#police state or whatever and it’s like. guys it’s all of those things!!!!!! it’s all of them!!!!!

[lesbinewren]

i think. that metaphors can definitely be flawed and it’s okay to discuss that but i think if you’re looking for something in a story (esp in sci-fi or fantasy) to be a perfect 1 to 1 version to something in real life you are. kinda missing the point

[myfandomprompts]

Unhealthy Addiction

(drugdealer!Aemond x Reader)

Synopsis: Your sister is a drug addict, at the mercy of a dreaded drug dealer group led by a mysterious man. When you decide to save your sister from this life that kills her, you didn’t expect to build a whole other addiction to a perfect stranger.

A/N: Just some illogical & weird moderndark!Aemond smut in the October mood.

Words: 5.6k Masterlist

Warnings: dirty talk, dom, oral , vaginal, fingering, manipulation, possessive, begging, light bdsm, slight mention of drugs, praising

Your sister was at her lowest.

She kept screaming at you, scaring the neighbours, alarming the entire street when she went into one of her tantrums and you didn’t know what to do. She was hurting, a pain that only something chemical could ease and you refused to indulge her. This was all she had in mind, getting that fix, and she didn’t mind doing the most violent things, saying the cruellest things to you in order to plead her case.

She kept screaming how she could not be done, how she bought all the drugs from this scary guy, that he convinced her to sell for him. That she couldn’t refuse.

She had no control over herself anymore, but you didn't back down, you had to get her clean.

So you decided that you would take care of it for her. 

You made her tell you where she got it from, a shady little place on Silk Street with shady people going around all day and night with business even the police didn’t even dare looking into as you forced her down to the ER. If it was the last link that tied her to this life and her addiction, you would cut it, and, as she dozed off in her hospital bed, you rushed to her flat in apprehension, grabbing the bag full of those terrifying substances and heading down to Silk Street.

You knew it was a bad idea, but you knew you had to do it. You just had to give the bag back, explain to them that your sister wanted nothing to do with them anymore, pay up whatever amount was necessary to make them forget about her and leave.

How naive you were.

You knock on the scruffy-looking door with a trembling hand, the chilly night already settling around you as dogs barked in the distance. 

The door creaks open, dim light filtering through a slim screen of smoke that comes out of the  messy room. The few people inside look concerningly calm, the soothing electronic music making their head bob inconsistently as the smell of weed slowly reaches you and tickles your nose.

“What?” the huge man at the door says in a flat tone, tattoos on his face but alert eyes strained on you.

“I… have stuff to give back to you,” you courageously state, staring back at him with all the fierceness you could muster and only earning an unimpressed look.

You owed it to your sister, you could do it.

He gauges your appearance mercilessly, unfit for this place and only when you take out the heavy plastic bag out of your purse does he nod silently and step aside to let you in. 

You retain a cough, the scent of smoke becoming much stronger as you enter and making your eyes sting. Several pairs of eyes which weren’t hooded and gazing into the void looked lazily at you, eyes so dark there was no more colour in them, swallowed by the blackness of their centre. Two or three men stared at you like they would jump at you at the first false movement while the few women present were half laying on the couches, mouth open in what looked like delight, but you knew better.

A chill goes up your spine, hearing the door close behind you in a sharp snap while you feel the air shift around you.

You did not belong here.

“Who are you?”

The man came out of nowhere, brown skin and brown eyes, luxurious dark hair falling to the side of his face and all dressed in white with a heavy chain hanging around his neck. He scrutinises you, looking you up and down with a judgmental frown.

“It doesn’t matter,” you state after a difficult swallow. “I’m here to return this.”

The man eyes the bag you extend to him, a flash of recognition passing through his features but he doesn’t take it, rather deepening his frown. “Where did you get this?”

You bite your lips, growing uneasy under his gaze. All that you wanted was to leave this place as quickly as possible, even if you had to lie to achieve that. “Maria doesn’t want to do this anymore, and we don’t want any problems. So I’m doing the right thing, and returning it to you.”

The man sneers, an amused smile dancing on his lips and you tense. “Yeah, I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that, sweetheart. You’re her sister, aren’t you?”

You don’t have time to answer as the man at the door approaches him with a serious look on his face, ignoring you. “Cole, the boss is back.” 

“Perfect timing, he’ll want to see this,” the man named Cole answers without taking his eyes off you. “You’re coming with me, sweetheart. We’ll sort this out, don’t worry.”

You could feel it, the trap closing in on you as he takes the bag from your hands and turns away for you to follow him. “I just want to give you this and leave. Please.”

He gives you an uninterested look over his shoulder, shrugging. “It’s not up to me.”

You shiver as panic starts to fill your nerves, the desire to flee, to run becoming stronger but you make the sensible choice and do as you’re told. 

He leads you into a cold-lighted room where the sole wide window is draped with a thick grey curtain and blocks your view of the humid night. The carpet floor is dirty, rendering you uncomfortable as you advance further into the room, chairs and stools stacked along the walls and an old looking desk standing at the opposite side. Even the huge couch below the window isn’t welcoming, the mess on the low table in front of it is filled with objects you don’t recognise.

You shouldn't be here.

Cole throws the bag on the table unceremoniously, the sound startling you as he commands you to wait. “Don’t touch anything.”

You try to settle your breathing, the room suffocating you as you realise that you are stuck, led there by a fool’s hope of coming to an understanding with these men, with dangerous people. You recall the frightened look on your sister’s face as she yelled at you, saying that she couldn’t fail them, couldn’t upset them.

Maybe you should have listened to her. Maybe you should have been scared too.

Muffled whispers filter through the door over the faint music, making you turn around with renewed anxiety as you recognise Cole’s voice. You know your time is running out, and you have no idea what’s going to happen. But then the door opens and you freeze.

It isn’t Cole, but someone much taller, leaner, terrifyingly attractive. 

He has long silver hair, silk cascading down over his shoulders that are wrapped around a dark green vest. He wears black trousers, matching with his tee-shirt that clings to his form and contrasts with his skin, fair and white. He effortlessly radiated an unsettling confidence, which you could feel even from a distance, making every muscle in your body tense, and you don’t know where to look. He hasn't even spoken yet.

His eyes are fixed on you, a perverted glow shining within them but you can’t meet it, too focused on the angular features of his face, on how flawless his marble skin and thin red lips look under the dim light. Everything about him is captivating, from his collarbone that peaks from under his shirt to the long scar that runs across his left cheek and further up his eye.

At this moment, you understood why your sister had been scared.

He stares at you for a while before finally smiling briefly in unconcealed satisfaction and closing the door. You don’t move, too stunned to utter a single word as he slowly walks towards the table to pick up the plastic bag and examine it closely, humming to himself. You watch, speechless, noticing the red marks over his knuckles, the bruises that stain his fist and you swallow the taste of iron in your mouth. 

The bag is carelessly dropped again as he reaches for a cigarette within his vest without a word, fingers enticingly coming to trap it between his lips and you’re hypnotised, desperate for him to acknowledge you, to say something. But then he flicks the lighter, casting an orange flame on the upper side of his face and you can’t help but gasp.

Unnoticed in the dim light, you can see it now, see how one of his eyes shimmers an icy blue, while the other one shone darker, deeper.

Blue as the night sky.

“You’re Maria’s sister?”

His voice makes you jump, his deep and velvety tone making the hair stand at the back of your neck and your heart race in your chest.

“Y-Yes,” you stammer, words coming out of your throat in strained sounds.  “Yes, I am.”

He nods, one corner of his lips curving upwards slightly as he takes a drag, making a thin curtain of smoke escape his sharp nose. “And you’re here because…?”

You manage to swallow the lump in your throat as he draws closer, intelligent eyes searching your features, making you hyper aware of how small you are compared to him. “I… just want to give the drugs back, so she can leave this part of her life behind. We won’t cause any trouble, I-I promise.”

He stops inches in front of you, his body going rigid as his eyes turn a shade of black, making you take a step back in reaction. “And what makes you think I can let that happen?”

You widen your eyes at the soft-spoken threat, freezing as you cower under his gaze.

He sees this. It makes him smile. 

“Relax, kitten. I'm not going to hurt you…” he says in the same unsettling tone as his blue eye lowers to the way your chest heaves under your shirt. “It’s just… not how we do things. When you take my stuff, you make a commitment, and you have to go all the way through with it or you get punished. There is no return policy.”

You could see it now, right beneath the scar, the gemstone shoved inside of his eye socket, as blue as the starless sky. It glowed softly, beautifully, and you were left to wonder how a man like him could be so dangerously pretty.

You urgently chase the thought away, slapping yourself internally as you feel yourself shrink under his gaze. “She can’t-,” you try uselessly, feeling the noose slowly constricting around your neck. “I understand, but I’ll pay for you to take it back. I beg of you, it represents almost nothing for you. Please…”

Something noticeably shifts in his eye at your last word, his nostrils flaring as he takes some time to compose himself before asking. “What’s your name?”

You hesitate, thrown off by the question and unable to come up with the simple answer and he grows impatient at your silence. He takes a firm step forward, making the back of your knee hit the chair behind you as the faint heat from the tip of his cigarette reaches your sides somewhere over the skin of your hand.

“What’s. Your. Name?” he repeats slowly, a hint of darkness in his voice.

“Y/N,” you finally blurt out, barely hearing your own voice as he claims your space like it’s his own, prowling.

His lips form silent syllables as he repeats your name to himself, finally satisfied. “And do you know mine, kitten?”

You silently shake your head, feeling excitement rise at the prospect of knowing, shameful eagerness taking hold of your mind, not thinking for a second that it might anger him.

But he only clicks his tongue in disapproval, watching you like you’re nothing more than a nuisance. “I’m Aemond, and if you had known that, kitten, you wouldn’t be here. Because everybody fucking knows I don’t take things back.”

Your nerves stir in renewed fright as his words ring like a death sentence in your ears. You have to find something, anything that would suit him, please him, but your mind draws a blank, the intensity of his gaze holding you in place. You remain silent as he takes a drag from his cigarette, not tearing his eye from you and when he suddenly turns away, it leaves a cold trail of chills along your spine.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief, your lungs burning from your previous lack of air as he wanders around the room.

“I take it you don’t use?” he says unexpectedly as he crushes his cigarette in the ashtray before taking the bag again on the table, drawing a round white pill out with his usual soft tone.

“No…” you answer weakly as he rolls the pill between his fingers, your eyes following the movement, transfixed.

“Mh… You’re one of those… The ones that don’t take wrong turns, the good girls.”

The stress that had settled between your ribs turns into something warmer at the calling, his tone inexplicably making the last ounce of courage you have left emerge. 

“If I didn’t take any wrong turns, I wouldn't have ended up here.”

He stills, his eye darting towards you like a single-eyed hawk and you bite your lips in instant regret, almost drawing blood as teeth sink into the thin flesh. His eye lowers to it and you instantly let go with a bashful expression.

He chuckles darkly, a devious smirk appearing on his features and you blink. “See, this is where you’re wrong. I don’t think you’ve realised the opportunity you just walked into… Y/N.”

You feel your stomach turn as reality hits you, your worst fear taking shape right in front of your eyes. Whatever he wanted with you, you could not let it happen, you could not fail your sister and get into the system like she did. She needed you. “Please, Aemond, I only want to be square with you and-”

There was a loud sound, plastic being crushed under immense force as his hand wrapped around the bag and violently squeezed. He took a deep shaky breath, his flashing gaze fixed on you as his knuckles turned white under the pressure. But it was gone seconds later, acting like it had never happened as he dropped the bag and started walking towards you.

“I used, once. This is how it all began,” he stated, a single slender finger brushing the edge of the table as he advanced. “I wasn’t really addicted, but I knew it was enough to cloud my mind, to make me believe that I needed it. But do you want to know what I really need, kitten? Why I stopped?”

You tried to hold his gaze when he lifted a single heated eye at you, excited by his little story, excited by something. He was in his element, he had the upper hand, he knew he was in control. You were only a slave to the fiery blood in your veins.

His finger had reached your arm by the time you registered his question, looming over it like a reverse magnet, untouching. He smiles when he sees chills prickle over your skin there, right before his pupils spread wider, an ink drop in water and you hold your breath.

“I like people begging me. I like the desperation in their voices, their scared little expressions as they mutter pathetic excuses, their pleas as I beat them…” You can feel the thrill in his tone, the pleasure that radiates off him, and you gasp when his finger finally touches your skin, burning. “I like hearing them beg me when they realise there is no escape, when they realise I’m the only solution, that I alone can give them what they want…I like this sensation of control, and I need to feel it on my own terms. Without any substances."

His hand has travelled down your arm, finding your pulse and you feel the thrumming of your heart meet his fingertips, pressing the delicate vein there. You wonder if he can feel your blood running within it, hot and wild. 

“You know, when Cole told me there was a lost pretty girl that wanted a refund, I laughed and could not wait to scare that girl. How naive she must be, how foolish. Coming here, wanting nothing more but to protect her poor little sister, asking what I cannot grant you, thinking you’ll get out of it like it’s nothing and not realising the mess you’re in. Just… perfect.”

You want to talk, argue, but you had stopped breathing altogether when his face leans slightly closer to your shoulder and you hear him breathe in your scent, humming within your neck. 

“But then, here you are… Pleading me, not once, but three times, kitten, with your sweet little tone of yours and I just-” he inhales brusquely, his pupil now completely blown out as you tremble beneath him. When he manages to talk again, his voice has dropped several octaves lower, guttural. “And now, let’s say that scaring you is not the only thing I want to do to you.”

The air feels sucked out of the room as tension fills it, palpable within the silence and you retain a whimper. His hold on your wrist turns stronger, as if to mark it, your pulse constricted beneath his fingers and you suddenly feel dizzy, gravity pulling you backward as you lose balance. You drop in the chair behind you like a stringless marionette, overthrown by him and his overwhelming presence.

He doesn’t flinch, neither does he comment as he leans over you, strong arms resting on the armrests at each side of you, trapping you as if he had planned everything. You huff when the tip of his hair grazes the skin of your cleavage, a silver curtain dropping under his face.

“So we're going to try this once…. Say please to me again, and I might reconsider your sister's situation.”

A ray of hope cuts through your foggy mind at his words, determination spurring within you as your treacherous tongue already rolls to form the words, eager to please him despite the lack of air in your lungs. “Please...”

The wood at your side cracks as he tightens his grip on the armrest, a repressed hiss dying within his throat as he composes himself again, hooded eye fixed on you, smothering.

“Hm… Yes,” he breathes, content visible on his features. “But the thing is, kitten, your sister was useful to me. She had access to people I didn’t, people like you. I’m sure you can see why it’s difficult for me to let her go.”

You know he is taunting you, dragging out what he wants from you and you know you have no choice but to indulge him, you need to indulge him. “She won’t survive if she keeps on, please.”

You can feel it, the pleasure he takes out of it, the delectable sensation he draws from your words as he licks his lips, a devious smirk tugging at them as he speaks slowly. “And what about you… Kitten?”

The near whisper makes your spine go rigid, his nose coming to loom over the junction of your jaw and you truly try to answer. “I- I don’t understand…”

He is the first to notice as his eyes are drawn to the sudden movement of your body under him: how tightly your thighs are clenched together, how tense you are as you shift, muscle tenses.

You blush shamefully, untying your legs to try to soothe the ache there as well as the heat pooling between them. He lifts a knowing eyebrow, observing you with excitement. "Hm… Not such a good girl after all, are you, kitten?”

He slowly lowers himself, broad hands coming to stroke the length of your thighs from your knees to your hips, the heat of his palms scorching you through your jeans and you repress a whimper, failing. “Did begging me turn you on, kitten?” 

His voice is hoarse, playful. You notice his own arousal pressing against the fabric of his pants and it makes your legs widen, watching helplessly as your body responds to your primal urges. “Do you need me to touch you? Is that what you want?”

You struggle, trying to fight what had been evolving since he had entered the room but you find yourself overpowered by your desire, submerged by it. "Yes…"

He arches his eyebrow higher. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, please."

He almost groans as he slowly comes to unbutton your jeans, a warm hand sliding under it and your stomach tenses when he connects with your dampness. "Fuck, kitten. Do you want to say please to me again?” 

He rises, giving himself a better angle as he comes to close his face over yours, suffocating as he waits for an answer out of you. When you give him none, he proceeds to grab your chin, pressing your cheeks between his fingers as he continues to stroke the heat between your thighs.

His face is close as he breathes your ragged breaths. “Lost your tongue?”

His gaze is unforgiving, his lips parted in delectation as you moan under him, and you suddenly feel the need to taste them, to chase them.

The movement makes him pull back, tutting as he grips your cheeks tighter. “That was bad. Very bad of you.”

You let out a plaintive whimper when he steps away, his hands departing your wet core and mouth as he comes to stand before you, jaw hanging low, slightly panting. His gaze is fixed on your glistening skin despite the harshness of it, a punishing glare within his eye as he lowers his jeans and briefs in order to free his bulging girth. You feel your mouth salivate as he starts pumping himself in wide long strokes, gaze transfixed on your face.

You’re unable to look away, heaving and hands gripping the wood of the chair tightly. You don’t realise the grinding of your hips against the surface of the chair, unconsciously chasing for what he robbed you of, wanting.

“Stop that,” he commands in a strained voice as precum starts leaking from his tip. You immediately obey, your body stilling as he comes closer, a pang hitting your core at the sight of his continuous movement over him. “You want a taste, kitten?”

One of his hands reaches for your hair, fingers tangling in them softly as he continues to stroke himself steadily, looking down at you with parted lips and he almost purrs when you nod bashfully. He guides you on the floor, eyes blown wide as he makes you kneel before him by a slight pull of your hair. You lick your lips in expectation, soothed by his hand within your strands and feeling the heat radiating off of him. 

You feel warmth spread within your cheek as you approach but he suddenly yanks your hair strongly, holding you into place in a hiss. “Then beg for it.”

He has stopped his ministrations over himself, rather squeezing the base of his shaft and making the already swollen tip inflate with blood as he watches you with a harsh and wild blue eye. You have to swallow the saliva that has accumulated in your mouth to talk. “Please, I want you in my mouth, Aemond.”

He groans as he lets go of his throbbing cock and loosen his hold over your scalp, allowing you to finally run a playful tongue along his length and wrap your hands around him, appeased by the sounds you draw out of him. “That’s it… Good girl.”

You try to go slow, hollowing your cheeks while you take him deeper and deeper, but as the minutes pass you feel the pressure of his hand in your hair tighten. The next moment he is claiming your mouth, making his tip hit at the back of your throat in loud lewd sounds as well as gag several times before he lets you go with a low growl.

You try to settle your breathing again as he wipes the single thread of saliva that connects you to his cock before probing you up by your chin, chest heaving in lust. “Do you even know how good that begging mouth feels? Do you even realise?”

You only feel the aching inside of your lower stomach heighten through your daze, and your mouth forms lazy words you don’t know the purpose of, blinking weakly. “Please, Aemond…”

“Fuck, kitten. Are you going to ask me to fuck you, is that it? Is that what you want to say?”

His thumb grazes the side of your jaw and you barely acknowledge his length against your hip, hot against your flesh. “I- Yes.”

A low grumble escapes his mouth right before you’re pushed on the sofa without warning, his hands rushing to get rid of his vest and pants before tugging at yours, forcing you to dig your hands into the cushions as he bends you over.

You quiver as your skin is met with the cool air but the next moment he moulds his chest against your back and you freeze, his mouth coming to position inches from your ear as a rough hand grabs your throat from behind, squeezing.

“From now on, kitten, you beg me for everything. You want to be touched? You beg me. You want to touch me? You beg me. You want my cock? You say please. You want to cum? You fucking ask permission. You’re gonna be extra polite for me, you understand?”

You let out a strained sound against his fingers he takes for an affirmation before taking hold of your hips, not wasting a second to align himself near your entrance and you exhale in want as he lets go of your neck. Your fists clutch the fabric of the sofa as he runs his length against your folds once, twice, and you can’t help but close your eyes in frustration, feeling his pleasure growing at what he knows you’re about to say. “Please…”

You hear his satisfied growl as his fingers presses deeper into your flesh and you let out a quick gasp as he plunges into you in a swift stroke, quickly replaced by needy moans as you feel the ache in your loins sharpen. He fills you, his thrusts growing from controlled to erratic, faint praises whispered through the sounds of smacking flesh as he roams his hand over your back, and soon you feel your muscles pulse around him in building tension.

It makes him tighten at once behind you, fingers bruising the flesh of your ass as he suddenly withdraws and with a few last strokes, spills onto your back with a ragged groan.

“Fuck, look at the mess you’ve made…” he tuts while you whimper from the sudden loss, feeling your walls pulsating over nothing as he watches his cock glistens with your fluids. “You don’t care about being dirty, do you? You just like being a good girl.”

You whine again as he spreads his seed over your lower back soothingly, not caring for the stains but rather snaking a hand under your shirt, cupping one of your breasts to squeeze it as you wiggle under him, his name on your tongue.

“What is it, kitten? Do you need to cum?” he purrs as he caresses your breast firmly, hoisting you up against him.

“Yes please, please…”

His hold tightens, his face coming close to your neck and you can feel his hot breath on your cheek as he coos. “Prettier.”

The heat in your stomach thickens, heart racing against your ribcage in nervousness and you melt into his embrace. “P-Please, I need to cum. I need you to make me cum.”

He hums in satisfaction as he turns you around, flattening you against the back of the couch and yanking your shirt over your head as he spreads your legs, his jaw dropping in elation when he slides two fingers inside of you, making your head fall back with a loud moan. Your legs barely hold you as he rubs his thumb over your clit at a consuming pace, his long fingers finding the rough spot within you as if he had known it all of his life, and you’re soon panting heavily.

His gaze is fixed on your face, enjoying every moment, every painful expression as you’re closing on your high, waiting for you to say exactly what he wants and when he feels your walls clenching around his fingers, he stops, violently squeezing your inside between his three digits.

You wail at the sensation, meeting his harsh gaze and fascinated eye and soon you let out a strained sob, your inside muscles constricting painfully. “Aren’t you forgetting something, kitten?”

You swallow with difficulty as he smiles, his grip on you merciless, unmoving and you feel your legs tremble. “Please, don’t stop, I want- I need to cum. Please, I beg you.”

“Good girls ask permission, remember?” he grunts as he starts his movement again, rough digits now too slow on your wetness. “Try again.”

“Can I please… cum,” you plead in a strained sob, gripping the back of the couch more tightly but when he starts stroking your insides again, you see nothing but white, the coiling sensation within your core finally snapping and he doesn’t stop until you’re a puddle under him, letting you sink on the couch in a ghosting embrace.

“That’s it,” he soothes, grazing your waist and breast before gently making you suck on his fingers after the last shockwaves of your climax, tasting yourself through your heavy breaths. “Such an obedient little kitten.”

You slowly start to get the control of your legs back as he wipes some sweat out of your hair, but his gaze is nothing but soothing. “Fuck, look how hard you made me again, with you begging me so sweetly…”

He slowly runs one of his hands up your thigh, his hardening state hitting your flesh briefly before he lifts your knees up, positioning his weight over each of your thighs and you blink in anticipation, too dazed to utter a word. You angle yourself better against his body, the only confirmation he needs before he plunges into you again, this time his desire is too strong to wait for you to find your composure back.

It burns, vividly so, your swollen flesh barely recovered from your previous climax and you start moaning loudly, your hand rushing to your mouth to stop the embarrassing sounds from escaping your throat.

Two hands come to snap it away, lacing them over your head in a secure hold and you sink your teeth in your flesh when you meet his fierce gaze, the roll of his hips unfaltering. “No no no, kitten. Let them hear you, hear how desperate you are for my cock, how much you like begging for it.”

“Kiss me.”

He recoils slightly, his thrust slowing gradually as his single eye widen, the black of it taking over. “I don’t kiss my pets.”

“Please...”

Your voice sounds broken, a hint of determination within it that makes him blink and you can clearly see him battling himself for a moment before he crashes his lips against yours. The suddenness of it makes you moan against him as he devours you, the roll of his hips starting again deeper, needier.

It hits every right spot despite the overstimulation and soon you feel a numbness take hold of you, goosebumps spreading over your body. “Aemond, I’m going to-”

He grunts against your mouth as his hand comes to play with your breast again, freeing one of your own in the process that you bring to his face, stroking the smooth skin there along with the scar that marks his cheek. “You’re not cumming yet, I need you to wait a little while longer, alright kitten?”

His thrust slows again and you feel the pleasurable pain of being denied once more, filled by the need to obey him. “I can’t-”

“Don’t you dare cum before I say so, be a good girl and wait for my fucking permission, you understand?”

You close your eyes in a tremendous effort not to let the stretching sensation of him rocking inside of you overcome you too fast, your back arching under him and you feel his free hand flatten against your stomach to immobilise you, shushing you in a husky tone.

You beg one last time, feeling your guts heating up with the way he is chasing his own climax with deep thrusts and you dig your nails in his shoulder.

“Fuck… Come on, kitten, come for me, you can let go.”

Your vision blurs, your eyes rolling back as you cry out, your body going numb under the shattering pleasure and you don’t register anything, not how he follows you minutes later as you clench around him nor where he spills himself. You just feel like your limbs don’t obey you anymore.

You huff, feeling Aemond’s scent and sweat envelop you and when you open your eyes he is looking down at you with a hooded eye.

His thumb massages a spot over your shoulder and a sorry expression passes on his feature as he sets a strand of your hair aside. “I can’t grant you what you asked for.”

You feel cold all of a sudden, the air biting your damp skin as his warm fingers graze your cheek, feeling your disappointment. 

“I’ll leave your sister alone, as you wished, but I’m not taking the drugs back. You’ll have to find a way to sell, as Maria promised she would.”

A wave of relief runs through you, happiness for your sister but an odd sensation takes place within your chest as the man next to you watches you with fierceness. “Because you… you’re going to be very useful to me, kitten.”

You don’t glance away, you don’t recoil.

Because you’re not sure you want to leave anyway.

Tagging @watercolorskyy and thanking @babyblue711 for the beta reading. We cannot disappoint.

[beatrice-otter]

The President and the Police

It is curious to me that people who are (rightly) outraged at the police being sent against the college protestors and want to reflect that in their voting in the next election are focusing on the office that has zero power over the police, and not the offices that actually control the police. (This is especially aggravating because we've been talking about the police a lot over the last four years, and so if people actually wanted to change things you would think they would have figured out basic things like "who controls the police.")

The President does not and never has controlled the police. Anywhere in the US. Policing is a local matter. The vast majority of law enforcement is done by the city police (employed and governed by the city), county sheriffs and their deputies (employed by the county), and state police (employed and governed by the state). The laws and regulations and policies are made at the local level. So are hiring decisions! If you want to change things--and God knows the police are corrupt and violent and bigoted and awful, and DESPERATELY need to be changed--you can't do it through which presidential candidate you vote for (or don't vote for). You do it by voting for your local elected officials: town mayor and city councilmen (or whatever the exact positions are in your area), your county sheriff, and your state representatives. And then following up by doing things like attending city council meetings and raising the question of police reform--and talking to your neighbors and people in your community and building a coalition of people to work on alternatives to the police and convincing people to try some of them. If you live in a city that has a protest that the cops have been called to, please call your city government and complain. It won't magically change things but it'll be a little bit of pressure in the right direction.

The President does have some control over Federal law enforcement, but that's the FBI, DEA, ICE, and other more specialized groups (like the military police and Fish and Wildlife enforcement officers). And God knows that they could desperately use reform as well! ICE in particular should be abolished. So yeah, your vote for President will affect those organizations. (Trump, of course, loves ICE and wants to expand its powers and reach.)

But if you are rightly concerned by police response to the protests, and want to use your vote to do something about it, you need to be thinking locally.

And good news! Local elections have far fewer people voting in them, so it's actually much easier to affect things at a local level than it is to affect national affairs.

I know this, because I've seen it happen in my community. I am a supporter of an immigrant rights group in my community, and a while back our little local police department hired a guy who had been fired for racism by the biggest city in the region. This is extremely common; most trained and experienced police would much rather work in larger cities which pay better. So a lot of small towns and county sheriff's departments have trouble getting "qualified" people who want to work there, and regularly hire cops who are only willing to move to rural areas because they've been fired for cause and no larger police department will touch them.

But in this specific case, the local immigrant support group was watching, saw he'd been hired, and swung into action. They encouraged their members to call the city council, and go to city council meetings, and write letters to the editor, and after a couple of months of this the city council conceded and got rid of the guy. If you get a group of people together to make a concerted effort, you can make a difference in the policing in your local community.

But the President can't do jack about it. So don't blame him, blame the people who actually hire, train, and write the policies for the police. Who are all local people living in your area!

[fuctacles]

Ao3 | divider by @penny00dreadful

Steve was taking a break from calling clients and munching on his sandwich when his frazzled co-worker stormed in. He never liked the guy, and could never trust someone driven by money like that, but the stormy look on his face gave him a pause. Bill was always composed and giving off the air of a rich boy looking down on anyone else. Whatever put him in such a state must have been big. 

When Bill disappears behind the doors of their manager, Steve curiously leans towards Angela. 

"What's gotten into his pants?" he murmurs, hoping for a piece of gossip.

Angela scoffs.

"Idiot thought he could sell the Creel House."

Angela wasn't a pleasant person. But she was also blunt and always ready to talk shit. And she had the cutest cats, even if she was a bit obsessed with them. She was Steve's go-to for office gossip. And sometimes extra information he missed as one of the newer employees. Office lore, as Dustin would call it.

"What's the Creel House?" he asks genuinely. She eyes him like he's stupid, but he's dealt with those stares long before her, so he holds it down until she folds.

"It's this old house we haven't been able to sell for years, probably around a decade. There's all kinds of stupid rumors around it, like curses and hauntings," she tells him with an eye roll. He snorts to let her know he shares her opinion, as scoffs, snorts, and eye rolls were the language she understood the best. "Bill thought he could go for it after his selling streak last month. Guess the streak just broke." She smiled in that evil way only introverted old ladies could. A chill went down Steve's spine, but he snickered alongside her. 

"What a loser," he commented and focused back on his sandwich, but his imagination was running wild about how the house might look. As soon as he was done with his paperwork for the day, he went looking for the file on Creel's House. 

His manager eyed him weirdly, but he assured him it was mostly curiosity speaking through him.

The file had photos from soon after it was built and more recent ones, after a decade of neglect. There weren't many capturing the interior, but if it was anywhere similar to the outside, it should be in good condition for small renovations. It was big, too. Could become a home for a family, their dog, and visiting friends. Maybe someone's lesbian best friend and her love interest, too...

Needless to say, as soon as Steve found out about it, the house wouldn't leave his thoughts. It had a huge backyard that extended into the woods behind it. It was cheap for a house this size, probably because of its bad rap. And, the most important part, it was closer to Robin than the apartment he was currently renting. 

The last thing to check off on his list was seeing it in person. 

His manager didn't take his request well. 

"You think you can do something Bill couldn't?" he asks with his eyebrows raised. 

It takes all of Steve's strength not to scoff. 

"I'm not planning on selling it. I'm actually considering buying it."

That seems to only amuse his boss further. 

"Ha! You wouldn't be the first. Be my guest then." He shrugs, turning to reach a locked cabinet where the keys to the houses are stored. He hands him the ring of old keys. "Knock yourself out." He grins.

"Thank you." Steve nods and turns around to leave the office as soon as possible. He didn't share his plans with any of his coworkers, not interested in hearing their opinions, but he could feel the amused stares Angela was giving him over her coffee when he was packing to leave for the day.

When he's passing by her desk, she leans forward on her elbows, her proper, trimmed nails posed like claws on the mug. 

"Any plans for the weekend, Steven?" she asks with all the charm of a feral cat. 

Steve knows for a fact that Angela doesn't care about her coworkers' lives unless there are felines or police involved. There's only one reason she could be asking, and it's inside the pocket of his blazer. 

"Not really. Might visit a friend." He shrugs. "You?" 

"Well, good luck with that," Angela completely ignores his question. "I hope nothing spooky happens on your trip," she says as if she hopes something does happen to him.

"Thank you, Angela, you too." Steve nods to his coworker and leaves hastily so nothing evil attaches to him before he even enters a haunted house. 

The house was located an hour's drive away, and he didn't want to rush his exploration, so he waited for the weekend to come around before he went to see it. According to the map, it's been built off the main road, giving a sense of privacy and solitude. It was more part of the forest than the nearest neighborhood. A great place for an eccentric loner or a loud family that didn't want to be a bother.

Steve packed the house files, a notepad, measuring tape, and some lunch for his trip. And, upon some consideration, the upgraded walkie Dustin had given him. He wasn't going to risk being stranded miles from civilization without the means of contact. 

It was a Saturday, before noon, but he dialed the number he called at least once a week.

"Hello?" His favorite person picked up on the third ring, the tone of her voice indicating she had been asleep not so long ago.

"Hey Robs."

"Steve! What's up?"

His smile grew. Hearing her always felt better than he imagined when grabbing the phone, and soon he might be able to see her in person. 

"Do you have any plans for tonight?" he asks coyly, leaning on the wall in his kitchen. 

"I have some papers left to grade and might go grab drinks with the girls later. What about you?"

"I'm about to head out to scout a new house," he says, thumbing at the keys in his pocket. He doesn't want to share his plans yet, since they were mostly wishful thinking. Maybe the repairs were too out of his budget, maybe the house has gotten worse since the last photos of it had been taken. Or maybe there was something weird about it like everyone claimed. "It's on the way to Indianapolis, so if you don't mind, I could make a detour—"

"Do I mind?!" Robin screeches into his ear. He grins despite the volume briefly disorienting him. "I haven't seen you in a month, get your ass down here!" 

"Well, how could I say no, when you ask so nicely," he laughs.

"Damn right, I do!" she snickers back. "Now go go go, the sooner you start driving, the sooner you get here!"

"Okay, Jesus, so bossy."

They say their 'see you soon's and Steve grabs his duffel bag. Even if the house is a total bust, at least he'll spend the weekend with his best friend. 

The house is not a total bust.

He almost misses the turn leading to it, hidden behind overgrown bushes. The drive quickly turns from asphalt to gravel and then disappears completely, and he hopes the overgrown grass framed with young trees is leading him in the right direction.

His worries subside when he spots the roof peeking from between the trees and he's soon rolling into what probably used to be a driveway.

The sound of his car door closing resonates loudly in the rural scenery, scaring some birds above him. As he eyes the bushes between himself and the house's entrance, he wishes he had taken something other than a club with him. Albeit the worst of it has been torn or pushed aside, probably by Bill who's been here before him. The house itself looks like the pictures, maybe the ivy on the side has grown since then. Despite its age of about forty years and being abandoned, it still looks nice. 

He rounds the car and opens up the trunk, where he always had a couple of necessities. A first aid kit, a fire extinguisher, a flamethrower, and such. And the metal bat he reaches for right now. It's better to be safe than sorry, as he's run into squatters before.

He locks the car and using the bat, moves the bushes out of his way to the porch. He tries the steps first, and they seem sturdy so he steps up to the door. The colorful glass in its frame forms a rose. He's not a big fan of the design choice and wonders if it would be hard to get a matching door without it.

The hinges creak loudly when he pushes inside and takes the first proper look at the house's interior. Whoever planned the placement of all the windows did a great job because it felt illuminated from the inside, despite the dust covering everything. On his left is a study room, covered by shelves and with a huge window to provide proper reading light. He gives the cozy-looking chairs a cursory glance and moves on. On the right extends the front porch but with a couple of steps he finds the living room, with an old TV and a collection of couches that indicate the previous owners had a huge group of friends. 

Further down, he finds the dining room, the steps to the back porch, and the kitchen, where he stops for longer. Because there on the fridge, in colorful letter magnets, somebody has spelled 'fuck off'.

Steve snickers. He thought it was a nice touch for an allegedly haunted house. 

Some of the magnets were holding up drawings of dragons and similar creatures. He spotted some yellowing Spider-Man stickers too, so maybe whatever kids used to live here were also little nerds like his friends. Curiously, he opened the fridge to find an ancient can of Coke inside. The cupboards held long-expired jars of herbs, rice, and pasta. It seemed like the house was never properly cleaned out. 

Next on his journey was the upstairs, where he found three bedrooms and two bathrooms. The master bedroom held the biggest and most expensive bed he's ever seen. Dragging it upstairs, even in parts, must have been hell. It had a canopy too, semi-translucent and dark. It partially hid the painting hanging over the headboard, and he had to step closer to take a look at it.

It was another dragon, with its wings spread and toothy mouth dripping with drool on a small figure beneath it - a woman in a skimpy dress, with dragonfly wings. Steve makes a face. 

"A man of peculiar taste, I see," he murmurs to himself, backing away from the bed. The rest of the walls had similar paintings of mythical creatures, making Steve wonder what kind of person the previous owner was. And why would he abandon art and furniture that must have cost a small fortune? 

He opened the door on the side, which turned out to lead into a small walk-in closet. It had a full length mirror and the few things left on hangers looked more like costumes than regular clothes. The owner must have been an eccentric artist type. An actor, maybe? Or a musician, he notes, spotting an empty guitar stand in the corner. 

At least the bathroom looks relatively normal if you don't count the gargoyle faucets added in.

The guest room paintings are far more tame, giving the impression the owner wanted the saucy ones for himself. Aside from that, there's nothing really exciting about them. The furniture looks to be on the more expensive side, but if Steve didn't have his realtor knowledge he proably wouldn't even notice.

He checks the windows, which seem to be in good shape, maybe one or two need replacing, and others just need extra insulation. The back porch looks even better than the front one, but the backyard is a mess. It's surrounded by a tall fence to keep the wildlife away, but throughout the years, the forest started creeping through, the roots digging beneath, plants dropping their seeds to grow. It would be a lot of work to get rid of it.

The whole house was a lot of work, but not as much as Steve had feared. The construction was solid and it stood against weather and abandonment for years without taking much damage. He probably wouldn't need professionals for most of it. 

He stood in the middle of the foyer, listening to his guts while looking around the abandoned, empty house. He knew he had time to make a decision. He could talk it out with Robin if he wanted, although keeping it a surprise sounded more fun.

Giving the ground floor one last lazy stroll, he spots a door he had missed earlier. It's smaller than the usual door, making Steve assume it leads to the basement. Or, as the wooden plaque on the door claims, "The Dungeon". Which was not mentioned in the house plans he'd looked through. 

He pulls out the key ring from his back pocket to look for the right one, though he doesn't remember 'basement' being among the labels. He flicks through all of them again.

Main. Back. Master. Guest 1. Guest 2.

No basement in sight. 

Perhaps the key went loose from the keyring, or it was somewhere in the house. He wasn't about to go on a wild goose chase to see some cobwebs and spiders when the alternative was getting on the road to see his friend. 

He steps into the library once again, probably the most normal room of them all, and takes a closer look at the titles on the shelves. It's more fantasy, as he expected, with some classics he's heard about from Dustin, but mostly titles unknown to him. He finds a whole shelf of D&D manuals, too. He picks one up with a curious hum, wondering if there's a way to get those even if he doesn't go with the house after all. 

He's not sure how old the game is (Dustin had told him multiple times, but he always forgets) but he wouldn't be surprised if all the released material so far was in here. He gently places the paperback back in its place, assuming that they were stored in order and he didn't want to disturb that. He took a step back to take the room in.

Walls covered in books, floor to ceiling, a fireplace with figurines on the mantle, four cozy armchairs, and a low table with a map under a glass pane. Middle Earth, of course. 

The Party would love it, he muses. It doesn't feel like a coincidence, that the house he considers buying, has things that would appeal to his friends. But he knows he has to make a smart decision. And nothing clears his mind better than a night out with his best friend. 

read the rest on Ao3

[jinisnuggets]

✧.* 11 𝕭𝖎𝖙𝖊𝖘

PAIRINGS | Vampire! Killer! Sunwoo x Cryptozoologists! Fem! Reader

GENRE | Vampire Au, Angst, Fluff(ish)

WORD COUNT | 2.3k

SYNOPSIS | What happens when multiple series of death happen at the same time, all with different motives and zero connection between the victims. Most people would blame an organization; but your team blames something… a little more otherworldly.

WARNINGS | Mentions of death, unnatural cases, a bit of blood, crime scenes, swear words(ish)

NETWORK | @deoboyznet @starlit-network @k-library

A/N | It took me a while along with a lot of postponing, but this is my submission for @deoboyznet boyz who bite event. It isn't my best work at all, a bit lazy but it will due :D

“Y/n! What do we do with them?”

You stared at the body which laid on the floor, unsure of how to respond to your colleagues.

The police had called your team because this case looked unnaturally gruesome, something that didn't look like the work of a human due to the extent of it. You were put in charge for the moment; though you weren't the main boss.

“Bring them to the lobby for now. It'd be important to bring them in for investigation.” you finally responded, seeing your coworker nod in understanding and run over to those in charge of caring for the corpse.

You sighed, turning around and spotting Chanhee approaching you, clipboard in hand.

Choi Chanhee was one of the newer guys; he was in charge of concluding what monster everyone should be expecting in a certain situation based on any small clues he could find; this was actually his first serious case.

“Whatcha find?” You asked informally, seeing him chuckle as he took a spot right next to you.

“I found a couple things on the body, such as two bite marks on their neck and multiple stains of unidentifiable blood covered fingers on walls. It seems like whoever, or whatever did this knows that they won't be in police systems.”

You stared at his writing, nodding in response.

“Right so-” before you could finish your question he shushed you with an undeniable confidence. You held your laughter, trying to remain professional, but to be completely honest you thought it was adorable.

“Vampires are the most likely cause.” He stated, making you second glance all the gathered clues and nod.

“It'd make sense; the two bite marks and fingerprints seem to add up.” you started, scanning the room for any other missed clues that had yet to be discovered. You glanced back to see him slowly walking forward, you followed him shortly after.

“However, I also found that the fingerprints carried a certain detail that could prove helpful in our investigation. I took some time to study the previous records that we have on various creatures, and found a seemingly repetitive pattern for vampires. All of them have this certain mark on their finger that they receive depending on their vampire age. The older the vampire is, the bigger and more evident the mark will be.”

He approached a stained wall, locating the mark and allowing you to inspect it.

“Judging by this mark; it appears this vampire is quite young, appearing to only age around 15-25 years old.”

You glanced back at him.

“You found all of this just by looking at a fingerprint?”

He chuckled awkwardly, nodding his head in response. How could such an important factor go unnoticed? Was all you could bring yourself to ask, not out loud, but it was still a worthy question.

“Alright then, best go talk to a superior on this new discovery. You better teach us about this age telling mark.” You said with a tease, watching him grin before nodding.

“Y/n!” A voice called from afar. It was Juyeon, who had been jogging towards you while holding a folder.

“What is it?” You asked, seeing him hand over the folder full of files.

“Your husband… Kim Sunwoo is here to pick you up.”

“What!?”

Chanhee and Juyeon looked over at you with a confused expression. You shook your head to snap out of your transe and decided to accept it.

“Not sure why he decided to do so in a time like this but alright.”

Glancing around, you called out and decided to put Jacob in charge. He was the better option between everyone in the crowd.

Waving goodbye and making your way outside; stepping over the ‘crime scene’ tape as you approached your husband.

“What important event is it today that you had to pick me up early?” You asked teasingly, watching him look up from his phone to return that teasing gaze.

“Forgot our anniversary?”

Your expression immediately dropped as you scrambled for your phone, watching him burst out laughing as the screen lit up and showed a different date.

“I'm kidding.”

“You jerk.” You responded with a laugh, placing your phone back inside of your pocket before looking back up at him who was leaning down to plant a small kiss on your forehead.

“Hey now, that’s a bit rude.” he chuckled teasingly, earning a mimic from you as he walked over to the driver side door. You entered the vehicle and felt the car go into drive. You simply stared out the window as he drove off; the small restaurant which had become a crime scene vanished out of sight.

Far too focused into your own thoughts, you spoke without much of a thought.

“Sunwoo… do you believe in monsters? All those creatures we hear and see in movies and novels?” You asked in a low voice that expressed your exhaustion.

He hesitated for a moment, stopping at the next red light and relaxing back on his seat for a moment as he remained silent. He sighed, “There must be something out there.” he muttered, almost to himself as he leaned back up upon the once red light becoming a bright neon green.

“Something you discovered at work?” He questioned, to which you nodded, not moving your gaze from the window and continuously staring at the outside.

It wasn’t supposed to be said, but Sunwoo was your husband and you practically told him everything that was meant to be kept secret from anyone outside of those in the organization.

“A new body was discovered. Police say that the murder must have taken place sometime around the early hours of the morning.” you groaned, watching him glance at you through the rear view mirror and nod.

“So many new cases of late; have you ever thought they all may be connected?” he questioned, watching you glance over back at him and nod knowingly.

“We have, but it seems that the culprits are all different people and none of the victims seem to be closely related. I suppose the motives should be different as well.”

He didn’t say much after that, simply listened and offered to buy you fast food; and well, you didn’t ask him to say much either, afterall it was a situation between you and your colleagues; something between you and your job.

—-----------

Sunwoo approached the doorway, wiping the red off of his cheek and slipping into the warmth of his jacket; knocking on the door and waiting for the person on the other side.

The door opened slowly and cautiously.

“Sunwoo? How the hell are you walking around like that?” He said, being quick to drag him into the room.

“Don't overthink it.” Sunwoo reassured, entering the small and cozy living space and taking a seat on the couch. “I was cautious when making my way over here.”

“I surely hope you were.” He muttered, breathing a sigh of relief as he passed Sunwoo a black towel to clean himself.

“So what have you been up to Eric?” Sunwoo said casually, earning a reaction from Eric as he immediately turned due to his nonchalant attitude.

“That's what I would like to ask you. What did you do?” Eric redirected, brewing some coffee and taking down 3 mugs from the cabinets above.

Sunwoo stared before sighing and smiling to himself. “I’m not sure if I should-”

“Sunwoo?”

He turned around to the sound of his name, smiling upon seeing Eric’s roommate, Haknyeon, who was coming out of the shower and drying his hair with a towel.

“What happened to you?” He asked, unsurprised by Sunwoo’s current state and messy appearance.

“I'd like to talk about it; but before that let me take a shower. If I returned home like this I'd earn a concerned stare from Y/n.”

Eric and Haknyeon nodded in understanding, Eric's eyes softening upon the mention of his friend's soulmate. Sunwoo walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

***

They all sat in the living room, warm coffee in hands along with small store-bought muffins and pastries. Both Eric and Haknyeon refused to look away from Sunwoo, staring at him until he finally decided to speak up.

“Alright, alright.” He chuckled, placing his mug down and reaching out for a small plate.

“You don't need to speak up, we're just curious.” Eric added, to which Sunwoo shook his head.

“No worries.” He reiterated.

Haknyeon and Eric listened intently, taking a couple sips from their coffee's and paying attention to every word he spoke. Though at first disagreeing they eventually agreed and let go of the entire situation.

—-----------

You stared in confusion, seeing their uneasy stares.

“Please take a look.” He said, making you take the envelope from his hand and stare down at it.

In the envelope, there were multiple photographs of the crime scene from the previous day. At first glance there isn’t anything particularly wrong with them; it wasn’t until closer inspection that you noticed the figure who lingered in the back of the photos. All except one.

“Who is that..? You stuttered, seeing them take glances at each other before shaking their heads.

“We were hoping you would know that...” Jacob replied, the small bit of hope in his voice fading into an abyss of emptiness.

As if on cue, Chanhee walked into the room. His curiosity had gotten the better of him and he decided to check what the sudden commotion was about; heart dropping upon hearing the news of the mysterious person in the back of the captured pictures and almost quitting right then and there.

“This doesn't make sense. Vampires don't appear on pictures. They can't appear on pictures..!” Chanhee exclaimed, making you all glance at him realization.

He was right. Vampires and many other mythical creatures don't appear on photographs due to the fact that they aren't exactly alive; they aren't technically real.

Jacob and Hyunjae tried to reason, maybe it was one of your people though it was highly unlikely. Juyeon stayed silent, although you knew it was just him trying to make himself feel better about the entire situation. You on the other hand, took the time to analyze the photo better, the body shape seemed oddly familiar to you.

“If there was someone else there; I'm confused as to how they went unnoticed.” A voice spoke from the doorway.

You all turned around, coming face to face with Kevin who stood in the entryway of the room. Hyunjae’s face lit up by the entrance of the familiar face; feeling better to see someone reliable and different.

“Or how they got passed the cops who were positioned outside on that manner.” Jacob added, his voice of fear being replaced by annoyance.

However, you remained silent as they all argued, and for that left the room without saying another word. This was more than just a vampire case and you knew it. It was a case of some sort of betrayal.

—-----------

You laid in bed, being joined by your husband soon after who laid beside you, taking you into his embrace and cuddling you, pressing multiple lazy kisses up to your temple.

“Long day?” He asked in a comforting voice.

“Doesn't matter right now.” You smiled, feeling his lips plant another small peck onto your forehead. His breath was shallow, low and solacing; bringing you a relaxing sensation that drifted you off into a deep state of unawareness.

You didn't know what happened next, you fell asleep.

5:27 A.M.

Sunwoo wasn't by your side.

He was gone, vanished from sight..

You waited for a couple seconds, thinking he might've gone downstairs to get a cup of water from the kitchen; but as the minutes went by, you started to discriminate that thought furthermore.

Lifting yourself from the bed, you made your way to the closet, taking out a jacket and finding the arm holes to slip into, zipping up the zipper and finding the door inside of the dark room. Your walk down the stairs was careful, your mind felt like it had been in a dream-like state, which made it difficult to concentrate when you found your shoes next to the door.

It took you a moment before you registered the feeling of the outside wind brushing up against your cheek, hair flowing by the cold air, moonlight shining inside of the house and illuminating the dark space.

“What are you doing awake?” He said, walking inside yet keeping the door open to allow the midnight air to enter of the enclosed area.

“I would ask you the same question.” You said with unintended seriousness that caused him and his stomach to turn.

“I just went out for a walk-”

You shook your head, he was lying once more and this time you wouldn't stand by it. You felt your throat tighten, in a tenseness that you found yourself unable to describe.

“Blood. It's on your shirt.”

Your mouth said it before your eyes had noticed. He looked down and glanced back up, eyes an unsettling red color that hadn't been there before. Something that only appeared now.

“Right.” He agreed, nodding casually at your words as if it was normal to be carrying around a shirt full of red stains.

You knew now,

Vampires were a very real thing.

Something so real that they shouldn't be second guessed. The way humans don't second guess another human's existence.

But vampires weren't the worst of creatures, at least not all of them. There were definitely worse things on this planet; worse stuff than blood sucking monsters who were on the constant look out for a fresh meal.

But some didn't feed off of human blood, others straight up hated it, it was different for everyone. Vampires had their own taste and likes, just like humans did. In fact, humans and vampires were species of similar kind.

Both held similar complexity, and strived to survive from everyday dangers. If any creature had the chance of blending in almost flawlessly with a human crowd, it'd be a vampire.

And of course, finding out your lifetime partner’s secret couldn't be helped. It was an obvious shock, but you learned to accept it everytime you remember his vivid words that night, reaching out his hand to bring you into the night sky with him.

“Will you join me?”

[onboardsorasora]

Maybe Max is new to his neighborhood and hears about his direct neighbor, Daniel but never sees him. Realizes he sees lights in the townhouse next door at very random times but no one else seems worried.

Their mutual neighbour Vicky checks on the house for Daniel often. Because he apparently keeps weird hours. She feeds is fish for him.

Anyway he's heard a lot about this guy, the neighbors at their end of the cul de sac love him, even though he's often absent. And they take care of things for him. Daniel's lawn never gets unruly, and someone takes in his mail for him. Max wonders just how safe it is for so many people to have a key to your home. Especially if they know you're not there. They always talk about seeing him and Max can never say hes had the pleasure.

It's probably almost 3 months of that when Max gets home late one evening from a night out. He sees a lone lamp light on in Daniel's house and the front door is open. Max is on alert.

He goes to the house, slowly. He has Vicky on speed dial but it's like 1 am so he'll assess then call the police if anything. He goes up the stairs and pushes the door open, there's shuffling upstairs- definitely the sound of someone rummaging.

Max is no hero, he calls the police. Fifteen minutes later and there's a patrol car. The officer that gets out, Esteban, doesn't seem too worried about the situation. Which makes Max annoyed because he very clearly stated that the robber person was still in the house.

Esteban walks to the front door, doesn't even draw his gun.

"ki Ki ki" he calls out, weirdly. Max furrows his brow in confusion

"rraaa rrraa!" Calls from inside. Esteban chuckles and enters the house, Max follows him.

"Danny, you left your door unlocked again. Your neighbor is worried." Esteban reprimands up the stairs.

"ah shit. Right. My bad." A sharp accented voice groans then there was the sound of rapid footsteps down the staircase. A man jumped onto the bottom landing and Max swallowed thickly.

A tangle of curly hair, framed a hot face pulled back in a chagrined smile. Corded muscle bulged as he rubbed the back of his head. He wore a dirty tight blue shirt and large, navy almost cargo pants that Max recognized as those from a fireman.

His hot neighbor was a fireman.

"Sorry about all the trouble. Thanks for like looking out though." His neighbor, Danny, greeted, sticking his hand out for a handshake. Which Max took.

"oh it's- it's no problem. Can't be too safe y'know? I'm Max by the way."

"Daniel. Sorry we're literally meeting like a thief in the night or whatever. Vicky told me you'd moved in, but we've been short shifted at the station." Daniel explained and Max blushed that Vicky had updated Daniel about him.

"are we all good here? I'm gonna tell dispatch that you're buying a box of donuts for the night shift." Esteban teased and Daniel groaned again

"I'll remember to close the door!" He called when Esteban left.

"I take it this happens often?" Max asked and Daniel blushed.

"too often," he grumbled. "When I do a double or triple I tend to forget that doors aren't like self closing outside of the station."

Max snorted, he could see the problem.

"I hope I'm not coming off as creepy or anything but do you wanna like get some coffee? After I've maybe slept for thirteen hours?" Daniel hedged and Max smiled.

"We can have it at my place." Max offered and Daniel grinned back.

"Sure."

[hunterbunter3000]

if theres anything i love more its chaotic sweetheart oml its so fckin funny

i just thought of like during TF 141 missions, meetings or just out of nowhere sweetheart will sometimes say "omg this reminds me of when i got ban from the aquarium in [where ever tf] cause i jumped into the shark tank to pet the sharks" or she hears that they're going to a place like italy or europe for a mission and shes like "im actually ban from like 3 of their museums" or whatever

and the team think shes fucking with them but they find out its true because she has videos and pictures of her doing these things and they're all like : 😦😟😀 huh??

like imagine they're at a zoo or aquarium and shes like "bet me $20 to jump in?" and they're all actively trying to hold her back so she doesn't get banned again 😭 they have her on those backpack leashes when they go out 💀

HAHAHHAHA I CANT

THIS IS SO HER 100000%%%%

She said something unhinged before, but they didn't believe her

(TF 141 watching the american news. Someone was arrested for trying to steal a fish from the same aquarium Sweetheart stole from)

Sweetheart: HA! Oh my god, my brother and I did that once there.

Gaz: Go to the aquarium?

Sweetheart, reminiscing: Yeah, and we went fishing there to catch some sea creatures. We caught this japanese spider crab and started running cause the police and workers started chasing us. But we got away! AND GOD THAT CRAB WAS SO GOOD-- I don't know why people don't eat those more!

🧍‍♀️

AHAHA ...girl please

So they all kinda chuckled at that, but Soap kinda prods at it more because he thought she was making up a story 💀

Soap, smirking: So... you stole a state protected Japanese Spider Crab from an aquarium. Got away with it. And ate it with your kin.

Sweetheart, smiling like a dummy: Yuh huh.

Soap, questioning her thought process: And only your brother?

Sweetheart, nodding: Yup! My mom said that since we had a brother-sister hangout day, he should get food and he did! OH OH WANNA SEE PICTURES?? I HAVE A FULL ALBUM

Soap: Whuh- WOAH YOU WERE TELLING THE TRUTH?!

Alex: WAIT WHAT

Sweetheart: of course I was! You thought I was lying?

Soap and Gaz: YES

Sweetheart: YOU GUYS HAVE MET MY FAMILY THIS SHOULDN'T BE SURPRISING

She was showing them pictures of when she was younger, like 13 years old, with her third older brother. And she was legit fishing in the aquarium with him 💀 she even has a video of her ACTUALLY CATCHING THE CRAB

And then some pictures of her brother boiling it in the back of his pickup truck and eating ALL OF IT (JAPANESE SPIDER CRABS ARE HUGE MIND YOU)

They were like 😨😨🤯 GIRL WHAT THE FUCK KINDA LIFE YOU LIVIN

So they believe the stories she says UNLESS she has pictures (and with every story she does 💀💀)

And omg her being banned in some places-- IN SOME STATES AND OUT OF COUNTRY BECAUSE OF THE UNLUCKY LUCK

Sweetheart, raising her hand: Wait where are we going?

Graves, rolling his eyes: To America.

Sweetheart: Uh huh yeah I got that but which state?

Graves: Ohio?

Sweetheart: Ahhhh okay. I can't go.

Graves, leaning on the table: And why is that, Sergeant Sweetheart?

Sweetheart: Well, Philip Graveyard, I'm banned.

Alex: What, in the facility?

Sweetheart, scratching her cheek: No the whole state.

Soap: WHAT

Ghost: HUH

Sweetheart, shrugging like she's talking about the weather: Yeah. Ohio, Florida, Wyoming, couple of other states, and some out of country.

Sweetheart, whispering: ...Alot out of country, honestly.

They're like what 🧍‍♀️

Soap, in disbelief: wh-why?

Sweetheart: Turns out, going on a plane with matches and a baton can cause a heck of a panic. And...

Sweetheart: ...It's illegal.

Ghost: OF FOCKIN COURSE ITS ILLEGAL

Sweetheart: WELL I KNOW THAT NOW. I WAS SEVENTEEN WHEN THAT HAPPENED

Soap: YOU WERE SEVENTEEN--

She showed pictures obviously.

Price, tired and confused: Why do you take pictures of everything you do.

Sweetheart: For the memories!

Graves, wiping his face: Oh my god...

Sweetheart: And evidence so I don't go to prison.

Soap, under his breath: Good lord

Price has to study on Sweetheart's past, so one: she won't get arrested anytime she goes out and two: so he can learn about this "unlucky luck" that's been happening for centuries in her family

(He still doesn't understand it)

And when they go on vacation together as a team it's a nightmare 💀

Sweetheart: Can't go on that.

Soap, smirking: Why? Awww, Sweetheart are ya scared?

Sweetheart: Nah, I'll get arrested. Restraining orders go craaaaazy stupid in London.

Soap and Gaz:

Gaz: How-- How do you get a restraining order on a ferris wheel...?

And then when they went to a zoo in Scotland (because she's not banned or has any restraining orders there) and this is so iconic

Sweetheart, looking in the cage and smiling: Bet me a twenty to jump in?

Gaz, snaps his neck and has a heart attack: Sweetheart, no--

Horangi, putting his hand on her shoulder: Please don't.

Sweetheart, scoffing playfully: I'm not! Oh my gosh. You actually have to bet me the twenty to actually do the--

König, Pulls out $100 because he wants to see this actually happen:

Sweetheart, looking at his hand:

Everyone looking at König's hand:

Sweetheart, looking up at König with a straight face:

Everyone looking at Sweetheart:

Ten seconds later:

Soap, struggling with Sweetheart: SWEETHEART NO STOP

Horangi, pulling Sweetheart's foot: DONT ACTUALLY JUMP IN THERE

Ghost, trying to push Sweetheart off the cage: GOD DAMMIT KÖNIG WHY DID YOU ACTUALLY GIVE HER MONEY TO DO IT

König: I THOUGHT SHE WAS BLUFFING

Price, pulling on Sweetheart's leg: YOU KNOW SWEETHEART DOESN'T BLUFF WHEN IT COMES TO THIS KIND OF THING

Sweetheart: GIVE ME THAT HUNNID BABAY

That was the last STRAW for price. So he ordered a human leash backpack for Sweetheart 💀

Sweetheart, holding the contraption: What is this?

Price, frowning with his arms crossed: It's a leash.

Sweetheart: Okay?

Price: For you.

Sweetheart:

Sweetheart, dumbfounded: W h a t

Price: When we go out for vacation, you're wearing this.

Sweetheart, brain loading the information she just heard:

Sweetheart: Are you... SERIOUS???

Sweetheart: I'm not some child, Price!

Price: Yet you act like one everytime we go out as a team!

Sweetheart: I'm just having fun!

Price: I DONT SEE HOW HANGING UPSIDE DOWN ON A FUCKIN' LEDGE ON THE EIFFEL FUCKIN' TOWER IS FUN

Sweetheart: THAT WAS ONE TIME

Price: AND ONE TIME TOO MANY

Price: You're wearing it.

And she wears it. Luckily it was in pink and she decorated it with stickers and charms.

Sweetheart, huffing and sitting on the ground with her arms crossed: This sucks cactus balls, man.

Ghost, walking with the leash: Come on, Sweetheart.

Sweetheart, whining: Weeeeeehhhhh...

Sweetheart, getting dragged: OW YOU'RE RUINING MY NEW JEANS AND MY FUCKING ASS-- OKAY OKAY I'LL GET UP

Ghost: Mhm.

[arowrath]

tbh. i don't think false reports are as big of a problem as some people would want you to think. it seems like every man seems to know someone who was falsely accused, while every woman knows someone who was assaulted. and i don't think that's because false reports are an actual big problem. i think it's because rapists and abusers don't go around saying "yeah i did that." they're not gonna proudly claim the label. they're gonna say they were falsely accused. they're gonna say the victim was blowing it out of proportion. that it was fine for some arbitrary reason. that they were in a bad mental state. that they didn't mean to hurt the victim. that they had no way of knowing what they did was wrong. that it wasn't rape, the victim just regretted it after the fact. that they just lost control of their feelings. whatever. and their friends are going to believe them, because why wouldn't they? that's their friend, he's a great guy, and only truly evil people (not even people, monsters) can be rapists.

i think if people really understood how incredibly complicated & difficult & humiliating & frustrating reporting is. whether at a school level, at work, or to the police. how much time it takes. let alone the way every person you retell the story to is scrutinizing every word that comes out of your mouth and every slight change in your expression. how people don't look at you the same when you tell them. even if someone doesn't ever report and only tells their story to friends or on social media or whatever. they still will experience the social consequences of that. and those can be devastating. and i think if people understood that they would be less likely to believe the "false reports" narrative.

not to say that false reports never happen. i'm sure they do. but i don't think they're nearly as common as some people, especially men, will claim they are.

and if you ask me, i think a lot of the people echoing that idea believe it wholeheartedly, and i think some of those people are rapists and abusers. and they can't look at what they did and call it what it is. because they thought it was okay (they ignored clear signs of discomfort), because they were in a bad mental space (they just wanted to feel close to someone), because the victim was wearing a short skirt (they were asking for it), because they just got caught up in their feelings (which they see as more important than the victim's), it's not like they had a weapon or anything (a vast majority of sexual assaults don't involve a weapon at all), whatever. and so they say "false reports are a real problem." they say "i was a victim of false reporting. it ruined my reputation for a while, until she dropped the case." they say "my friend was falsely accused, he had to switch schools." they say "it's one of the cruelest things you can do to someone, to falsely accuse them of something like that." they say "the sentence for false accusations should be just as bad as the sentence for rape." they say "people are innocent until proven guilty," as though they are the us legal system and not a friend of someone who's been accused of abuse.

it's just... so frustrating that people care more about false allegations than they do about victims. and i wonder how many people with stories about "false allegations" against them are just avoiding looking at the truth.

(edit to add: i use gendered language in this post not to imply that all aggressors are men, but because most of the people i see using this rhetoric are men protecting other men)

[zinfindoll]

Swan Song | M. Draconia — 03. familiar faces

[ previous chapter | index | next chapter (coming soon!) ]

Rating: T CW: use of [Y/n], she/her pronouns for reader, swearing, some people are missing

Author's Note: FINALLY FINALLY FINALLY so sorry for the wait guys, i had writer's block for the second half of this chapter :( but i hope the wait was worth it! ♥

Flinching as the monster dove straight at you, you couldn't help but call out the one person you needed most, wishing for one last time to have been able to see him.

"MALLEUS!"

And if you opened your eyes, you would have noticed the fireflies appearing around you.

The blow never came, though, and when you did open your eyes, you saw a familiarly tall and imposing figure in front of you.  His back faced you, but those tall horns were a tell-tale sign of who exactly your savior was.  Green flames licked at the blot monster, and it screeched, rearing back.

Malleus Draconia was relentless, though.  Even as the creature retreated, he easily used his magic to surround it in flames — but before they could reach the monster, it dove back into the mirror, shattering it as it disappeared.

Time seemed to freeze before he turned around, green eyes practically glowing as he regarded you.

"Malleus...  You came...?"  You breathed out heavily, feeling exhaustion weigh over you.  His expression softened, and he reached out to cup your cheek.

"You called," he simply stated, his eyes sweeping over you.  "Are you alright, Child of Man?"

You wanted to cry at the nickname for you.  You hadn't heard it in years.  You hadn't believed anybody would ever call you that again, but here Malleus was, as real as you were, standing right in front of you.  Before you knew it, you were wrapping your arms around him, startling him from the sudden show of affection.  Your hold on him solidified the fact that he was real.  He was real.  And he was here.

It was difficult, but after a beat you managed to nod.  "Yeah...  Yeah.  I'm fine.  Thanks to you."  You had to get it together — now was not the time to get choked up!

After the disappearance of the blot monster, the other smaller monsters seemed to have disappeared — or perhaps they, too, had been eaten away by Malleus' flames.  Whatever the case, they were gone, and with the monsters gone, people began to flock to the streets again.

"Did you see that?  That thing was fucking huge!"

And with people converging back to the streets, all eyes were on you.  Well, actually, they were on Malleus.

"MY LORD!"

You'd recognize that loud voice from anywhere, and turned towards the noise only to see two familiar people stepping out of what you could only describe as a portal.  You couldn't see through the other side, but staring into it felt like looking into a starry abyss, as if it led straight into space.

And stepping out of that portal were Silver and Sebek Zigvolt.

Sebek immediately rushed towards Malleus, not even noticing you for a second as he made sure Malleus had no injuries.  You had stepped back the moment you heard Sebek's voice.  No need to deal with his complaints right now.  "You can't just run off like that!" he exclaimed, before turning towards you finally.  His eyebrows furrowed for a moment, before he gave a small nod.  "Human.  Good to see you're... well," he managed, Silver trailing right behind him.  His expression was serious.

Malleus' expression slipped back into one of stoicism, although his gaze was still soft as he regarded you.  "We need to go," he told you grimly.  There was a hand at the small of your back, and you found yourself being turned around to the glowing black portal.  He barely even acknowledged Sebek, although you assumed time was of the essence right now, especially as police sirens grew louder and louder.  No doubt somebody had reported the phenomena, considering a giant, winged monster had appeared from a mirror.

"Wait!"  Yuna called out, clambering to her feet and catching up to you.  "I'm coming too."

"What?" you asked her, eyebrows raising.  "Wait, where are we even going?"

Before anybody could answer, Yuna was speaking up, her eyes narrowed behind her glasses.  "You already got me invested and involved, so I'm coming along too.  Besides, I am not sticking around to explain this situation to the police and how you disappeared.  Again."

"Yuna, it's way too dangerous!  Did you not notice that giant monster that just attacked us?"

She stood her ground.  "I'm coming with," she insisted.  "I'm not letting you do this alone."

You gave her an incredulous look, and Malleus, Sebek, and Silver stood off to the side, looking out-of-place in your argument with your roommate.  "No offense, but we're barely friends, Yuna.  I thought you could barely stand me."

Yuna rolled her eyes.  "I barely know you," she pointed out.  "Despite rooming with you for a few months now.  But I can stand you perfectly fine, or else I would have moved out by now."  She sighed.  "Just let me come with you.  I don't want you to do this alone.  Besides, girl solidarity and all that, right?"

You wanted to argue that you technically wouldn't be alone, but you knew the brunette wouldn't drop it.  Instead, you gave a defeated nod.  "What if we can't get back?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there, I suppose."

You wondered if it was just the adrenaline talking for her, but you were done arguing on the subject.  "Alright.  Alright.  Come on."

Malleus seemed relieved that you two had hashed things out, ushering you towards the mirror once more.  You made sure to grab both of your phones and your backpack.

"We're...  Really going back to Twisted Wonderland?" you asked Malleus, and he gave a nod.

"Yes . . .  We're going home."

Your heart was doing backflips in your chest as you glanced at the portal once more.  With nothing else to lose, you took a step through it, seeming to sink into it as the world around you disappeared.

It was nauseating.  You lost all of your senses for a moment — taste, sight, sound, smell, touch...  You felt completely nothing.  And then, colors seemed to swirl around you.  Next moment you knew, you were standing in a familiar room, stumbling and leaning on a desk.  Yuna didn't fare much better, practically collapsing onto the floor as she gasped.  All around, traveling through that portal was an unpleasant experience, although you were glad your arrival this time didn't entail you waking up in a coffin.

"Welcome back!  It is so wonderful to see you again!"

The jubilant and over-the-top voice had you grimace as you looked up.  "Headmage Crowley.  A pleasure to see you again, too."  Was it actually a pleasure, though?  Crowley's negligence was a huge reason why your school life had been wrought with chaos here.

Behind you all, the portal had closed, revealing the Dark Mirror.  Yuna had quit gasping, but was still struggling to stand for a moment.

Crowley nodded at your saviors, crossing his arms.  "While I loathe for our reunion to be like this, as you are probably already aware—"

Cutting Crowley off was a door opening, revealing another familiar face.  "Malleus!  You cannot just run off like that, especially now of all times!"

Still short and looking as youthful as ever despite his age was Lilia Vanrouge, although he did look weary despite it all.  As his eyes landed on you, his gaze softened slightly.  "Fufufu...  It's nice to see you're alive and well at the very least, [Y/n]."

"You too, Lilia."

You accepted the hug he gave you, before pulling away.

"As much as I love reuniting with you all...  I need an explanation of just what the hell is going on."

"Yes...  It would be wise to contact Mr. Shroud to discuss the situation," Crowley agreed with a nod of his head.

It seemed like there might be more going on than you initially thought.

"But first things first...  Who might this be?"  your former headmage looked over at Yuna quizzically.

Okay; introductions first, and then calling Idia.

══════════════════

"I can't believe the Prefect is back," Idia muttered on the other end of the video call.  "Although I guess you're not really a prefect anymore."

Idia had been half muttering the entire time the call had been going on, pre-occupied with whatever he was doing on his end of things.

You sighed.  "I can't either," you admitted.  The entire situation seemed so surreal, still.  "Do you have any idea on what is going on, though?"  You had been quick to explain everything that happened back in your world with the mirror and the blot monsters.

"IDK," Idia grumbled, "but we've also been having earthquakes and the like here.  It's weird, NGL."

"I didn't realize people actually spoke like this," you heard Yuna mutter under her breath, thankfully inaudible to Idia.

"Not to mention the disappearances..."

"And the vandalism!"  Headmage Crowley interrupted, clutching his chest as if that was the biggest issue that was going on right now.

"Um...  Can both of you elaborate?"

Silver was grim.  "A few former students have gone missing, and three of the statues of the Great Seven are also gone."

You recalled Ace and Deuce mentioning that Riddle was missing when you were on video call with them, and you had a sinking feeling in your stomach.  "Riddle is one of them, right?  Ace mentioned it when I called him back in my world."

"Along with Azul and Leona," Silver confirmed.

"I didn't realize Leona was also missing," Lilia's eyebrows raised.

Three former overblot victims and dorm heads...

"And let me guess: The statues missing are the Queen of Hearts, the King of Beasts, and the Sea Witch?"

"Why... Yes!  How did you know?"  Crowley exclaimed, and you wondered not for the first time how somebody like him had ever managed to become headmage of such a prestigious school.  With the threat of an oncoming migraine, you gritted your teeth.

No point in responding to Crowley.  "And just to guess, again, they were probably kidnapped in the order of Riddle, Leona, and Azul.  Right?"

"Yep."

"It's the order of those who overblotted," you pointed out.  But you weren't sure why the statues were being stolen.  Of course, you had easily pieced together the connection between the overblot victims and the Great Seven years upon years ago, but what did stealing a statue have to do with anything?  What was the point?

Then again, why were overblot victims being kidnapped once more, if not STYX related?

It was as if Idia could sense your skepticism.  "Wait, I swear it's not me or anybody else in STYX!"  he exclaimed, and while you still remained somewhat skeptical, you found yourself believing him.  After all, Idia had also overblotted, meaning he was in an equal amount of danger now if the kidnappings continued.

"Jesus," you muttered, leaning against the wall.  A wave of dizziness and fatigue washed over you.

"Child of Man?"  Malleus questioned, finally speaking up.  "Are you feeling unwell?"

". . . Just tired," you sighed, crossing your arms.  This was...  A lot to process.  You couldn't really wrap your head around everything.  Was everything connected?  The natural phenomena, the disappearances, and the leakage of blot in your world?  Were they all coincidences?

. . . Probably not.  Twisted Wonderland wasn't knowing for 'coincidences'.  No doubt, this was all connected.  But how?  Why?

Yuna had been silent the entire time, listening grimly.  You wondered how much you were going to have to explain to her later; probably most of it.  Unlike you, this was all completely new to her, although Yuna seemed to be a fast learner.

"Perhaps we should rest and regroup," Lilia suggested.  "As it is, Malleus, you must return.  You shouldn't have ran off like that."

Malleus frowned a bit, but didn't refute the statement.  Still, he looked displeased.  Upon seeing your confused expression, Lilia sighed once more.

"Our Young Malleus has finally accepted the crown to become King of Briar Valley, and thus, really shouldn't have ran off.  Oh, to put an old man in retirement in such a position..."  The sigh was more dramatic than it needed to be, and you glanced up at Malleus.

"Oh.  Congratulations...?"

"Is that all you have to say?" Sebek asked incredulously, and you wondered how hard it was for him to keep his voice level.  The Sebek you knew would have screamed it, although six years was a lot of time for somebody else to change.

Malleus chuckled.  "Thank you," he told you instead.  "Briar Valley is open to you and your friend, of course."

You hesitated.  You would have loved to stay in Briar Valley and remain close to Malleus, but you knew better.  Instead, you turned to Crowley.  "Is...  Is Ramshackle still a viable place to stay?" you asked him.  "Not that I don't want to stay in Briar Valley, but...  I need to stay somewhere that is central to everything."

Plus, you knew Ramshackle and NRC campus a bit better than a castle in Briar Valley, and the familiar playing grounds was somewhat of a comfort to you.

Headmage Crowley crossed his arms once more.  "Well...  If you promise to solve the missing persons cases and the acts of theft upon Night Raven College, you are most welcome to stay back in your old dorm!  Although it may need some fixing up once more...  Oh, aren't I so gracious to host you once more?"

Gracious?  Once again, he was dumping problems way out of your league on you, a magicless human.

You were far used to it, now, though.

"Yes, you sure are," you sarcastically replied.  Crowley didn't pick up on the sarcasm, seeming to preen under your 'praise'.

"Come on, Yuna.  I have a lot to go over with you."

Bidding the others 'goodbye' and ending your call with Idia, you were tempted to pinch yourself.  Was this all really happening?  Everything was moving so fast in a blur, as if this were all some fever dream.  

"Ah, just a moment!"  Crowley followed you and Yuna out of the office, the latter looking around in veiled awe at the interior of the castle.

"What."

You didn't mean to sound so grouchy but, in your defense...  It had been a day.  

"Before you head to the dorm, please take a visit to the courtyard.  We cannot figure out how these statues are missing, and each one is invaluable, as I'm sure you remember—"

"—Yeah, yeah.  We'll swing by the courtyard."

Not even giving Crowley anymore time, you left and dragged Yuna behind her, taking her to the courtyard.

You had previously explained a bit of the world to her, but experiencing it was a different thing.  Recognition flashed over her face; it was dark out, but there was ample lighting to reveal the remaining statues.  You allowed her a moment to circle each of them.

"We're missing the Queen of Hearts, Scar, and Ursula," you told her, before nodding at the statue of Ja'far.  "I'm guessing he's going to go missing next...  maybe.  I don't know.  I really want to sleep."

Yuna ran a hand through her hair, matching your look of exhaustion.  "Me too.  Shit...  Just what am I getting dragged into?"

"You're the one who asked to come along."

"Yeah, touché."

Sleep would have to wait for now, though — the two of you had work to do.

[zabala0z]

S3 is once again killing me again with all the lore and I love it. School started up so I might be slower with my thoughts but I got episodes 92, 93, 94 and 95 to talk about!!!

MAG 92: Nothing Beside Remains

Elias makes me want to eat my phone, similar to that one guy from MAG 65 :) I was like screaming the whole time. Of course he can see everything, he literally called the police before Daisy came. I took that as "oh he has spies" but no he can see everything, I hate that. Is Jon eventually gonna get that ability or does The Eye give different gifts. Elias hasn't shown any "compellling" sort of power so I assume the latter. ALSO MORDECAI LUKAS?? I need to see a statement from a Lukas member cause what is up with that family, I'm dying.

Guess Basira is now working there. Hope Elias is paying her. the fact he won't tell Jon shit is so funny to me. So The Stranger is now, basically, the confirmed main villain. BBEG yknow? Mildly terrified, I hate circuses and mannequins so this season is gonna like body me

Not much to say on MAG 93 but whatever entity has the whole "gross shit" as its deal, I'm guessing this falls under it. Purple fungus, the obsessive cleaning, etc. Also yaaay Breekon and Hopes!! Again!11!! get out! Poor Georgie. Love her for being like "Do you even have qualifications??". Jons explanation helped me a lot because during Elias's explanations, I'm mostly just muttering curses to myself because I HATE Him. Avatars. Baller. So Jude Perry was the avatar of The Desolation (destruction, fire, etc) Michael Crew was the avatar of The Vast (sky??, emptiness, general loneliness) and then like Jon is an avatar and I'm guessing so is Elias. I think you can have more then one avatar but anyways.

MAG 94: Dead Woman Walking

Jon refereed to the entity as "The End" which, using my notes, was mentioned in Mary keys statement when gertrude asked where the book came from and Mary said "The End" and said she could never serve it, not finding death interesting. Wild that she can't feel fear anymore??? Like damn. This kinda read as someone in a depressive state in some form. Or like a nihilistic person. Cause like "everything ends, time, it has already ended". Wild.

Not much to say on MAG 95 but I did understand the context vaguely which is more then what I can say for the other war statements. Also Martin and Basira friendship??? Love it. She gets really engrossed in books. I dunno if she was like lying or this is something supernatural related but I love Basira

MAG 96: Return to Sender

Literally screeching oh my god. The fact these things just hijacked this mans business is almost funny. They also talked with a circus ringmaster. Nikola Orsinov? gregor Orsinov? A different one. the statement was given 1996 and Gregor was the leader around the 40's but Nikola, by her description I think, sounded young. So. Who was this ringmaster? Maybe Im getting the timeframe wrong. or they're like eternal. Maybe they like just shed skin and steal a new body, just going by the same last name- okay I don't know.

Also, SARAH BALDWIN???? Welcome back girl. The fact the gorilla skin was stolen by gertrude means she was trying to stop The Unknowing, and likely that's why its been this long for it to happen, because they need that skin. Ew. The Stranger loves skin a little too much. Also Sarah being filled with sawdust and cloves. Great. If Not Sasha was shot, would we have seen that? Or is it different with every one of those, NotThem.?

Anyways, I think that's everything. Every statement, I'm kinda thinking, "which entity does this fall under" now that I know the surrounding universe. Tough since I only know 6 by name and I think there's more. 6 too many entities for this world though

[chicaotaku-fanfics]

There’s Three of You?! Pt. 2

As stated before: no, no one asked me to write this. Yes, I thought about all this. Yes, I’m doing listening excersizes (just like in junior high aaaaaaalllllll over again) for the dialogues.

Warnings: foul language, might be some medical inconsistencies.

CHAPTER 2

I had just parked outside of the 21st District’s Police Department, my brother’s phone in my passenger’s seat on top of my coat. I cozied up before getting out of my car.

That idiot doesn’t lose his head because God was nice enough to super-glue it to his neck.

I made my way inside and notice the woman at the desk, she looks imposing, a woman with authority.

She must be the desk Sergeant.

I made my way over to her, a polite smile on my face.

“Hi, I’m intern Dr. Lillian Halstead… my brother works here.” I say to her, she looks at me, genuinely shocked.

“I wasn’t aware Chuckles had a sister.” she said, I snorted at her nickname for my brother.

“Chuckles? That’s a good one Sergeant…” I read her name tag “Platt. Pleasure to meet you.” I added.

“Pleasure’s mine. So, what did Chuckles do now?” she asked, I pulled out his phone.

“Idiot forgot this at my place last night when he left after watching the game together.” I say, the woman let out a hearty laugh.

“Men and their sports.” she said, then she looked at me again. “Come on, we’re going up through the back, I heard those knuckleheads will be back any minute now.” she said, coming out from behind the desk, asking someone to cover for her and nodding with her head for me to follow.

We went around the back and went upstairs to the locker rooms, we exchanged numbers and she went back to the desk. I heard everyone come back and Antonio comment on the things they’d missed, then Sergeant Hank Voight gave some orders for the guys to go out again.

“Actually, I think I'm gonna do this by myself, O.” said the new guy, Atwater

“Oh hey, everyone, Atwater's been in the unit two minutes and already he's put himself in charge.” said detective Olinsky, Jay had told me about him.

Everyone started clapping and I did too, decided it was time to show myself.

“I’m not even in this unit and I know one of its most important rules.” everyone turned to look at me, even Voight, who had started to make his way to -what I assume is- his office, I had taken off my winter coat and had my lab coat on top of my blue scrubs. Jay looked surprised to see me there.

“And what’s that rule kiddo?” asked the sergeant, I smirked.

“Whatever Sergeant Voight says goes.” I said, he let out a small chuckle.

“Smart girl.” Voight said, then Jay spoke.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked.

“You left something very important at my place last night.” I answered.

“No I didn’t.” he said, I could see everyone following our conversation as if it was a tennis match.

“Yes you did.”

“I would’ve notice it.”

This man.

“Alright smartass, could you maybe call me? I think I left my phone in the car.”

Jay reached to his front right pocket, then to his left, then both his back pockets with a face of pure terror. He sat down, open his drawers and, alas, no phone. I decided to have mercy on him. I pulled out his phone from my lab coat pocket.

He look at it, sighed in relief and walked over to me.

“I guess I did forget something. Thanks.” he said, reaching out his hand for the phone.

“Fully charged and updated.” I slapped his hand away and gave him a serious look. “Please, for the love of God, don’t loose or break it. Remember that I gifted it to you for Christmas last year.” I added.

“I’m not that careless.” Lies!

“Tell that to your previous three phones!”

“Colateral damage during UC ops.” I slapped him behind the head this time. “Ow! Sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t begin to cut it when it comes to that. You know I worry, and yet, you go and still do UC work. You’ll make me go gray before my time!” I exclaimed, I heard some snorts and laughs.

“You brought me my phone back, charged and updated, for that I’m gonna hug you.” he warned me, I shrugged and accepted the hug. “I’m gonna lift you.” I panicked at that.

“What? No. Jay-!” he wouldn’t let me go.

“Ready? On three. One…”

“Don’t you dare Halstead!” I warned.

“Two.”

“I swear to God! Jason!” he ignored me again.

“Three!” and true to his word, his hands went to my hips, and he lifted me, turning us both around. I started laughing along with him.

“Ok, ok, I give. I give! Jay!” I said in between laughs, then he placed me back on the ground, he tighten his hold on me, leaving a kiss on my forehead.

“I love you, you know that right?” he asked me, I snorted.

“I could say the same thing to you.” I said, we pulled apart and I finally gave him his phone. He pocketed it.

“Gonna introduce us to the pretty lady?” asked, who I can only guess is, Ruzek.

“You haven’t told them about me?” I say in a fake offended tone, Jay let out a sigh.

“Drama Queen.” he mutter under his breath, then spoke in a normal voice. “Alright, everyone. This is my baby sister, Lilly Halstead. She’s finishing her internship at Lakeshore.” he said.

“There’s two of you?!” asked Ruzek in disbelief.

“Yeah… and I’m the prettier one out of the two of us.” I say in a stage whisper, he pushes my head to the side, I laugh.

“We’re both good looking. Let’s leave it at that.” he said, I nodded. Just then, my phone ringed. I raised my finger to signal I’d take the call

“Dr. Halstead.” I answered.

“Where in God’s name are you?” it was my attending, pissed.

Shit.

“As I asked you before leaving. I said I had to go and deliver my brother’s phone to him. I’m at his place of work.” I said, taking a deep breath, I could feel everyones eyes on me.

“I never gave you permission to go.” My expression showed my frustration and annoyance.

“Yes you did. If you’d actually been listening instead of checking half of the female interns’s asses-”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that. I’m your attending, and I could very well punish you for that sentence.”

“You gave me permission to leave.” I repeated.

“I did not. I want you back at the hospital. Now.”

“You have no idea who my brother is, do you?” I asked him, done with his attitude.

“No, and I don’t care.”

“You should Dr. Hobber… you should. By the way, how’s your wife? Does she know that you’re cheating on her?” everyone’s eyes, even Voight’s, were as wide as saucers at my question.

“Excuse me? How dare you-?” hes started to defend himself, I cut him off.

“Does she know that you do it with girls who are half her age? And how are your kids? I hear your eldest had a big soccer game last week? Is he still going to go to that private elementary school you bragged about?” I asked him, tone denoting my smirk.

“Halstead, don’t try me, you know I just need to say a bad comment about you and you’re out.”

“You even dare to go after my internship and I swear to God I’ll ruin your life… guess having a CPD detective working in the Intelligence Unit, for a brother does wonders to your observation skills.”

“Wait what? Your brother’s a cop? Halstead-!!” I hung up on my boss.

“And that is how you deal with your jackass of an attending.” I said, everyone clapped, I gave small bows. “Thank you, thank you, but I really gotta go. I bet he’ll want to have my ass for this.”

“Hey, he tries anything and I’ll swing by, badge on full display so he knows to back off. Maybe even add the bulletproof vest.” Jay said.

“Even I can pay you a visit.” Voight said, we all turned to him, shocked.

“Really?” asked Erin, my brother’s partner.

“Yeah. Put the fear of God in him. Show him no one messes with one of our own.” I was impressed by that.

“Thanks guys, I really appreciate it, but I have a folder about yay big with all the evidence of this guy being the worst kind of scumbag. It includes pictures, testimonies, forwarded screenshots, and a recorded phone conversation transcript between him and one of the girls who wants him out, pretty much everything to get HR to fire him.” I said, giving an estimate size with my fingers. Jay side hugged me and kissed my temple.

“That’s my girl.” he said, I smiled.

After another quick hug and promises of a drink later that day, I left the precinct back to the hospital. As soon as I parked back at the hospital staff’s parking lot, I took out the folder from it’s safe place.

“Show time.” I said to myself and walked inside, straight to the administrator’s office.

Tag list: @escapingrealtiylovinginsanity

[joyflameball]

Mini ramble about Pastra's JTK rewrite (spoilers ofc, GO LISTEN TO IT NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW)- I love how at least three times in the story, the police completely fail to help someone after Jeff attacks them, and their mental state falls apart. Ashley and Jonathan use extremely similar phrasing when talking about it, effectively both saying "After the attack I called the police, I was told they'd try to find him, but I don't think anything seemed to come of it." That exact phrase is used both times. And then they talk about how the encounter has left them scared and traumatized, terrified to leave the house out of fear that Jeff is going to fucking kill them.

The difference is that they have faith in the cops' ability to help them. Liu does not. Liu talks about how he went to the cops, and they said they'd find him, and nothing fucking happened, before talking about how fucked up his mental state has been since then, if his apartment alone wasn't evidence enough of that. A line that really encapsulates it that I absolutely adore is "It seemed like all you officers moved on from finding my brother, but I never could." (Shoutout to the voice acting here, he sounds so scared and angry, Pastra did such a good job i LOVE ITTTTTT)

Hell, you could view the final chapter as another example of the cops failing. Because like, Samuel and Norman KNEW that Liu was being effectively hunted down by Jeff. That Jeff was killing anyone who looked like him, in an attempt to finish the job. Even without the knowledge that Jeff was following them to get to Liu, ANY competent police officer- no, anyone with any sense would've thought "Okay, we need to make sure this guy is safe." He's Jeff's ultimate target, for god's sake. They would've taken him to the station, or stayed with him, or ANYTHING. But no. They left him, after getting the information that Liu was BEING HUNTED DOWN BY JEFF, which allowed Jeff the opportunity to attack Liu and possibly succeed.

Four times in the story, the police fail to help Jeff's victims, with the fourth time possibly leading to Liu's death. And I fucking LOVE IT. I love that running thread, I love how it's never called out but is called attention to, with both Ashley and Jonathan using the line "I don't think anything came of it." I love that the cops are portrayed as FAILING THREE TIMES, with even our perspective characters fucking up and leading to possibly Liu dying I LOVE ITTTTTTT I LOVE THIS REWRITEEEEEEEE

putting the relevant paragraphs under the cut. i love this fucking rewrite

Ashley:

[...] Not long after I called the police and reported the entire thing. I was told that they would look for the man who attacked me, but it didn’t seem like anything had come from it.  I never did see him again, but I have spent every single night after fearing that I will. I refuse to stay on campus during those late hours anymore, only ever leaving on the community buses where I know large groups of people will be gathered. At night I never feel safe anymore. Any small sound I may hear makes me jump out of my own skin, and I always see that hideous face staring back at me when I close my eyes to sleep at night.

Jonathan:

After we got home I called the cops and reported the whole thing. I remember I was told that they’d check the forest out to try and find any bodies, but I don’t think anything came of it. Ever since then things have been different between my wife and I. I’ve tried to help her work through what we experienced, but she’s become so paranoid ever since that she barely even wants to leave the house. It’s gotten especially bad now that word has gotten out about “The Ghost Stalker” or whatever else people are calling him. She is absolutely convinced the guy we saw that night and the killer you’re looking for are the same guy.

Liu:

The police were called soon after. They went to our old home to investigate and found no signs of Jeff anywhere. I was told that they would find him. That he would be brought to justice. But two years have passed and Jeff was never caught. I’ve spent those two years living in constant fear that he will return and find me. I’ve begun sleeping during the day, I don’t talk to anybody, I sleep with a knife beneath my pillow. It seemed like all you officers moved on from finding my brother, but I never could. And now you come to my doorstep, telling me that he could be back and he’s killing people that look just like me. Now we’re all suffering because he wasn’t caught.

[the-bloody-sadist]

Hi because of the previous ask I am now kinda curious about what trauma you would like to something as basic as telekinesis. Also I know he technically doesn’t have an ability in bad I am curious what trauma you would write for lovecraft

Are you guys not spellchecking yourself on purpose now to get a reaction out of me...

>:'(

"what trauma you would LIKEN to" SLAPS YOU

"and ability in BSD" SLAMS YOUR HEAD AGAINST THE CORNER OF A TABLE

I'm so sorry, I actually would love to answer your ask though. :D yay! Thank you for the ask!

Telekinesis ability - so on it's own without a character that exists to bounce off of, it's a little harder for me to spitball some sort of OC with a trauma telekinesis ability (because I have so much freedom and so little restriction), but I'll try!!

Let's go with telekinesis = hypervigilance. AHA! I will link this. Hypervigilance is the elevated state of constantly assessing potential threats around you, often found in those with PTSD/CPTSD. I have CPTSD and am plagued with this, so I know exactly how it works from experience. LET ME COOK LET ME COOK I CAN DO IT. Okay. This OC would have CPTSD (all ability users would have the metaphor of PTSD in my BSD AU but in case you didn't see my first ask post about this, I'm confirming that). I'd give OC a childhood spent in turmoil based on their parents' abuse. Okay wait, I'd focus on just one parent being abusive with an enabler partner. Yes. Realism. Focus. Okay.

Abusive parent - psychological/emotional combo. Says one thing constantly, means the other thing. Applauded and hailed by those outside the family (and inside the family too) for their outward good deeds and "amazing parenting". The OC is a well-behaved child and has spent their life praised for being so behaved by friends of the family. Rich family, privileged. Nobody would believe there was abuse going on in the home. Parent constantly praises their child and loves on them in public for their natural talents. Anything that they don't like about the child is ignored and swept under the rug as if it doesn't exist, meaning anything the OC child is interested in that isn't supported by the parents is treated like it's not there.

Behind closed doors, torture. Daily. Not in the physical sense, but in the perfectionist sense. OC is told how to think, how to speak, how to act. Though policing is key. If they step a single foot out of line, punishment. They're berated and lectured on how much of a bad person this makes them, and how they need to get their thoughts in order and they need to be only expressing themselves in ways that are beautiful and "right" and happy. They have to be an example for their siblings.

this is just becoming about me and I'm gonna start rambling too much. oh my god. whatever. CONTINUING.

Because of this, OC becomes hyperaware of every thought they ever have, feeling guilty if it ever strays from perfect and "moral" and "good" and "kind". This stress multiplies to the point of developing an anxiety compulsion around never thinking a bad thought or dreaming of a bad thing. However, they're convinced that their parents are constantly thinking badly about them and want them dead because they're such a horrible person. They want to know so badly what their parents really think, because they constantly tell OC that they should have only pure thoughts, but they're hypocritical when it comes to doing so themselves, OC is convinced. After all, what exactly constitutes a "good" or "bad" thought? How are they supposed to know? Their parents seem to think about whatever they want, and everything OC wants is bad, apparently. If nothing else, OC wants to learn how to think like their parents so they can become a good person. Because their parents are good people, obviously, who only want the best for OC.

Their parents feel so alien, though, that OC spends every waking moment reading their parents' expressions for any hint at what they're really thinking, especially when they're being nice. They try to read between the lines of everything said to them. Because of this, boom, ability born. Suddenly they start actually hearing the parents' thoughts, but they believe at first that they've entered some sort of schizophrenic state and the voices are in their head.

Jump to current day, OC has confirmed telekinesis, and reading others' thoughts has made them develop a panic disorder, because seeing into brains means seeing every good and bad thing thought about them, and OC struggles to keep from being a people-pleaser machine that does everything in their power to be what others want them or think them to be so that they can keep others' thoughts as pure as possible.

Hope that....was coherent. Basically OC would be obsessed with people pleasing because of their trauma of having to please their parents just to survive, and then I'd make their emotional arc about coming to realize that thoughts are neutral, anybody is allowed to think anything, and having bad thoughts is actually a great thing, a way to process feelings instead of self-destructing by bottling everything up until it bursts and you have no idea why.

UMMM OKAY. LOVECRAFT NEXT!

.....

...........uh

I just left this post for like a whole 30mins reminding myself of the details of Lovecraft and looking for scene compilations of him and hunting for backstory and dude IM ACTUALLY SO STUMPED ON THIS ONE. His non-ability of turning into an eldritch monster is like....it's too basic and unfounded in any reasoning. He just IS an alien monster, and his personality is based on how much of a weirdo he is just because he's an alien monster. So trying to come up with a trauma for him that created this non-ability is impossible, kinda, since his character is founded on him BEING the monster instead of having the monster to use and a backstory (there's literally no backstory on his wiki so I assume bro just exists).

The only trauma I could really give him would be based in his alienation from society as a weird creature-thing. I do love that trope sometimes, so taking his canon traits (it makes him itch when he's the center of attention, he's constantly sleepy, overanxious, and never motivated to do anything i.e. wants things to be over with ASAP), the trauma I could try to tie in would be a Frankenstein-esque plot. People saw him as inherently bad because of what he exists as, not because of anything he's done, and treated him with fear and loathing because of it. And he's so cold all the time, he just wants to be close to somebody warm. He uses the fire as a substitute, but that's not like having a human body. He just wants to be warmmmm!!!! He bundles up to substitute for the lack of human warmth and also to hide as much as possible, he sleeps when he can so he can avoid being seen, and he itches when he's the center of attention because he's been a victim of mob mentality before.

Children have been his one hope, since children are more inclined to accept even weird people, so he's tried his best to make his tentacles into balloon animals and be entertaining so he could make friends (like he did in canon with Q). There!

hopefully that was as good enough :'D thanks, anon!! It's fun to talk my brain on a walk with prompts like this. <3

[youngmasterwisdomperson]

I’ve been thinking a lot about what makes for a legitimately helpful superhero who isn’t just a cop with superpowers and even less accountability for their violent actions, and I think it largely comes down to whether I would consider their approach to hero work as more like that of a firefighter or, well, a cop. Because the stereotypical thing for a superhero to do is like, fight criminals, stop muggers, foil bank robberies, that sort of thing, but not a lot of superhero media acknowledges that crimes are largely just symptoms of large-scale socioeconomic and political issues.

I mean, sure, if you’re bullet proof or whatever and there’s someone who’s about to get shot, then by all means stop the guy with the gun. But crime fighting in my opinion shouldn’t be the main focus of any superhero. A great superhero only fights crime in the sense that a fireman might “fight” things like arson and building code violations. The primary goal of a superhero should always be to protect people from danger and take steps to ensure any given disaster doesn’t happen again, or if it does happen again, to ensure that they’ll be more prepared for it the next time around. A great superhero should be fighting to create a world that doesn’t need them anymore.

Well-written interpretations of Superman are especially good at this actually, with a very recent example in the form of the show My Adventures With Superman. This Superman’s goal is never once to fight the bad guys just for the sake of it or because they’re committing crimes and he thinks they ought to be put in jail or anything. In fact, I’m struggling to think of any example in that show where Clark’s motivation in a fight against the villain of the week was anything other than to get civilians out of harm’s way and then save the human bad guys from themselves. This Clark doesn’t want to hurt or imprison anyone! He’s extremely aware of his overwhelming strength and power and capacity to break things by accident, having grown up in a world that may as well have been made of cardboard, and when we see Supes out and about doing casual Superman things, the help he provides is almost never about catching criminals. Most of the time, he’s rescuing cats from trees, helping lost children find their parents, saving people from getting hit by cars, stopping bridges from collapsing, catching people who fall from high places, rescuing people from burning buildings, that sort of thing. This superman is a firefighter type to his very core.

Even when he defeats Dr. Ivo, a man who Clark has been shown to despise for the ways he’s been using his wealth to uproot people from their homes (and for the way he treats women), he doesn’t turn him in to the police. Instead, he notes his state of critical health as a result of the side affects of the Parasite suit, and brings him to the nearest ambulance. Even objectively horrible people who have done terrible things aren’t exempt from Clark’s desire to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Fighting supervillains was never about fighting evil for him. The goal was always to bring people to safety first and foremost, then to de-escalate the situation, neutralizing the source of the threat without causing anyone unnecessary harm. That is what Superman is all about.

Moving away from MAwS for the moment and into the characterization of Superman as a whole, I think that all too often Superman writers who don’t understand the point of the character undersell the importance of Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter in the ways Supes goes about helping make the world a better place. Far too often in media, superheroes serve only as defenders of an imperfect status quo. They prevent the villains from bringing about whatever change they have in mind that would make the world worse, but more and more often as of late supervillains have been written with pseudo-sympathetic goals and motivations. They’ll pay lip-service to real-world systematic problems and social issues, then proceed to immediately undermine the validity of their stated mission by attempting to fulfill their alleged motives through needlessly ruthless, violent and authoritarian means, which only serves to imply to the audience that any sort of societal change will only make things worse, and that the status quo is the best we can possibly hope for. A bad superman writer will have Superman help the world by punching bad guys really hard. A good superman writer will have him focus on protecting people and saving those in peril instead. But a great superman writer knows that Superman alone is not enough.

Saving people, while noble and righteous and something Supes alone could do to such an effective degree, is ultimately just a patch job. A great Superman fights for a world that no longer needs his help, and Clark Kent is a big part about how he does that. Systematic problems can’t be punched, and bulletproof skin can’t save people from it. Superman can’t encase police brutality in a block of ice, or cut systemic racism to bits with his laser eyes. The tools Superman uses to protect people in a direct, physical sense are therefore not the powers he needs to create real positive change. No, the only thing that can overcome that sort of monster is the spread of information. More specifically, the truth. That’s why out of all of Superman’s abilities, it’s his super hearing and X-Ray vision that offer him the greatest amount of power to enact positive change, because while both of those have their uses as the Man of Steel, they’re actually infinitely more useful to mild-mannered newspaper reporter Clark Kent.

Superman can take on pretty much any physical threat, which is why his greatest foes are always those who threaten the world with problems he can’t punch. Picture in your mind, if you will, Superman’s arch-nemesis. I don’t even have to say his name, do I? Sure, you might debate for a split second the importance of the more direct threats like Braniac, Doomsday, and Zod, but everyone knows who Superman’s true nemesis is, and it isn’t any of them. It isn’t anyone with special powers or the innate capacity to level entire cities, but instead Lex. Fucking. Luther. A human man. A rich CEO, a politician. The living personification of the problems Superman can’t punch. That’s why Clark Kent is so important. Because he’s a reporter for the daily planet. It’s his job to chase leads, seek out the truth and expose it to the world. And Clark hears everything. He knows how severely corrupt the police are, because he can hear them from his office. He knows how awful the prison system is, because he can see what goes on in there through multiple layers of concrete walls.

True, he has to hide his identity as Superman and thus can’t just tell his coworkers everything he sees and hears. And even if he could tell them, it would all amount to little more than hearsay. But Clark Kent can also just follow up on “anonymous tips,” or leave hints of a big story for his coworkers to find and sniff out for themselves. Honestly, being Clark Kent must take infinitely more restraint for Supes than being the Man of Steel, because if he follows up on too many tips or knows too well where to look for leads on too many scandals, he’ll draw too much attention to himself and lose his edge against the bad guys. Hell, even with ample amount of subtlety and restraint I wouldn’t be surprised if Clark came to earn something of a reputation around the office as the “spiders georg” of police corruption and political scandals. And all that on top of that one really good tumblr post about Clark cracking down on lead pipes in Metropolis. Like this man must be a journalism machine, the whistleblower to end all whistleblowers! Superman may be able to save the world, but Clark Kent is the one who can actually change it for the better.

Not to say Superman wouldn’t publicly speak out about these things as well of course. Save enough families from burning buildings and people are bound to start caring about what you have to say sooner or later. And what are the police going to do about it if fucking Superman calls them out? Shoot the man of steel? Arrest a guy who can melt through concrete just by looking at it? Call the fucking military to deal with a man who spends his time rescuing cats from trees and helping old ladies across the street? Superman represents everything that cops want us to think they are, and logically speaking he would fucking despise them. Because Superman stands for Truth and Justice. And all cops are bastards. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[nothingmattersbutgenloss]

Gl!ranboo is not a good person

Gl!ranboo os not a good person. Hear me out, I also wouldn’t classify them as a bad person either? It’s been something that’s been on my mind the last few days and ranboo confirmed some of my thoughts in a stream yesterday. They talk about the original idea to end Gen 1 with the audience not liking gl!ranboo because they made selfish and cruel decisions. I don’t think that would have been enough to make the audience kill them but I could be mistaken, I liked the alternative ending that we got to see.

Continuing in the thoughts I have been having about gl!ranboo not being a good person. Showfall media frames them as the “hero”. The trailers, when Hetch discusses them, gl!ranboo is called the hero of the episodes. Ranboo actively says they just want to go and escape, rather than take down this horrible company. And although still under control of the company, there is still some choice there I’m sure when gl!ranboo decides to rip open patient Charlie and pushes Sneeg and Austin out of the way so he can fit through the hole in the wall. Both these actions are done out of survival instinct, both lead to the death of others, so do we judge that as bad or good? Was it even gl!ranboo if they were supposedly forced to do those thing? Depends on your own moral code. Would you do the same to survive? Or would you refuse to be involved in something that would kill someone.

The thing that was interesting to me is that when gl!ranboo gains more control in ep 3, they momentarily forgets the idea of escape when they find out that some of the other cast members are alive and need saving. This makes them seem more selfless and little more like the hero we are told we are watching. This doesn’t last long before gl!ranboo decides to just escape, wanting to just let the police deal with it.

We are so used to seeing the “chosen one” be hesitant at first but ultimately make the decision to save everyone and any cost, gl!ranboo does not give us that typical chosen one we expect. They kill for their own survival, attempt to make bargains with the bad guys to survive: gl!ranboo begged to be let go and in return they wouldn’t even tell anyone what was going one- leaving many to suffer at the hands of showfall media.

It’s just so interesting to me that regardless of state of gl!Ranboo’s control over themselves, they dance the line between moral and immoral, good or bad. But at the end of the day it all comes down to what you believe is okay in the name of survival

I still love gl!ranboo very much. They are very sad and I just want to give them a hug and a snack without pickles or slime, but they are not your typical perfect chosen one hero. They are a realistic version of a person - at least of one in their circumstances -trying to survive. They are not a good person.

I think it speaks more of the need for things to be black and white in our society, when most of it is just grey and depends on your own moral values

Regardless of whatever I say being accurate or not, props to Ranboo and crew for creating this! It’s true my spectacular and I haven’t had this much fun digging up and analyzing and just in general enjoying a fandom.

[pk2317]

On shipping "erasure" in fanwork

Might as well throw some of my thoughts together here, for easy reference later. For all 5 people who may read this. Right off the bat I'm going to admit that there will be a lot of caveats included, as opposed to absolute "truths". Also I'll be using the term "queer" to encompass LGBTQIA+, if that term is something that bothers you then just be aware of that. And “straight” (in quotes) generally refers to “straight-presenting”. I'll primarily be referencing The Owl House, just because it's a point of reference that I'm very familiar with the source material and the fandom.

I want to come out right from the beginning and state clearly that *ARTISTS HAVE THE RIGHT TO CREATE WHATEVER ARTWORK THEY WANT, AND INDIVIDUALS HAVE THE RIGHT TO CONSUME WHATEVER ARTWORK THEY WANT*. Fan art, fan fiction, whatever. This is NOT an attempt to police what others do or enjoy, or an invitation to harass anyone.

With that being said, when someone makes artwork, they make decisions on what to include, or not include, and it's not unreasonable to analyze these decisions and question why they were made. Especially when those decisions are counter to established "canon" aspects of the character(s).

Shipping is one of the biggest examples of this. When you boil it down, "shipping" is focusing two (or more) characters and their relationSHIP to each other. Generally, this is going to be a romantic (and/or physical) relationship, which may (or may not) be "canon". Shipping has always existed within fandom, and it's not an inherently bad thing. It's a form of character analysis - based on what we know about Character A and Character B, how might they interact in this specific situation, or what would it be like if they were attracted to each other?

In a largely heteronormative media landscape, this can (and often is) a vehicle to explore queer relationships that otherwise aren't (or at least aren't likely to be) depicted in the source material. But, as we (finally) start to get some explicitly, canonically queer characters, we start running into the issues of "erasure". This will *usually* come in the form of canonically lesbian characters being shipped with guys (for some reason, gay men being shipped with women doesn't seem to come up nearly as often - there's a whole tangent about sexism and misogyny there that I'm not even going into right now).

For a specific example, I'll go with Amity from TOH, who (not infrequently) gets shipped with Hunter. Now, I'm sure there are some people who are genuinely interested in this pairing, and their character arcs do have similarities that could provoke some interesting interactions. But - Amity is explicitly, canonically a lesbian, and (canonically) in a relationship with Luz (another woman). So, the majority of time when I see this pairing, the reasoning behind it usually boils down to one of three things:

Outright homophobia, to reject the canon, same-sex relationship between Luz and Amity (just because they don’t like seeing two women together)

Outright homophobia, to insist that Amity "should be with a man, instead"

Trolling, because it'll "trigger the snowflakes" (which is just homophobia with extra steps)

Of course, all of them will (conveniently) hide behind the excuse of it being "just an interesting pairing". (Some of the same issues arise with "Lunter" (Luz / Hunter), except that considering Luz is canonically bi, it actually is a more logical pairing. So that gets tied up in biphobia, which is {once again} an entirely separate tangent that I'm not addressing here.)

The other excuse that gets trotted out time and time again is "Everyone has always changed canonically straight characters into gay ones for shipping, and that isn't a problem, so why is this?" Which might sound "reasonable" on the surface, but is a near perfect example of a false equivalence for two reasons:

There are no "canonically straight" characters. I mean, *maybe*, but 99.99% of the time when a character has a canonically establish sexuality, it's not "straight". Just because someone may be visibly/textually attracted to just one or more people of the opposite sex, that doesn't in any way preclude them from being bisexual or pansexual. It's a very obvious display of heteronormativity to just assume everyone is straight by “default”, and no, it's not "just the same".

Even if it were, queer characters are *VASTLY* underrepresented in media. Yes, things are improving. Yes, we have more overtly, outwardly, explicitly, canonically queer characters (and relationships) being portrayed in all forms of media that we ever had historically, but it's still considerably outnumbered by "straight" (or at least straight-presenting) characters and relationships. When some shows (not all) have the "token gay character", that means that your average show is basically 0-1 queer characters. Not really great numbers. So let's say there's a show with 10 main characters, one of whom is queer and the rest are "straight". If we reimagine another one to be queer so we can ship them, there are still 80% "straight" characters on just this one show alone. Whereas if you reimagine the one queer character to be straight...it's not hard to see why a queer person might take offense at those decisions.

Let's take a look at The Owl House. This is one of the queerest shows targeted at a wide family audience. Most of the "main cast" (series regulars - I'll define this as being featured in the opening credits sequence) is queer in one form or another, either canonically or implied (in the show or by the crew). But let's take a look at the relationships of the characters. Among our main characters, there are three "canon" (explict or heavily implied) relationships:

Luz / Amity (queer F/F)

Eda / Raine (queer F/NB)

Hunter / Willow ("straight" M/F)

Yes, I know that neither character in the last one is straight, but their relationship is "straight", or straight-presenting. Still, 2/3 is good, right?

Now, let's extend it to all named characters that we see in a visible relationship, with a named partner, in the show:

Vee / Masha (queer F/NB)

Harvey / Gilbert Park (queer M/M)

Alador / Odalia Blight ("straight" M/F)

Dell / Gwendolyn Clawthorne ("straight" M/F)

Manny / Camila Noceda ("straight" M/F)

So, one of the queerest shows on television doesn't even break 50% of relationships being visibly queer. And this is the exception, not the rule, for visible representation. Most shows are vastly more skewed to straight, or straight-presenting, characters and relationships.

So, no, it's not "just the same". And that's why it's not at all unreasonable to see queer people be offended when, out of a plethora of "straight" characters and relationships to choose from, they feel the need to take one of the few visibly queer ones and make it "straight".

I do want to reiterate my first statement again, just to be extra clear. I do *NOT* believe in trying to police what people create, or consume. I will fervently defend artists to have that right, no matter how objectionable I may find their content (as long as it's appropriately tagged/categorized/labeled/etc.). Yes, this even applies to even more "problematic" ships (another tangent I won't go into here). I would like people to do some self-examination and make sure they are being honest with *why* they may be creating/consuming that content, and I absolutely expect it to be clearly labeled, but in no way am I going to try and prevent them from doing so on an individual level.

TL;DR - Make/consume whatever artwork you want, but be conscious of your motivations behind doing so, don't be surprised when it offends people, and don't try to rationalize it as being "the same" as putting "straight" characters into queer ships.