#prison city stories

[orchideae]

When I approach Yelan (or anyone else I've written), I don't just look directly at her character, but I also look at her surroundings. Both the ones that she knows by some semblance of necessity, but also those that she chooses. Like here, I talked about the Chasm, and what being 'okay' with existing down there needs to mean for a character, because it's not normal. Someone's surroundings, room, or home say a lot bout who they are and what their mindset, or specifically, their perspective is of the world. And sometimes, I think it says more about people than even the characters realize.

This brings me to the topic of the city of Fontaine. Now, I personally think it's rather obvious that a lot of the nation takes from historical France, and so when looking at it, I think it really adds to remember its monarchy, the view that the 'common folk' had of it, and its inevitable demise to non-existence today in terms of importance as a result. So my first question is, who constructed or decided on its layout? Was it Furina, Neuvillette, Egeria? Whoever it was, there's a lot that can be said about their view of the world and their placement in it when you look at locations of buildings. Look at where Palais Mermonia, its governing body, is located within the city; it sits at a rather astounding elevation in comparison to, well, everything and everyone else in the city. This frequently represents the concept of 'distance' between groups in one way or another, and seeing the consistency in other nations, this is something that is rather intriguing to me, especially keeping Fontaine's characters in mind (and considering this is the nation of 'justice'). Mondstadt has everything almost entirely uniform, with arguably the church on the highest level (but it isn't greatly elevated in comparison to all else), but it's joined with the plaza and statue which are a common gathering site for all people in the city. Liyue had the gods and adepti visibly living among the humans back in the days of the Guili Assembly for reasons of 'integration' (my apologies to numerous from our dear Guizhong!) The fact that numerous adepti now live far outside of the harbor is a different matter entirely, and the one who seems to function within a semblance of separation of sorts is Ningguang with the Jade Chamber (but I'm not one to speak on behalf of her character as I don't bear the knowledge). Inazuma also has the Tenshukaku at a higher elevation in comparison to the rest of Inazuma City. Sumeru is interesting, but ultimately Nahida was kept at the very peak of the city, far out of reach of humanity— but that's exactly the common denominator that has my interest, the distance between the 'governing body' and humanity for one reason or another.

But Fontaine really takes separation to a different level in my opinion (and again, think of this when you think of the person having designed the whole city), not only because of the above which I'll elaborate more on in a moment, but also its separation from the outside world. Now, this is interesting to think about if you keep in mind that it was perhaps done in eventual protection of the city's inhabitants in terms of the prophecy (which means that this would have been constructed anywhere during or after Egeria's reign), but then why is only Palais Mermonia far above the water's reach? If the walls surrounding the city were ever breached during said prophecy, all its inhabitants are pretty much immediately caught in the flood and would drown, which tells me nothing positive of the city's 'architect' or whoever signed off on the designs. But if not done for the prophecy, then why? Stand in the middle of the Court of Fontaine and really look around you, the only sights you really have of the outside world are the sky, and it's obstructed by a fair bit of the waterways and gardens that hang overhead, which you can only properly enjoy when you take the ages long elevator to the upper level where the palace is located (which, credit due, seems freely accessible to everyone in present-time). But if you don't venture up, how much of the outside world do you get to see? It feels very secluded, very much under lock and key. On some level (and this is one of the many reasons why I think that the Meropide is so excessively important in Fontaine and it's likely why we spent so much time there; it's all to show the ever, ever important contrast and nuance between this 'autonomous nation within Fontaine' and, well, 'Fontaine'), it almost feels like a prison, regardless of how pretty it may look or come across (and despite not 'lacking rights'). And considering how people in the Meropide speak of not always wanting to return back to the 'overworld' following their sentence, I think that there's definitely quite a bit of truth in that. But again, stand there and look around for yourself.

Now to return to the original topic, but keeping the last one in mind as well, look at one other thing that I'm unsure how many have really kept an eye on: the massive effect Palais Mermonia's level has on the rest of the area (inside and outside of its walls). Have you ever walked through the city of Fontaine at any given time of day or night, north to south, east to west, clockwise or counter-clockwise circling through it; have you ever seen how it overshadows an immense part of the streets below it either entirely on its own (which to me signifies a very domineering presence), or together with those outer walls that surround the city? I know how I've spoken thoroughly with people before about how much I enjoy Fontaine and how dark it is in its storytelling, but despite how gorgeous this region with its water- and landscapes are; its city bears quite a heavy weight to me. I don't know who designed it, or ordered it to be constructed in this way, but nothing about the city itself truly, rationally, shows a healthy perspective versus its citizens.

Me: /continues on to ramble in tags because I'm me and I'm a nuisance with always more to say than I know how to coherently put into these posts.

[ptanalo]

Ah I wanted to rant more headcanons abt neon and her gear as a type of insulators for her powers even tho it’s not that deep

[gxos]

i honestly forgot nk jemisin existed and now i have to remember her writing exists which is also bad

[principiumindividuationis777]

"Toll Road Ahead" (Noir/Crime Fiction)

[If anyone likes this story and thinks maybe they could illustrate it, I would give full credit]

"Toll Road Ahead"

Chapter I

Larry Shaughnessy drove a prison van in New York City, just as the town was descending into an abyss from which it would never really recover, and Shaughnessy knew it better than anyone. Who knew better than a man who drove prisoners to the State of New York's worst prisons?

The year was 1968. It was too cold for hippies. This day, rain was falling, but many days it was snow. Heaven help the people without homes. Larry would put away some of the ones who put them there: The dealers, but he got more than his share of the addicts too, sad cases, no easy answers.

Of course, life was never easy for Shaughnessy. Born in 1929 in the rural parts of County Galway, Ireland (then a Dominion of the United Kingdom), his family had the unfortunate timing of moving to the USA, to Boston, Massachusetts, specifically, in the depths of the Great Depression, which, Larry contended, was "inflicted" by New York City on Boston.

Shaughnessy tried to remember his childhood, even as he heard the curses of the men he was driving to a bitter destination. Larry's father could never control his drinking, and his mother, angry at her husband, Larry's father, treated her son with contempt. He could never forget the day she locked him in the basement, yelling, "You should have been a girl!"

To prove himself, Larry almost ended up, in his early years, much like the men he would later send to prison, bitter at the world, fighting and drinking, though he had sworn off alcohol for good in 1953, when he married.

In Marriage, Larry hoped, he would find stability. A bit of Freud would have done him some good, though, as he married a woman not unlike his mother, a woman with deep psychological problems caused, in turn, by her father, leading her to run off with another man within a year, and the Catholic Church annulled the Marriage, as no Marriage.

It was then, in the winter of 1954, that he moved to New York City, not because he hoped for a brighter future there, but simply to escape. Was it all a mistake, he wondered? Could he go back, maybe even to Ireland?

Chapter II

Shaughnessy had no friends of the human kind, nor, in his view of mankind, did he want any. Criminals, of course, and the liberal-minded, hated him, seeing him as a tool of oppression. His boss was almost as bad as the criminals, forever berating him for minor matters, simultaneously telling him to make deadlines and to drive more slowly and cautiously, mutually exclusive goals.

What few friends he had were in Boston, but they had moved on by now. Most of the time, his unwanted company was the criminal population, in the current instance, two addicts who had resorted to armed robbery: One, named Carl, was cursing with rage at Shaughnessy, trying to spit at him, and doing likewise towards the other convict, called Mike, but Mike was weeping and trembling, evidently suffering withdrawal symptoms.

For all the trouble that such men gave him, Shaughnessy understood their desire to escape. Out of the wagon and into the rain they went, shackled and guarded, before an ominous structure of tons of metal and concrete, their home for some years.

At the end of a long shift, he shuffled slowly into his overpriced apartment, high above the zoo of a city. Another thorn in Larry's side was the landlord, Billy Macklin, who treated his tenants, Larry thought, with rather less respect than Larry treated his pet parrot, whom he considered his only friend: "Mirror", Larry called him.

It would be easier to sleep with his old boozing ways, he thought, but then, he did not want to end up like his dad, so fifteen years on, he kept his pledge.

"Evicted! Out on the street!" said Mirror the parrot, repeating something he heard from Macklin to one of Larry's unfortunate neighbors. Under Macklin's terms, Shaughnessy had to pay extra rent to have his parrot, which, of course, meant more hours of work.

Chapter III

Morning: The time Larry Shaughnessy loathed the most. Every morning, Shaughnessy wondered why he bothered. He was still with the Church, but part of him did not believe, or had trouble believing, that human beings were somehow special beings. Better to be a simple creature like Mirror, he often thought.

Today was an eventful one at work: Jerry "Wolfman" Steppe, snarling and biting, was thrown with great difficulty, requiring seven or eight burly guards for the task, into the van. Shaughnessy did not read the papers, believing them full of lies, but even he knew who Steppe was: A burglar by trade, his savage, animalistic attacks on residents made him the talk of New York, no easy matter considering the mayhem and greed that were the norm.

The van started towards its destination, but somehow, Steppe had gotten loose, and, with a razor blade, offed two of the guards on the spot, knocked out a third with a well-placed right hand, and the fourth found a way to hurl himself from a moving vehicle, sustaining injuries but more fearful of Wolfman than of the rough landing.

Shaughnessy could have stopped the vehicle, but instead, to try to prevent Steppe from escaping, he drove faster and weaved side to side. Jerry Steppe, however, changed his demeanor entirely, suddenly becoming quite rational.

"I'm not mad, you know," said Steppe.

Shaughnessy gave no answer.

"We, my friends and I, are building up a little gang in Boston, and you would be a fine addition. We could get you a position like this in Massachusetts, and you could let one of us 'accidentally' escape now and then, for generous consideration in your pocket."

Chapter IV

Jerry Steppe was retried on a procedural technicality, and in the retrial, acquitted, but before this, after a day even more hectic than usual, Shaughnessy, having gotten Steppe to his appointed destination, trudged up the stairs to his apartment, utterly exhausted.

The next day was Saturday, but Larry had no plans. He spoke to his parrot, having no other company: For over a decade, every telephone call he had made had been part of his work.

"Some gang wants me in Boston. I want to go to Boston, maybe, but not as a criminal."

"Boston…" was Mirror's only reply.

"I won't take the offer, but maybe this is a sign, if there even are signs, to go back."

Larry thought about pretending to take the offer, as a way of securing the arrest of these Boston gangsters, but then, Shaughnessy did not trust Hoover or the FBI either, and their cooperation would be essential, of course, in any such scheme.

Just then, a newspaper was thrust under Larry's door. Though he had ordered nothing of the kind, his eye caught the headline, and he read of a corruption scandal, the taking of bribes among some fellow prison van drivers in New York, much like the arrangement suggested by Steppe, evidently part of a network all over the Northeast.

"Oh, that's just great… now these press vultures will make us all out to be crooked, and my boss will fire some innocent drivers just for window dressing."

"Window…" mimicked Mirror.

Chapter V

Larry Shaughnessy spent most of the weekend sleeping, tired from the week and having nothing better to do. The next weekend, though, after another week of much the same mayhem, he approached Kevin Welden, a private detective who wanted, for his own purposes, to gain information on the Irish mob in the Northeast. Together, Shaughnessy and Welden hatched a plan to infiltrate the Irish mob in Boston.

By the end of 1968, Shaughnessy very cheerfully quit his New York job, instead accepting the Massachusetts position arranged for him by the Irish gangsters forming a presence in Boston. The only trace of his New York life Shaughnessy took with him was Mirror the parrot.

John "Shemp" Doolin, so nicknamed for his resemblance to the comedian, was Shaughnessy's contact with the rising Irish mob. The first escape from a prison van was to be arranged in two weeks, Doolin explained, and Shaughnessy was to receive $10,000 for every member of the outfit whose freedom he arranged.

Contacting Welden, he soon discovered, however, that it was never Welden's intention to report the matter to the police, but rather, Kevin Welden was playing the oh-so-dangerous game of blackmailing a criminal syndicate.

Shaughnessy's already weak faith in humanity declined yet more when he discovered that Marky Morris, a friend of his from childhood, now sold narcotics in Boston, but was being shaken down for a percentage of his money by Shemp Doolin.

Larry had burned his bridges in New York, and now, he had either to go through with helping criminals escape or leave Boston. That left only one idea in Shaughnessy's mind: Return to Ireland.

Chapter VI

By February of 1969, Larry was back in County Galway for the first time since he was four. He vaguely remembered the beautiful scenery, and let Mirror, his parrot, fly around in his new country.

After a few months, Shaughnessy managed to convince the Republic of Ireland's government to let him drive a prison vehicle, just as he had in New York City and in Boston.

Late in 1969, however, the Ulster Volunteer Force, loyalists amidst Northern Ireland's Troubles, set off explosives in several locations in Dublin. Shaughnessy would, from one of these explosions, spend the rest of his life with a wooden peg for a left leg.

As he lay in hospital, Larry, wishing Mirror were allowed in the hospital, was approached by the Irish Republican Army, who, because he was the victim of a UVF attack, assumed that Shaughnessy would join their cause, and visited the hospital, pretending to staff to be relatives, to make him an offer not unlike that made by Wolfman Steppe, this time suggesting that he move to Northern Ireland, drive prison vans there, then release IRA.

People were no better in Ireland, thought Larry. Everywhere, people were bad.

Chapter VII

In early 1970, Shaughnessy, noting that the criminals in Ireland were rather tame compared to those in New York, was approached at his home by three men, with distinctly Cockney accents.

"We got work for you, Shaughnessy. We 'ave our own ways of knowing about the underworld, you understand, and 'ow you kept Wolfman in the lorry with your driving was impressive. If you could do that, you could drive for us."

"Drive for you where?"

"We have something planned. Let's say all the best art in London, best by price I mean, is going missing soon. Make the Great Train Robbery look like beggary. We three, me and Dicey and Moore, we 'ave all it planned out 'cept for the driver. That's where you fit in. I know, Irishman, you don't want to give up a respectable reputation, so instead of 25 percent, 'ow about 40, then it's 20 three ways for the rest of us? We couldn't do without the driver, after all."

Shaughnessy looked hard at them, and his peculiar response was, "Give my regards to the Queen."

Having closed the door in the men's faces, Larry, drifting off to sleep, mumbled to Mirror that he thought these men were "British agents or police" suspicious of him because the IRA approached him.

"Why would they know so much about a one-legged man's luck in New York? They're James Bond faking that Mary Poppins talk."

"Poppins…" picked up Mirror.

Chapter VIII

For the next few months, even as he drove prison transport, Shaughnessy believed he was being followed. By which side, he wondered? If those supposed thieves were British agents, the IRA might suspect him of being a traitor to their cause, as they would see it, while the British might be still after him. Then again, maybe someone was trying to help a prisoner escape for some other reason.

Though his boss, Ehan Barsky, told Shaughnessy that he was paranoid and offered to refer him to a psychologist, Shaughnessy knew better. He had, by now, even the license number of the same vehicle he had seen three times in a week, going the same route as he was. Barsky said it was probably just someone who took the same route.

"They were three different routes to three different prisons, Mr. Barsky."

After a day of hauling in some rather violent men, Shaughnessy once again found a newspaper had been slipped under his door, just as in New York, without him asking for it. He laughed ruefully at the lead article.

If the paper was right, a massive London art robbery had occurred. Not only that, but it was thought that it was tied to the IRA and some "ordinary thieves from Boston in the States". The only part Larry had right was that the men were pretending to be British.

That evening, the ever reclusive Shaughnessy, now having a fair idea who was following him, read Schopenhauer while listening to an old record of Joe Meek's "Telstar".

Chapter IX

A rare day off, though stuck in Dublin, not in Galway, thought Shaughnessy. With just the one leg, he felt that his good leg, the right one, needed the circulation of walks, but his mind wandered and he wandered into a side of Dublin he had not seen, which reminded him almost of New York.

Shaughnessy thought his eyes deceived him, but no, there was a man of six foot two on the corner of the street, in a woman's dress, accosting motorists. Reminded too much of New York, he turned back on the same street, only to encounter a middle-aged woman screaming at him.

"You're trying to steal my girls. Nobody takes 'em on this street but me, Joe!"

This woman, dressed rather like an unkempt harlequin, and with pupils looking all wrong, kicked Larry in the leg, but in the wooden one, which was concealed. The thud of the fake leg evidently frightened her, because off she ran, perhaps still looking for "Joe".

That one ugly street brought Shaughnessy up to date: Dublin was becoming like every other city. Providence, Shaughnessy thought, had forsaken Dublin as New York was forsaken long ago. He wanted to live in rural Ireland, the better part, he thought, not in this. If he was to be followed about and encounter these types even on leave, he might as well move back to America, then retire to County Galway.

Thus, by 1971, Larry Shaughnessy was back in Boston, but with the strong sense, once again, that his travels from Dublin to New York Boston had been monitored each step of the way.

"I know too much about some secret doings. It all started with Wolfman," Larry said to Mirror, before mumbling and falling asleep.

"Wolfman…" the parrot replied, before mimicking Larry's snoring.

Chapter X

By this time, Shemp Doolin had taken over the Boston outfit that had once approached Larry Shaughnessy, and tired of being followed, Shaughnessy, with no family and nothing to lose, decided to risk it all and confront Doolin.

He had several rough encounters with Doolin's underlings, one of which required Larry to bring back his considerable boxing skills, learned, not in rings, but in the forties on these same streets. An uppercut, and down went some nameless muscle, but this seemed to impress the Irish mob in a positive way. Now, contrary to what Shaughnessy expected, Doolin wanted to welcome back Larry to their old city.

"You're been doing well for yourself, Mr. Doolin."

"Please, call me Shemp," replied Doolin, leaning back in a plush office.

"I know you arranged the heist in London. I'll bet it was you who put those papers under the door, first to convince me to join you, tell me the prison van business had no future, then to show me I was wrong about those guys working for Britain, right?"

"Smart as well as tough. You're our kind of man, Larry. Look, I know that Wolfman put a lot of people off. We needed him to make a name for ourselves, but then, well, he got too… gruesome for us."

"Took him out, eh?" asked Shaughnessy.

"As he would have done to us."

"I suppose you gave most of that art money to the IRA, right?"

"Better than 80 percent," replied Shemp.

"Then I want 10 percent of it, since you still have that much."

Doolin thought over the matter, rubbing his hand against his not quite shaven face.

"I like you, Larry, and you're Irish, but you gotta do one job for us, and on my word, the boys will stop following you."

"I won't do the dirty stuff. You know that."

"Yeah. Of course not," Shemp continued, "But you wouldn't mind ridding a neighborhood of a guy that deals to kids, would you?"

"I won't go as far as murder, if that's what you mean," replied Shaughnessy.

"No need to… two in the legs and he'll leave Boston."

"And go to New York, I suppose?"

"The big rotten apple, yeah," Shemp agreed.

Larry Shaughnessy asked around, and yes, the man whose photograph Doolin gave him, one Harvey Beckham, did indeed deal to kids, among his other hateful deeds. Shaughnessy did not like working with criminals, but then, he was doing Boston a favor, and once the deed was done, Beckham, having recovered physically, went to New York, as the Irish predicted.

One obstacle faced Shaughnessy is his escape, however: A toll booth. He had been so focused on the unusual assignment that he had forgotten his wallet, and in the circumstances, did not want authorities to take too much interest in him. Taking a deep breath, Larry thought it over, and realized that he had a car on loan from gangsters. Maybe they stashed money in the car, and sure enough, there was a $100 bill under the back seat.

Looked at rather strangely by the woman at the booth, she nevertheless found change for the hundred. The next day, being no thief, Larry gave $100, this time in tens, to Shemp Doolin, recounting his close call on the toll road.

Epilogue: Larry Shaughnessy, now affluent, moved to a cottage in rural County Galway, in early retirement, taking Mirror the parrot with him, of course. Hoping Mirror would outlive him, Larry found a worthy neighbor, he considered, who would take care of Mirror, according to the terms of Larry Shaughnessy's will and testament, if the bird did outlive him.

[torgawl]

i might actually be the luckiest diluc lover to ever exist... or the most cursed genshin player depending on the perspective

[g4zdtechtv]

THE PILE PRESENTS: AOTS! - Borat Premiere Special | 11/3/06

You like, yes?

[dollgxtz]

Getting Closer

Word Count: 4.6k

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, cnc, stalking roleplay, rough sex, taunting, home invasion roleplay, crying, pet names like kitten, and sweetie, spanking

AN: Hiii again! Tyvm for 900 notes on my last story!!! I didn't think dark romance content with Sylus would be popular with ppl (I keep seeing convos about people mis-characterizing him). But honestly I think people should write him however they see fit!! I love seeing different interpretations! However, one things for certain. This man is definitely into primal play and no one can convince me other wise. This is loosely based on the midnight stealth story where he says "You're pretty good at running away" and "I truly enjoy watching my little prey struggle, especially when it thinks it can escape from me"

AHHHH ENOUGH TYPING ENJOYYYYY!!! (✿˶’◡˘)♡

Its a late evening and you and your dearest coworker Tara (who you basically considered your bestie at this point) were having a delicious dinner at one of the most high rated restaurants in Linkon. What was the occasion? Nothing special actually, Tara was just an intense foodie and felt the need to drag you to practically every restaurant in the city when she was feeling a particular craving. Not that you minded, it was actually nice to get to do something other than fighting for once. The Wanderers had been getting more frequent lately, and it seemed like every other day you were being called to fight them off.

Tara was busy chatting away about her own exhaustion from work, how badly her last haircut had gone, and some guy she had met on the subway that couldn't seem to leave her alone. You could only giggle as she went on and on about him. Despite her obvious distaste for the guy, you thought he actually seemed pretty well rounded. You had been hesitating on telling her about Sylus. You didn't worry that he was going to leave you for Tara, nothing ridiculous like that. He was just...hard to explain. I mean what could you say?

"Oh yeah, I'm dating the leader of Onychinus, yeah the one that escaped from space prison and rules the N109 Zone...did I mention he probably owns this restaurant? But don't worry he's SUCH a sweet guy if you get to know him!"

Yeah...probably wouldn't go well. You let out an exasperated sigh, looking out of the restaurants tall window. It was a bit chilly tonight, no doubt it would start snowing soon. You turn to Tara again, whose still in the middle of her stories of her bad dates. You're about to ask her if she's ready for the check when your phone rings.

Tara gets a dangerous look in her eye and before you can even blink she snatches your phone off the table and abruptly answers.

"Is this the mysterious handsome boyfriend my friend wont tell me about?" she coos, blocking your attempts to grab your phone. "Tara!! Please!" you exclaim, trying your hardest to not get the attention of the other patrons.

You feel your ears heat up as you get up from the booth. She laughs at something he says as you finally get your device from her grasp. She huffs in amusement from her little joke. You put the phone to your ear to hear Sylus chuckling a bit.

"Sorry ...um, what did you want?" you say lowly, trying to get yourself together.

"I'm guessing that's...Tessa?" Sylus says, clearly amused by the situation. He's got that...tone in his voice. The one he uses when he's toying with you. You feel your face heat up, trying to keep your cool with Tara watching close next to you.

"Tara" you correct, coldly, shooting her a death glare. "She's still got a few screws loose clearly". She giggles at this comment and you sigh.

"She seems pretty funny to me"

"What did you want? I was just about to head ho-"

"I really like your hair today, kitten" Sylus says, his voice seemingly lower and...dark?

You feel the hairs on your neck stand up, immediately you begin to scan the restaurant. He hasn't seen you today at all...is he in the restaurant? Is Mephisto outside somewhere tattling again? You scan everywhere but no sight of either one of them.

"Cat got your tongue sweetie?"

You swallow, turning back to the phone. "I see you have nothing better to do than send that damn bird to spy on me again. I'm taking him apart when I find him" you say, trying your hardest to sound calm.

Tara tilts her head in confusion, and you give her an awkward grin. Dammit. You'll have to explain it off as an inside joke or something later. Sylus chuckles again on the other end, sending a million thoughts racing in your head.

"Who said anything about Mephisto? He's back at home, probably resting".

"Then how..." your voice trails off, the words seemingly stuck in your throat. Curse this man, always playing his stupid mind games with you.

"What do you mean how? I can see you of course. How else would I know sweetie?"

Ah...so he is here. He's just hiding from you, probably enjoying the look of your panicked face and you wiping your sweaty palms on your skirt.

"That skirt will roll up pretty easy don't you think, kitten?" Sylus says, drawing out every syllable. You can hear the smile through the phone and it infuriates you. But it also forms a knot in your stomach from excitement. He's got you right where he wants you clearly.

You suddenly hang up on him, barely able to bear the tension forming in you heart and stomach. You sigh and turn your attention back to your very worried coworker. "Um...sorry. I think we should probably get the check don't you think? Its late haha..." you trail off, trying to look less stressed. What was that idiot thinking?? There's no way you were gonna do that in public. You try looking through the window again, trying to spot even a tall silhouette somewhere but nothing...where is he???

You feel cold fingers touch your shoulder, and you whip your head to face Tara. "I'm sorry if I made you upset...or him. Is everything okay with you both?" she asks, her brows furrowed in confusion. Your head spins trying to come up with some explanation for your panic. Is there even a good excuse? No way you could tell her that its some kind of sex game you both indulge in right???

"Umm, look its fine!! Nothing to worry about Tara, I forgive you" you say quickly, gathering your things into your bag. "I have to go though, lets get the check yeah?"

Tara, albeit still puzzled, nods her head in agreement. "Lets meet here again next week! But please, if you ever need to talk to me I'm here okay?" she says softly, before leaning in to give you a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. You both chat for a bit before the waiter comes with the check, bidding each other goodbye once the bill was settled.

You open the door to the restaurant and shiver as the crisp, early winter air envelopes your body. It wasn't nearly this cold earlier and you curse yourself for picking this stupid thin skirt to wear. The sun has long set and its dark. The moon gives the street a nice glow however, which settles your nerves a little.

Your phone rings.

You stop dead in your tracks, debating if you should even pick up. With shaky fingers, you finally answer.

"You know I don’t like being hung up on, where’s your manners hm?" Sylus asks. You glance over your shoulder, half expecting to see his annoying grin, but there's nothing there. You nod absentmindedly and murmur a quick "whatever" as you keep walking. Maybe if you stay quiet, you’ll catch the sound of his footsteps and figure out his location?

"You're close...aren't you Sylus?" you say, trying to sound confident in your question. In all honesty you had no idea.

"Obviously. I can smell that vanilla perfume I love so much. You should wear it more often"

"Its not really that good of a scent, too sweet. I don't like it..." you mutter, voice shaking as you walk. You hear a crunch behind you and you whip your head around. Unfortunately, its just some stray cats scurrying about near some trash cans. You cant tell whether your relieved or more frightened that its not Sylus.

"We both know that's not true. You always wear it on our dates..." he chuckles through the phone, as if it finds it amusing. "Always trying to impress me, how cute”.

Ah, so he did notice. You found it kind of freaky how observant he was sometimes. He probably knew you better than yourself at times. But this confirmed something very important. He was close, close enough to smell you. Did you pass by him by accident and didn't notice? You start walking a bit faster, hoping to catch the last subway home before in leaves the station.

"Zip it" you growl into the phone. You look up ahead, spotting some mirrors being displayed in some glass displays. Ah hah...maybe you'll see glimpses of him if you stop by?

You abruptly stop in front of one of the mirrors, pretending to admire your appearance.

"Do you think I should wear my hair like this more often Sylus?" you ask, narrowing your eyes to look in the reflection. There is someone, but its not Sylus. Just a disheveled looking guy smoking a cigarette.

"Using the reflection are we? What a clever little kitten you are...~"

He hangs up.

You spin around, hoping to catch sight of him. I mean c'mon, he's over 6ft, wide shoulders, and white hair. He should be easy to spot, even in the dark. But again, nothing.

But you know he's still watching you. You can feel it. You begin to hug yourself, partly out of fear but also out of being cold. You needed to hurry if you didn't want to be stuck walking the rest of the way to your apartment.

Part of you didn't want to admit it but this was exciting. You liked Sylus when he was sweet yes...but you liked it more when he was dangerous. You keep up a slightly fast pace, trying to keep your head on a swivel. You battle between feeling scared and confident, your stomach in shambles.

You turn your head as you enter the crowd of people waiting to board the subway. All of them seemingly tired and needing somewhere to be. You swipe your subway pass through the gate lock and it opens.

Your phone rings again, and out of instinct you hang up on him. Then you get an idea. You call back.

The distinct ring tone of Sylus's phone can barely be heard over the noise of people chattering but you hear it!! You strain to hear it but it only rings once before he picks up.

"You always manage to impress me with how clever you are. Too bad it won't save you in the end...will it?" Sylus chuckles.

"Quit talking and stop hiding prick" you spat, looking around.

"Ah ah ah, patience sweetie. Unless you want me to take what's mine in front of all these people?"

You can tell by Sylus's tone that he's losing his resolve. More importantly his patience. No doubt he'd be turning up the intensity of yall's little game very soon. You shiver, imagining you pinned underneath him, whining and mewling from his cock while people pass.

"What's your plan kitten?" he asks, the sounds of brakes and doors opening echoing through the phone. "I know where you live, I know what turns you make, what your street looks like. You know you can't outrun me"

"Ha, well I know that you cant hide forever, Sylus" you say triumphantly. You step onto the subway, trying your hardest to push past people.

That's when you see it. The white hair, the red eyes. Your gazes find each other almost instantly. Despite walking into your trap, Sylus's mouth forms an almost villainous grin and he starts taking strides towards you. The door shuts behind him.

You hang up.

Thankfully, people pile behind you, giving you some cover from him. You turn your head over your shoulder, watching him closely. He's wearing a black turtleneck with a brown winter jacket made somewhat of leather. He's broad, and tall and yet blends in fine with the people around him.

You watch as he scans every face and seat he passes. You attempt to back up but are met with a few disgruntled people telling you to stop pushing. You're trapped. Panicking, you try to think. Maybe you could get off a stop early? No, he'd definitely get to your place before you. You have to get home and lock the doors, maybe barricade if you have to. All you can do is think to press yourself against the glass doors to hopefully be the first one off.

You turn around, and realize he's staring you down intently. Somehow he had made his way right behind you without you noticing. He towers above you, blocking your view of other people.

Shit shit shit.

His expression, once smug, now drops. His eyes glare at you from under his brow. You feel frozen, like a deer in headlights. Like true prey. All you can think to do in the moment is turn back around, avoiding his gaze. Sure, he's got you pinned now. But he won't do anything with all these people around right?

You feel him lean down, breath hot against your ear.

"Did you really think you could escape from me?" he growls, trailing a finger down the curve of your spine. You shiver from his touch, your instincts screaming at you to bolt away from him immediately.

"I do like to play with my prey a little...but you know I always find you" he says, resting a hand on your hip now. Your shaking now, whether from fear or excitement, you don't really know. He's so close you can feel the hardness of his erection against your ass. He's definitely at his limit now.

Not wanting him to think he's won just yet, you remain silent and whip your head away from him. You look at the faces of your fellow passengers but no one seems to notice you. They're all busy engrossed in their phones or conversations.

"No ones going to help you kitten". He mocks. He gets even closer, resting his arm on the wall beside you, angling his body so no one can see you. He takes his free hand and slides it under your shirt, caressing your soft tummy, up to your belly button, eventually settling on the roundness of your breasts.

You desperately try to reach up to remove his hands but of course to no avail, it doesn't work. You feel heat rising to your face...but not only there. An aching, hot feeling in the core of your stomach and between your legs engulfs you.

"Sylus...really? Here?" you ask, voice shaking, trying your best to hold in a whimper. Sylus doesn't answer, only continuing touch your breasts. His thumb and index finger rests on one of your nipples, pinching it slightly. You nearly drop to the ground, pain and pleasure sweeping through your core.

'What's wrong? I can touch you wherever and whenever I please" he says plainly, continuing his assault on your nipple. "You're mine".

As if trying to prove a point, his hands comes off your breast and dips underneath your skirt. He swiftly but roughly begins to press his fingers against your pussy over the fabric of your underwear. You gasp at the suddenness of the assault, your knees threatening to buck underneath you. You grab his wrist in an attempt to stop him but he ignores you.

"I should just take you right here. What do you think sweetie?" he whispers in your ear, clearly enjoying the sight of your distraught face.

As if the universe decided to grant mercy on you, the robotic voice of the intercom suddenly announces the name of your stop.

The doors open. You lose your balance, but quickly recover before you eat gravel. You don't even bother to look behind you, you just start bolting, trying to put as much distance between you and Sylus as you can.

"Aww, kitten where are you going? We're just getting started" Sylus chimes from behind you. No doubt not even bothering to chase after you. You knew he'd catch up in his own ways. Ignoring him, you keep bolting, all that track during high school thankfully being good for something.

You make a sharp turn into an alley, your stamina beginning to falter but you know you cant stop. Your phone rings, and in a burst of anger you answer.

"Quit calling!" your voice a mix of anger, desperation and fear, which gives Sylus a good chuckle once more. He's completely unphased by your little tantrum.

"I must ask, why pick an alley? Are you trying to make this easy for me?" he teases.

You turn your head, almost gasping when you see the familiar silhouette of Sylus.

Then he moves. Long, quick strides and he's already closed the distance between you two. He's whistling a familiar tune, no doubt from one of his many records. You recognize it almost immediately, its one of your favorites. But now rather than soothing, its just rather unnerving.

You snap out of your frozen state and keep bolting, narrowly missing Sylus's attempt to grab your hair.

"My kitten is still fairly quick, I see. Good job sweetie" he praises, his footsteps still not far behind you. You know his words are made mockingly. He could've easily grabbed you with his Evol if he wanted to. He's simply toying with you now. Playing with his food.

You turn sharply out of the alleyway, the sight of the gates to your apartment building in view. Safety. Its so close. A rush of adrenaline courses through your veins. The wind whips past your face as you push your body past its limits. The night is even colder now with the sweat pouring all down your body. Your hair is even sticking to your neck and face now but all you can think about is bolting up the stairs and locking yourself away.

You made it to the base of the stairs, wasting no time to run up the stairs. There it is.

You hear footsteps behind you.

The door. Now. GO. You dash through your doorway, cursing yourself about why the door was even unlocked in the first place. But in this situation? It was a blessing in disguise.

That was the fastest you had ever locked a door in your life. You scanned the room making quick work of pushing the sofa against the door and a few chairs.

You collapse.

Your breathes come in uneven, staccato bursts, sweat having drenched your shirt by now. You rip it off over your head, the clamminess unbearable. Now only in your bra and skirt, you're able to breathe a bit. As you start to collect your thoughts, you freeze.

Wait. The balcony.

Fuck.

You get up quickly, rounding the corner to lock the balcony doors. Thankfully, they're still shut when you reach over to lock it.

Yes!! You won?? Did he give up?

There's nothing but silence and the sound of your ac humming for a few short moments. You start to question if Sylus actually did leave you alone, when your phone suddenly rings. You answer it. confidence ringing in your voice.

"I win Sylus. Thanks for the little game though" you retort, still attempting to catch your breath.

"Are you sure about that?" He asks. His voice is cool and calm. "How sure are you that you got to the balcony before I did?"

"Wha-I would've heard you Sylus..." you say with uncertainty. You weren't sure anymore. You look around. Your apartment isn't the biggest. No way he got in here without you noticing.

"Would you have heard me?"

"Pfft. You don't scare me" you spat, backing away from the balcony doors.

You hear him chuckle. "I guess I almost had you didn't I?". You make your way towards your the middle of your living room.

"Say...what do you think would've happened if I caught you kitten?"

Your thoughts stir in your nearly silent apartment. You aren't sure how to answer him, anxiety knotting in your stomach. You start making your way to your bedroom, with your face towards the balcony, watching it with intensity.

"Surprise...~"

You nearly jump out of your skin, a scream ripping through your throat as large arms wrap around your waist and lift you. Sylus is quick to cover your mouth, dragging your kicking and distraught form towards your bedroom.

He got in before you. Of course he did. He can be lightening fast after all.

You bite his hand, hard. He simply chuckles, causing you to get even more desperate.

"Let me go!" you yell.

"Sure sweetie" he drops you to the ground, giving you a small window of opportunity to run. You try, but he instantly grabs your hair, twisting it into his grip. You yelp, tears forming from the sudden pain. The more you struggle the more it hurts. You desperately try removing his hand but of course he doesn't budge.

He watches you with a pitiful look, rolling his eyes.

"So fucking predictable, as usual"

He starts dragging you across the hard marble floor. Your scalp feels like its on fire, each and every strand being stressed with every pull. He finally reaches your bedroom, wasting no time to bend you over the bed. You push back against him, attempting to kick him. He pulls your head back by your hair. You nearly scream, letting out a sob. Tears stream down your face as you try to look at him, pleading.

"Please, I'm sorry. Please don't" you beg. He simply laughs. You feel his Evol wrapping around you.

"None of those are safe words sweetie"

You choke back on tears. You're practically soaked now. And it wasn't sweat. You feel utterly helpless, trapped underneath him, begging to be freed. He reaches up a hand, undoing the clasps of your bra with one hand. Its falls off your chest effortlessly, leaving you exposed.

"Thanks for making this part easy. Though this skirt is still in the way" he mutters. He pins you to the bed, rolling your skirt up to reveal the skin of your ass.

"Sylus...please" you whimper. Your only answer from him is the sudden sting from a sudden slap to the ass. You yelp in pain, the hot achiness between your legs rising. He rips your underwear in two with swiftness.

"Sylus, please" he mocks, you can hear the grin on his face. 'Telling me you don't want this and yet your dripping all down your leg"

He slides a finger along your cunt, making your legs buck. He rolls a finger around your cunt a few times, earning a symphonies of moans from you. You're already desperate to cum and he's barely done anything to you. Breath ragged, legs shaking, your about to beg him to let you finish when he suddenly pulls away.

???

You're confused until you hear the sound of his belt unbuckle. Is he...going to fuck you already? Not that your disappointed at all. You brace yourself for a sudden intrusion when your met with the sharp sting. You yelp, the surprise of the attack sending shivers down your body. But he doesn't stop, he hits your ass again. And again. Then again. And again.

You feel like your about to pass out. The pain is overwhelming all your senses. But part of you doesn't want him to stop. Your sure you have belt shaped bruises littering your ass by now. The tears have completely clouded your vision. You cant see a thing.

"You're so pretty when you cry sweetie. So pretty~". Sylus reaches a hand up to your faces and wipes some tears away. He leans over, lifting your chin to look up at him.

"Are you doing okay?" his tone is soft, his expression a mix of wonder and worry. You nod enthusiastically, letting him know you're still enjoying this.

"Aw. Lets change that shall we?" he says, his soft expression turning into a smug grin. Your smile drops and your heart starts pound again.

This bastard.

He gives you one last hard whip to the ass before you hear the belt drop to the floor. Then the sound of him unzipping of his pants follows. Your pulse quickens in anticipation. You can't move though, his evol keeping you firmly in place. He puts his hand back in your hair, tugging just enough to remind you of your place beneath him. You feel him align his hips with yours.

"Sylus, I-"

Then he's pushing into you. You're so wet that all it takes is one fluid motion and he's in. Doesn't hurt any less though. You stifle a scream, trying desperately through your tears to beg him to pull out. His pace is deep and slow. It feels almost akin to torture. The head of his cock presses against your g-spot, building a painful high in your abdomen. The hour of teasing and adrenaline rush has you beyond overstimulated, you feel ready to burst at any moment but its not enough stimulation. You stay bordering on the edge of heaven, and yet he doesn't allow you to cross over. It feels like hours as he keeps getting you right to the tip of finishing and then slows down. It hurts so bad, and your crying over and over.

"Sylus...it hurts" you whimper.

"Its supposed to"

"Sylus...please" you beg, your voice shaking from desperation.

"Calm down kitten"

"Sylus-'

"I said calm yourself. Or I'll stop now. Do you want that?"

You whimper in disagreement, face planting into the bed once more. Sylus lifts your head by the chin, leaning down to give you a small kiss on the cheek. You look so beautiful right now, the puffiness and red of your eyes turning him on even more. He speaks, his voice hard and cold.

"Always so greedy. Spoiled brat."

With little to no warning, he slams his cock into your aching cunt. You gasp in shock, but have no time to process anything as he fucks you faster and harder with each thrust. Your so overstimulated that it only takes a few thrusts to make you cum. Your body tenses and shakes as you come undone on his cock. Your moaning while gasping for air, feeling the best you've ever felt and yet on the verge of passing out.

Sylus feels your cunt tighten so hard around him that he can't help but also come undone himself. You hear a small and faint "Fuck..." but your head is spinning too much to hear much else. You're in a trance practically.

You feel the stickiness of his cum dripping down your thigh and then your out like a light. Adrenaline and overstimulation had gotten the best of you. Sylus chuckles and gently lifts you onto your bed, pulling the sheets over your worn out body.

When you wake up, your eyes and head hurt so so bad. Your vision is blurry too. You attempt too blink the blurriness away.

Sylus.

You sit up, looking for him. Did he leave already? You look at the clock, the red hue of the lights read that its three in the morning.

"S-sylus?" you whimper, feeling slightly abandoned.

"Calm down sweetie, I'm here. Its cute watching you search for me though" he says, his figure appearing in the doorway. He's holding a water bottle and a wet rag. He sits next to you, and starts gently wiping the dried tears from your face. You look down, your thighs still a sticky mess of cum, sweat and desperation from earlier. Sylus smiles a bit, laughing under his breath.

"I figured I could run you a shower when you woke up" he says, stretching out his hand for you. "Although the plumbing here is...less than adequate I guess I could join you".

You roll your eyes, laughing at his dumb remark before taking his hand in yours. You cant help but crack a smile.

"Yeah, lets go"

[bogleech]

I have seen the first four episodes of the Sausage Party miniseries, because that exists, and let me tell you the plot so far:

The foods have exterminated most of humanity, at least as far as they or the audience can tell. The story is limited to just the immediate city around the supermarket so I dunno. The foods then try to build their own better society, but soon a bartering system evolves around the symbolic value of human teeth, and a power-mad orange realizes he can amass more of this abstract "wealth" by controlling the flow of resources. Many foods try to ignore this arbitrary system and take whatever they want, so "rules" are established that you're not allowed to just take things, and will have to be punished if you do, with some foods appointed positions of enforcing the rules. The foods think it's only fair that the law be enforced the same for everybody, failing to factor in that some foods require refrigeration in order to not melt or decompose, and the last functioning freezer is already owned by the orange. Without enough teeth in public circulation, perishable foods become increasingly more likely to break the law as they sicken and die, and so the most vulnerable of their society become the most severely punished by an increasingly violent police force [of mostly canned hams]. Anyway while all this is going on the hot dog and the hot dog bun are secretly keeping a live human prisoner and feeding him feet they sawed off of other human corpses. This is where we've left off so far. The writing of all this is much more competent than you are probably imagining, seemingly thanks to a co-writer from Shrek 2, and it appears to have taken so many years to come out because now the animators are being well paid for healthier work hours. I still didn't pay to watch it though because fuck amazon

[odinsblog]

🗣️THIS IS WHAT INCLUSIVE, COMPASSIONATE DEMOCRACY LOOKS LIKE

Minnesota Dems enacted a raft of laws to make the state a trans refuge, and ensure people receiving trans care here can't be reached by far-right governments in places like Florida and Texas. (link)

Minnesota Dems ensured that everyone, including undocumented immigrants, can get drivers' licenses. (link)

They made public college free for the majority of Minnesota families. (link)

Minnesota Dems dropped a billion dollars into a bevy of affordable housing programs, including by creating a new state housing voucher program. (link)

Minnesota Dems massively increased funding for the state's perpetually-underfunded public defenders, which lets more public defenders be hired and existing public defenders get a salary increase. (link)

Dems raised Minnesota education spending by 10%, or about 2.3 billion. (link)

Minnesota Dems created an energy standard for 100% carbon-free electricity by 2040. (link)

Minnesota already has some of the strongest election infrastructure (and highest voter participation) in the country, but the legislature just made it stronger, with automatic registration, preregistration for minors, and easier access to absentee ballots. (link)

Minnesota Dems expanded the publicly subsidized health insurance program to undocumented immigrants. This one's interesting because it's the sort of things Dems often balk at. The governor opposed it! The legislature rolled over him and passed it anyway. (link)

Minnesota Dems expanded background checks and enacted red-flag laws, passing gun safety measures that the GOP has thwarted for years. (link)

Minnesota Dems gave the state AG the power to block the huge healthcare mergers that have slowly gobbled up the state's medical system. (link)

Minnesota Dems restored voting rights to convicted felons as soon as they leave prison. (link)

Minnesota Dems made prison phone calls free. (link)

Minnesota Dems passed new wage protection rules for the construction industry, against industry resistance. (link)

Minnesota Dems created a new sales tax to fund bus and train lines, an enormous victory for the sustainability and quality of public transit. Transit be more pleasant to ride, more frequent, and have better shelters, along more lines. (link)

They passed strict new regulations on PFAS ("forever chemicals"). (link)

Minnesota Dems passed the largest bonding bill in state history! Funding improvements to parks, colleges, water infrastructure, bridges, etc. etc. etc. (link)

They're going to build a passenger train from the Twin Cities to Duluth. (link)

I can't even find a news story about it but there's tens of millions in funding for new BRT lines, too. (link)

A wonky-but-important change: Minnesota Dems indexed the state gas tax to inflation, effectively increasing the gas tax. (link)

They actually indexed a bunch of stuff to inflation, including the state's education funding formula, which helps ensure that school spending doesn't decline over time. (link)

Minnesota Dems made hourly school workers (e.g., bus drivers and paraprofessionals) eligible for unemployment during summer break, when they're not working or getting paid. (link)

Minnesota Dems passed a bunch of labor protections for teachers, including requiring school districts to negotiate class sizes as part of union contracts. (Yet another @SydneyJordanMN special here. (link)

Minnesota Dems created a state board to govern labor standards at nursing homes. (link)

Minnesota Dems created a Prescription Drug Affordability Board, which would set price caps for high-cost pharmaceuticals. (link)

Minnesota Dems created new worker protections for Amazon warehouse workers and refinery workers. (link)

Minnesota Dems passed a digital fair repair law, which requires electronics manufacturers to make tools and parts available so that consumers can repair their electronics rather than purchase new items. (link)

Minnesota Dems made Juneteenth a state holiday. (link)

Minnesota Dems banned conversion therapy. (link)

They spent nearly a billion dollars on a variety of environmental programs, from heat pumps to reforestation. (link)

Minnesota Dems expanded protections for pregnant and nursing workers - already in place for larger employers - to almost everyone in the state. (link)

Minnesota Dems created a new child tax credit that will cut child poverty by about a quarter. (link)

Minnesota Democrats dropped a quick $50 million into homelessness prevention programs. (link)

And because the small stuff didn't get lost in the big stuff, they passed a law to prevent catalytic converter thefts. (link)

Minnesota Dems increased child care assistance. (link)

Minnesota Dems banned "captive audience meetings," where employers force employees to watch anti-union presentations. (link)

No news story yet, but Minnesota Dems forced signal priority changes to Twin Cities transit. Right now the trains have to wait at intersections for cars, which, I can say from experience, is terrible. Soon that will change.

Minnesota Dems provided the largest increase to nursing home funding in state history. (link)

They also bumped up salaries for home health workers, to help address the shortage of in-home nurses. (link)

Minnesota Dems legalized drug paraphernalia, which allows social service providers to conduct needle exchanges and address substance abuse with reduced fear of incurring legal action. (link)

Minnesota Dems banned white supremacists and extremists from police forces, capped probation at 5 years for most crimes, improved clemency, and mostly banned no-knock warrants. (link)

Minnesota Dems also laid the groundwork for a public health insurance option. (link)

I’m happy for the people of Minnesota, but as a Floridian living under Ron DeSantis & hateful Republicans, I’m also very envious tbh. We know that democracy can work, and this is a shining example of what government could be like in the hands of legislators who actually care about helping people in need, and not pursuing the GOP’s “culture wars” and suppressing the votes of BIPOC, and inflicting maximum harm on those who aren’t cis/het, white, wealthy, Christian males. BRAVO MINNESOTA. This is how you do it! And the Minnesota Dems did it with a one seat majority, so no excuses. Forget about the next election and focus on doing as much good as you can, while you still can. 👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿

👉🏿 https://threadreaderapp.com/thread/1660846689450688514.html

[notw1ththatatt1tude]

Saw a post "It's hard to care about a rap war when there's a real one going on," which is totally fair.

But I want y'all to understand the potential impact of what Kendrick is doing. He waited until he got people drawn into the gossip to flip from normal rap battle stuff to an indictment of the entire OVO Sound studio for sex trafficking. He's not baselessly making this shit up, Baka was formally charged with "human trafficking and procuring for prostitution" (trafficking charges were dropped because the victim fled the city before testifying, but he was convicted of assulting her anyway) and then signed by Drake at OVO immediately after getting out of prison.

We all know how this shit goes. Witnesses are intimidated or killed and the whole thing gets brushed under the rug. Drake was summoned to a deposition for the murder of XXXTentacion (who tweeted "if someone kills me, Drake did it" shortly before his assassination) and got away with just not showing up because that's how much fucking money he has.

This is a big deal because Kendrick Lamar is too high-profile a whistleblower to kill.

Edit: It was an Instagram story, not a tweet. Exact words were: "if anyone tries to kill me it was @champagnepapi I'm snitching rn."

[shinobicyrus]

I've seen a lot of posts about Batman using his Bruce Wayne alter ego for the good of Gotham: job programs for felons released from prison, orphanages, charities, high wages for his employees, ethical business practices...the legendary post where Bruce Wayne goes to Wal-Mart.

Thus far I've never personally seen anybody really dig into the persona of Bruce Wayne the Billionaire Playboy. A handsome, rich, powerful man who always is seen at fancy galas, art openings, charity dinners, and wild parties with at least one beautiful woman on his arm.

We know Bruce Wayne is the mask, and its Batman who has a...complex love life, depending on the iteration we're talking about. Talia, Catwoman, sometimes Wonder Woman.

Bruce Wayne's dates, on the other hand, are all "normal" people. Maybe they're an aspiring actress, a supermodel, a prima ballerina, the occasional reporter...and every time there's that bit of nervousness at the start.

Sure everyone knows Bruce Wayne. Everyone knows the story with him. Sometimes his wilder parties make the news, but there's never really been anything nasty reported about him. Never...allegations. But he's a billionaire. He's one of the most powerful people in the whole city, nevermind the country. If he did have some skeletons in his closet. Well. Men with power have a way of making those kinds of stories go away, don't they?

As time goes on the Date's fears dissipate pretty quickly. Bruce Wayne is nothing but polite, kind, and at times charmingly awkward in an 'raised by his butler in a mansion' kind of way with his dates. Some of them can tell he's holding back, of course. Maybe the more perceptive Dates notice he's smarter than he lets on - playing the himbo or hamming up the "know-nothing rich boy" act to the cameras or some of his wealthy peers.

He also listens, is the thing. He's always listening to what they're saying, is interested in hearing about their careers, their hobbies, their lives. Really listens, too. Might refer to something a Date said weeks later off-hand. Buy out the whole museum for a private dinner date with a famous painting from an obscure artist they like, or a private performance with another's favorite band.

He has anecdotes and funny stories for days that somehow says very little about his personal life. The Dates know he has kids (it's practically a running gag in the news that Bruce Wayne has adopted yet another orphan) and maybe she might spot one of them at the mansion, but Bruce seems very keen to shelter them from any intense spotlight and scrutiny, and they all seem happy if a bit weird like him.

Eventually, there's drifting. He's a very busy man, with a very busy schedule. On more than on occasion his nice old butler will call and extend apologies that Mr. Wayne will not be able to make it this evening. Sometimes it's virtually impossible to get a hold of him over the phone. After a while they stop trying. None of them feel quite surprised by that. In the end, it just doesn't work. Sure, he's a little distant and doesn't make himself emotionally available...but he's not a bad person.

Especially when the so-called "exes" of Bruce Wayne start networking. Gotham isn't a small city, but the social circles Bruce Wayne travels in aren't as big. They don't quite gossip or complain about him. More like...who else would get it?

(I touched his side once and he winced...like he'd been hurt real bad there. He laughed and said it was tackle polo. How does that even-?)

(Somehow, after two dates, he saw right through me and listened while I told him what that casting director tried to do. He nodded, gave me the contact details of a law firm, and said not to worry about the legal fees.)

(I don't know for sure it was him, but it can't be a coincidence that my building got bought out from under my shitty landlord and we were all able to buy our apartments under market value.)

(He got my brother in the best rehab program in the city after his relapse. It probably saved his life. We'd stopped dating months ago, I still don't know how he found out.)

(He gave me a card with a phone number and told me that if I was ever in trouble to call it. Said one of his cars would come to pick me up, any time, any place, no questions asked. The one time I did have to use it after a bad party, it was Alfred.)

I think any tabloid reporter digging around for salacious stories or dirt about Bruce Wayne's love life would be completely and politely stonewalled when they try asking his former Dates. Even when money is offered. Every single one of them.

[asynca]

This man messaged me on Twitter asking me to reblog his fundraiser and I saw he had a new account, so I was a bit suspicious, and asked him to write my name in the sand outside the front of the tent he had in his photo to prove he was real and in Gaza. I didn't expect to hear anything else.

He did it. And in the recording he sent with it, you can hear the warplanes/drones overhead. He is in Gaza, he's real and he needs our help.

Here's his story:

I went from being a digital marketing student to an ice cream vendor due to the lack of job opportunities, then to a prisoner in the hands of the Israeli occupation forces. My name is Abdulrahman Mushtaha, a 21-year-old from Rafah city in southern Gaza Strip, where the Israeli occupation sent me after more than 25 days of detention. This might be just a number to you, but during this time, I experienced some of the worst forms of torture and humiliation from soldiers and recruits not older than twenty. All of this because of my nationality. Maybe I would have stayed in northern Gaza, enduring 100 days without seeing my mother's face, kissing my father's hand, or playing with my two-year-old nephew. 100 days without hugging my sister Heba, who is starving in northern Gaza due to the occupation army besieging their house for more than 50 days. Now, Abdulrahman is without university, without a job at the ice cream shop, and without shelter. Perhaps with your simple help, I can return to life? Perhaps your simple donation could be a chance for me to survive, if life remains, maybe with your help, I can save my mother, father, my nephew, and whoever is left of my family. Help me rebuild my life at my beautiful city that the occupation has turned into a ghost town.:

If you've got some spare money, send it his way. It'll go to someone who really needs it.

[thenewdemocratus]

Firing Line With William F. Buckley: Norman Mailer- 'Crime & Punishment: Gary Gilmore'

Source:Firing Line With William F. Buckley– Author Norman Mailer, talking about his book about convicted murderer Gary Gilmore, in 1979. Source:The New Democrat “Episode S0390, Recorded on October 11, 1979, Guest: Norman Mailer” From Firing Line With William F. Buckley This is about convicted serial murderer Gary Gilmore who was obviously guilty of multiple murders out in Utah in the mid 1970s.…

[fairuzfan]

This post is for the anon who sent me that video asking me to debunk it's claims so they can be better equipped against accusations of antisemitism.

Sorry, I won't post the video since I refuse to have that man on my blog but I can give you common Zionist talking points and the illogicality behind it.

To preface: most of the questions Zionists will ask you are a trap, and will make you fall into a "rabbit hole" (as I was once told when I was younger), as we try to apply their reasoning. My advice is to ALWAYS center the humanity of Palestinians. For example, when a Zionist says:

"Don't Jews deserve a homeland to be safe?"

It fundamentally ignores the core issue: Palestinians are being raped, murdered, and expelled from their homes so that the establishment of this so called "homeland" may exist. When people ask this to you, I personally advise saying something like:

Why must Palestinians suffer for the establishment of this homeland?

Always recenter to the issue at hand—the inhumane removal and treatment of Palestinians.

"Palestine belongs to the Jews and Not Muslims"

The whole premise of this claim is flawed—there is a weird tendency to equate Arab/Palestinian=Muslim when it just is like. Completely untrue. There are Palestinian Christians, Bethlehem is famously a Christian city, who have been there for centuries. There are Palestinian Jews, who have been there for centuries. There are Palestinian Muslims, who have been there for centuries. My grandpa told me stories of how he would turn on lamps for his Jewish neighbors in Al-Khalil (or Hebron) during Shabbat.

To claim that Palestine is EITHER Islamic or Jewish doesn't make any sense and completely neglects the fact that dissemination of culture has occurred for centuries, as well as the intermingling of people throughout generations. To somehow assert that for some reason, Jews and Muslims did not have ANYTHING to do with each other—did not create together, did not build families together, did not build culture together, all while being PALESTINIAN—is incredibly racist and nonsensical. "Palestinian" is not a religious identity—it's a cultural and ethnic one.

Also, it does not negate the core issue—Palestinians are being killed, removed, and tortured so that others can live on that land.

"Well what about [something about partitioning land]?"

Honestly like, who cares about the partitioning throughout the 1900 and early 2000s. Sorry, I'm not going to list the whole "partitioning" history nonsense. The whole reason "Israel" exists is because of a Mass Exodus, murder, and rape of Palestinians. Everything after that is rendered obsolete.

"Well, I heard Palestinians allied with Hitler"

I don't know how to tell you this but Palestine was under British Control. No they didn't.

"Israel withdrew from the Gaza and left them to themselves and they put Hammas in charge"

Oh yeah, Israel totally left Gaza, that's why Gazans' water, electricity, internet, and food is completely controlled by Israel (this is sarcasm, Israel still controls basic life in Gaza).

Go back to centering the idea that no human deserves to be shoved into an open-air prison, starved, and controlled. Did you know that the Zionist Entity controls the amount of water Gazans receive, as well as counting their calories to ensure they don't have enough energy on a day to day basis?

"I heard Israel asked Arabs to stay"

Show them these papers and videos when they say this:

If you can't show them these videos, check in the next point what to say.

"Well the Palestinians left of their own will in 1948"

Palestinians in 1948 didn't "leave." They had heard of how the Zionist Entity was slaughtering Palestinians en masse. Women especially heard stories of rape and sexual violence. They fled from *violence*. Again, from an earlier post, that this was a calculated effort on the Zionist Entity's part to try and get them to "leave" on their own and "abandon" their houses so that they can come in and say "hey, they left on their own so, we can come in and take their houses now."

Anyways, the idea that once you leave your house you can't ever come back to it is incredibly odd to me as an argument on Zionists' part. Like if you leave your house right now to go to the grocery store and you come back and see someone in your house and they're like "sorry dude, this is my house now, you left so that means you can't come back," you'd be like, "what the hell!" It would be even weirder if everyone agreed with the guy who took your house, which is what happened to Palestinians.

In Al-Khalil, or Hebron, Palestinians always have to have someone stay in their house or else a Settler will come in and take it from them. So it still goes on today as well.

This is not a point, but when that one person in the video said "Arabs lived under Israeli rule" and showed a clip of a bustling city with mountains, I'm pretty sure that was Amman, Jordan, not Palestine lol. Those buildings in the mountains look like how downtown Amman builds the residential areas. Could be wrong tho.

"There are no Jews living under Palestinian rule in Palestine"

What is this, some sort of gotcha argument? What are they trying to prove, the racist (obviously false) notion that Palestinians hate Jews as a whole? How do they know no Palestinian Jew lives in Gaza? Also, Settlers in Palestinian Territory exist??? I had never heard this claim before, its incredibly stupid lol. You're automatically a citizen of "Israel" if you're Jewish, whether or not you live in or outside of Palestinian Territories. So of course technically they don't live under Palestinian rule, they're granted full rights as an "Israeli" citizen automatically!

Go back to talking about the inhumane treatment of Palestinians, I wouldn't bring up the above counterpoint unless they really won't let it go since the main point is mistreatment.

"Why are Christians supporting Israel then, if it's a secular issue rather than a religious one?"

Well actually for a couple reasons:

Oil interests and regional control of goods (White People Supporting White People).

Weird fundamentalist ideology where they want to enact the second coming of Christ.

And finally because they are racist and don't think Arab Christians deserve to live. They literally bombed a 1500+ year church the other day. Why would (White) Christians cosign that.

Anyways, its a stupid argument again, because it forgets the core issue of Palestinians dying and being displaced.

In summary, always go back to the point of centering the Palestinians being displaced, tortured, and murdered, no matter the argument a Zionist gives you.

[azmageddon]

Silence

Pairing: Azriel x Cassian's twin!healer!reader

Summary: When you get stuck Under the Mountain, your mate finds the sudden silence deafening.

Warnings: none!

a/n: Based on an anonymous request! Requests are so fun! I love exploring ideas I never would have thought of. Keep them coming! This all takes place within the same AU where reader and Azriel kept their relationship secret from the IC (besides Cassian).

Azriel's POV

The silence was deafening. Never in the last 450 years had he felt such empty silence. The bond was never closed. 

But now it was silent and cold. The golden thread that joined him to you floated from the middle of his chest, right at the center of his soul, into nothing. He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, rubbing until he saw stars, willing this to be a dream he would wake up from. But Azriel knew better than to think this was a dream. He never slept anyway. 

“Keep Velaris safe,” Rhys’ voice had said. “And don’t come after us.”

Rhys’ voice was calm, yet commanding. It was the demand of a High Lord: something Azriel physically couldn’t ignore. 

At first, he didn’t understand the command. What did he mean, don’t come after us? Keep Velaris safe? You and Azriel had just been having a mental conversation, gossiping over the abhorrent fashion of the Autumn brothers, when Rhys’ voice interrupted you mid-sentence. 

But when Azriel reached back out to you to ask what the warning meant, he was met only with the thick, suffocating silence. 

The bond was never closed. It stayed open when you were hard at work: treating the injured, delivering babies, or easing the pain of Illyrians’ clipped wings. It stayed open when you were angry, or sad, after an argument, especially if you wanted him to feel particularly bad about it afterward.

The bond was never closed. Not when he went on missions for weeks at a time. Not even when he dragged Rhys’ prisoners to the dungeons of the Hewn City and did unspeakable things. You were his comfort. Your shared emotions were what grounded him, reminded him that life was worth living. They were a constant in his life, as effortless to absorb as breathing. 

You had become his inner voice; his conscience. His reminder that he wasn’t the villain of this story. Now that it was gone, he wasn’t sure. 

For 450 years, the bond was never closed, a vow the two of you had made when you accepted the mating bond. But now, that silence was louder than any battle or war he had ever partaken in. 

The memory of when he had found out you were mates played in his head. Azriel couldn’t keep the memory from flooding into his mind and the guilt that came along with it every time he remembered. 

You, covered in blood that wasn’t your own, watching him with worry in your eyes. 

“How long have you known?” He remembers asking, venom lacing every word he spat at you. He was angry and embarrassed; how could he have missed all the signs? How could you keep such an important, life altering secret from him? He couldn’t show that embarrassment, couldn’t show weakness, especially not to you. So he chose anger instead. 

“Since the day we met,” you replied, taking a step and trying to close the gap between the two of you. Instinctively, Azriel took a step back, the shock turning his embarrassment to shame and anger to rage.

“I was eleven when we met, Y/N,” he hissed, implying the absurdity of the time frame. Nearly a century of his fate was kept a mystery to him. Cassian had joined them at that point, pointedly observing that Azriel wasn’t taking the news well. A thought surfaced in his mind. Turning to Cassian, he has to refrain from advancing on his longest friend. “And how long have you known?” Cassian’s silence was the only answer he needed.

Azriel shook his head to clear it, choosing not to remember how you cried at the way he turned away and left you with your heart in his hands, just for him to crush it. 

It all made sense after your confession. He never understood why you insisted on being childhood friends. He was broken and lonely and disowned by his own family, but you had always shown true kindness and friendship. As you grew together, you slowly evolved into innocent adolescence first loves, and eventually adult lovers. It wasn’t until your untimely move from Illyria to Velaris to work for the late High Lord that Azriel never saw you again. That is, until the first war with Hybern and your admission of the truth. 

After Azriel had recovered from the initial anger and shock, your best kept secret had become a shared secret as the two of you accepted the bond. He still remembers the first time he heard your voice in his head. Your lovely, soft voice that wrapped around his mind like the sweetest honey. 

“Old age getting to you?” You teased as Azriel took what looked like a painful blow to the stomach from Rhys during training. 

He was so taken aback by your voice that he even turned to you, thinking you had said it out loud. But you weren’t looking at him; you had your back turned in a combat sequence with your brother. 

The momentary lapse rewarded him with another hit from Rhys, this time on the side of the head. 

“Everything alright, brother?” Rhys asked, concern flooding his voice. 

But Azriel only smirked and turned back to his brother to begin again. 

“You’ll pay for that later, love” he responded through the bond and could have sworn that he saw you falter in your training from his peripheral vision. 

How could he have let this happen? How could he have not foreseen that you would be taken from him? A mysterious invitation calling for the High Lord and his second in command to attend a party Under the Mountain? What kind of Spymaster couldn’t ascertain the danger that now all-consumed the other half of his soul?

Azriels felt something hit his knees, the sting traveling up to make his teeth chatter. He pulled his hands away from his eyes and saw that he had fallen to the ground of the Townhouse. Cassian quickly knelt in front of him, gripping his shoulders to keep him from total collapse. 

Azriel stared at Cassian and saw his lips moving rapidly, but no words came out. He furrowed his brows in confusion. What was he trying to tell him? 

In fact, Azriel heard no sound at all besides the buzzing silence in his ears and his own mind hurling insult after insult of his own sad excuse of being a mate. 

But wait…that was it. Cassian had turned to the others and Azriel was able to read the words on his lips as he spoke to the remaining Inner Circle in the room: She’s his mate.

All at once, too many voices spoke and the sounds came rushing back to Azriel. As if he would keep him from dissolving through the floor, he gripped onto his found brother for dear life.

“Cassian,” Azriel groaned, finding his voice at last. “Cassian, she’s gone. I can’t feel her.”

“We will get her back, brother. I promise.”

[ferinehuntress]

“Promise, all my names are excellent, Red,” Karlach grinned, as she plopped her hands into her lap, her finger tapping against her knuckle to keep it distracted. “That’s right, elves live awhile. I’m honestly not sure what my age range is. See, I’m thirty by years on Faerun, but it’s been sixty years for me since the hells. And yet, I still look like a young twenty-year-old tiefling. I think it’s something to do with the dragon inside of me,” Karlach admitted, doing little circles on the top of her palm now. “I still don’t know much about this whole dragon blood. Didn’t have much time to figure it out with the hells and all,”

Karlach caught Faye’s reaction and she let out a sigh. “I know. I have to watch myself, too.” The struggle proved to be hard for the both of them. Her tail thumped against the ground, annoyed with her situation, two heavy thuds before kicking her hooves forward and falling backwards against the ground. She missed the butterfly. Faye watched, instead staring at the sky as slow clouds wandered through the air.

“Yeah, I just need to find a blacksmith and the right materials. There are some good blacksmith in Baldur’s gate that might help. I’ve worked on this engine enough to know a few things to make work, a decent mechanic for my engine.” Karlach tilted her head back and forth and put her hands behind her head. “Sounds like we both have things we have to deal with. I... need to find someone at Baldur’s gate. I have a bone to pick with him,” Karlach growled slightly, as the sound clearly showed it was personal.

But the other part left Karlach thinking for a moment. “I wanna go see my ma and pa. Need to let them know I’m okay. Hopefully, the people have been tending to their sights and keeping the flowers growing. As for staying though, I don’t know... not sure I have anything worth staying for there.” Eyes stared up at the sky, her tail lazily flicking back and forth as she took a deep breath. “I want to find some place to call home, but... I don’t think that’s in my cards,”

"Certainly can. There's worse names I've been called as a ranger," she chuckled freely. And if it brought Karlach a bit of joy then she could call her whatever she wanted. She just needed this to work out for both of them. She was as tenacious as they came and could wait as long as required to get the Tiefling back to as normal a life as possible. As a half-elf she had a longer lifespan so even if it took longer than expected there was still a chance they'd have a good bit of time together. Well, as long as Karlach wanted to remain with her.

"And listen, I got more than enough time to wait. I'm still relatively young for my race," she shrugged, not worried. Her hand flipped over to take Karlach's as it reached out and hung in the air for a moment as the heat kissed her palm before Karlach recoiled. It remained suspended for a moment before closing tightly in a fist, her lips pressed tightly together at the reminder. It was so easy to forget how dangerous their situation still was when both longed for each other. Withdrawing her own hand she nestled both arms on her legs to keep from trying to touch her once again.

Her eyes fixated on a spot on the ground, observing a butterfly that had landed on a blade of grass. Its large orange wings flecked with black designs mesmerized her for a moment as she simply listened to her companion. They could only hope and push forward in search of a solution before her time was up. The fear of their plans not coming to fruition would always loom over them but they had to keep faith and hope as long as possible.

She turned her gaze back to Karlach and smiled as she straightened her back. "Of course. Either there's already a solution or we'll create one. We just need to find the right startin' point." Faye's expression shifted slightly with her last question. Her lips pursed and her eyebrows pinched together in a downward slope. She hadn't thought that far ahead. Hell, she had momentarily forgotten her desire to get revenge on Zane, the man who had killed her closest friend and one of their clients. "I guess...that kind of depends. I got some loose ends I need to tie up but after that I can't even begin to think. May just see where the wind blows and go with the flow until I find somethin' new to get into. What about you? Wanna return home and stay?" She asked.