you couldn’t easily guess how prepared someone could be under certain circumstances. “Isn’t that so fucking interesting?” 

Lowering himself to the ground Johann reached to touch the freshly shaped footstep that his precious prey left behind. If they’re leaving such a pretty trail behind they’re expecting me to find them, what a tease.

“You know what kind of animals roam these types of terrains?” His voice was loud enough to carry its sound through the extremely quiet, when the hunt begins, the forest goes quiet, no need to scream. “Bears, moose, sometimes even wolves. Had to detangle a lot of ‘em from traps before, not without properly securing they won’t be able to bite, ‘course.” 

His heavy boots made the rotten wood and debris scattered around the forest soil yield under their weight, no need to change onto more quiet shoes, his bunny wouldn’t be able to hear him coming, surely their heartbeat was the only thing resounding inside their ears. Reaching into his pocket he took out his watch, starting a countdown. “I’ll give you two minutes to gain distance, cover your tracks, you can try hiding if you want, but I wouldn’t recommend staying still, it makes you easier to spot.” 

“Once the two minutes are done I’ll begin searching, I'll make a bird calling each 45 seconds, and once three minutes pass by, I’ll stop making bird callings and hunt in earnest, ‘kay? Just want to make the game easier for you, it isn’t fun if I’m the one with the upper hand all the time even if this is my subject.” 

With a deep sigh, he crouched down again, his hands fidgeting inside his pocket until he found a cigarette, the last one actually. Grabbing his lighter he lit up the tip, taking a slow inhale before letting the smoke escape from his lips. 

His free hand reached to grab the gun he always had with him, it was an old friend of sorts, stuck by his side in all the worst situations, a lot of people meeting their death at the end of this same barrel. Maybe it should have your name, after all, people do name their guns sometimes.

The forest grew more eerily quiet, the sun setting down in the distance while Johann quietly awaited the starting gunshot of the race, he didn’t really need to put the time on his watch, he could already count the time down to the millisecond inside his head. “Forty-eight, forty-nine…” His gloved fingers tapped against his lips, hands tightly clad in leather gloves, perfect for the harsh Austrian winter. 

A part of him wished you didn’t even make the effort to run away, maybe finding you curled up against a rock or a tree just waiting for him to find you was more exciting than actually pursuing you, after all, that meant you truly gave up on the idea of leaving him behind—still, another part of his brain screamed for you to run, so he could find you and make sure you won’t try pulling up bullshit like this again.

Slowly he stood up, the watch making a low beeping sound before he began to walk, settling the gun back onto the strap around his thigh. Holding the cigarette in between his lips he began to prepare the clothes you were going to use once he caught you, after all, little you decided to escape both barefoot and barely dressed, the worst thing in this forest beside him was the cold. Holding the spare jacket he always brought with him inside his bag and a blanket he continued to walk nonchalantly, not even sparing a single stare in any direction that wasn’t just dead front and center. 

Johann's stare drifted onto the floor, a little disappointed that you didn’t take his recommendation into account, there, clear as day, were your pretty little marks for him to follow like a bloodhound. Johann even took the time to carefully make sure he didn’t accidentally step into any of them, not wanting to overshadow the loving tracks you left behind for him with his heavy boots.

He knew very well he was taking all of this too lightly, this was a high gamble where he could lose everything or gain all, but still the elated sense of happiness and bubbling excitement made him more self-confident, too sure you wouldn’t get away too far, and even if you did, he’d stay in the damn forest all the time necessary for you to realize you need to go back onto his loving arms.

Stopping dead in his tracks he turned around as he heard a small sound coming from behind a fallen stump, dead bark peeling off the tree’s corpse. There you are.

And there you were indeed, curled up in a ball, back pressing against the rough bark as you held your arms around your torso, bracing yourself from the harsh winter cold, from the shiver that ran down your shoulders towards your legs or the sight you so pathetically defenseless made him smile, a blush creeping up onto his features.

“You didn’t even run far enough to let me do any bird calls, are you that tired, baby?” He kneeled down in front of you, but as soon as you jolted up in surprise Johann’s hand shot to grab your wrist with unnerving quickness. His dark eyes bore into you, a small smile gracing his lips, but there was no emotion behind that expression of his. “That’s okay, next time I’ll give you some proper equipment, some shoes wouldn’t hurt.” 

His thumb caressed the skin of your wrist, while his other hand threw away the now almost half-smoked cigarette that Johann held in between his lips. Eventually he reached to grab your head in between them, rubbing your cheeks with such tenderness that it could be even soothing in a different situation. “There, you did good. Not good enough to grant you a reward, but you did have me a little scared back there.” His smile widened as he lied through his teeth. You frowned, tired, freezing cold and also breathless, but still with enough energy to try and pry his hand away from your wrist, it was useless, he was latched onto you like a handcuff. “Fuck yo—” Before you could even finish he reached to clasp his free hand onto your mouth, the sudden movement making you stumble backward, head pressing against the tree. “Fuckin’ language.” He whispered between his teeth, staring at you dead in the eyes. “You should be grateful I didn’t put a damn bullet in between those pretty eyes of yours. Runnin’ away from me like that? After all I did for you? I let you away from my sight for just a second and you go jolting away like a fucking rabbit.” 

Taking a deep breath he lowered his head, slowly pushing his hand away from your mouth, his face leaning closer to you, the only warm feeling gracing your warm body being his hot breath against your face. “Sorry ‘bout that.” He pushed your lower lip with his thumb, pressing a soft kiss onto your flesh as some sick and twisted kind of apology.

“I won’t be as lenient next time, ‘kay? You know I care about you a lot, meine Liebe, don’t want you getting hurt.” He forced a smile, leaning his forehead against yours, but again his voice was masked by the thumping sound of your heart against your ears. “Let’s get you back to the car, I’ll get you all warmed up and cozy.” 

You just let him grab you, his hands effortlessly grabbing you and carrying you bridal style as both of you made your way back toward the car, you stole a few glances at Johann’s face, finding a small smile and that darn blush in his cheeks that showed how much he enjoyed himself, maybe a twisted part of him was truly pleased by all of this, even if it just started as a rebellious act of trying to escape from your part.

“Hear that? It’s a White-tailed eagle. Birds of prey, always hunted them with my father as a child.” Suddenly the forest wasn’t so quiet anymore, the hunt has ended.

[mizading]

Taking Care of Sick JJK Men

╰┈➤ {Characters} : Satoru Gojo, Kento Nanami, Suguru Geto.

╰┈➤ {Warnings} : None

Satoru Gojo:

With a sick Satoru, you’ll be greeted with his sniffles and strong arms clinging to your waist as soon as the sun rises. Little groans and complaints would leave his lips to get your attention. (He’s an attention whore.)

Satoru would whine endlessly about how sick he felt, pleading for you to miraculously make him feel better. A little pout is permanent on Satoru’s face. He’s always excessively moody when he feels sick.

As if his complaints weren't enough, Satoru has no shame, clinging and kissing all over you as if he won't get you ill as well. It’s Satoru’s way of self-soothing when he’s grumpy and feeling under the weather.

No matter how much you complain or push him off, Satoru will come right back, holding you tighter than before. It’s not like he wants to get you sick; he just can't keep his hands to himself to save his life.

Like the big baby he is, Satoru will beg and beg for you to make him homemade soup. Be prepared to spoon it to him if you make some.

Cuddles, cuddles, cuddles. Most of the day will be spent in different cuddling positions. Satoru doesn’t care how hot or sweaty you two eventually get; he refuses to let go. Big spoon or little spoon, he doesn’t care as long as he gets his cuddles.

Despite how high his fever is, Satoru insists on taking at least one bath. Baths with you always soothe him. Telling him no is useless; Satoru always gets what he wants.

Nothing in this world could ever make Satoru happier than sitting in the bath between your legs with you washing and massaging his hair. He loves how delicate you are when you scrub his sick body.

Satoru likes to be sung to softly once back in bed with you. He doesn’t care what you sound like; you sound beautiful to him regardless. Satoru feels safe when he’s able to nuzzle his head into your chest and listen to your gentle voice.

Satoru feels at ease being vulnerable and treated like a human being after spending his entire life being treated as nothing more than the strongest.

Sick days with Satoru aren’t easy, but you’ll do anything and everything for him because he’ll do the exact same and more for you.

Kento Nanami:

Much like Geto, Nanami keeps to himself when he’s sick. He doesn’t believe that it's your responsibility to take care of him, no matter the circumstances.

It’s quite hard to tell when Nanami is sick; he refuses to let a “minor bug” hinder his performance. Unfortunately for Nanami, this “minor bug” forced him to call out of work early.

Nanami shuts you out when he comes home, constantly reminding you to stay away for your own good. You’re stubborn, and of course you weren’t going to let your husband suffer sick alone.

You still respect Nanami’s wishes and manage to keep a small distance between you two while taking care of him simultaneously. When you help Nanami take his work uniform off and pepper his bare back with kisses, he wanted to marry you all over again.

A hot shower with you is a must. All Nanami wants is to hug your body close and let the droplets of hot water patter on you two. A little back massage in the process would melt his poor heart. Nanami knows that he’s not keeping a safe distance, but he can’t seem to care at the moment. He’s more than willing to take days off of work just to care for you if you get sick as well.

Getting Nanami to lay down or sit down is quite hard. He has a hard time giving his body a break. The only way that you can get him to lay down is if you offer him cuddles. At this point, any attempts at keeping distance are thrown out the window.

Nanami becomes extra soft when he’s sick. He’ll spend hours on end laying in bed with his eyes closed, telling you why he loves you. Even after hours of him explaining, he still can’t tell you every reason why you’re the only woman he’ll ever love.

Nanami considers being sick a perfect time to simply catch up and talk. The conversations will range from his high school days to what he thinks happens after death. He might even throw in a random book from his collection to read to you.

Being in such a weak state reminds Nanami that a full life isn’t guaranteed. He’ll bring up his plans for the future with you once he retires. Even if living a full life isn’t guaranteed, he’ll do everything in his power to guarantee a future in Malaysia with you before it’s too late.

Suguru Geto:

Suguru has a bad habit of keeping quiet when he’s sick. He doesn’t want you to risk getting sick yourself while taking care of him. Suguru would much rather suffer in silence if it meant keeping you safe and healthy. This poor boy will hide from you in the house, purposely looking down when you’re near.

You only notice that Suguru is sick when you catch him slugging around the house with a red nose and tired eyes when he thinks you’re gone. That would explain why the full tissue box was almost empty within 2 hours. He’ll refuse to admit that he’s sick, but you know better.

Without question, you immediately come to the rescue, dragging Suguru back to the bed with a thermometer and water bottle in your hand. He knows that he’s been caught and won't be able to keep you from getting sick now.

As much as Suguru doesn’t want you to risk getting sick, he absolutely loves your gentle care. It’ll take a few hours of convincing for Suguru to finally let you care for him without pushing you away. His weak state makes it easier for you to force him to comply.

Due to how soft Suguru's voice naturally is, he loses his voice 9/10 times when he gets sick. It melts your heart to hear him ask for favors in a little whisper. He finds it embarrassing, but you convince him otherwise. Suguru thinks it's so sweet and strange that you find almost everything about him in his sick state cute.

Suguru doesn’t ask for much out of fear of burning you out. He tends to keep to himself. With enough harassment, you’ll eventually get him to tell you his needs. Lucky for him, you always give him what he needs and more without him having to ask. He can’t believe how lucky he is sometimes. What did a man like him do to deserve such an angel?

He wouldn’t dare ask you for affection in the state he’s in, even if he wanted it so so badly. His eyes scanning your body constantly, unfortunately, gave him away. Without hesitation, you'll give Suguru more love than he can handle.

You can’t help but smother Suguru with your affection. You have no concern about getting sick yourself. Your priority is making your baby feel better.

Suguru is an adorable mess when he’s sick. He���ll never take your love and care for granted.

Banner Credits: Cafekitsune

[cosmal]

reader falling asleep against remus?? maybe they aren’t dating yet but are oblivious idiots in love with each other and he freaks out !!

pillow

summary you fall asleep on remus at a party.

content remus lupin x fem!reader, she/her

"Mate, you've gotta be the worst pillow ever. Relax a bit," Sirius says to Remus who's gone stiff underneath you.

"I should wake her up, right? Like, it was an accident. She's gonna think I'm weird for not waking her up," Remus panics, trying to stay as still as possible.

"Hey, woah," Sirius puts his hands out to calm his friend like he's a spooked animal, "She wouldn't have fallen asleep on you if she didn't trust you, right?"

He takes a breath and looks down at you. He remembers how much he stupidly likes you and relaxes a bit. "Right," he says under his breath.

"Good," Sirius sighs.

He's not entirely sure how you've done it. It's loud at this party and the two seater isn't the most comfortable place to be. He then thinks about how if it were him in your position, he'd do the exact same thing. He trusts you enough to fall alseep on, despite the circumstances. He's sure his are different to yours, though.

He let's you get comfortable where you've got your cheek smooshed against his shoulder and hopes his sweater isn't too scratchy. Your lips are parted in the slightest and your nose keeps twitching. He remembers how tired you'd told him you were and hopes this moment of rest is enough to help until you have to go home.

He really wanted to talk to you tonight, maybe, if he'd found enough courage, he would've asked you on a date. But he's just as content with letting you use him to sleep comfortably. He envies it really, because he could also use a power nap.

He tries his best to keep you alseep, a hand around your shoulder to keep you shielded from rowdy partygoers but knows it's inevitable that you'll wake. The room starts to fill more as the sun falls behind the horizon and he feels you start to stir.

You lift yourself from his side and blink yourself awake. You look around the room confused, the cutest pout on your lips, before you catch Remus to your side. Then, you startle.

"Oh my god," you say, and hold your hands to your cheeks, "Remus, I'm so sorry!" You start to come into yourself and can't stop smiling. You duck your face into your shoulder and try to act unaffected, though you fail.

"It's okay," he says, and because while you were asleep, he'd swelled with courage, he wraps an arm back around your shoulders and encourages you back into his side. He's not forceful with it but you snuggle back into him like it's second nature and he melts. "I kind of liked it."

"Oh," you say under your breath, but because you're so close he can hear you. He treasures this position dearly, because most of the time you're too shy to speak as loudly as you should.

"You're cute when you sleep," he says, pushing it really, he expects to run out of confidence soon. "It's too loud in here, but I think you were snoring."

You groan and cover your face with your hands, bubbling with embarrassed giggles. "Stop it," you say, flustered and airy, "Was I really?"

"No, I'm kidding, sweetheart," he laughs, nudging your shoulder with his own, "It's okay, you were fine."

"Good," you say, looking at him through the parts in your fingers. "At least I didn't drool, I do that at home sometimes." You take your hands from your face but you still seemed flustered.

"Really?" he laughs.

"Yeah."

He doesn't stop himself from saying, "Well, I'll have to see that one day." He doesn't regret it when you start to roar with laughter.

"Are you inviting yourself back to my bed, Lupin?" you ask through pretty giggles.

"Is that okay?"

You tuck your head back into his side and try to hold back your laughter. He thinks you're trying to hide your flustered face. "Of course, it is."

[lv9su]

K. Bakugo x reader

Reader has a quirk called chaos control. Your quirk and storyline is based off the character shadow from the sonic universe but ofc not the exact same.

PART 2, AFO FINDS YOU AND MANIPULATES YOU.. MEETING THE LEAGUE.

Walking through the cold and dark halls of the lab you spent the most of your life in you tan your fingers across the walls, haunting you with the good and bad memories.

The only things good being the two friends you ever had, the two people who only ever made you feel human. ‘Sonic’ and Yoishi.

‘Sonic’ was forcefully sent for ‘scientific purposes’ by his family a little later on in life, once they’d found out about his ability of speed. Therefore when he was given his name, he decided that was all he went by.

If you were sent a little later one, same as sonic things might’ve been different for you, except it was all you’d ever known. Enough power to destroy the world. Enough power to make you a weapon. But so much, people would’ve been afraid if they knew about you, so instead you were locked away like an animal. But it’s not like you’d known any different, no previous family, or home..

Yoishi and was the only one between him and his brother who made any effort to create a bond between the three of you, making sure you were okay even in your circumstances.

Every step you took reigniting a memory.

One of them being when you were 9 and sonic was 10. It was his second year on the facility. And you finally had a friend, someone like you.

“Catch me if you can softy shadoooow.” he grinned, running in front of you as you air glided centimetres behind him.

“Im closer than you’d think blue blurr!” You shouted, not knowing you both were about to miss a corner and run right into the wall..

The memory made you slightly crack a smile, looking through one of the windows, seeing one of the tables you were sat on, wires attatched to your head, yoichi had just snuck in and made up an excuse about the doctor needing you, ripping off the wires and taking you out to eat the food left for the scientists.

Finding one of the main rooms you stood in front of yours and sonics glass chambers..

“Ah, the ultimate life form. I’ve waited for you my dear.” A voice spoke from behind you, almost slyly.

You blipped in front of the man, he had an unrecognisable face, just a mask connected with a multitude of tubes.

“Who are you.” You demanded more than asked, narrowing your eyes instinctively,

“Oh you don’t remember me Shadow? Or can I call you y/n? ..you’ve been asleep for too long y/n. And I’ve waited for you this whole time.” He replied smoothly taking a step closer to you.

“Doesn’t answer my question. Who are you and what do you want.” You don’t let down your defensive and cold manner. Yet there was something familiar about him.

“Well now I go by all for one. But you knew me before as Shigaraki. My brother was ..fond of you and the speedy little one..” his tone darkened.

“Yoichi? Where is he?!?” You asked, a glimpse of hope flickering, only to be blown out by ‘all for one’s’ next response.

“He died. During the cross fire that very night sonic died too. They took everything from you, from. us.” He lied, manipulated. He killed his brother, of course you never knew that, hearing that yoichi died the same way sonic did itched something in your brain, built up the chaos energy inside you. From working there, he understood your quirk, he knew how powerful it was. The stronger you were, the more afraid people would be of him.

“I’m offering you a chance for revenge? For what they took from us. These heroes aren’t trusted. They’re just the same as the people that took yoichi and sonic away from you. They either just want to use you or dispose of you.” He realised he’d now caught your attention.

“What do you want me to do..?” you asked fiercely, feeling the chaos swirling inside of you.

“Join me.” He lent a hand out to you, once he felt your hand reach out to his he realised he’d successfully caught his prey, just as the cunning predator would.

—

After weeks of being with AFO, thinking you were there for good, he introduced you to “ the league ” since he wouldn’t always be able to accompany you.

After his entrance and beginning introduction, he left with “she is Shadow.” Everyone had their own questions, like

“Why do you have rings on? Or are they bracelets? Either way they’re super cute!!” A girl with blonde hair in space buns, who you later learnt to be toga, complimented.

Or

“Who does your hair? It’s magnificent” a man with a top hat with a yellow feather and a white and black mask asked juggling marbles, you later found to be mr compress.

But finally someone who was more serious.

“So what’s your story ..why are you so dark? Hm?” A tall guy with black spiky hair and purple patches on his body asked you, putting out a cigarette on the wall and sitting on a stool with you while kurogiri made you something to drink.

“I was tested on for years. One day my powers caused an explosion in the lab. People died so they killed the closest people to me and froze me for 50 years.” You eyes low, your voice intense.

“Wait your like 50?” Toga asked, jumping to sit by you.

“No. I’m 16. Like I said, I was frozen in time and space, so I didn’t age at all.” You explained to her.

“Your like a walking time capsule then huh? What was it like 50 years ago?” She grabbed your hands and began squeezing.

“I don’t know, I was stuck in a lab. Didn’t really have much time to sight see.” You brood.

“Your funny I like you. Your so pouty.” She twirled one of the red pieces of your y/h/l, y/h/t hair.

“Ignore her.” ‘Dabi’ raised a glass to his mouth.

“But I get it, the whole lab rat thing. I had a similar situation.” He raised his brows, and looked down at you knowingly. It was almost comforting.

Maybe it wasn’t gonna be so bad after all.

—

Back at UA, none of the pros could find any background about you, but izuku, being one of the wielders of ofa, and being able to speak to yoishi, even briefly, was able to find out about her, it was little but at this point anything helps.

The pros, working with police and being able to check every camera in the city found footage of you being led by afo and thought it was kidnapping. Now they buckled down even harder to save you.

It had only been two weeks, but they knew enough from izuku, and eventually to understand the fully situation principal nezu met with the colonel and got their side of the story.

Bakugo couldn’t stop thinking of you. The thought of someone being stronger, faster. So mysterious and even ..beautiful. He’d never thought about any girl this way before. It even angered himself when he did because the thought of you was uncontrollable, yet you’d only met once.

But little did they know, they’d see you sooner than they thought. Because the league was planning to attack the USJ..

—

TAGLIST:

@sweetlike-sugarplum

@thesimpybitch

@pikachuzhc

@postsarenerverdaily

@mazzbarnes

[realpontchartrain]

I saw your last anon and was wondering if you could go more into detail on your prison abolition stance. It means different things to different people so what exactly would you like to see happen?

Of course! This is gonna be long, so brace yourself, but hopefully a worthy read.

Well, my personal perspective is that prison is inherently traumatic. It is literal slavery. Nobody, no matter what the crime or circumstances that led up to it, petty or huge, should have to endure prison conditions in America. Imagine 24/7 having to be subjected to the brightest fluorescent lights possible, the loudest noises, crammed in a concrete block of a room with 100 or so other people (in general population jails) or at best 4 or 6 others for the entirety of your sentence — which is almost always blown out of proportion for the nature of the crime, or vice versa depending upon your privilege in life (the average white american getting probation or a slap on the wrist for a drug offense, the average black american spending a huge chunk of their lives behind bars for the exact same offense, and me getting away with two weeks in jail for trying to kill a bunch people just because i go to Harvard and my mom’s a cop).

The vast majority of crimes are petty. You can’t stop drug trafficking and addiction with mass incarceration. Encourage people to seek treatment when busted, provide them with the resources they need, and let them decide if or when they choose to get help. If caught redistributing drugs, make getting help mandatory, prosecute them to find the actual manufacturer of said drugs (if it isn’t them) and adequately punish them, then once they’ve completed a setlist of conditions (monitoring, rehab, yada yada), release them. If a woman is shoplifting baby food, you help that woman feed her baby, not throw the child into the OTHER trauma of foster care and the mother in prison for years.

When I was in jail, I shared a cell with an old black woman (we called her Rosa Parks LMFAO) who was in there LONGER THAN I WAS… for trespassing. A class C misdemeanor. She went to the bank to get change, but they were closed, and a manager called the cops on her when she was standing outside too long waiting for the next bus. Two weeks for me for attempted mass murder > two weeks or more for that old woman. What sense does this shit make?

Let’s talk major crimes like mine. These are always committed by someone with some kind of deep mental illness (untreated/undiagnosed) or trauma. They need help. Children aren’t shooting up their schools in troves for no reason. Look at their backgrounds: abusive/neglectful families, poverty, trauma, etc. When it’s easy to cop an AR-15 and we are THE most gun-loaded country for no fucking REASON other than mass paranoia and the delusion of freedom, then why wouldn’t a kid who’s already about to commit suicide with mommy and daddy’s AR collection out on display in the living room NOT see anything to lose in taking as many other motherfuckers out with them? Especially anyone else who wronged them and ridiculed them for their trauma or otherwise? They need help.

Even if they DO go on to kill people, they still deserve a second chance to make amends and face the consequences of their actions. Something drove them to that point, and there was already an infinite amount of failures in more systems than one that let it happen (easy gun access, poor mental health, no social services, bullying that’s unchecked, etc.). That’s why i’m choosing to research gun violence prevention — so that I can become a therapist who specifically focuses on homicidal people and youth, because so many of these so called psychiatrists never believed me when I said I was thinking about hurting people because I simply “don’t look like it.” And guess what? The vast majority of medicine used to treat physical and mental health problems in prisons have been discontinued for use in the general American population. When I was in jail, they put me on drugs to help with my “withdrawals” that caused me to lose sensation in half of my face and would leak out of my nose. That shit is inhumane, and they FORCE you to take it in front of them. If you don’t? Well, beaten or thrown into a suicide watch pad it is.

Throwing people like me in prison, or even people with less severe crimes but still pretty serious, without proper mental health (or any kind) of treatment will only make things WORSE. If we DO get out eventually, all of that trauma i described and WORSE will only follow them forever. That makes people more inclined to commit crimes again, usually even worse ones. This is what feeds the recidivism rate, which in turn feeds into the prison system and therefore modern day slavery as well. Anything “made in America” was made by prison slave labor. For pennies on the hour, sometimes pennies a DAY, when a fucking granola bar on the commissary menu is $50.

I think that the Scandinavian countries have it right. Even Anders Breivik was only given a 21 year sentence for the Norway shooting. If he wasn’t a spoiled and narcissistic brat who thinks he’s tough shit and “too good” to accept help, even HE would’ve had the chance to get out after killing 70~ people in only 21 years if he just completed his measly little conditions (be a better person lmfao). Look at their prisons. Better than a studio apartment in downtown LA for $9mil a month in rent. They get access to things that HELP normal people: games, technology, music, instruments, arts, TV, company, THE ABILITY TO FUCK IN YOUR CELL EVERY NOW AND THEN, EVEN. Do that shit in America and they’ll slap a sex offender charge on your ass just for jacking off in your cell and OFFICIALLY ruin your life forever. And yes, even sex offenders deserve a second chance in life! And look at their crime and recidivism rates (NONE of you racist mfs chime in about the immigration issue…).

My belief is that you have to HELP people like me, my ex, and my other deranged ass friends. Look at HOW and WHY we got to that point, and FIX IT so that the chances of it happening again are LESS. Not doing so only FUELS HUMAN SUFFERING MORE. Okay, let’s say they let child killer here out of jail after all of that shit, they didn’t help me for shit afterwards and y’all SAW THAT. Now imagine if I had snapped again and actually blew up a fucking orphanage in Kentucky or some shit. Who is to BLAME for that, other than the people who knew it happened, did nothing about it, and let it happen again? If your child gets molested by the known pedophile across the street who is on the SOR already, who do you blame for letting that guy back out of prison without ACTUALLY addressing why he did what he did? Even pedophiles need support groups, because let’s face it: NOBODY is out here “slaughtering pedophiles” in troves as people like to think. It’s all just about feeling morally superior in any small way, and it doesn’t get any worse in society than hurting a child somehow. So, why not make sure that Chester the Molester gets mandatory TREATMENT and COUNSELING and UNDERSTANDING of pedophilia, which is, yes, a mental disorder listed in the DSM-5 and therefore worthy of adequate understanding and treatment as any other mental condition.

Probation is another thing that needs reform. But i already rambled enough and i gotta actually answer that other anon who sent that ask in the first place, because they want my opinion on two other things lmao. Thanks for asking me about this, I enjoyed explaining it!

[fanficgirl429]

Returning Home

Prompt: Y/N returns home for Iceman’s funeral and runs into her ex, Bradley Bradshaw. 

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: sex

------

It had been nearly five years since Y/N had stepped foot in Fightertown. It held a lot of good memories but there were also memories that she had tried to erase.

The moment she had learned that Iceman had passed, she dropped what she was doing and booked a flight to her hometown. Ice had helped her father out in more than one way and she couldn’t imagine missing the funeral.

Her return flight was merely hours after the funeral ended- she had decided that she didn’t want to stay any longer than she needed.

Her boyfriend had offered to accompany her but she told him to stay home- she would only be gone for two days. Although he had looked slightly offended, he eventually agreed to stay.

Y/N and her father had just left the wake and after much protesting from her dad, she had agreed to one drink at the Hard Deck.

“Maverick!” Penny called, walking towards the father and daughter duo. “How are you doing?”

She pulled him in for a quick hug before looking over at Y/N. “Y/N! It’s so nice to see you again. Your dad has been sure to keep me up to date on how you have been doing.”

“It’s nice to see you too!” Y/N replied. The last time she had seen Penny was five years ago. At the time she had no idea in just a few years Penny would be dating her dad.

“I wish it was under other circumstances but I’m glad you’re here nonetheless.”

Penny walked behind the bar and handed Maverick his favorite beer. “What can I get you?” she asked Y/N.

“Oh water is fine,” Y/N said. “I want to be conscious for my flight.”

Penny laughed and filled up a clear plastic cup with water. She glanced around the bar, surprised to find that not much had changed. The piano was still in the exact same spot as well as the classic jukebox.

Memories flooded her head as she remembered standing around the piano singing with her friends and trying to find the perfect song to play on the jukebox.

“How’s Jack doing?” Penny asked, referring to Y/N’s boyfriend of just over a year.

“He’s doing good. He just got a huge job promotion yesterday,” Y/N told her, smiling.

“That’s wonderful. Hopefully I can meet him soon.”

Y/N agreed and looked over at her father. “How is Top Gun going?”

“It’s going ok. Some people aren’t too keen on my teaching strategies,” he told her, picking at the label on his bottle.

Y/N nodded all to familiar with her father’s flying antics. “Did I tell you that Bradley is there as well?”

Bradley was Y/N’s ex boyfriend. They had been together for nearly 4 years before she had decided to end things.

Y/N looked over at Maverick, eyes wide. “N-no you didn’t. How is he doing?”

Maverick shrugged. “Well he doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Well you did really hurt him,” Y/N said, taking a sip of her water.

Right after they had broken up, Y/N had learned that her father had pulled Bradley’s papers to stop him from flying. Of course, Bradley had been pissed and stopped talking to Maverick. Her dad had reached out numerous times to him to apologize but Bradley had never responded.

Y/N looked around at the numerous people at the bar. There were a few couples sitting at tables and nursing their drinks. She had learned from her dad that pilots from Top Gun often came to the Hard Deck to blow off some steam. After learning the news about Bradley being back in town, she hoped that he wouldn’t show up.

Y/N looked over at her dad, who had a scowl etched across his face. He was watching a group of young pilots who had just walked in.  

“That’s about half of my class right there,” he said, nodding in the pilot's directions. “If they bother you, let me know.”

Y/N’s eyes wandered over to a tall blonde who was rather good looking. Next to him, stood another pilot- this one all too familiar. Tall, brown hair, brown eyes, and a mustache (that was new). Bradley Bradshaw. Y/N’s ex boyfriend.

Things between the two of them had not ended well. Their relationship had been rocky for a while and after a big argument which resulted in the two of them not speaking for days, Y/N had decided to end it. It was one of the hardest decisions that she had ever had to make. Their lives were going in two different directions and they had both been young.

Bradley’s eyes locked with hers and he gave her a small smile. She smiled back, thoughts racing through her head. Should I go say hi? Should I wait and see if he’ll come over? Maybe he’ll come say hi to my dad as an excuse to come see me?

Minutes ticked by and neither of them made any attempt to talk to each other. Growing restless, Y/N excused herself and walked towards the restroom. She quickly glanced over at Bradley, who was currently talking to a female pilot. A small bit of jealously hit Y/N. Shaking it off, she walked into the bathroom to have a moment to herself.

Y/N took a deep breath before stepping out of the bathroom. Her plan was to pay her tab and then leave and get ready to go home.

Bradley was leaning against the wall, arms folded against his chest, as if waiting for Y/N to come out of the bathroom.

“Y/N, can we talk?” he said.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Y/N told him and began to walk away.

His hand gently wrapped around her arm, pulling her back towards him. Her heart skipped a beat from his touch as she looked at him.

“What do you want Bradley?” Y/N asked.

Bradley sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I-I’m not sure. I just wanted to talk to you.”

Y/N let out a laugh. “It’s been five years, Bradley. You could have just picked up the phone if you wanted to talk that badly.”

“Would you have answered?”

Y/N shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. I was really angry with you.”

“Clearly. You left town.”

“I had to. I think if I would have seen you again, I would have come running back to you but we were so bad for each other at the time. I think that maybe if we were older and had our lives figured out a bit more we could have made it work.”

Bradley’s eyes went wide at Y/N’s honesty but he knew that she was right. Timing was everything.

“There hasn’t been a day gone by that I haven’t thought about you. I know that it has been years but when I said that you were the one meant for me, I truly meant it. I still think that you’re meant for me,” he told her.

Deep down Y/N knew that he was right. She thought about him at least once a day. The question of did she make the right decision was also constantly on her mind. Sure, she loved Jake but it was different than when she was with Bradley. She thought that maybe it was because Bradley was her first true love but after seeing him now, she knew it was because she was still in love with him.

Slowly reaching out, he laced his fingers with hers and pulled her closer to him. She quickly glanced around to make sure there were no prying eyes. Luckily the bathrooms were in the back and they would be able to hear if anyone was coming down the short hallway.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Bradley’s waist as he hugged her tightly. He was more toned than she remembered but she wasn’t complaining. He still smelled exactly the way that he used to and when he held her, it felt like it was just the two of them.

Slowly, Bradley leaned down and placed his lips against Y/N’s. Together their lips moved in sync, almost as if no time had passed between them. His tongue slipped into her mouth, tangling with hers.

Bradley’s hands moved down to Y/N hips and gently pushed back her so that her back was pressed against the wall. His thumb slipped underneath the hem of her shirt and made slow circles against her hip. Goosebumps rose in their wake as she remembered exactly what Bradley’s touch did to her.

A dull ache began to form between her legs and she squeezed her thighs together, hoping to make it go away but knew that it wouldn’t.

Bradley’s body was pressed up against hers and she could his erection pressing against her stomach. Reaching down, she gently squeezed him through his jeans and he let out a low moan, pulling away from her.

“Fuck Y/N,” Bradley breathed. “I want you so fucking much.”

Without pausing to think about the consequences, Y/N grabbed Bradley’s hand and pulled him towards the womans one person bathroom.

“Are you sure?” Bradley asked, hesitantly.

“Yea.”

When the door was closed and locked behind them, Bradley reached down and pulled Y/N’s t shirt over head, revealing her black lacy bra. She gave herself a silent applause as she was thankful she had chosen her good bra as opposed to her old beat up one.

Bradley eye’s went wide as he started at her in awe of her body. It was better than he had remembered. He pulled her back against him and locked his lips back to hers. This time the kiss was full of need and lust.

HIs fingers toyed with the waistband of her jeans before unbuttoning and unzipping them. He slipped his hand down to her core and ran his fingers along the outside of her underwear before pushing the material aside.

Y/N let out a moan as his fingers found her sensitive spot and began to rub against it. Closing her eyes, Y/N let the sensation take over her body. Her breathing picked up speed as she felt herself reach her climax.

Bradley placed a hand over her mouth as she cried out, reaching her high.

After a moment, Y/N opened her eyes to find Bradley smirking. She playfully hit him in the arm and he let out a laugh.

He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss before unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them down along with his black boxer briefs.

Precum had already formed on his length and Y/  reached out and ran her thumb along the tip. Bradley sucked in a deep breath as she wrapped her hand along his length and slowly moved it up and down.

“I’m gonna come now if you don’t stop,” Bradley warned as he placed a large hand on top of hers. “And I want to come inside of you.”

Y/N removed her hand and reached down and unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down along with her underwear down to her knees.

Bradley placed his hands on her waist and turned her around, facing away from him. She reached out and placed her hands against the wall to steady herself. Bradley ran his length along her core, teasing her.

“Bradley,” Y/N whined as he pressed a finger against her sensitive spot.

Bradley lined himself up with Y/N’s core and slowly pushed into her. She let out a small gasp from the feeling before he pulled out and pushed back into her. He began to move his body slowly against hers.

One his hands gripped her shoulder, well the other one held onto her waist, keeping her steady. Y/N’s hands were still placed against the wall as she kept herself steady.

The small bathroom was filled with the sound of heavy breathing and occasional sounds from the other side of the door, reminding the two of them where they were. Somehow no one had knocked on the door yet.

A knot began to form in Y/N’s stomach as she climbed closer and closer to the edge. Shew knew that Bradley was close because he began to move quicker against her.

WIthin moments, her walls clenched around him as he released into her. The two of them stood still for a moment, catching their breath.

When Y/N was ready, she stood up and Bradley pulled out of her, wrapping his arms around her waist, holding her against him. Her legs were wobbly as she held onto him, not wanting him to let go. It felt right when his arms were wrapped around her but then reality hit.  

Y/N pulled away from Bradley, feeling her face turn a deep shade of red.

“Oh my god,” she said quietly, reaching down and pulling up her underwear and pants.

“Y/N, whats wrong?” Bradley asked.

“I-um-I have a boyfriend,” she told him, scrambling to pull her shirt on.

Bradley stood in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders. “I meant everything that I said earlier. I want to be with you but if you don’t want to be or if you need time, I respect that.”

At this point, Y/N wanted nothing more than to be with Bradley but she hated the thought of letting Jake go, however she knew that she had to. What she had with Bradley was too strong to resist.

“I’ll call you in a few days,” she told him, kissing him quickly before leaving the tiny bathroom.

She was terrified about what was going to happen but also could not wait to see what the future held with Bradley.

[darkcabarets]

Be Mean to Me.

sunday x reader smut!

top reader / bottom sunday . kinks: degradation, rough-handling, handjob, brief spanking / impact play . word count: 1,024 . notes: gender neutral reader, no reader anatomy specified .

. . .

Sunday was a prideful man, and under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t stand for being insulted like this. And yet… there was something about you, about the way you skirted along the line of both respecting his higher-position and still managed to look at him like he was nothing. It made his blood boil, but not in the way his common sense would’ve preferred it to.

He tried to repress such ridiculous desires, especially when it was you he was working with for the evening, but one simple slip up on his part was all it took for his house of cards to come crashing down.

“Seriously, Sunday? These reports were due last week — what kind of idiot can’t get that done in time?” Your voice was a sharp hiss as you backed Sunday against his very own desk, and something about your intense gaze, the demeaning insults you were spitting — his breath caught audibly in his throat, any of his usual sharp retorts lost on him as he failed to conceal the blatant heat on his face.

It seemed to register for you, too, how your words had affected Sunday, and he could only stare like a deer in headlights as recognition flickered across your features, then smugness.

“...You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?”

Good lord, forgive Sunday for how much of a fool he was about to make himself out to be.

. . .

But there would be no forgiveness for Sunday in the near future, not on your part, anyhow. He was beyond embarrassed to admit he’d more than willingly played the role of your fool, and in a whirlwind of teasing mockery and begrudging admissions, the next thing he knew was once again being pushed against his desk, this time bent over it entirely.

He would never look at this damned desk the same after this…

“Pay attention, Sunday!” Any semblance of coherent thoughts Sunday had in his head were soon torn to shreds, however, as you punctuated your harsh command with a smack to his ass. The action alone nearly caused his knees to buckle, and the shameful mewl that left his lips from the sting made his face flush all over again.

Still, Sunday obeyed your order, and tuned back in as you massaged at the reddened flesh you’d slapped moments prior, the rough to gentle treatment managing to wrestle another shaking breath out of him. You weren’t oblivious to his mounting neediness, of course, and you only took pleasure in the way you already had him so riled up in mere moments.

“Already this worked up, huh? I never would’ve guessed my boss was such a closet slut,” A low chuckle left your lips, and the whimper that left Sunday as your nails dug into the flesh of his backside was practically irresistible. “Just how repressed are you, hmm? Do you just shove it to the back of your mind when you’re all needy like this, or maybe…”

“A– Ah!” Sunday’s eyes widened as your hand found its way to his erection, your grip rough and unrelenting as you squeezed and stroked along his shaft, the sensation itself making his brain blank with pleasure.

“Maybe you jerk off to the idea of something like this every night? You could have someone specific in mind, or perhaps you’re enough of a whore to get off on the idea of anyone taking you like this?” Your words were like a lethal toxin seeping through the cracks of any lingering resolve he may have had, and as you gave another tug on the head of his cock, Sunday couldn’t stop the truth from tumbling out of him.

“No– It’s just… it’s just you!” Sunday managed out between shuddered breaths, and for a moment, he thought he’d said something wrong from the way you went quiet and your actions halted.

That soon proved to be the exact opposite of the truth, though; before he could so much as apologize, you’d pressed yourself up against Sunday’s back and gotten a better grip on his erection, the sudden intensity of your strokes stealing his breath, and any words he may have said, away in an instant.

“Just me? You really are so fucking pathetic… I like it though. I like how desperate you are for me to be mean to you, it’s really adorable, in a pitiful way,” Even your previously measured words were more ragged with arousal as you worked Sunday faster and rougher, and he could feel your gaze watching every reaction from him, that itself pushing him even closer to the edge.

Sunday didn’t even bother, or remember, to hide the endless flow of pleas for more and mercy that became breathier and breathier as you worked his weeping cock, his hips stuttering into your hand as he felt his release grow even closer. You seemed to be just as aware of it as he was, and you only egged him on further, his pre-cum slicking your hand and making the motions even easier than before.

“Go on, cum for me, Sunday; show me just how much you need this, how much you need to make a mess out of yourself for me,” Your words gave Sunday the final push, and a white-hot rush of euphoria hit him without mercy, your name gasped out in a heady moan as his cum splattered onto your hand.

You worked him through his orgasm, almost to the point of overstimulation, but once Sunday gave a whine of protest you let up with a satisfied hum. As he lay there, slumped and half-undressed on the paperwork you’d been doing just an hour before, Sunday looked over his shoulder just in time to flush at the sight of you sucking your fingers clean of his essence.

“What’s that look for, angel? We’re far from done here – someone’s gotta pay for holding out on me for so long, yeah?” You chuckled, a devilish taunt in your tone, and the look on your face alone was enough to send another rush of heat to Sunday’s gut: it looked like he wouldn’t be getting that paperwork done tonight, he supposed…

[fae-that-rambles]

OMORI AND STORYTELLING THROUGH CHARACTER DESIGN

I’ve been thinking about this for a while and I think it’s a very fun detail to over analyze.

SPOILERS AHEAD‼️‼️‼️

HEADSPACE

Upon first meeting the headspace gang Omori and Basil stand out very sharply. Omori with his lack of color, and Basil with the unique color of his hair and eyes. The two are clear foils; Omori is silent and keeps himself as far from focus as possible- While Basil is the group glue and focus before and after his disappearance.

Through the character designs and personalities, we are primed to connect and focus on Basil rather than Omori. Basil is pastel colored, a pacifist and a lover. Omori’s vacant eyes and silent knife-wielding nature are less inviting. Very often with RPG horrors, silent protagonists are overlooked in favor of supporting cast. Omori actively uses this as an aspect of its story. We’re supposed to focus on Basil- Sunny is supposed to focus on Basil

THE HORROR

This all lends to our first bait and switch- and our first of Basil’s complex role in the narrative.

Basil is our first glimpse into the horror themes of Omori- and this actively betrays the players trust. Again- Basil was our lovable safe character- We are primed to trust him. Then everything goes wrong (Sounds familiar).

The red eyes are obviously unsettling- again, betraying our trust by subverting the innocence of Basil’s appearance.

Furthering this! With Basil’s disappearance arrives Stranger

A shadowed figure resembling Basil leaving bloody footprints- Basil’s design has been completely subverted into something known and comforting- to a Stranger.

Omori and Stranger are an inverse of Omori and Basil’s design foils. Omori is white with black accents and eyes. Stranger is a full black silhouette with glowing white eyes. And they are of course just as much personality foils. Omori is danger and escapism under an innocent mask. Stranger is a frightening and cryptic individual who only aims to help Sunny. The bloody footprints are foreboding and unsettling- But they’re guides helping Sunny.

Adding on to this, Stranger and Omori’s design’s aren’t foils in the way of being opposites- they’re foils in the way of being compliments. They’re reflections of black and white- two sides of the same coin.

REAL WORLD BASIL

The introduction of real world Basil once again subverts previous expectations- I think for both the audience and Sunny. Setup as foils- opposites throughout the entirety of headspace, the Real World Basil and Sunny could not be more similar design wise. Their outfits are near identical; and their pale frail physiques are the same- even down to the height.

Despite everything set up in Headspace- Basil is by far the character most similar to us in Faraway town. As much as Sunny tries to deny it in his mind- he and Basil were heavily shaped by their shared history. They’re not opposites. Both have become reclusive in the days since Mari’s death, they both lost connections with the group, and both are riddled with guilt, fear, and self loathing. Sunny tries so hard to sever his connections to Basil in his mind, they’re in the exact same position.

Through the final fight with Basil, all of Sunny and Basil’s parallels are put to light. Both in the same clothes, living with the same crippling fear of what they both went to together. Both of their Somethings heightening their fear and crippling any rationality. Basil’s weapon- garden shears are an easy parallel to Omori’s knife.

Their only major design difference is their eyes and hair. Sunny’s eyes still their empty black (or sharp red when stressed out) and Basil’s an eerie glowing blue. Even if they’ve developed in the same circumstances, the two have reacted very differently because of their personalities. Sunny avoidant and stoic, Basil desperate and erratic. Once again, the two are complimentary foils. No matter what form Basil takes, he and Sunny are tied together as reflections of one another, and the shared experiences that molded them.

BONUS- HIKKIKOMORI

In the Hikkikomori route you fight Stranger instead of Real life Basil. The Hikkikomori route illustrates a complete refusal from Sunny to acknowledge the truth of the incident, and this means erasing Basil as a person. Destroying every one of these parallels I’ve discussed.

Basil and Stranger lose their depth. Basil is resigned to the picnic basket with Mari and kept out of the way. He’s lost his right to focus and autonomy, rather staying a shallow memory vague enough to protect Sunny’s repression.

Stranger is treated as an enemy. He is solely Omori’s opponent and will be eliminated as such. All of Basil’s complexity wiped away with his death. Leaving that cardboard cutout- Headspace Basil.

Furthermore, the fight with Stranger (obviously) has direct parallels to the final fight with Basil. Basil and Sunny wear their identical clothes and fight as two parallels. Stranger and Omori are black and white enemies, as Omori refuses to acknowledge Basil’s connection and similarities to Sunny. He refuses the complexity Stranger represents.

[bookie-bookdust]

How to Defuse a Ravenclaw

Excited to finally share this monstrosity I've been working on: a smutty deranged porn with plot about Seb and MC. Part One is up.

Sebastian had been forced to devise a “defuse the Ravenclaw” protocol for when that damn witch lost her shit. Which was a lot, quite frankly. It’d been going as well as one could hope. Destruction was down, and she was able to talk in coherent sentences in under an hour that didn’t involve threatening to Avada him. So when against his better judgement he throws protocol out the window, he’s forced to face one of his own very private rules: Do not think about fucking the Ravenclaw. And fail. Miserably.

Rating: Explicit/ MDNI/ If you’re under 18 then you need to go ask your mom if you can read this. I don’t make the rules. Word Count: ~8k Full fic available at ao3 and Wattpad Preview below:

“Natty Onsai has caught the Golden Snitch! Gryffindor wins!” Everett Clopton’s voice roared through the downpour.

The crowd erupted, the stands shaking in shouts and stomping as if they’d collapse with another brutal gust of wind.

“Fuck,” Sebastian said.

“Fuck, indeed.” Ominis sighed. “On a scale of Mandrake to Chinese Fireball, how livid does she look?” He adjusted his stalwart grip on their umbrella. Sebastian didn’t have the heart to tell him it’d only covered a quarter of his side for most of the match.

“Neither. Hungarian Horntail,” Seb grumbled.

“Oh, we’re doomed, aren’t we?”

“Yep. I’ve got her.”  

Seb pushed his soaking hair from his eyes, squinting out at the pitch. While the other players circled, offering handshakes, he spotted a flash of Ravenclaw-blue already off her broom, storming for the tent.

He could kiss his evening in the Restricted Section goodbye. On Quidditch match nights, students were so rowdy, no one noticed when he slipped away. But on Ravenclaw match nights…

She’s going to break my arm again, isn’t she?

“You’ll be good to get back to the castle, yeah?”

“I’m not a lost puppy.” Ominis snapped.

“Of course you’re not.” Seb snorted. “I’ll see you in the dorms.” He patted his friend’s stiff shoulder and rushed out of the stands before the crowd really started to swarm.

The last time she’d lost a match, it’d gone as swimmingly as one could expect. She’d nearly burned down the Undercroft, though he couldn’t judge her for it as he’d lost count of how many times he’d done the same. He almost regretted teaching her so many fire spells fifth year. Ominis had been so livid, Seb was forced to devise a “defuse the Ravenclaw” protocol for when she lost her shit.

Which was a lot, quite frankly.

Failed exams. Snide comments from her many “sworn” foes. Losing Quidditch matches. The list went on.

The massive well of rage she harbored was almost endearing if she wasn’t so destructive, but even saying that would send her into a secondary spiral. Which there was a protocol for that too.

He and Ominis traded off each time one of these events occurred, and it’d been going as well as one could hope. Destruction was down, and she was able to talk in coherent sentences in under an hour that didn’t involve threatening to Avada him. Most of the time, anyway.

He slipped into the empty player tent, and the chill hit him instantly as he was finally free of the rain. His clothes clung to his goosebumps, and he rubbed his arms before remembering there was a wonderful thing called magic for this exact circumstance. He casted a drying charm, and his shoulders loosened.

“I’m looking for a very disgruntled Ravenclaw,” he called out. He was hoping to pluck her from the other players’ grip before she got herself banned.

“STUPID!”

A massive crash made him jump. He followed it, spotting a trail of muddied clothes and Quidditch equipment, stopping short at the showers.

“You good in there?”

The shower silenced. He shifted from foot-to-foot waiting for a sign.

Merlin, please don’t be naked.

He didn’t think he’d be strong enough to deal with her pissed off and naked. His fifth-year self would have fainted at that fantasy, but he’d smothered that idea the moment he’d sent his uncle to an early grave. Girls didn’t like boys who had a mental breakdown, raised the dead, and murdered their family—and still make jokes about it.

She came bursting through the steam, fully clothed, hair dripping wet and fanning around her like a harpy. He barely had time to react before she shoved him, sending him almost careening over a bench.

“Fucking Leander,” she screamed, grabbing her dirty clothes and tossing them in an enchanted hamper. “How many illegal plays before someone kicks him off the pitch? Did you see what he did?”

She tugged up her sweater, and Sebastian nearly popped a blood vessel before he spotted the already purpling bruise against her ribs.

“He rammed the edge of his broom straight into me.” She growled, literally, chucking her helmet into a cubby.

Rule One: Never agree with the Ravenclaw. Keep a neutral stance. Agreeing only encourages violence.

“Well, he is an insufferable dunce.” Sebastian agreed.

Woops.

“Where is that sniveling prick?” She stormed back toward the field.

“Noooo you’re not going back out there.” He caught her by the waist, spinning her around against him. It earned him a smack of wet hair against his cheek. “Come on. Time to go.”

“I just want to talk.” She shimmied in a very distracting way, her ass a bit too close to his cock. He had no choice but to tighten his grip. Truly what an inconvenience it was.

“Sure, you do.” He dragged her back the other way, toward the castle.

“Let go of me.” She bucked before all her weight dropped as she ragdolled.

They tumbled, and he caught them both, hauling her against his side.

“Honestly—” He lugged her with her feet dragging behind them. “My days of carting bodies is over, yet you keep reminding me with this stupid little deadweight trick you do.”

“Shut it.” She hissed.

She was just like hauling a haystack. A pissed off, living haystack currently trying to bite his arm. All that manual labor Solomon had forced him to do in Feldcroft had finally paid off. Who knew it’d be for livid little Ravenclaws?

“We’re going to go cool down,” he huffed.

“I already took a shower.” She kicked her legs, hooking one around his.

He tripped. “Not that.” He pinched her arm, and she yelped.

She wrenched harder, and he flung them outside into the rain.

It hit like slicing knives, and she shrieked, flailing her arms and legs. “Put me down.”

He halted, and the merciless wind shook a tree, a wave of icy water dumping over them.

Fucking hell. He grimaced.

“‘Put me down,’ what?”

She silenced for a moment before thrashing. “I’m not saying please.”

Seb rolled his eyes. In a swift movement, he flipped her, her head hanging inches from a bubbling puddle of mud.

She shrieked. “Fine. Please, please, please!”

“That’s better.” He righted her on her feet and gripped her shoulders. Merlin, she was looking more like a drenched cat by the second. Her blouse was…he tore his gaze away. She’d kill him if he caught her staring.

“We can either fight out here in the downpour and contract some plague, or we can cool down in the nice dry Undercroft. Your choice.”

She glared, bottom lip stuck out in a furious pout. “Fine.”

“Good girl.” He tapped her head, and he drudged ahead.

“Fucker.”

“I heard that.”

Read the entire part one monstrosity at ao3 and wattpad byeeeeeeee

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #301

Brain Curds are lightly edited daily writing - usually flash fiction and sometimes terrible on purpose.

Any casual observer might have looked at the two men - who, by looks, were both in their late teens or early twenties - and thought they were two friends catching up over coffee. A more astute observer might likewise assume they were on a date. But the truth was far less mundane: they were here to discuss the details of a string of murders.

The dark-haired one with bags under his eyes sat with his bare feet up on the chair, perched like a bird of prey, while the brown-haired preppy looking one - that’s to say, the highest scoring student in all of Kanto, Light Yagami - calmly sipped his drink.

“Yagami-kun. Despite the five percent chance that you are Kira, your intelligence is invaluable. I believe it is only possible to solve this case if we work together.”

“I’m flattered that you would say so, Ryuga. Though I’m fairly confident I could figure it out myself if I had to.”

Ryuga, more commonly known as the great detective, L, tilted his head, uncharacteristically perplexed. “Hm?”

“I’ve solved plenty of tough cases from my bedroom. Although, I haven’t seen any of the evidence for the Kira case yet, so you’ll have to concede that I’m currently at a disadvantage.” Yagami chuckled.

“Oh. Of course.” L rummaged in his pockets and pulled out a stack of polaroids. “These notes were left behind at several crime scenes. The handwriting is different on each one, so we currently believe they were written by the victims themselves. None of them had ever met one another.”

Light shuffled through the pictures, noting that they were numbered on the back. He placed them down in order and studied them carefully.

“Yes! I think I’ve found something.”

“What is it?”

“If you take the first letters of each line from these notes, it spells out a message: Dead by night, cower at the howling of the… woof.’”

“The ‘woof’?”

“That’s what it says.”

L palmed the papers and turned them to face himself. He looked over the third note over and over. “It does say woof. What could this mean?”

“It looks to me like the victims were somehow controlled by Kira and forced to write these notes before they died. There’s no other way these messages could be connected. So…” Yagami shrugged. “Maybe it’s just a typo.”

“How could such a calculated murderer make a typo in a hidden message?”

“We don’t know the exact mechanism by which Kira accomplished this impressive feat, so it would be nothing more than speculation to continue discussing it. I’m going to assume it’s meant to say, ‘wolf’.”

“But the word this letter O comes from is ‘orangutan.’” L twiddled his toes. “Doesn’t that seem very deliberate to you? Why would a death row inmate be thinking about primates?”

Light was quiet for a moment, deep in thought. “‘Lemur’ would fit. Lemurs are primates. Primates like lemurs and orangutans live in zoos - in cages. Just like a death row inmate.”

“So you think this sentence was supposed to say, ‘I am endangered like the poor hopeless lemur.’”

“Lemurs are endangered, aren’t they?”

“You’re really stuck on this typo theory, Light.”

“It’s the only way it makes sense! Unless you think this mastermind, who has evaded police capture for months, somehow doesn’t know how to spell.”

“Hm.” L took a bite of pudding. “I suppose that is as logical of a deduction as I could have hoped for from you, given the circumstances.”

“What circumstances?”

“There is actually a fourth message.” L pulled another polaroid from his pocket and set it down beneath the other three, then turned it to face Light. “If you add this additional note, the hidden message changes: Dead by night, cower at the howling of the woofing dog.”

Light sneered. “How can a dog howl and woof at the same time?”

“Regardless of its merit as a coherent sentence, it does rectify the so-called typo. You didn’t even stop to consider that there could be more evidence that you hadn’t seen.”

Yagami took a deep breath and put on a sugary smile. “I guess I was a little too cocky there, wasn’t I?”

“It takes integrity to admit that. I think you’ll be a valuable addition to the task force. I look forward to working with you. Although…” L played with his bottom lip. “I do admit your suspicion has gone up to ten percent.”

“But why?”

L shrugged. “I don’t know, man, it’s just your vibes.”

Please comment, reblog, like, and follow if you enjoyed - I'd love to know what you think! See you again tomorrow.

[mithliya]

www(.)tumblr(.)com/takocreep/750117750365716480/how-do-we-detract-from-african-and-middle-eastern?source=share

“culturally assimilated white man” (once again the argument that white cultures don’t enable rape as well) “it’s not white men committing most of the rapes of finnish women” there is no statistics on the race of offenders.. just their nationality. and i’m pretty sure finnish men committing 2,627 of sex crimes as opposed to somali men at 39 and afghan men at 64 and iraqi men at 168 (the nationalities these ppl like to bring up) likely does indicate that it’s white men still dominating, as if that’d make any difference when the one constant is the sex offenders are overwhelmingly male. “since i know finns are extremely homogenous” who argued any group is homogenous on the basis of race, nationality, or ethnicity besides these ppl??? “risk of rape from a stranger” the vast majority of rape cases in finland were not stranger rapes.

anyways… i do think it’s interesting they get offended at the mere argument that rape is a male crime not a racial crime, or the mention that white men aren’t in fact safe men to be around. actually since they love to bring up rape stats in finland, maybe they should read how much more likely it is for woc to face rape as opposed to finns.

not to mention that several studies showed over and over again that poc are more likely to be profiled, stopped, searched, suspected, arrested, charged, etc even if they commit the same exact crimes as a white person. of course this will affect the statistics.

anyways male rapists should face the most severe punishments possible, i dont care what happens to any rapist, but to racially profile ppl & to perpetuate the idea that it’s immigration that is dangerous is & continues to be a far-right white suprematist nationalistic stance and it’s fucking baffling that this is even a debate in a supposedly leftist circle. that rhetoric doesn’t simply hurt rapists, that overwhelmingly hurts innocent immigrants who did nothing besides be the “wrong” race. it specifically targets refugee populations (ie the ones they’re constantly criticising by nationality) who are extremely vulnerable and fleeing extreme circumstances. it harms immigrant women who are also ultimately going to be affected by such rhetoric bc let us face it, many do not have the ability to leave their countries on their own & i haven’t heard of one country that decided to simply take in female refugees & immigrants, instead countries that officially have an anti-immigrant & anti-refugee stance have kept women and children from entering too.

anyways this person isn’t even being subtle with their racism

[kaigarax]

Conviction

Or This is How to Open Up

Michael Kaiser x Reader

Quote: "Fall in love with someone brave."

It is of the utmost importance, regardless of someone’s age, gender or race, to be excellent in at least one thing. One must not merely excel at this single task but be fundamentally better than anyone else within similar circumstances attempting to accomplish that very same task and in a location relative to yours.

Of course, this entire theory can be ultimately tossed out and entirely forsaken if one does not wish to become important (in any way whatsoever) and hopes to maintain an ordinary life. It should be noted that by choosing to ignore this most radical and sensible piece of advice you are outright denying oneself of all human pleasures that fall into either category of dreams or desires.

This piece is, of course, only one of seven different instructionals to help guide you into a world of excellence. One should hope to not just entertain themselves with these pieces of work but look to apply them into their everyday life. Once again, it should be noted that all pieces should be read and thought on for an optimal absorption of the materials.

Now, without further ado, this is how to open up.

---

What will we do with a drunken sailor?

What will we do with a drunken sailor?

What will we do with a drunken sailor?

Ear-ly in the morning!

Kaiser never cared much for the fanfare that was the life of a pirate. Sure, it made sense that men would want to enjoy themselves after week long journeys upon the perilous sea but overindulgence in anything couldn’t very well be considered healthy.

Way hay and up she rises

Way hay and up she rises

Way hay and up she rises

Ear-ly in the morning!

The voices of the sailors were coming out more as incoherent slurs than intelligent phrases. Another reason to not find much enjoyment in the fanfare.

Shave his belly with a rusty razor

Shave his belly with a rusty razor

Shave his belly with a rusty razor

Ear-ly in the morning!

Now, what Kaiser did enjoy was the feeling of being upon the sea. The exact reason why he stepped forth onto the ocean in the first place. One could even say that the only reason he endured such extravagant fanfare was because the sea felt more like home than any other place he’d ever been before.

And it’s not as though his crew was a nuisance to deal with either.

Most of them were respectable men, like himself. Knew when to keep to themselves and when they needed to interfere. Trained in somewhat of a formal education and were intelligent enough to keep the ship afloat through rough waters.

Way hay and up she rises

Way hay and up she rises

Way hay and up she rises

Ear-ly in the morning!

Other crews, in comparison, were not so appreciated.

Filled to the brim with men that likely couldn’t tell the difference between the ends of a broom. Loud, arrogant and crude. Not that Kaiser wasn’t exactly like those men, but he at least knew when to use his manners. Or whatever semblance of manners he managed to acquire in his time upon the ocean.

Now, the only semblance of enjoyment that Kaiser did get out of sailor fanfare (though he’d never admit it) was the… feminine company. Women, of course, were not allowed on sea unless one wished to incur the wrath of the ocean, but the various women one met on the islands were always a pleasure to meet. Ranging in a variety of complections and appearances but nonetheless beautiful.

This island, in particular, seemed to be teaming with various kinds of women. Many to his liking.

But none handsome enough to tempt him tonight.

Until, of course, his eyes land on you.

You’re a pretty thing, with your hair done up all nice. Not as nice as those fancy women that live in elegant cities but prettier than what the others down here have done. It’s neat but not over the top and Kaiser likes that. Your clothes aren’t as neat as your hair but look to be in a good enough condition. Probably meaning you come from a respectable enough family. Well, maybe not. You are out here tonight.

The most intriguing thing about you though has to be your smile. So calm and relaxed despite being surrounded by the loudest of men gathered here tonight.

There’s a book in your hand with cursive writing on the cover. Kaiser can barely make out the words Hunger Games on the cover. It had never been his cup of tea but he had given it a quick read through when he was young. Curious about what all the hype seemed to be.

Put him in a longboat till his sober

Put him in a longboat till his sober

Put him in a longboat till his sober

Ear-ly in the morning!

When your eyes meet with his across the room he knows for certain that he has to make his way over to you. Maybe even get a dance in amongst the chaos.

Way hay and up she rises

Way hay and up she rises

Way hay and up she rises

Ear-ly in the morning!

Most of them get up to leave as Kaiser makes his way towards you, leaving all seats except for one empty. It’s a man with dark hair and blue eyes sitting beside you who looks to be fading in and out of sleep.

Kaiser takes this opportunity to sit beside you.

Stick him a scupper with a hosepipe bottom

Stick him a scupper with a hosepipe bottom

Stick him a scupper with a hosepipe bottom

Ear-ly in the morning!

“What’s a pretty lass like you doing out here with a crew of no good pirates? Who knows what'll happen to you if there isn’t someone here to keep you safe?”

You laugh, a pretty laugh, “and am I much safer in your company, when you yourself happen to be flying under a black flag?”

Kaiser grins, “hundreds of times, lassie.”

“(Y/n).” You say, “not ‘lassie’, Pirate.”

It’s Kaiser’s turn to laugh. If you’re going to be cheeky then so is he, “privateer.”

“Privateer,” you say the word as if tasting something foreign, “now is that not fascinating. You don’t meet many Privateers this side of the sea. Or at least not many willing to claim the title.”

Kaiser can feel a jab somewhere in that sentence of yours but can’t quite seem to place it. Not while you’re looking up at him with such pretty eyes.

“Michale Kaiser,” he holds a hand out for you to shake.

You stare at his hand, your eyes sparkling with amusement, “And which do you prefer? Your surname or occupation?”

He leans back, “whichever the lassie prefers.”

“Privateer it is.”

Way hay and up she rises

Way hay and up she rises

Way hay and up she rises

Ear-ly in the morning!

Your voice is delicate, as all ladies' voices tend to be, but loud enough to not be drowned out by the singing of drunken pirates. And Kaiser quite likes that. Likes how you lean forward when he speaks and keep your eyes on him as if you aren’t afraid of the danger he might bring despite your words saying otherwise.

That’s what we do with a drunken sailor

That’s what we do with a drunken sailor

That’s what we do with a drunken sailor

Ear-ly in the morning!

“How’d a sweet thing like you end up here in the first place? This ain’t no place a nobleman sends his daughter.” Kaiser asks.

“What gave me away?”

“Your words. Ain’t nobody on this side of the sea speaks that posh.”

You smile, “old habits die hard, I presume.”

“That still doesn't explain how ya got here.”

“It’s a trade secret, Privateer. You’re going to have to give me a secret of yours if you’re hoping for a secret of mine.”

“I’m an open book,” Kaiser answers, “everyone seems to know my secrets before me.”

“A Privateer and a reader.”

He grins, “And is that enough to impress ya?”

“Well you’re certainly unlike any other man I’ve met upon the seven seas.”

Take to the seas and set your sails.

Take to the sails to set your dreams.

And pray your life be filled with glee.

The loud and drunk pirates seemed to have finally ended their boisterous song about waking up drunk in the morning and have begun singing songs about dreams. The tune is mostly incoherent with various pirates attempting to silence the rest of the crowd as they step up to sing their solos.

I have a dream unlike any others.

Though maybe it’s just like yours.

Your eyes seem to sparkle at the newest song, despite that the words seem to be made up on the fly.

Amusement and joy.

It’s a pretty look, at least on your face.

I have a dream to learn to fly.

Though I’m burly and stuck to the ground.

Any dream can come true if you have enough pounds.

“Have you ever fallen in love?”

“What?” Kaiser asks.

Your amused expression seems to grow as you lean in towards Kaiser, “have you ever been in love?”

What a strange thing you’ve chosen to ask. Love has never been Kaiser’s strong suite. In fact, sometimes he doubts that he’s ever even been loved in the first place. A life on the seas has never been one meant for love.

“Why?” Kaiser shakes his head, “have you?”

“No,” you smile, “but it’s a pretty thought, ain’t it.”

“Yeah,” Kaiser agrees, “it is.”

I have a dream to play piano.

And sing like a soprano.

If only it didn’t make me so bored!

A large and burly man makes his way up to the two of you and Kaiser sits up in his seat. You don’t seem to be as worried as Kaiser as you lean back and begin to clap your hands along to this beat-less song.

The burly man stands right in front of you, “Ey, (Y/n), does this pretty boy sing?”

Kaiser’s eyes dart between the two of you, surprised at how familiar the pirate is with you and even more surprised at how you respond. Your name sounds familiar. Reminds him of something he knows he shouldn’t have forgotten. He doesn't have time to ponder on it for very long though as you throw him from the pan and into the fire.

You smile, “this pretty boy’s a Privateer.”

“Now he’s gotta sing!” The Pirate exclaims, calling the attention of the crowd.

The room’s chatter is suddenly halted, the eyes of everyone in the room turned to him. The band’s playing fills the silence but the lack of talking feels deafening. The only thing keeping Kaiser from running out the room (aside from his pride) are your bright eyes looking up at him, eagerly waiting to see what he might do next.

“Sing!”

The crowd seems to close in.

“Sing!”

A man brandishes a gun from the corner of the room.

“Sing!”

Kaiser sighs, before bellowing something out.

I have a dream to make it big.

Make my name infamous across the sea.

And have money?

Now, he isn’t all too sure what he belts out, nor is he certain it’s all that good but it seems to amuse the loud band of pirates gathered around her today. He knows he sings something about money and wanting to earn enough, which may not seem to be the best thing on the surface but they’re pirates. As if they’d care that much anyways.

And even if they did care it’s not as if their reactions would matter much to Kaiser anyways.

Well they might’ve mattered if he hadn’t seen the brilliant look in your eyes. Saw the way your entire face seems to light up and the gentle smile you send his way.

Then, in a very un-lady-like way, you jump up to the top of the table, surprising Kaiser with how easy it seems for you. You’re dressed in a short and simple blue dress. The blue looks a little faded but its colour is still vibrant enough to capture the attention of the entire room. Your attention, on the other hand, seems to be entirely on Kaiser.

It makes his heart skip a beat.

When you begin singing it feels as though everything around them has stopped. That everyone has halted their actions (even breathing) in an attempt to commit your voice to memory. Your voice is the clearest one Kaiser’s ever heard. Dreamy and enchanting. He’d most certainly claim you to be a siren if not for the fact that you’re standing here in front of them with two legs. Though the argument could be made otherwise.

I have a dream.

I have a dream.

I want to see this world from bow to stern.

Your dream, to see this world, it’s not exactly earth shattering or as awe inspiring as your singing itself (and if anything it’s a little cliche) but Kaiser’s heart warms at that. It feels genuine. So different from his own words.

And maybe then I’ll find my earn.

Amongst the chaos in this world.

Where even children can have their lives twirled.

This melody less song suddenly has ground. The other singers attempt to repeat some semblance of what you’ve managed to create but none come even close. A young girl, perhaps a barmaid, makes her way to you, her eyes gleaming.

“Are you a Princess?” She asks.

You laugh, “in another life.”

“Marigold,” the burly pirate laughs, “this little lassie here ain’t no princess. She’s a Pirate through and through.”

The young girl’s (and Kaiser’s) mouths drop.

“Captain (Y/n) of the Dream Pirates.”

You are everything a pirate is not. You’re a lady. Delicate and gentle. Warm and polite. So unlike the loud and burly men gathered here tonight. How you even ended up with these folk is already mind scratching enough and now to hear that you aren’t just a lady that’s been swept up in their mess but rather a Pirate Captain.

Actually, he takes that back.

The Dream Pirates, while a stupid name seems to fit you well. You are, in every sense of the word, a dream.

A wonder.

A marvel.

“Cat got your tongue, Privateer?” You ask, your eyes sparkling.

Kaiser grins, “you have a loose thread on your dress, Lassie.”

“Do I?” You look down to the blue thread Kaiser pointed to. “Huh, I suppose I do.”

“And how do you plan to thank me?”

You lean down and pull it loose before dropping down and grabbing Kaiser’s hand. You wrap the blue string around his hand before tying it around his wrist. You smile, “as a token of my appreciation.”

Fall in love with someone brave.

[dykenav]

[this post is about the succession SEASON ONE finale bc I’m ten years behind]

anyway like the way denial was the emotional undercurrent of everything in this episode…. starting with tom telling greg to shut up so he can block out the truth of shiv’s infidelity, to roman and the launch and just immediately shutting it off and pretending like it didn’t happen, and us as the viewer feeling the absolute horror realizing that people could have DIED, and seeing the utter disconnect in Roman, watching a livestream on his phone like it’s a video game, going back into this huge fucking party, the party itself being the physical place to symbolize the utter isolation and social disconnection of the filthy rich from the rest of the world. the tension building while we’re like jesus christ did he fucking kill people?? and then he finds out oh no, it’s just two thumbs and an arm, what a RELIEF, and we as the viewer vicariously accepting that relief as a lesser horror while still seeing the horror. the way it mirrors the horror of the first episode when roman rips up a fucking MILLION DOLLAR check in front of a poor kid. reminding us that while we might relate to their human foils and emotions, the absolute SCALE of their faults and ignorances have such massive, unfathomable consequences by virtue of their power. and then you have. fucking kendall. and the kid in the car. and it’s the exact same situation. and the thing that makes it so fucking VISCERAL is that it doesn’t jump cut to the next day. we stay with him the whole fucking time as he walks away from that scene. we watch him break back into his hotel, wash himself like fucking lady macbeth. make his way back to the party. dance with his fucking kids. the dissonance is so fucking strong. it’s like coming back to omelas after seeing the tortured child. what can you do but pretend? and tell me you haven’t fucking been there before. tell me you haven’t been at that party, where something horrible and unspeakable is happening inside of you but you have to dance and smile anyway. we all know what it’s like to be in denial. it’s human. and yet the consequences of these people’s denial, by virtue of their power, is so vast and sickening, that it becomes inhuman. they’re not inherently evil people, but the circumstances of their wealth and privilege takes their shortcomings and corrupts them into poison and bombs. all of that accumulating to logan psychologically exploiting kendall in his moment of trauma, kendall breaking down and crying like a kid, and of course he would, ANYONE would, but he’s not anyone, these people aren’t anyone. I don’t mean they’re not human, I mean the opposite. they are human children playing an elaborate game of pretend with the rest of the fucking world as their dolls. they’re not masterminds. they’re toddlers demanding to be loved and blowing shit up in the process. and it’s easy to watch and say, wow that is so fucked up. but who am I if I act like I can fully separate myself from this story and be like “welp, anyway! back to bed!” without recreating that same denial? who are any of we to act like we’re not in some way complicit to the horror of the world when in order to function and live our lives we have to completely compartmentalize the part of our brain that comprehends the news? I’m not saying a normal person is in any way shape or form as responsible as a billionaire, nor am I saying there’s any moral answer to this. I’m just saying……….. fuck

[bouncyballcitadel]

“Habits” - A Short Snippet

Based on the commission, "Peter Grey walks home a handsy drunk MC in the crush stage of the poly."

Erika used to say you were a man of habits.

She never meant it in a good way, of course. Steady Peter. Level Peter. Predictable Peter.

In the worst of the divorce, she would throw it back at your face. Run through your every next move - and, you had to wonder, if what she said was true or she just knew you that well.

Certainly, though, she couldn't have predicted this.

Despite your best efforts, you find yourself thinking of them. In your office, at your apartment when you're alone. You think of the way they look at you, mischievous eyes, that slight curl upwards of their lips that they must know spells only trouble. You think of the way they say your name, you think of the way they might purr it when -

You don't let the thought go any further.

A resident. No - worse, an intern.

You finish your beer, close your book.

Another Friday.

---

Except - not just another Friday.

You walk out and see them, standing under a lamp post, scowling over their phone. In that brief moment, you see choices flit before you - walking past them, saying hello to them, walking past them but saying hello to them - but before any of these choices solidify, they look up and their scowl turns immediately into a bright smile (but, not really a smile is it, that smile - you know - is dangerous, irresistible).

"Dr. Grey," they say, and you stop, turn to them.

"MC." You school your face, that practiced, unreadable expression you know lets nothing through - except, as they walk closer to you, you can tell they're drunk, the shine in their eyes, the wobble in their legs - and it takes all your focus to keep your face still, neutral, professional while you think of a way to extricate yourself as soon as possible.

"My phone died." They sigh. "I was gonna call an Uber, but..."

"Are you going to Danton Towers?" You have to be careful, show just the right amount of concern - and distance. "It's a straight shot down the road."

"I'm awful with directions." They run a hand through their hair and - damn them, you know, you just know what they're going to say next by that smirk forming on their face. "...Maybe, you can walk me back? If it's on the way, you know."

They must know that you can't say yes. That there is no circumstance, in no world, where you can say yes. You are their attending. You are their boss. You could make or break their career - and you know there are people out there who wouldn't hesitate at this kind of opportunity, who think that it comes with the position and the power.

Those people disgust you.

And, even though you know what you're going to say next, you can't help but feel that disgust turn inwards - that, knowing all of this, knowing that you and them can never happen, you still want them anyway.

"I don't think that's appropriate," you say, and you hear the curtness in your tone - the finality. You see their smirk waver, the beginnings of embarrassment on their face.

"Right," they say. "Sorry, I - "

"You can go inside the bar," you continue. "Lucy can call a taxi for you."

"Dr. Grey - "

"MC," you say, and you keep your voice firm - steady - the distance between the two of you yawning. "Goodnight."

---

They apologize to you on Monday.

And, you accept their apology. Say, we all say things we don't mean when we drink. Add that business smile of yours, the one that gives nothing away.

When the door closes behind them, and you're alone again in your office, you turn - gaze out onto the Citadel front lawn.

Erika's words come to you - her words, it seems, you'll always remember.

Steady Peter. Level Peter. Predictable Peter. You're always so good, aren't you? You've bent yourself backwards proving to everyone you're a good person - but I know you. You and me - we're the same exact person.

You take a deep breath, center yourself again, file those feelings away for another time (when - though - when?).

You have a job to do.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

*SLAMS MY HANDS ONTO THE TABLE* hoo boy I have way too many hcs about mer language So disclaimer first, none of this has any basis in canon, it's just what I like to think about mer physiology. Moving on from that, I hc the mer language to not require breath, so their vocal cords are shaped rather differently from humans. Since mer have some sort of gills, based on the tweels and Azul's design (and if they don't and I'm remembering wrong that's honestly kinda stupid), they don't need air to breath. If they don't need air to breath, then how do they talk? My hc is that mer vocal cords are activated some other way (anatomy isn't my strong suit so I haven't decided the exact way). So mer do have their own language, but it's hella difficult for landdwellers to learn - so it's usually not taught on land. As for mer learning common language, that would be for emergencies - not many mer who aren't in service ventures or go to learn on land learn it well, but it's kinda like how Spanish is learned in the US - not learned well, but can be kinda understood. Anyways I have too many thoughts on mer biology and such, but ty for reading

[Referencing this post!]

ADDENDUM: Real life octopuses and moray eels don’t have gills in the shape or form we traditionally think of them on like… fish. I took a recent look at the Magical Archives and it seems that Jade and Azul’s pages talk about the markings on their sides (and some on their backs not seen in the usual frontal view) are fish-like gills. Weirdly enough, gills of this nature aren’t seen at all on more “human” merpeople. I talk a little more about that and the differences between them and the more human-like mermen guards stationed at the Atlantica museum here.

*puts on life science nerd glasses* 🤓 I’ve actually formally studied speech formation and A&P, so I can talk a bit about how normal (aka irl human) compares to some of the headcanons you shared! Of course, we don’t 100% know how merpeople anatomy and physiology is different and similar to humans (or how much fantasy races really borrow from real life), but I thought it would just be interesting to share the knowledge!

Firstly, breath is a requirement for speech because it is the movement of air across the vocal cords that results in the vibrations which become speech. Now, it’s not clear how or why merpeople are able to breathe underwater or why they don’t necessarily need to breathe air to survive; the respiratory system that typically brings air into the body must not be the same as a human’s, as that would likely result in water getting into the lungs and drowning them or crushing them from pressure. It’s entirely possible that merpeople have a hybrid respiratory system between that of a human and marine animals, so merfolk could have adapted such that the movement of water across their vocal cords produces a similar result as air does for humans. This, in addition to potentially having different shaped vocal cords, could mean a potential merlanguage has sounds that are very difficult or even impossible for non-merpeople to replicate.

Of course, that also begs the question 💦 would merpeople be able to even properly speak in their language if they were on land??? Because they wouldn’t be in the same kind of environment (and thus don’t have the same conditions as they do when they usually speak the language); this would impact how certain sounds are produced by the speech systems and then perceived by the ear.

I think merlanguage vs human languages isn’t exactly the same as Spanish vs English?? 🤔 Yes, some students may be in circumstances where their schools require them to learn a language other than the native tongue as part of their curriculum, but that’s because it can have practical applications even if they don’t become totally fluent or pursue higher level language difficulties. For example, especially in America, Spanish-speaking communities are a considerable part of the population and continues to grow, so Spanish is a popular second language. Mandarin Chinese is also on the rise globally, as China is becoming a powerhouse (so knowing how to communicate in Mandarin is smart for global enterprises). Many schools internationally also teach English as a universal second language because English is so prominently used.

In comparison, merpeople are so far geographically removed from humans and are given lore which states the majority of merpeople don’t really go to the surface world. It makes me wonder what the benefit of teaching human languages would be?? It’s not the same situation as the real world because it’s not a system where speakers of different languages would interact with each other super frequently (due to the split between land and sea). I understand maybe learning a second language for emergencies if there’s a good chance you’ll engage with populations speaking that language (like Spanish in the Americas), but it isn’t the case for merpeople because the chances of them interacting with a human doesn’t seem to be very high in places like the Coral Sea. It makes more sense to me that (if there is a native merlanguage or dialects) maybe merpeople would pick up some basic phrases of human languages (like “hello”, “thank you”, etc.) in their free time/by chance. There is no incentive to try learning another language even at a basic or conversational level unless maybe this was a path a merperson planned on pursuing further or professionally.

Again, can’t believe rubbing my two brain cells together to talk about how the fuck anime fish boys breathe and talk and are even theoretically possible—