#take him to jail make him die in prison

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Mama, I’m in love with a criminal 4

Tags: Sukuna x fem!Reader, prisoner!Sukuna, modern au, no curse au, dead dove, vivid descriptions of violence including murder and sexual assault, dark romance trope, angst, read at your own discretion

Synopsis: Sukuna is in prison because of you. He's ordered to undergo weekly counseling sessions. Talking to his counselor about you, it's apparent that his obsession with you is quite concerning.

An: Reminder, this story is dark. Take care of your mental health first. Sexual assault will be briefly mentioned, but it will not be written about in detail. Sukuna is diagnosed with borderline personality disorder at the end of this session. I want to make it clear that it is not my intention to offend anyone with this diagnosis or demonize this diagnosis. It is used to make him feel more real, and it furthers the plot. Hope you guys enjoy… only one last part after this one <3.

Session one. | Session two. | Session three. | Session four.

The counselor hadn't had time to do any more digging into Sukuna's case files this week. It was the end of the year — holidays were coming up, and that meant that annual paperwork on all of his patients were due.

His caseload was becoming too much to manage all on his own. He was thankful that the jail was finally consulting him about hiring a social worker to help out with the workload.

Checking Sukuna's chart briefly, the counselor inhaled sharply. It was finally time to talk about the crime that landed him in prison. Sure, the counselor could drag this out. He could talk about every petty theft or assault case Sukuna had been charged with, but those were pointless to talk about in the grand scheme of things.

As if on cue, a large buzzer sounded, and Sukuna was shoved into the room with the counselor before promptly being locked inside. He was shackled as always, but his demeanor was different today.

He didn't have that calloused grin or careless attitude. He sat down on the couch with a small grunt before immediately laying his head back against the piece of furniture. His throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly.

It was as if Sukuna knew what the counselor was going to bring up today.

"How are you holding up this week, Sukuna?" The counselor asked. Normally, they'd skip pleasantries, but the counselor sensed that Sukuna needed some priming before he got to talking.

"How am I holding up?" Sukuna echoed with a humorless laugh before shaking his head. "Don't ask stupid fucking questions. This is a prison not a 10 hour shift at a fucking factory."

Well, so much for priming.

"You don't want to talk about her today?" The counselor asked, tapping his pen against his paper. "Or is there something you're not wanting to relive."

"I can talk about her until my lungs give out." Sukuna muttered in a pained tone. He rubbed his face with his hands, cuffs clinking around in the process. He groaned as he put his hands down. "Tell me what you think I don't want to relive." He finally demanded, turning the tables on the counselor.

The counselor widened his eyes as he was put on the spot. He immediately avoided Sukuna's lifeless glare. He was definitely testing him right now — seeing if he kept up on his homework.

"You're not afraid of reliving your own pain. You don't want to relive mouse's pain." The counselor finally muttered out, using his knowledge of Sukuna to help guide him through his analysis.

Sukuna grunted in response, and the counselor took it as approval to keep going. "You weren't there to protect her. You feel like it's a failure on your end that what happened to her happened."

Sukuna's fists clenched, and his jaw tightened, but this didn't feel like his typical anger. It wasn't directed at anyone else besides himself.

"You got there a little too late. You saw what was happening to her, and you went into a blind rage. Your normal brutal, methodical, unique style to killing your victims went out the window. He needed to die right then, didn't he?" The counselor pressed on. He kept his hands on his lap to defend himself in case he said anything that teetered the line. Though, there really was no defending himself against Sukuna's hulking figure.

"He didn't deserve to live." Sukuna's voice was a low growl. His heart was pounding against his ribcage as he was reminded of his last moments with you before he incarceration.

The prisoner suddenly reached out, and the counselor flinched far back into his seat upon reflex, but Sukuna was faster. He grabbed the counselor by his dress shirt, and he patted around on his body. "I know you record these sessions, doc. I want this next part to be off the record." He demanded as he continually searched for a recording device.

The counselor tried fighting him off, but Sukuna was still stronger while he was handcuffed. "Fine-! Here! All you had to do was ask for this part to be off the record." The counselor shouted before he threw his pen over to Sukuna.

His pen had a secret recording device hidden inside, and it was promptly cut off when Sukuna snapped the pen in half without a second thought. He then threw it at the wall, ensuring that nothing would be listening in on what he was about to say.

Sitting back in his seat, he let out another stressed sigh. His twin brother's murder was a well kept secret thanks to his skills of covering up evidence, but this was his best kept secret. It physically pained him to say the words out loud.

"Mouse wanted a normal... domestic life, and I wanted to give her whatever she asked for. I started an apprenticeship at a tattoo shop, and I worked at a bike shop on the side so she could focus on figuring out what she wanted to do with life." He started off slowly. The counselor was still rattled from their physical altercation, but he was already enthralled by Sukuna's story telling abilities.

"I didn't care what I did as long as I got to be in her life. Coming home after sixteen hour shifts felt like paradise when I got to slide into bed next to her. She was the only piece of heaven that I'll ever see." Sukuna went on. His eyes were aimed at the broken pen in the corner, fully reliving what it was like to just be yours.

"Your tattoos... those came from your apprenticeship?" The counselor asked, finally taking the time to ask about the markings that covered Sukuna's body and face.

The prisoner looked at his arms and shook his head. "No, these came from over the years." He said as he slowly rose from the chair. He unbuttoned the jumpsuit and shoved it down around his waist to reveal a white undershirt that covered his broad, muscular torso.

Sukuna clearly had nothing else better to do other than work out while he was incarcerated.

The marking covered his neck, shoulders, arms, back, and chest. The counselor marveled at them for a minute, wondering how long Sukuna had to sit in a chair for all of them to be completed.

"As a gift for finishing my apprenticeship, Mouse and I got tattoos together." Sukuna explained before he raised his undershirt up. Right there on his right ribcage — a detailed portrait style tattoo of just your eyes stared back at the counselor.

Your eyes alone could tell a million words. They were gates directly to your soul. The counselor didn't know what you looked like. Your face had been scrubbed from every news outlet that reported on Sukuna's case, and the counselor couldn't remember if he saw your face in court or not.

"Does she have your eyes tattooed as well?" The counselor asked. It was the safer option because he was sure that Sukuna would probably kill him if he complimented your eyes.

"She had this-" he gestured to the tattoo that was placed on his forehead directly between his eyes, "tattooed on her back, and I tattooed my name across her ribcage in the same place I have her eyes tattooed." Sukuna explained before he redressed himself and sat back down.

"She also has a tiny mouse tattooed behind her ear. All of her work is done by me." He explained.

"Wait- You didn't come up with mouse on the spot?" The counselor asked. "That nickname actually has any meaning?"

Sukuna snickered from the counselor's assumptions. "Nah. When we were little and she wasn't talking to me yet, I use to tease her and say she was as quiet as a church mouse."

The counselor gave a small laugh, and he allowed for the silence to fill the room once more, signaling that Sukuna should get back on topic.

"I was working late most nights, and I told her it'd be worth it once I started making some real money. I just wanted to give her the life she never had. I could've provided her with peace." Sukuna explained, his eyes going back dull as all the fun was sucked right back out of the conversation.

"One night, she wanted to surprise me with my favorite dinner. I always told her not to go out alone at night. She usually waited for me to get off work if she needed to go to the store, but I guess she was worried about burdening me... foolish girl." He muttered as he stared down at his palms.

The counselor swallowed harshly, knowing what was coming next. He normally wasn't so emotionally invested in his client's lives, but Sukuna had a way of drawing him in. He was rooting for you even if he knew the result of what happened that night.

"She wasn't stupid though. Mouse was resourceful. She had a heart of gold, but she wasn't naive. She took one of my blade's with her, and she concealed it in her purse." Sukuna explained as his hands picked at the unhealed scabs on his knuckles once again.

"You don't have to go into detail. I'm honestly not sure if I could stomach that-" The counselor admitted. He knew it was unprofessional. He was supposed to be able to shoulder his clients' trauma, but he just didn't know if he could live with Sukuna's version of what happened to you.

"On her way home, that fucking... coward grabbed her. I don't- I don't know how far he got. She wouldn't tell me. I don't know if it was more for my sake or for hers." A shaky breath left his lips. He was grinding his teeth so hard that the counselor was even cringing.

"She managed to send me her location, and I immediately knew something was wrong. I just left the shop — didn't bother locking up or even telling my client where I was going. By the time I got there, my little mouse's clothes were ripped. She was a mess. He was laid out on the ground. The motherfucker died from a few stab wounds, how fucking pathetic."

"What." The counselor said as his jaw dropped. All this time, he was told that Sukuna was only caught because he killed your assailant in a crime of passion, but that wasn't the truth. He had never been baffled like this for his entire career.

"Mouse isn't some defenseless damsel in distress. You think I'd let her walk around if I hadn't taught her self defense?" Sukuna asked as he looked up at the counselor. His jaw was tight and his gaze was narrow. "I'd be damned if I let her walk around without anyway to defend herself after the shit that went down with her dad and his temper."

The counselor stayed silent. Everything he had thought about Sukuna's final murder had been a lie. He didn't kill the poor bastard out of a crime of passion. You had killed your attacker, and Sukuna took the fall for it.

Everything he had done thus far was to protect you — all of it. It was all for you.

"How did any of this end up pinned on you?" The counselor carefully asked while he was still trying to wrack his brain. A part of him wondered if Sukuna was lying, but there was no way Sukuna would lie and risk you getting into trouble for a crime that he committed.

"I have been involved in the justice system for so long. I know how crooked everything is. The district attorneys and judges aren't trying cases fairly and protecting the balance of the justice system. They're doing whatever they can to appease the politicians who have them in their back pockets. They'll sentence a serial rapist to 25 years in jail, but they'll sentence a woman defending herself from a rapist to life in jail. There's no justice in this system."

"I wasn't going to let that shit happen to mouse. I wasn't going to let her name be ruined because she defended herself and did what she had to do. I wasn't going to let her trauma be drug through court. She has so much ahead of her, and I-" Sukuna paused to take a ragged breath. It had been a long time since he had spewed out words so fast.

This was the first time he had ever been able to talk about this to anyone. Everyone fully believes that Sukuna happened to catch the guy assaulting you, and he killed him right then and there. No one knew that he hadn't been there to protect you. You had to resort to protecting yourself, and he fucking loathed the thought of you having to bear the weight of that sick son of a bitch's death on your shoulders.

For two years, he carried this weight around. It had been two years since he was sentenced. Two years since he last saw you.

He let a tear slip past his cheek. Just one -- he didn't bother to wipe it away. It was gone as soon as it had appeared.

"Take your time." The counselor murmured empathetically. This was a major break through with Sukuna. It was something that proved he wasn't a sociopath.

Sukuna could feel emotions. Perhaps, he felt them more than everyone else did. His anger was immediately rage. He was never just sad. Instead, he'd plummet into an unbeatable depression. His happiness felt like pure euphoria, and when he loved, he loved unconditionally hard.

He used you as an anchor for his tidal waves of emotions, basing them on how you acted — the girl who didn't speak and wore a mask around other people. You two were truly made for each other.

If soulmates existed, you two would be the leading example.

Sukuna took another ragged breath, taking just another second to collect his thoughts. "She has so much ahead of her, and I only had her." He managed to grit out.

"Before she could even think about trying to stop me, I ripped the gloves off that I had been using to tattoo my client. I grabbed the blade from her, and I stabbed him 32 times. I brutalized his body to make sure neither the coroner nor the forensic pathologist would be able to distinguish her stab wounds from my own." He explained solemnly. His eyes were void of any emotion while talking about what he did to your assaulter.

"The police were looking for anything to pin on me anyways. They always had thought I got off easy on my juvenile cases, and they suspected I had something to do with Jin's disappearance. They just couldn't prove anything. So, when this opportunity fell into their lap, they ran with it."

"Why didn't you try to hide the body to get away with it?" The counselor asked. Sukuna's crimes were those of cold calculation, and the fact that he made sure to strip off his gloves to taint the blade with his fingerprints proved that he was still very calculated with this murder as well.

"When he grabbed her-" Sukuna's fists tightened in his lap, "he pulled her into dark alleyway at the end of town. Bastard just thought he was going to assault her and leave her stranded in the alley- There was no way for me to move his body without being seen or caught on camera."

"I didn't try to argue when they came for me the next day. I would've willingly surrendered myself if it kept mouse out of trouble. They booked me into the county jail within hours, and I took a plea deal on my second court appearance." He explained as was back to picking at the scabs on his knuckles. They were likely never going to heal if he kept picking at them, making them bleed.

"Why didn't you go for a trial?" The counselor asked. There were ways for Sukuna to be proven not guilty. He probably would've qualified for at least a lesser charge of second degree murder or even manslaughter.

"I knew they'd try to subpoena mouse to testify. They'd drag up her trauma and make a spectacle of her in court. I wasn't going to let them try to convince her that what happened to her wasn't anything less than assault, and I wasn't going to let them retraumatize her." Sukuna spoke firmly, shaking his head.

The counselor honestly found it admirable of him. Most "Bonnie and Clyde" killers would actually turn on each other to get themselves out of trouble, but Sukuna would bear the weight of your crime on his shoulders, and he'd still find other ways to protect you from any negative consequence that he could.

"So, I took a plea deal. I plead guilty to the murder and was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole with weekly 20-minute counseling sessions. In exchange, the district attorney made sure mouse's name was scrubbed from every court document, social media outlet, and news source. They had to act like she was in the witness protection program." Sukuna explained with a sigh. It was another way to protect you.

The counselor felt strangely empty. Sukuna's and your story was tragic. A boy who fell madly in love with a silent girl and vowed to protect her from anything. Did he belong in prison for this? Does this excuse him killing your dad? Did this excuse him slaughtering his own flesh and blood? How do they move on from here?

"You were a sensation in court... had your own little fanbase and everything." The counselor hollowly mused, remembering the young women that piled into the courtroom to catch a glimpse of Sukuna. They had idolized him for what he had done. Plus... he was handsome in the most sinful way possible.

Sukuna rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue with annoyance. "The same bitches who praised me for what I had done didn't respect what I was trying to protect. They're always trying to find and leak mouse's name to the public. They don't give a fuck about me or her. They just think our story is perfect for some shitty dark romance novel."

The room fell into a tense silence once more. Neither of the two men knew how to move on from this.

The silence was finally broken with a correctional officer's voice booming through the office. "Ryomen! Your time is up!" He shouted as his fist connected against the door multiple times.

The counselor sighed as Sukuna wordlessly rose from his seat. This session had been worse than either of them could've predicted. "Take care, Sukuna. We will not meet again next week due to the holidays, but I'll see you in two weeks."

The prisoner grunted in response while still walking towards the door. The loud buzzer filled the room once more, and he was let out.

It didn't feel right to watch Sukuna walk back to his pod. The justice system had failed you as a woman, but he was willing to shield you from any harm that threatened to come your way.

𝙲𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝'𝚜 𝙸𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚜: 𝚁𝚂

𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎: 𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟿, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟼

𝙿𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚐𝚗𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚜: 𝟹𝟶𝟷.𝟾𝟹 (𝙵𝟼𝟶.𝟹) 𝙱𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚁𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚂𝙼-𝟻)

𝚂𝚢𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚜: 𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 [𝚁𝙴𝙳��𝙲𝚃𝙴𝙳], 𝚟𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚜𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚜, 𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕, 𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 [𝚁𝙴𝙳𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝙳]

𝚃𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜: 𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙲𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚙𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗.

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[kaelio]

Hello everyone, I'm here today to engage in the absolutely thankless task of defending the hell out of this sentence getting commuted.

First things first:

I am not a prison abolitionist (this is important)

This former judge is one of the worst scumbags alive. Basically, he sent kids to juvie/prison in return for kickbacks.

So why did I want his sentence commuted? Oh, me? I didn't.

But this was part of a package of commutations requested by prison abolitionists. Yes, they asked for this, even spent hundreds of thousands on advertisements to demand it. Basically, Biden commuted the sentences of 1,500 people who were on "compassionate release", meaning they were already living at home. This is mostly just really old/sick people.

Biden didn't commute this guy's sentence as such, he commuted the sentences of a type of person out on compassionate release and didn't take the judge out of the pile. He didn't say, "except, not him".

This judge (scumbag) served 13 of his 16 years, but in 2020 was sent home because he was in such poor health it was assumed Covid would kill him. He's been at home ever since.

Now, this is important. This man cannot commit this offense again. He's not a judge any more! So recidivism is impossible. He cannot re-offend. So, in his case, prison can't be for rehabilitation or in any way to make sure he doesn't do it again. He can't! Never could have. The only real reason he was there was to punish him, which is fine. Personally, I'm fine with prisons being solely for punishment. But are you? Is that what you've been saying? Has that been your stance, that prisons are to punish people?

"But this guy was especially bad." Oh, so... mercy for people who didn't do really bad things? Then you're not getting any of these commutations. Because if you were in federal prison for long enough to qualify to be out on compassionate release, you did something really bad! Biden also pardoned everyone in federal prison for non-violent marijuana charges and you could count the number of people on your fingers because you don't actually get sent to federal prison over minor drug crimes.

Let's make it clear: "Mercy and leniency, but only for people who I define as innocent" means.... no mercy and no leniency. And you can be on board with that. You can be vengeful or a revanchist or bitter and brutal at heart; you're totally allowed. But then don't pretend you're not! In fact, that's the heart of Trumpism: there are those for whom laws should protect but not bind, and for others laws which should bind but not protect. (Or, as Óscar Benavides put it: "For my friends, everything; for my enemies, the law.") If your stance is just "good things for people I like and agree with, and bad things for those I don't" then you just have a different sense of who should be punished or die. But your thinking is fundamentally the same. Have you had a consistent stance about vigilante killing lately? Let me ask, who's allowed to decide among the populace who may live and who must die?

It's very unlikely anyone will ever again be as generous and compassionate as Biden has been with his powers. Because when he is, when he actually does it, when he's kind down to his very soul, you fucking hate it. That's what 2024 was; the revealed preferences election. You didn't want to pay people a living wage to deliver your burrito, you don't actually want people let out of jail, and you think capital punishment is fine as long as the executioner was hot.

[witherby]

Continuation of the biting baby, y/n as a toddler somehow developed the habit of headbutting people in the gut but not bruce. He still gets bit but aye, he's not alone anymore lmao

(Baby has to be put in air jail almost everyday buy the moment they're out they headbutt the person who placed them in air jail as hard as possible)

(Also just in case people doesn't know what air jail is,u just hold the baby/animal In the air with ur hand)

A pattern is forming. I think you all want Mouse to be a violent baby.

Including me, so —

The Littlest Wayne: Air Jail

"AHH! SHI-AHhhghh sugarhoneyicetea..."

Bruce lifts his eyes from his newspaper and looks at the couch, waiting for the inevitable. Like clockwork a pair of hands shoot into the air, with you as prisoner, and you start complaining and windmilling your limbs. The hands holding you are encased in leather; Jason must have been the victim then.

"Mousey, I'm workin' with two broken ribs and a concussion," the man complains, jostling you for emphasis. You squeal, giggling. "You cannot keep running into me with that thick little noggin at full speed. I felt a third rib crack upon impact. You're killing me. You're killing your brother. I'm gonna die again."

"Wanna!" You insist, back to windmilling. "Down! Jay-Jay, down!"

"No down. You get Air Jail 'till you say sorry and promise not to headbutt me again."

"I sowwy..." You whine, jutting your bottom lip out for emphasis. "Down, p'ease."

"Jesus Christ, the puppy dog eyes are lethal. I — ugh. You gotta say you won't headbutt me anymore. No more headbutt, okay?"

Your eyes start to water. Bruce watches you sink back down, vanishing behind the back of the couch, and snorts into his paper. He lets out a full laugh when Jason cries out a minute later. You've struck again.

"WE HAD A DEAL. Get over here, you're going back to Air Jail."

You shriek with delight, toddling away as fast as your chubby legs will allow. Jason, as injured as he is, actually can't catch up to you before you spot your dad and make the motion for Uppies.

"Daddy!" You cry. Bruce sets the paper aside and scoops you up.

"Are you being naughty?" He asks. You grin and hide your face in his shoulder. "Uh oh. Maybe I'll let Jay put you back in Air Jail — OW?"

He winces and your peals of laughter ring right next to his head. You open your mouth to bite him again, but he's the one to lift you into the air this time. "Daddy! Down!"

"I'm calling the police," Bruce deadpans, dropping into the Batman Voice. "Your rampant string of crime has gone unchecked for too long. Victims are piling up left and right. You've headbutt all your brothers this week, and Uncle Hal, and Titus. How Grandpa is escaping your tyranny is a mystery, but it's time to turn you over to the law."

"No powice, daddy!"

"Yes powice, child."

Bruce stands up and carries you into the day room, lowering you down into an extra tall play pen.

"Time out for five minutes."

You pout and cross your tiny arms, glaring at the ground.

"Don't wike, daddy. Want out."

"Yeah, well Daddy doesn't like getting bitten like a cookie, and your brothers don't like taking your skull to their bodies at high speeds. We want our skin free from bruises and teeth marks."

"Ha-ha," Jason teases from the doorway, pointing at you. "Get got, criminal!"

Your pouting intensifies. You reach out to Jason and make small whining noises.

"Want out. Want Jay-Jay, p'ease! Jay-Jay!"

The smug little smirk fades from Jason quick, turning into something fond and pitying.

"....I mean...c'mon, B, they're three. Five whole minutes?"

Bruce rolls his eyes. "This is why we haven't been able to curb this behavior yet. You can't fall for big eyes and a please every time —"

You hitch a little sob, and like a wet paper bag, Bruce folds.

"Maybe I'm being a tad harsh. They're three years old..."

[princessbrunette]

oofff flashing criminal!rafe through the divider glass when you visit him in prison 🥰🥰🥰

𐙚 ㅤ  ❦︎ ㅤ ₍ᐢᐢ₎

you promise yourself you won’t cry, and you don’t — brows etched in a permanent knit as the stoic officer leads you through to the visitation centre. you’re seated infront of a glass window and a telephone, awaiting the men in uniform to escort your boyfriend into the room.

he’d been in jail for a few weeks now, and today was finally the day you were able to visit him. it had been long and lonely without him, your communication wittled down to measly 2 minute phone calls that was likely listened in on by guards or other prisoners. you’d only hoped he had been doing okay, trying to put the horror stories you’d heard of prison out of your mind.

they bring in rafe, the man looking already more bulky from his time away, head shaved and orange uniform worn lazily, the shirt open to reveal a wife beater. you try to swallow down the urge to fully check him out, the concern getting the better of you as you snatch the phone to your ear, staring at him with wide glassy eyes. a smirk tugs at his lips at the eagerness as he raises his own to his ear.

“hi, baby.” his voice comes through drawled but clear as day.

“hi, are you okay in there? do you need me to send you anything? i— i just recently got in touch with this lawyer who said there may be a loophole —”

“yeah uh, let’s not talk about that a’ight? another time. i’m… i’m in here now, okay so— let’s just talk. normal shit.” he raises his eyebrows, to show it’s not a request but more so a demand— however at the end his expression melts into a reassuring smile. you sink a little in your seat, sucking in a deep breath.

“yeah, sorry.” you shake your head and he waves you off with a hand to show he didn’t mind, leaning back in his seat with his legs spread a little, phone still pressed to his ear. you stare at eachother in silence for a moment before he speaks again. “that dress… i haven’t seen that one.”

“its new.” you nod, looking down at yourself. he presses a few fingers over his lips, nodding slowly as he stares at the way the fabric is taught around your chest.

“mm… walkin’ round lettin’ other guys see you like that, huh?” he speaks but it’s soft, like he’s not really accusing you of anything — but old habits die hard. you frown, shaking your head anyway and he returns your gaze with his eyes hung low.

“wore it for you.”

“yeah…” he glances at the robotic officers stood stationed at the back of the booth, minding their business whilst simply doing there job. “why don’t you uh… gimme somethin’ to remember when i head back in? hm?” he cocks his head, eyes jumping down to your chest again.

“like what?” you sit forward slightly. you wanted to help him with whatever you could, you just wasn’t so sure what he was getting at.

“like… why don’t you pull that dress down for a sec? just real quick baby, i’m tryna see something.” he lowers his voice, and your eyes naturally flutter at the nasally rich-boy drawl that comes through the phones receiver. you burst into a giggle, looking around at the other visitors.

“rafe!” you sweetly scold, and whilst his lips jump up just a tad, he sits forward like he means business.

“m’not joking, okay? look if— if i could reach through this glass n’grab those fuckin’ titties right now i would, but i can not so i’m beggin’ you to work with me here. you don’t know what it’s like in here, kid — i’m a man starved, a’ight, please.” he drops his voice even more to hiss in a desperate whisper and you look around, wetting your lips as you consider making your move.

you return your gaze to him, and as your dress was strapless all you had to do was pull it down. you giggle mischievously as you do so, pushing your tits together with your hands, squeezing at them a little before yanking your dress up after you suspected the officer taking peeks. rafe grins, pleased — before shifting in his seat, adjusting his crotch area and glancing around. “mm, s’what i’m talkin’ about baby.”

“i miss you.” you’re still giggling, the smiling gently fading into a pout and he presses his lips together with a nod.

“miss you too. when i get outta here it’s fucking over for you, hope you know that. don’t expect to be walkin’ for a few days. that’s a damn promise.”

“well, i look forward to it, big bad rafe cameron.”

𐙚 ㅤ  ❦︎ ㅤ ₍ᐢᐢ₎

[xechu]

mild suggestive themes, mentions of violence, smoking, drinking, swearing, 18+ blog mdni, fem!reader, from the same au as my one shot: “Warm on a Cold Night”

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who is the embodiment of a red flag that BookTok would have gladly ate up. 6'5", muscular, tattoos, bikes, and (slightly) unhinged.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who has a long standing fwb relationship with his college friend: Yorozu. They're both the live fast, die young type.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who owns a reputable garage with Jin. Jin is more of the business and customer facing guy, while Sukuna gladly worked behind the scenes and did the technical stuff. The two of them make the perfect team.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who was into the fast life: bikes, cars, drinking, smoking, and lots of women. His personal life may be chaotic, but he made sure that doesn’t trickle into his work—it’s his pride and safe space

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who felt like he owed a lot to Jin. Sukuna was not the kindest to him when they were younger. Seeing how close they are now, it was hard to believe that the two were practically estranged in the past.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who was sentenced to a few years in jail after nearly beating someone with an inch of their life left. It was a business deal gone bad, and Jin was willing to take the loss in order to cut ties with the man. But the man went crazy and confronted Jin in the garage, things turned physical real quick, and that's when Sukuna stepped in.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - when he was released from prison was picked up by Jin and Kaori, and a new face: his three year old nephew, Yuji. Yuji looks more like Sukuna than Jin, and that has often caused a lot of awkward misunderstanding, especially when the four were together.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who saw you in an elevator, going up to the 21st floor, while he was visiting Jin and Kaori on the 29th floor. You (unknowingly) made him nervous.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who actually owns the unit on the 29th floor that Jin and Kaori lives in, but because of that one altercation with the psycho - Sukuna told them to move into his spare apartment until everything has blown over.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who sees you again near your apartment. Some guy was trying to get your contact and you seemed uncomfortable, so Sukuna stepped in. Truth be told, he normally wouldn't give it a second thought, but it was the "cutie who lives on the 21st floor". It didn't take much, Sukuna simply scowled at the man and he fled.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who took this as a divine intervention and asked you for your number. You awkwardly said no and scurried away, which really turned him on.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who was minding his own business in the garage one day, when he heard a familiar voice chatting with Jin at the front desk. He glanced over and it was you. Your car had broken down and their garage was the closest one.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who casually leans by the office doorway where you and Jin were chatting, he could never forget the surprised look on your face when the two of you made eye contact. Jin gives his usual introduction and spiel of the garage for their new customers, and he found it weird that Sukuna was loitering around for that (Sukuna usually never cared about it). It later dawned on Jin that Sukuna had the biggest crush on you.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who sees you again when you pick up your car. Your car was rather old school, and he nicknamed it 'grannie', which initially irked you (but that was his way of teasing). Then, to your surprise, when you got into the car - there was a newly upgraded stereo system installed. He smirked when he saw the pure shock on your face, knowing that you loved it. It was worth it, because he got your number out of this, and the rest was history.

a/n: this has been sitting on my drafts for a long time (oops). I'm thinking of writing another one shot in the same au.

[yourdeluluescapist]

SHACKLES| Bangchan X Fem!reader| Request! @jiyeonslays

A/N: For some reason, anytime I give a date on anything. Life decides to hit me with its trials. Romance for some reason hinders fanfics. It was supposed to only take 2 days, but apparently my love life didn't like that answer. But i did put in more effort to make it a little more worth it. <3

Warnings: smut, creampie, semi rough sex, half angst half fluff.

WC:1617.

✧

It’d been 2 years since he went to jail for murdering him. You’d wished it hadn’t been labeled murder, it was just much needed vindication. He did it for you, to protect you, to make sure nothing came between him and his love. But thankfully, he was released today. And you were damn well gonna give him a warm welcome.

---

The price of safety from another almost felt like it wasn’t worth it. You’d missed Chan ever since he was locked up, even if it was legally wrong. It was the only way, the only exceptional thing that could’ve been done to keep you safe. You knew damn well if he didn’t do what he did, it would’ve broken you. 

You normally weren’t the one that thought killing another should ever be an option. But the pain, the abuse that went under every type, and the downright disgusting treatment of you.  It felt right, divine intervention, the only call that could begin to rectify and convict your ex of his act of torture.

Hours upon hours of his verbal berating, his fist clutching whenever you didn’t agree, and the pain from being treated like nothing and only seen as another thing on the earth that stole breath from the earth. 

But Chan? He saved you from that, freed you from that torment and showed you what real love was. Being treated like you mattered was refreshing and very much needed. He took care of you even after all the reassuring that killing him was the right decision. Throughout all he did, you were still never prepared to watch someone you hated with all of your being, simply die in front of you.

Trauma was never something you’d wanted to have to stomach, but knowing it all. You almost wished you pulled the trigger instead of Chan.

But all reminiscing made you forget the fact that you had ignored while rethinking all of this while spread out in your bed.

He’d be getting released today, and right now? You should have already been on the road..

A heavy groan and slow, yet heavy hand slowly dragging down your face. You clothed your naked body, got your keys, and left to start this dreadfully long 2 hour drive.

- - - 

He got into the passenger seat of your car, the look on his face looking different after so long. But his aura hasn't changed, he was still the same chan. Even after taking the life of a man who absolutely deserved it. That comforting smile still melted your heart, and all you wanted to see was that smile you had missed so much. All day, all night. 

“Hey, baby. It's been a while huh? Did you miss me?” Chan turned his head to you, smiling ear to ear as he studied your face again.

“Don’t ask me something stupid like that,” You leaned over from your seat and hugged him. “Of course I did, you know that.” You slightly pouted.

“Hey I was joking.” He chuckled, his tone softening from how much he missed you too. “I know you did, and you’re well aware I did too.” He embraced you and placed a gentle, clasping hand behind your head and kissed the top of your head.

”I wrote and sent you things every day! Even your favorite books, and sometimes those pictures we took a while ago.” You pulled yourself away from him to give him his space.

“And I thanked you for all of that. Especially those nude ones, I needed something to pleasure myself too.” He smirked, leaning onto the car down and placing his head on his fist.

“Even in prison, you're still a walking, talking cock.” You put the car in drive and pull out the lot.

“One you’d always happily service” He said in a jumpy tone, shooting a playful punch at your elbow.

Once you guys got on the road, silence and whatever was on the radio made the ambience of the car for the next hour. Though quiet, it was sweet. Being with him after all this time, you didn’t care how you spent your time with him.

Thinking back on all the unhinged and fun conversations you shared in this same car bestowed a lingering smile on your face. It was so good to see him again. Every part of your body pulsated and quivered with pent up excitement and libido. Being near him brought it all back, you haven’t done the deed with anyone since then, and you thought.

“God, I missed him badly. I’m wet just sitting next to him now, I’m so pent up I could just strip him and take him whole..” 

Knowing that, that's what you were going to do. You wanted him to take you whole, you’d been waiting for him to touch you, to fuck you, just simply kiss you after all this time. You just yearned for another time where his key would unlock your hole.

- - -

The feeling of being picked up and slammed on this bed he used to always take you on was lip biting. He didn’t waste a second when you shot the offer of. 

“Tonight, I don’t care what you do to me. Whatever hole you please, however rough you wanna do me. I just want you to fuck me crazy.” 

“Was this what you were waiting for? Just for me to fuck you like a slut?” He asked in a husky voice, his hands dancing against your breast. 

“Mhm.” You moaned at his touch, “That’s exactly what I want, I’ve been waiting years for this. I need you bad okay?” You quiver at every movement, you haven’t been so tense at a man’s touch since then. It feels like you couldn’t even handle this let alone full blown fucking. But your body told you, it wanted it all. 

“Well okay princess, I'm gonna have my way with you okay?” He leaned down, being mere inches away from your neck and began to pepper you down.

You nod in agreement, his lips feeling like butterfly wings across your skin as he kisses around your neck, slowly going down the line and making it to your clavicle, playfully nibbling at it and getting more sensual everytime your body shakes in pleasure. 

He groaned as his kisses got lower and the depth between each one getting harder and harder. You had basically begged for him to hurry up and get down to your pussy. Though he knew that, and he loved taking his sweet time to savor every part of you. To tease and to annoy you. 

“Oh, Chan!” You screamed, “Just get down there already, I'm begging you I can't take it anymore.” 

Taking what you said into playful consideration, he stopped kissing you from top to bottom and quickly dragged his tongue down your torso until he was met face to face with your sopping wet entrance.

He was like a plumber the way his tongue plunged his tongue in and out of your vagina. Also following that, the onslaught of a very much invited finger joined in to make sure your pipes were cleaned. 

He only sucked more and more, kept changing from fast and slow with his fingers. You couldn't handle it anymore, your body knew it couldn't hold that orgasm any longer. And knowing that, you came all over his face and his fingers.

“That's only the first time, sweetheart. He uttered, licking his finger clean and beginning to take his briefs off. Releasing his rock hard cock, veins bulging all the way from the tip down. Tense and ready to reunite with its plaything once more.

He had crawled on top of you, showing every ounce of his muscular body like it was in 4k. His big chest, his bolstering biceps, and chiseled abs. Also not ignoring his huge package that was waiting to get in the back of your truck.

“Are you finally gonna actually fuck me? You know I hate that foreplay shit, I'm too horny for that.” You playfully pout at him, a seductive smirk growing on your face.

“Mhm,” He began to drag his tip around your clit, covering it in all of your sweet juices. “Just you like it.” He said as he rammed it inside you, a strong sexual moan escaping your mouth with pants following its path.

“Oh my, FUCK. I needed this, after so long I’ve been begging to be filled up like this again. His cock is just playing inside me, I can feel every throb with double the effect. My pussy is just hugging him back with every time that dick shows me it still wants me.

He didn't beat around the bush this time, his strokes went deep. In and out repeatedly, harder and harder with every second that passed. You could feel him getting closer and closer, and you only began to think more wildly. Making you wrap your arms around his torso, your grip tight as he started to pound you harder. 

“Cum inside me, Chan. Please, I want it so bad.” 

“As you wish, princess.” He replied, going balls deep inside you and releasing a fat load inside you. One that would definitely knock you up.

You pant and pant feeling his cum course through your vagina.

After he dropped that inside you, he had basically collapsed on top of you, obviously wore out after so long without sex. Though he was heavy this was the only time that you would let this happen .So you caressed his head and your fingers through his hair as he cuddled up on you. 

You missed this and would do anything to keep this forevermore.

[haveihitanerve]

What I believe would have happened to all the batkids if Bruce hadn't come in and been Batman, dark version-

Dick- he would have been consumed by vengeance and tried to kill Tony Zucco without Bruce’s guidance and support. Would have tried. He is dead by age eight. If he succeeds at killing Zucco, he is immediately caught by the police commissioner. At eight years old Dick Grayson is thrown in jail. He dies two years later, still behind bars. If he escapes the cops, he succumbs to his Talon nature as his tooth is not bitch slapped out of him by his father figure. He becomes a Talon and works for the Court of Owls, always present but never truly in control.

Jason- Jason never meets Bruce, never steals his tires, never gets killed by joker. He does not die at age 15. He doesn't even make it to age fourteen. He dies in an alleyway in Gotham, on a cold winters night, alone at age twelve. 

Tim- Tim does not stalk Batman and Robin. He is neglected by his parents and because there is no neighbor for him to stay with(cough cough bruce) Janet and Jack Drake take him with them on their cruise. Tim Drake is skinny as a bean pole and underweight. He gets rocked off the side and drowns because he never learned how to swim. 

Babs- Barbara Gordon becomes a detective just like her father at a very young age and makes it her mission to capture all the villains in Gotham. She succeeds almost and has about half of them in Arkam when she falls into a Joker trap. Due to the lack of technological access, she dies of a fatal wound at age twenty. 

Steph- Stephanie does not become a vigilante because of her father because he is taken down by Detective Gordon(age 18) before she has a chance to. Babs sees herself in the ten year old girl and starts to teach her how to be a detective and work with the law instead of outside it like vigilantes do. They create a strong bond however after Barbara dies Stephanie seeks revenge and is about to kill Joker when she gets shot from behind by none other than her own father, Arthur Brown, because with Detective Gordon out of the way he had a massive prison break. She dies at age 13. 

Cass- cass escapes from her father after her first killing and flees to Gotham, but without the protection of the Bat is captured by her father again and forced to become Ra’s Al Ghul’s bodyguard. Sickened with the death and killing required of her Cass committed suicide, but continually got resurrected by the pit until she could stand it no longer and stayed. 

Damian- Damian is never born, as there is no Batman. Talia never becomes pregnant with him. She does however, create a child with another assassin who is her lover and she gives birth to a strong, healthy boy named Aziz. He grows stronger every day until the day he turns twenty three, when Ra’s Al Ghul puts him in the pit and absorbs his youth, the same fate that would have befallen Damian had he stayed with the league(or in this case even been created). 

[satoruwiki]

how i think jjk men would be as your bf… in jail;;

head canons i have, feel free to disagree :b

suguru;; definitely would be the type to make you handmade gifts with stuff he finds in prison and crazy arts and crafts with one pencil, foil and paper.

toji;; would have you protected by… whoever he works with. would remind you every time you call him to “not say a word to the police” of whichever bit of information you know. would mostly try to keep you out of his business but sometimes ask you to smuggle in certain things like money or other things he may need inside the prison, only when really needed.

sukuna;; you wouldn’t see him often, he’d spend most of his time in solitary confinement. if he was in a gang, he’d most definitely have you involved one way or another, smuggling in stuff inside the prison or reporting him whatever is happening outside. you’re his ride or die bbg what do you want me to say ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ

(though he’d probably cheat on u w an inmate and never tell u abt it💀)

nanami;; whenever you’d have a phone call he’d tell you how much he misses you, on visits he’d hold your hands at all times. he’d be released earlier than expected for good conduct.

choso;; depending on his sentence, this man would be the type to try to marry you in jail lol. would be the type to get a tattoo of you imo. once he’s released, expect yourself to not get out the bedroom for a little while.

satoru;; let’s be real, this man would pay his way out of prison 💀 either way, he would get in trouble sometimes for being too cocky, inmates would quickly realize he is not to be messed with and leave him alone.

bonus: conjugal visits w all of them would be CRAZY. sex ban would take a toll on them, toji, sukuna and gojo would be the type to ask you for nude pics for them to keep whenever they need to… ehem.

[thrashkink-coven]

Okay here’s the hard part.

I think a lot about that guy, so called Jesus, and his philosophy of radical forgiveness and empathy. For a long time I thought that was just a line abusers use to force their victims to forgive them (AND IT IS)

But! I also think about Lucifer and the things he taught me regarding the concept of hell. If I was the ruler of hell and I had to manage all these terrible people, what would I do? Torture them? Give them endless suffering so they feel guilty? Do to them what they did to others so they can understand how bad it feels?

Latinos who voted for Trump, oh you disappoint me, but no, I don’t want you to be deported. Women who voted for Trump, *sigh*, no, I don’t want to see you get an ectopic pregnancy or carry your dead baby. No I do not want all those conservative gays to lose their right to marriage. And no, I don’t even want all of those fucked up fascist nazi racists to die.

It would be SO satisfying to see them get what they deserve, right?

God, I’m so sick of being apart of a species that loves to conquer. We bleed, they win, they bleed, we win. I’m sick of patching wounds. All I see is hellfire.

My friend Taylor Mcnallie is facing fraudulent charges because of an altercation that happened while she was protesting in Calgary. The bitch of a cop who assaulted her not only received no punishment, she got a fucking promotion. I remember during one of Taylor’s speeches someone said something like “I hope she gets arrested and goes to jail,” and Taylor said, “I don’t hope she goes to jail. Jail shouldn’t exist. I just want her to get fired and apologize. That’s all I want.”

Pacifism, true pacifism, like the kind that guy preached about, doesn’t mean laying down and accepting every terrible thing assholes do to you with a smile. It means taking away their ability to harm without harming them yourself. Eliminating the evil without becoming evil. Punching nazis does not make you a nazi, but praying for the death and destruction of people, human beings, because you hate them as much as they hate you? *sigh*

The hardest part about this whole radical empathy thing, is the fact that I cannot even wish harm upon those who want me dead. Isn’t that funny? That literal neo nazi, yeah, I hope he has shelter. Fuck I hope that rapist still eats tonight. I hope he feels shame until the day he dies, but I don’t hope he gets raped in prison. I don’t even want him in prison to be honest, I want him to be cared for, and I want his ability to do harm stripped away.

“Even if he hurts a child?”

God damn it, yes. I can’t add more suffering into the world, even if it is inflicted upon the people I’d love to hate most. I want to take away his power to do evil, I want everyone to know what kind of person he is and the terrible things he does so they can keep themselves safe… and then I want him to be safe.

I want all those terfs to have clean drinking water. I know they hate my guts, ugh, it is what it is. But praying that they experience the pain they’ve caused me, hoping that they die or suffer only makes me more like them.

WHICH SUCKS. This way of thinking is NOT satisfying AT ALL!!! Being vindictive and petty is FUN and it FEELS GOOD!!! That’s why it’s so fucking easy, and that’s why we keep eating each other over and over again.

Having said all of this, we should definitely bring back the guillotine lmao. I’m not saying that we should be super nice to people who are trying to kill us, do fight back. If the people need to kill their oppressors to be free then, hey, I’m not going to tell them they’re wrong for that. This isn’t a “we should all hug and sing kumbaya together! Kindness is always the way!!!” take. If the only way to bring death to the empire is to bring death to its owners, then so be it. Do so in the way that produces the least amount of degradation to your soul.

But wishing natural disasters on Texas, hoping that that racist woman’s parents get deported, out of spite and hatred… what are they doing to you? What are you doing to yourself?

Humanity is disgusting, truly truly abhorrent. I want to be able to look at us and embrace us with acceptance of that. Every single fucking terrible person on this earth deserves liberty, life, and freedom. Even when you spit in my face and hurt the people I love, damn it, I won’t hurt you. I see you as a rabid animal that needs to be sedated and slowly acclimated to compassion. And I will keep trying, even if you never learn. I can’t give up on humanity.

This is the most important and the hardest part. I’m not telling you to forgive, forgiveness is for you. If it doesn’t serve you, don’t forgive. But don’t let people without humanity kill the humanity that exists within you. Don’t let hatred fester in your soul. You’re allowed to be mad, hell, you should be furious. Let that fury keep you warm, but do not become a monster too.

To all you stupid fucking fascist pieces of shit, I hope you get exactly what you deserve. And what you deserve is not death, pain or suffering. It’s self reflection and growth, guilt and humility. As much as I would enjoy seeing you hurt, I refuse to become like you. And damn it I love you, I love every human being on this planet. I love you so much that I cannot become you. I love you so fucking much that I will continue to fight for your rights even when you’re trying to take mine away. and I hate that I love you like this, but I can’t stop.

So I will stop you.

- James Baldwin

[littlemissmiller]

Billy the kid but with kind of a Bonnie and Clyde action going on yk? Like partner in crime sorta thing

Yes ma’am…

𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐻𝒾𝓂

Pairing: billy the kid x fem! reader

Summary: You and Billy have been tasked by Mr. Tunstall to break into the Lincoln jail to get some of his men out. In the thrill of the night and in anticipation of the war ahead, Billy finally tells you how he really feels.

Warning: 21+ (drinking), established relationship, smut, fluff, semi-public sex, p in v, no pullout

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: hey there! i was so excited to get to writing this (and apologize for getting it to the asker so late) but i wrote this before i saw the newest episode and wow it couldn’t have come at a better time…what a sweet little story y’all and I was absolutely clutch my pearls and wine watching that man take his shirt off like y’all 🥵 so i hope you all enjoy I can’t wait for next weeks episode ahhh ♥︎

≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫ ≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫ ≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫

You knew breaking these men out if prison wouldn’t be easy. But you had Billy with you and he had dedicated his life to Mr. Tunstall. As you sit with him and plan you can’t help but feel anxious.

“I reckon we head out after dawn, ride into town and wait until shift change, then we’ll make our move…”

You nod and give your boyfriend a halfhearted smile.

“What’s wrong darling?”

“Just nervous…I mean I know it would be a great deal to free these men, but it’s so risky Billy”

He looks at you more intensely now and scoots closer to you. He trails his finger across your chin and turns you to face him.

“Hey…we got this. Besides you know I’ve done it before…” he chuckles

You nod and smile.

“I know, it’s just I haven’t…”

Billy leans in and gives you a quick kiss, his soft lips slowly melting your anxiety away.

“I promise no matter what you’re my priority. If you get hurt, I will have to leave them men behind to get you help. I won’t let you get hurt though okay?”

You nod and he kisses you again. You knew how much Billy cares for you. And you knew that he could practically have any girl in town. Even a nice proper lady, who wore the big day dresses and rode their carriage into town. You saw how those women looked at him. How they would die to be rebellious and show Billy off on their arm. But they didn’t get him like that. You did. Even though you were more of a cowgirl yourself and that’s really why Billy found you the most beautiful and worthy of his affections. Because you weren’t like most ladies your age.

You’re not dainty and frail. Billy saw that from the moment he met you. The way you confidently held yourself and spoke up when you thought things should be done differently. And your beautiful gaze that left him frozen and intimidated. He was in total awe of you from that day on. Yet, as you sit here with him you allow yourself to be vulnerable and scared. As he rubs his thumb over your cheekbone you try to understand why you feel so nervous.

Maybe because up until now you and the rest of Tunstall’s crew had been operating within the law and were not about causing trouble in town, but with Jesse Evans and his gang working on behalf of Murphy, things had been getting worse. So now you and the crew were being forced to turn to more violent means to protect the farmers and the county. Especially now that Billy was on Tunstall’s side.

“I’m glad you ended up joining our crew, Billy…”

“I’m glad I did too.” He smiles

As the sunsets, Billy is inside the ranch, cleaning off his gun and checking the barrel. You find him and bring him a bowl of ham and beans.

“I reckon we should eat before we go.” You recommend handing him a bowl and some cornbread.

He takes it and smiles. You pull up a stool next to him and sit. The row of you eat in relative silence, watching as the sun disappears behind the horizon. Soon enough, Billy stands up and heads into the kitchen putting his bowl in the sink. He washes his hands and you follow suit.

Your stomach is full with both a good meal and butterflies and you saddle up your horse. The air is colder now and Billy slips on his maroon cardigan and dawns his hat. You pull your jacket on as well and pull your hair back. As you get onto your horse, he helps you hold your hand. His fingers linger on your own for a moment.

“I always thought you looked so beautiful when you rode…”

“You just like how my body bounces…” you smirk

“That’s true, but I’m starting from where I am now, you look like an angel…here” he states handing you a bandana “eventually we’ll need to cover our faces.”

You blush and wrap the bandana around your neck. He hops up on his horse and ties his own bandana around his neck. You and him waste no more time and ride off into Lincoln. The ride itself is only about thirty minutes which allows you to get your nerves out and gain some confidence. As you and Billy approach Lincoln county, stop and look out onto the town. You slowly begin to approach, making sure to sneak in closer to the jail to make the getaway smoother. You look for a close enough spot to hide the horses. The jail is on full view now, close enough to walk to from the hill you and Billy are perched on.

“Ok when the guards leave, we’ll move in. Then we only gotta deal with the warden inside which shouldn’t be too difficult. But you’re gonna help me then ok? I’ll wait around out back and I need you to draw him from his desk. There won’t be any guards outside for at least three minutes, but that’s all we have got?” Billy explains

“I got it.”

“Then once you draw him away, I’ll Come in and we’ll lure him into a cell. I did the same thing down in Mexico. Worked like a charm.”

“That was one person, not two” you remember”

“We can handle it.”

You and him, sit on your horses, and look upon the jail, waiting and waiting and waiting until finally the guards outside begin to move toward the fence to leave.

“Ok let’s go.” Billy instructs.

You and him trot down the hill, keeping a slow enough pace as to not trip or draw attention to yourself. Once you reach the fence you dig out for a pair of wire cutters you had brought along. You cut the fence enough so you and Billy have enough space to slip in. He runs to the back of the jailhouse and you run up to the front. Billy hadn’t given you exact instructions on how to distract the warden, so you decide to get creative. You walk up and frantically pound on the door. You hear footsteps and make it look like you’ve been crying and out of breath.

“Help, please help me!” You plea

The warden steps out confused, looking around for the outside guardsmen.

“I’m so sorry to take you away from you you post sir, it’s just I got into Lincoln and have been running, my horse is wounded, this man is chasing me…” you cry

“A man chasing ya? What ya mean” he says, face scrunched up as he steps outside.

Meanwhile, Billy has broken in and you watch as he approaches the warden from behind, eyes peeking under the brim of his hat, bandana pulled up to hide his face. He clicks his gun at the back of the man’s head and you pull up your own bandana and pull your gun on the man. He frantically looks around for the outside guards, but no one has come to claim the post.

“Get back inside” Billy sneers and the warden listens, turning as you both follow him, gun still raised. Billy glances at you for a moment then back at the man, poking the gun to his head and pushing him inside the cell.

“I’ll go find our men… stay with him.” Billy instructs and leaves you alone with the warden.

You try not to focus on him, but make sure your gun has his full attention. A few moments pass and Billy is still not back. Then the warden sees the new night shift stroll in and begins to yell. You quickly knock him out with the butt if your gun and Billy rushes downstairs.

“We gotta go.” He urges, the other men following him out the back. The shooting starts and the guardsmen seem to notice things aren’t right. They start to yell and chase after you as Billy and the men run up the hill. You follow behind, but fall and trip over a rock. You scurry back to your feet, but one of the guards catches you, knocking you back on your feet. You cry out.

“Ahh help!”

“Go get the horses from over the hill!” Billy instructs the men, running towards you.

The man holds you down and you struggle to get away, kicking and cursing at the man.

“They send a little thing like you to do a man’s job hmm? Guess Tunstall was never a smart man.”

“Get off me you pig.”

“Shut up bitch, you’re going to go in this jailhouse now.” He stands you up and starts to drag you off

“Hey!” Billy shouts “You better hand her over!”

The man stops and whips you around. He holds you against his chest. His slimy lips press up against your ear as he holds you tight against his chest.

“I’m taking this pretty thing to the jailhouse and next I’ll take you.”

Billy marches forward, drawing and raising his gun.

“Let. Her. Go” he grits and the man merely laughs. Billy waist no time and shoots him in the shoulder, then another one to his thigh causing him to release you and fall down. The guard wasn’t dead, just injured enough to keep him away. Then the other guards catch up as well and start to shoot at Billy and the rest of the crew as the other men come back with the horses. They get off and start shooting.

You start to shoot too, taking cover behind the horses, while Billy tries to shelter you. He takes aim at the guards firing and trying to avoid the returning bullets.

“C’mon we gotta go!” One of the men yells out. Billy takes a few more shots and in the distance sees the sheriff riding towards the jailhouse.

“Shit!” Billy curses and you take one last shot. It hits another guard on the thigh and before you realize you’re being hoisted up onto the saddle by Billy. You and him ride together on his horse, while the two men take the other horse.

Out of breath, Billy continues to check on you the entire ride back asking if you’re okay or hurt. Once back at Tunstall’s ranch, Billy helps you off the horse and inside. The rest of the gang are delighted to see Billy and you got the boys out.

“Good work Billy.” Charlie slaps his back.

The rest of the group heads inside while you put away the horses. Billy waits for you. You walk back to him once the horses are tied up. He pulls down your bandana, and you smile.

“You’re a real cowgirl ya know that.”

“I ain’t half the shot you are though.”

“Is that a requirement?” He asks as you wrap your arms around his waist

“Not necessarily, but don’t change the fact you are one.”

“Well then…Mr. Bonney…” you tease “I guess you are too then?” You kiss him deeply, placing your hands flat on his chest and leaning on your toes slightly. He holds your face in his hands, returning the kiss with equal fervor. You could have stayed out there all night with your lips on his. The warm night draped around you like a blanket and the warmth of Billy’s mouth turning up the heat. He moves his hands to your own waist, pulling you closer.

“Hey Billy!” Charlie call out

Billy pulls back, whipping his head around

“Sorry…Tunstall wants to see you”

Billy nods and Charlie heads back inside. Billy turns to look back at you and you both head inside. You join the rest of the men, grab a drink, and make conversation with Charlie. Billy heads into Mr. Tunstall’s office and closes the door. Soon enough he comes back and you excuse yourself from the conversation as he walks back outside.

“Hey!” You call to him “What did Tunstall say”

“Just taking next steps.” He states to you briefly. You could tell something is off and you touch his shoulder

“Billy…”

“Tunstall says a war is coming…that Jesse and the rest of Murphy’s gang will come for us sooner rather than later. He wants me to be prepared. To help lead us.”

“Oh Billy…” you rub his back.

He moves to stand in front of you and smiles, pushing your hair back. He looks past you, takes your hand and leads you to the side of the ranch. He looks around before pinning you up against the side of the house and kissing you deeply. You return his passions, moving your mouth with his. He grabs your waist and you fling your arms around his neck. He kisses you harder and your head bounces against the wood, causing you to grunt.

“Billy, sweetheart, what’s up.”

“I just…I just don’t want to lose you in this war. I feel like I got too close today. “

“You ain’t gonna lose me Billy. If anything I should be saying that about you…”

“I-I love you…”

It was the first time he’d said it openly to you. Sure you two knew it. The unspoken affections and unconditional care for each other. You hadn’t been together long, but you knew it was true.

“I love you too William Bonney..” you whisper, pressing your mouth back onto his with a searing kiss.

You love how soft and encompassing his mouth feels and as his passions overtake him, he’s practically consuming you. He holds your face gently through, not wanting to be too aggressive. You love it. The way in which he holds your face. The way he can’t seem to get enough of you. You love feeling overwhelmed by him. He pulls back, asking a silent permission if he can continue. You give him a devilish smile and take his wrist, leading him away from the side of the house. He trots after you and you playfully run towards the barn.

You open the door and look around. It’s empty because the horses are tied up outside and for once doesn’t smell. Billy catches up to you, swings you around, and pushes you up against the wooden beam. Cupping your face, he picks back up where he left off. You moan against him and his hands begin to explore your body, sending waves of pleasure through your veins. He smiles and gasps against your mouth, pulling back to admire you.

“You know you’re the only girl I’ve ever said that to…” he breathes

“Really…”

“Really… and I mean it” he smiles

He can’t help but kiss you again. He loves the way your mouth feels against his, loves the way you can’t help but moan for him, and loves how you love him back. You hold the back of his neck, fingers tracing the back of his neck hairs. After a few moments of you and him like this you pull back and Billy dives in for your neck, holding your jaw and the base of it as he starts to suck and nibble. You hold his head against you, hips starting to move against his pelvis, building up more and more of the heat that was coursing through your body. You look around and spot Mr. Tunstall’s empty stagecoach. You push back from the banister, holding his face and he continues to kiss you. He stumbles forward and you look behind, eyeing the stagecoach once again. You pull away and pull him by his shirt to make him follow you.

You bite your lip, glancing at the stagecoach . That’s all you have to do for Billy to know exactly what you’re saying to him. He gives you a boyish smirk that turns into a soft chuckle. He starts to unbutton his shirt as you pull him back more and more until you both hit the doors. You open it and slide in. There isn’t much room, but you and Billy manage.

“You really want to do this here” he breathes

“Ain’t like we are one for following rules…now are we Mr. Bonney.” You tease, loving to throw around his last name like that.

“Fuck darling…come here.” He leans back down and starts to undo your pants. As you work your mouth against his, you fiddle with the rest of buttons on his shirt and then his suspenders. Billy starts to undress you as well, undoing the buttons and pulling your pants down. He slides your bloomers off as well, and then works to take your blouse off. Meanwhile, you’ve successfully rid him of his shirt, leaving the top half of his body bare for you. You admire his toned body, glad that his years of hard labor are gifting you with the sight before you. He tends to go for the top part of your undergarments until you're completely exposed to him.

Billy and you have been intimate before, but with things starting to heat up in Lincoln, you and Billy have found much time in the last week or so. And especially now that he’s declared his love for you, you’re both all too eager. As he kisses you, his hands cup your breast, the moonlight shading your cleavage perfectly. He starts to massage it, slowly, but not too gentle. You work to undone his pants as he works you, sliding them off, and he eventually wiggles out of them and kicks them off. He’s half hard, and you reach for his length, pumping him slowly. He reciprocates your actions drawing his hand down to your core, the feather light feeling of his fingertips tracing your figure.

He starts rubbing you once he gets his hand in-between your legs. Billy can’t decide on if he wants to kiss you or watch you as you come undone for him. He goes back and forth in between the two, your melodic moans filling the cramped stagecoach. He slowly gets more and more hard and he wiggles his hips closer to your own. You giggle ever so girlishly.

“This feels so different…”

“A good different?” He asks

“Mhmm…” you nod. “It's a little dangerous. I like it.”

“Because we can get caught” he smirks

You bite your lip “I wouldn’t mind getting caught with the man I love.”

With that he smiles, starts to kiss you again and slowly pushes himself inside. He feels so incredible and full. He bottoms up and looks down at you. He pushes some loose baby hairs away from your face and gasps. You flatten your hands against his chest at first, feeling his clean, smooth skin, before wrapping them around his neck. He starts to move and you draw your legs further apart and towards you. He rocks in you, picking up his pace, trying not to move the stagecoach.

Intimate moments were always good with him. It’s safe to say that Billy knows what he is doing when it comes to pleasing women. But sometimes about having him now felt like it was for the first time all over. Maybe it was the thrill of getting caught or maybe it was the fact that now you know for sure this man, this unbelievably handsome man, loves you.

He ruts into you deep, causing you to grunt and cling to him tighter. He moves his hips more, faster adding to the sensations of your pleasure. You raise your leg up and wrap it around his waist. He grunts, the pressure on his back pushing him deeper in you. He moans against you, his mouth falling to your jawline and neck again. He props himself up more in his hand and moves his other hand down to rub your clit. You buck your hips against his hand, only adding to your pleasure. He grins against your neck, picking up both the speed of his hips and fingers.

“Fuck fuck fuck…Billy… ya gonna make me cum…”

“Please cum baby. Cum on my cock fuck…”

The stagecoach begins to rock more. The heat pooling in your stomach builds and burns your core. You love the thrill of being intimate with Billy like this. The idea of someone finding you and him like this, walking in, while Billy is filling you up with pleasure. A few more thrusts and you’re finished. You clench down on his length, moan into his neck and cling onto him tight.

Soon enough, he’s spent himself, thrusting into you until he stops. His thick white cum coats the inside of your walls, filling you up in a new way. He stays in you for a moment, gazing into your eyes and catching his breath. He rests his sweaty forehead against your own, painting He kisses you softly, lips melting to your own.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” He whispers

You smile at his words, holding him tight. You never wanted this to end. From here on out you knew, it would be just you and Billy. No matter what.

꧁✵❈✵ ꧂

[deathbxnny]

Have I watched/read JJBA kinda. Is it my new hyper fixation yes. Anyways Giorno Giovanna, Jotaro Kujo, & Jolyne Cujoh with a reader (platonic or romantic idc) that’s like Firefly and her stance is just Sam but it’s called Iron Maiden!

(＃＞＜)

JJBA characters with a Firefly-like! Fem! Reader | Jolyne Cujoh, Jotaro Kujo, Giorno Giovanna

As someone who can easily say that JJBA is their favorite anime, I absolutely love this idea, Anon!! I made this a romantic hc, so I hope you'll like it!<33

Content: Vague mentions of chronical illness, mentions of potential future death by illness, angst, hurt/comfort, sfw

Reader is fem/afab in this, but no pronouns are mentioned!

((Not proofread))

》JOLYNE CUJOH

Jolyne met you in jail as a cell mate, one she quickly found a lot in common with, especially regarding your rather special stand abilities. But your illness is what really drew her to you and made her determined to keep you safe after you became a couple. Her heart ached knowing you were stuck in a prison, when you should be out there experiencing life as much as you still could, but alas, you were here with her, and she tried to make things easier for you with her presence.

She was left stunned however, when you were attacked by some stand users and quickly found out that you perhaps didn't need the extensive help and care she had given you after all. Sam, your stand, was more than enough to destroy any enemy in sight, something she found absolutely awesome. Jolyne would absolutely cheer you on from the sidelines, completely forgetting that she had to fight too.

It makes her proud to see how strong you are despite your potential deadly fate and hopes to stay at your side until the end.

》JOTARO KUJO

You both were childhood friends turned lovers, and so he was very much aware of your condition from day one. He watched as your illness progressed to become worse and worse until you were left unable to walk properly anywhere. But what hurt the most deep down was that you always remind me so gentle and calm with him anyway, despite his rather aloof and indifferent personality. His mother often teased him playfully for being so soft with you and only you, but he'd just stubbornly deny it every time.

With that said, anyone that hurts you is practically dead before they know it. He doesn't play around when it comes to your health or well-being, and so it does come to some sort of relief that your stand is extremely powerful. It made protecting and keeping you safe a lot easier when you could just do it yourself, too. This doesn't mean he won't keep his eyes on you at all times anyway.

Jotaro is somewhat in denial about what's most likely going to be your early passing due to your sickness, despite his rational mind. He doesn't want to think or hear about it, as it hurts too much to lose you as well.

》GIORNO GIOVANNA

Giorno met you through Bucciarati, and whilst you weren't directly a part of the gang, you were still an important person in it due to your stands immense strength. You immideatly introduced him to it through a battle against an enemy stand user, which made him take interest in you initially. You were gentle and soft-spoken, so it was definitely a contrast he quickly became infatuated with over time. But what really got him about you was that you were able to do all these great things despite being gravely ill.

It served as a reminder that life was cruel, and yet Giorno wasn't phased by it. In fact, he hoped that once he was successful with the mission of overtaking the boss, he'd eventually be able to get you the medical care you needed. He was determined to find a way to stop the illness or at least make life better for you, so you became another goal for him to fight for.

You can always count on him for anything and everything, that's for sure. He loves you greatly and wants to show you that by staying by you even when things get worse. So if you inevitably die, then he'll be there until your last breath.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty

TW: mentions of violence

When you pull up out front, you’re more than grateful—ecstatic—to see the charger parked against the curb and Tom leaning against it, waiting for you in the peaking yellow sunshine. He beams when he sees you initially, but that delighted expression quickly turns concerned when he assesses the leftover tears streaked down your face. He meets you halfway, and grabs you up, and you just can’t help it, you start bawling into his silk button up. 

“Hey, hey, baby, Jesus, what’s wrong?” His palm rests securely on the back of your scalp, holding you tight, other arm wrapped around your torso and soothing your side. 

Fuck. This is not great. Best case scenario, you tell Tom the truth and Julian ends up on life support and the one that put him there ends up in jail for a very, very long time. At this point, you don’t give a shit about Julian—okay, he’s a whole human being with heavy trauma that you inadvertently led on, so maybe you do a little bit, but you’re more concerned about Tom getting locked up for life, probably with people he helped or directly put in prison himself. 

You have to lie, and it has to be convincing. But you’re taking too long thinking of one, and Tom Ludlow got promoted detective for a reason. “It was that fucking little bitch Julian, wasn’t it? You wait here.” He pulls away from you, a man on a mission, and you panic, reach for him, say the first thing that will be either convincing or pathetic enough to get him to stay and avoid life in the hole.

 “Wait, Tom. Please don’t leave me?”

He actually pauses, and it almost makes you want to cry all over again, because how many times have you thrown those words at a man, just to have them ignored? He turns, striding back to you and catching you up in his arms again. “I told you, baby, if he hurt you he was going to pay.”

“We just argued,” your whimper into his broad chest, sick with the memory of what had actually transpired. “He threw away my sunflowers, because he’s a shit, and I told him so. He threatened to write me up. And it was a long, hectic fucking shift from hell, so please don’t go?”

You feel the tension ease in Tom’s arms just minutely, and you dare think that maybe you’ve managed to keep this man from committing murder on your behalf. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I will be if you stay. We could put on a movie? And you could…rub my feet?”

He looks down at you, so intensely searching your expression for the truth, and in that moment he’s so handsome that you really could die in his arms. You hate yourself so much for lying to him, but you tell yourself its for the best, until you figure out what the fuck to do about Julian Mercer. A solution that doesn’t involve Tom marching into the hospital and shooting the doctor down on the Emergency Room floor. 

You’ve always wanted a man who would protect you–the complications of the other side of that coin never occurred to you though. Keeping him from doing something you’ll both regret is quite the challenge, as good as it would feel to watch him beat the daylights out of your asshole doctor. 

Tom, seemingly reluctant, agrees to placidly follow you up to your apartment. First, he grabs a delicious smelling paper bag from his front seat. Salty, fatty, fresh and hot, melty cheeseburgers and crispy fries from his favorite food truck. As you sit on your couch with him, feet in his lap, munching on carbs, you realize you’d take this over a fancy French dinner any day. 

Tom is done with his food, so he’s leaned back, sipping on soda, intent on the screen in front of him. You’re much more focused on how someone can look so good doing such mundane things, and before long he turns over to catch your stare and grin at you. “Hey.”

You giggle. “Hello?” Boldy, your bare foot traces his taut thigh. 

He pats his lap. “C’mere.” 

You fold up on him sideways as he wraps around you. You feel safe, here, in his arms, and comfortable, too, not wanting for anything; content and sleepy. You rest your head in the space between his deltoid and chest, wondering how you’re going to take it if he breaks your heart. Not well. Not well at all. 

“You gotta work today?” You ask him, thumbing the line of his jaw. 

“At noon.” He kisses your hair. 

“Complaints desk? Are you there because of the.. y’know.” 

“I’m there because I work with pussies and assholes.” He nuzzles into the side of your hair. 

“No dicks?” You joke. 

“Plenty.” There’s a smile in his voice, but it’s injected with honesty. 

“Do you like your job? Like, actually like this current assignment?” 

“I don’t like the complaint desk,” he admits, “but I do like the field—sometimes. I imagine it’s sort of like your job. Some nights I go home feeling satisfied, sometimes I go home and wanna tie a noose around my neck.” His honesty is brutal, but damn if he didn’t hit the nail on the head. You and Tom are cut from the same cloth, it seems. 

You nod. “Yeah, that sounds right.” 

He clears his throat. “My old partner, I trusted him with my life more than once. We ran the gauntlet together, broke stereotypes and cleaned up the city piece by piece. I just learned he’s talking to Internal Affairs about me. He’s trying to get me fired.” 

“Internal affairs?” You ask. 

“Yeah. Some things we did, back then, they weren’t by book. He has dirt on me.” 

“Why?” You ask, now angry on his behalf. “Because you saved those kids?”

“He doesn’t think I did it the right way.”

“There was no right way to do it. If you hadn't helped them, they would still be getting tortured for Christ’s sake. Doesn’t he care about that?” 

He’s silent for a long beat, probably thinking about what he wants to say to that question. Finally, he settles on: “the man I once knew would have.” 

“And now?” 

“I don’t know.” He seems really sad about this whole thing, and your heart aches for him. You lean up to kiss the side of his mouth, inhaling crisp aftershave and skin. 

It’s strange, how a few days ago he was chasing you down on the highway and making you have vivid visions of your hands wrapped around his throat, and now he’s here snuggled on the couch with you, distraught. Things are moving too quickly, and you’re not sure how to stop them—stop the ten ton freight train headed right for your very delicate heart. It seems pretty impossible. 

“I’m sorry, Tom. If it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure the majority of us laypeople think you’re a fucking hero…” 

He seems like he really doesn’t know what to say to that. Maybe, just like you, he’s bad at accepting compliments, accepting the fact that he’s a good man—despite the way he carries himself in the outside world, there is a unique vulnerability to him here, curled around you like a dragon protecting gold, and fuck if it doesn’t make you want him that much more.

“Can you lay with me for a while?” You ask, baring yourself to him and terrified of what the answer will be. Usually, different versions of this question—can we cuddle? Can we go to bed? Can you hold me?—yield failed results. Most men, at least the ones you’ve encountered, don’t want to just lay in bed doing nothing, and you’re prepared for Tom to think the same. 

Instead, he seems a little…dumbfounded. Like he didn’t expect this type of thing from his hot headed little nurse. That makes two of you. “In your bed?” 

“Yeah, in my bed. Let me…hold you?” You brace for his laughter, but instead get his arms wrapped around you tighter, his sigh against the top of your head, the relaxing of his body into a big puddle. 

“I would love that,” he says, and it sounds like he really, really means it. 

You end up with his head pressed against your chest, and your arms cradled around him, stroking his hair and rubbing his back. It’s silent, but the comfortable kind, the one that comes when you’re naturally in tune with someone. He fits right into you again, your missing piece despite the height and size difference. 

This is nice, and it’s not long before you’re drifting off in the shelter of Tom Ludlow’s arms. 

[soft-pine]

spn20rewatch: 2.19 folsom prison blues

SAM: Dean, does it ... bother you at all, how easily you seem to fit in here? DEAN: No, not really.

there is so much emotional weight and depth to dean's reply here! this whole season, being wanted by the police has been a theme for him. from being threatened with both the death penalty and an extra-judicial sacrificial-lambing in 2.07 to being more on the cops' radar in 2.08:

SAM: So much for our low profile. You've got a warrant in St. Louis, and now you're officially in the Fed's database. DEAN: Dude, I'm like Dillinger or something. SAM: Dean, it's not funny. Makes the job harder, we've gotta be more careful now. DEAN: Well, what do they got on you? SAM: I'm sure they just haven't posted it yet. DEAN: No accessory? Nothing? SAM: Shut up.

to henriksen specifically fixating on dean in 2.12:

HENRIKSEN: Trust me, Dean's a greater risk to 'em than we are. ROBARDS: This is crazy. HENRIKSEN: Crazy's in there. And I just hung up on it.

to the aftermath of the bank situation being dean, once again, more on the radar than sam (2.13):

DEAN: What am I supposed to do? I mean, you've got me on lockdown here, I'm bored out of my skull. SAM: Hey, you were the bank robber on the eleven o'clock news, not me. 

so is it any wonder that dean, whose entire life at this point is shaped by criminal charges for things done entirely out of necessity, is sympathetic to the other inmates?

DEAN: Innocent people are dead. Four so far. SAM: Yeah, innocent. DEAN: You from Texas all of a sudden? Just because these people are in jail, doesn't mean they deserve to die. If we don't stop this thing, people are going to continue to die.

dean knows full well he's in prison because the system doesn't recognize half the real things going on in the world. why should it be any different for these people? he doesn't think he's different from anyone else, he really just doesn't. god i love him!

some other little marvels from this ep:

DEAN: Man, I am freaking velvety smooth.

playing this on a loop in my head i love him i love him i love him!!!

DEAN: I call top bunk! [DEAN’s roommate scoffs and places his things on the top bunk.] DEAN: Okay.

hmm..... makes you think.

less fun is how deacon unsettles me. i don't know. i don't tend to like john's friends and just...

DEAN: Deacon, you are beating the holy hell out of me, man. DEACON: Sorry, Dean. I thought I was going easy on you. Just, uh, trying to make it look real.

i don't love it. i don't love it.

and i don't like the way this episode sets up 2.22 so well. dean uses his body as a punching bag here with abandon. he antagonizes tiny as a distraction and literally the only component of the plan is for tiny to beat the shit out of him while sam sneaks around. he consistently just has to take deacon beating him up to keep his and deacon's cover. this pattern of dean seeing himself as bait/punching bag/disposable is certainly one of the most consistent ones throughout supernatural. i've said before and i'll say again, it's brutal to realize how many times the plan literally is to just let dean get beat to hell to distract someone/thing.

the end of season 2 really is a very specific and sad march of dean studies that bring us to 2.22.

but last but not least, i love how mutual the obsession is between henriksen and dean!!

DEAN: You know, I almost wish I could see Henriksen's face.

like okay... they're literally obsessed with each otherrrrrrr!

[kim-the-miserable-rat]

I SAW A TIKTOK WHERE A GUY SAID THAT "LES MIS" WAS JUST A THREE HOUR MUSICAL OF THE FRENCH COMPLAINING

(and I mean, he's not entirely wrong.)

(JUST ACT 1 CAUSE I UNDERESTIMATED HOW LONG THIS WOULD TAKE ME)

So here's a list of what they complain about in each song:

LOOK DOWN: the prison system sucks

PROLOGUE: the life of an exconvict sucks

VALJEAN'S SOLILOQUY: this guy is too nice how dare he? And also the prison system still sucks.

AT THE END OF THE DAY: my workplace is full of cunts

I DREAMED A DREAM: men are the worst

LOVELY LADIES: selling my necklace, hair and becoming a prostitute to help my child is something that I have all the right to be mad about (she's completely right, Fantine you deserved sooooo much better queen)

FANTINE'S ARREST: (to the bourgeoisie asshole) stop dehumanizing me I will fight you (to javert) your justice is not fair (to Jean Valjean) It's kinda your fault that im in this situation tbh

THE RUNAWAY CART: (javert) YO HOMIE WTF ARE YOU HULK? [suspecting]or are you buff because of slavery?.....

WHO AM I?: Oh poo! Now I have to choose between lying (it will make god sad) or going back to jail (hundreds of people will lose their jobs and end up living in misery by my actions) Fuck them workers, im an honest man, lets save that one innocent man.

THE TRIAL: the justice system is flawed. Look at my sick ass tattoo in my chest. Ok nvm im going to se Fantine fuck you all.

FANTINE'S DEATH: I will never see my daughter again this is so unfair (it really is)

THE CONFRONTATION: (Jean Valjean) Javert could you FUCKING WAIT A SECOND! I HAVE SOMETHING IMPORTANT TO DO(Javert) Im going to drop all my lore in two lines that you will not get cause were all singing at the same time; and NO, you can't just go, WTF?

CASTLE ON A CLOUD: HELLO, CHILD SLAVERY???? SOMEBODY HELP THIS CHILD ASAP!!!

MASTER OF THE HOUSE: Madam Thenardier has a solo just to talk shit about his husband (and he deserves every bit of it)

THE BARGAIN: (Thenardiers) NO, OF COURSE YOU CAN'T TAKE OUR LITTLE TREASURE AWAY -unless you pay for her, that is-

PARIS (look down reprise): EVERYTHING IS AWFUL, WE HATE IT HERE!

THE ROBBERY: (Eponine) FUCK YOU MARIUS MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS! (Javert) Ewwww... i hate criminals! and also poor people. Same thing to me, really.

STARS: I'm so obsessed with that fugitive that it's starting to blur into an homoerotic desire. Also HOW DARE HE to be free? I will hunt him for sport

EPONINE'S ERRAND: (Eponine) So now I have to help YOU, the boy im in love with to find a random girl? ALSO WTF DON'T GIVE ME MONEY YOU ASSHOLE.

ABC CAFE: (Enjolras) STOP WHINING MARIUS, NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR NON EXISTENT LOVE LIFE, WE ARE PLANNING A REVOLUTION HERE, YOU KNOW? Also please guys can we take this thing seriously? Please please please :(

DO YOU HEAR THE PEOPLE SING?: (the people, obviously) time to eat the rich or die trying!

RUE PLUMMET/IN MY LIFE: (Cosette) father, ur cool to be around and all that but.... Who the fuck are you? And why do we act like we are convicts running from the law (cause ur dad kinda is, sweetie)

A HEART FULL OF LOVE: (Eponine) It fucking sucks to have helped my crush find the girl he's in love with[who would have thought?] Guess I will look at them longingly from like five feet away while they confess their love for each other and purposefully ignore me.

THE ATTACK ON RUE PLUMMET: (Eponine) GODAMNIT they will think I'm one of those assholes I have to do something! Go away or I'll scream IM INSANE I WILL FUCKING DO IT. Also fuck you dad. (Babet) I DON'T FUCKING CARE ABOUT THE LORE, GIVE ME MY FUCKING MONEY THENARDIER (Thenardier) Im surrounded by idiots! (Jean Valjean) TIME TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, FUCK EVERYONE WHO WANTS TO SEE MY DOWNFALL.

ONE DAY MORE: (Jean Valjean) Kinda sucks to have to run from the law [yeah homie we noticed that] (Marius & Cosette) OH NO! I'LL BE SEPARATED FROM THE LOVE OF MY LIFE THAT I MET A WEEK AGO. WHAT A GREAT TRAGEDY (Eponine) Marius still doesnt care about me. (Enjolras) He's not complaining, he's having the best time of his life. Good for him. Enjoy it while it lasts, citizen! (Javert) Guess I'll go as a spy with this cool new outfit. [Again, not a complain but important to notice]

OK, THIS DESCENDED INTO MADNESS.

EXPECT ACT 2 SOON :)

[kjack89]

Dial Drunk

5 times Enjolras bailed Grantaire out of jail, and one time, well...

The door of the holding cell clanked open and as one, the nine men sitting inside glanced up. “Alright,” the booking officer said in a bored tone, glancing down at his clipboard. “Bail’s been posted for arrestees Bahorel, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Enjolras, Feuilly, Joly, Lesgle and Prouvaire. You’re free to leave after you sign out at the front desk.”

There were a few grumbles as the men started to get to their feet, but Enjolras remained resolutely seated, his brow furrowed with a frown. “What about Grantaire?”

The man in question chuckled darkly, tilting his head back to rest it against the wall of the holding cell. “Is that actual concern for me that I hear, Apollo? I could die happy.”

Enjolras ignored him. “Pontmercy was supposed to post bail for all of us,” he said instead, aiming his words at Courfeyrac as if the man was somehow still responsible for the actions of his former roommate some five years after they had stopped living together.

Courfeyrac just shrugged. “Don’t look at me,” he said. “I mean, we all know Marius is a bit of an idiot, maybe he miscounted.”

Combeferre shook his head. “I’m probably wrong and should defer to the lawyers amongst us but I thought I remembered reading something in one of the articles about reforming pre-trial detention that an individual can only post bail for 8 detainees at a time.”

“And so I must’ve drawn the short straw,” Grantaire sighed. “Story of my fucking life.”

Bossuet clapped him sympathetically on the shoulder. “On the other hand, you could take it as a compliment that Marius thinks you’re the one most likely to survive an extended stay behind bars.”

Bahorel snorted so loudly the bars of the cell almost rattled. “Sorry but literally not a single one of us would survive an extended stay behind bars.”

“Speak for yourself,” Feuilly said. “I know how to whittle.” At the blank looks he received, he huffed a sigh and added, “So I can make a shank. No wonder none of you would survive in jail.”

“This is making our goal of prison abolition seem oddly self-serving,” Joly murmured in an undertone to Jehan, who stifled a laugh.

Combeferre cleared his throat. “Not that I’m not sympathetic to Grantaire having to be stuck in here, but I’d just like to remind everyone that since Marius posted bail, we’re technically now here voluntarily.”

“Yeah so GTFO,” Grantaire said with a grimace masquerading as a smile. “Let me rot in peace, etcetera.”

Enjolras looked like he wanted to argue more, but Combeferre muttered something in his ear and he made a face before filing out of the cell. “Serious miscalculation on Marius’s part with this one,” Courfeyrac said brightly as he followed everyone else out. “Because God knows you’re going to complain about this for the rest of all time.”

Grantaire gave him the finger and Courfeyrac winked as the officer closed the cell door behind him.

Sighing again, Grantaire sat upright, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck before settling back against the bench. “You need anything?” the booking officer asked.

Grantaire shook his head. “Nah,” he said dismissively. “Not my first rodeo. Hopefully I won’t be stuck overnight, but I’ve slept in worse places.”

“Oh, yeah?” the officer said with mild interest.

Grantaire nodded. “Central booking at the 16th Precinct is a piece of shit,” he said brightly.

The officer barked a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He gave Grantaire a long look. “Should I ask what you were picked up for previously?”

Considering the answer to that question was a vast litany of misdemeanors (and felonies reduced to misdemeanors) that the boys in blue tended not to appreciate, Grantaire hesitated. Thankfully, he was saved from having to answer at all by the crackle of the officer’s walkie-talkie. “Just a moment,” the officer told him, heading out of the booking area and Grantaire let out a sigh of relief as he slumped on the bench.

“You’re free to go,” the officer said upon returning, and Grantaire looked up, surprised.

“Really?”

The officer nodded, opening the door to the holding cell. “Bail was posted. So I guess you’ll have to save your rap sheet for the next time you’re in here.”

Grantaire snorted a laugh. “I’d say there won’t be a next time, but…” 

He ducked out before the officer could respond to that, making his way to the front desk, stopping in his tracks when he saw Enjolras leaning against the desk, clearly waiting for him. “What’re you doing here?”

Enjolras straightened. “It didn’t feel right leaving you in there,” he said with a shrug that didn’t quite come across as nonchalant as he’d probably intended. “And I happened to have some cash on me, so…”

“Between this and being worried about my welfare, you’re gonna give me the wrong impression,” Grantaire said.

“Guess that depends on what impression you’re getting,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire’s eyes flickered to his and away again, feeling suddenly tongue-tied. Enjolras cleared his throat, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Anyway, we should get to the Musain to debrief.” He glanced at Grantaire. “Unless you’ve got something better to do.”

Grantaire just shook his head, and gestured for Enjolras to lead the way. “After you,” he said, his voice low, and together they walked out of the precinct, their arms just brushing against each other as they headed to meet their friends at the Musain.

— — — — —

“Jesus Christ,” Enjolras muttered as the booking officer removed the handcuffs from a sheepish-looking Grantaire. Well, as sheepish as a man sporting the beginnings of a pretty impressive black eye could look, anyway. “Here,” Enjolras said roughly, holding an ice pack out to Grantaire. “I posted your bail as well.”

“Thanks,” Grantaire muttered, taking the ice pack and wincing as he pressed it against his eye.

Enjolras pursed his lips as he gave him a once-over. “Any other injuries I need to worry about?” he asked.

Grantaire just shrugged. “Nothing that won’t heal on its own.”

“Because that’s reassuring,” Enjolras sighed, rubbing his forehead, but when he looked at Grantaire again, there was something almost soft in his expression. “You didn’t need to do that.”

What he could see of Grantaire’s expression tightened, just slightly. “You didn’t hear what that guy called you.”

He said it calmly, evenly, but his hand automatically balled into a fist at the memory. Enjolras reached out automatically to rest his hand on Grantaire’s fist until it relaxed. “It doesn’t matter what he called me,” he said, his voice low. “I can take care of myself.”

“Of course you can,” Grantaire scoffed. “But that doesn’t mean you should have to.”

Enjolras just shook his head, running his thumb across Grantaire’s bruised knuckles, a testament to the fact that despite the black eye, he’d emerged from the fight victorious. “I should’ve brought another ice pack,” he murmured.

Grantaire just half-smiled, twisting his hand so that he could lace his fingers with Enjolras’s. “It’s fine,” he said softly. “It doesn’t really hurt at the moment anyway.”

Enjolras cleared his throat and looked away, but he didn’t try to untangle his fingers from Grantaire’s. “Well,” he said, “we should, uh, get out of here.”

“Before they realize you have about a half dozen outstanding warrants for your arrest?” Grantaire asked with a smirk, his voice quiet enough that only Enjolras could hear.

“You’d be amazed what having a multi-million dollar settlement pending against the city will do to the police’s willingness to bring you in,” Enjolras said with a smirk. “Not that I want to test that, of course.”

“Liar,” Grantaire said, grinning. “But better safe than sorry, I suppose.”

He started toward the door, pausing when Enjolras didn’t immediately follow. “Thank you, by the way,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire glanced back at him.

“Anytime,” he said simply. “Thanks for bailing me out.”

Enjolras gave him a look that was half-amused, half-exasperated. “Just don’t go making a habit of it,” he warned. “One day I won’t be here to bail you out.”

“Only because you’ll probably be locked up with me,” Grantaire said.

“Well,” Enjolras murmured, not quite able to stop his smile, “you’re not wrong.”

— — — — —

Grantaire rested his elbows against the bars of the holding cell, his arms dangling into what was technically freedom on the other side. The booking officer, some new guy he didn’t recognize, gave him a look but didn’t say anything, which he took as a small victory, and he allowed himself a small smirk.

A smirk that faded as soon as he saw Enjolras, escorted by another officer. “No dice on bail?” Grantaire asked, seeing the look on Enjolras’s face.

Enjolras shook his head. “No, they’re going to go through the whole arraignment rigamarole. I’ve already let Pontmercy know.” He made a face, casting an irritated look at the booking officer who was pretending not to listen to their conversation. “Apparently they take battery of a police officer pretty seriously these days.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Grantaire muttered. Enjolras sighed and Grantaire gave him a look. “Don’t even start,” he warned. “This wasn’t about you not being able to take care of yourself—”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say,” Enjolras interrupted, his voice tight. “I’m well aware that cop would’ve bashed my head in if you hadn’t intervened.” He shook his head and sighed again. “I was going to say thank you.”

“Oh,” Grantaire said, managing a tight smile. “You’re welcome.”

Enjolras just shook his head again. “You still shouldn’t have done it,” he continued, “because honestly, I’m not worth all that—”

“You are, though,” Grantaire said, in a tone that brooked no argument. Enjolras scowled and Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Fine, then why don’t we make a deal?” he said. “I’ll stop defending you when you stop bailing me out.”

“At the rate you’re going, I won’t be able to anyway,” Enjolras said sourly. “Not without putting up some major collateral.”

Grantaire shook his head. “And I’m definitely not worth that,” he said.

Enjolras’s eyes met his. “You are, though.”

For a moment, it looked like Grantaire might argue. Instead, he reached for Enjolras’s hand, bringing it up to kiss his knuckles through the bars of the holding cell. “No touching,” the booking officer barked, and Grantaire rolled his eyes as he reluctantly let go of Enjolras’s hand. 

“Will you be at my arraignment?” he asked.

Enjolras shrugged. “Someone’s got to post whatever bail amount the judge decides,” he said.

Grantaire half-smiled. “In that case, I’ll be the one in the front.” 

“Pretty sure that’ll be the judge,” Enjolras murmured, grinning when Grantaire rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I promise.”

“It’ll be the only thing that gets me through spending the night in here,” Grantaire told him, and it was Enjolras’s turn to roll his eyes, though there was obvious affection in the motion.

“Pretty sure Bahorel was right,” he said. “You definitely wouldn’t survive in jail.”

Grantaire just shrugged. “Only if you were in there with me.”

Enjolras shook his head, reluctantly backing away toward the door. “Still time,” he said, and Grantaire’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t you dare do anything stupid while I’m locked up in here.”

Enjolras just smirked. “See you tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder as he left, and Grantaire sighed, though there something strangely content in the noise, despite, or maybe because of, the circumstances.

— — — — —

Grantaire didn’t meet Enjolras’s eyes as he rapped his fingers impatiently against the front desk at the precinct, waiting for them to bring him his personal effects. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” Enjolras asked, his voice tight. Grantaire looked pointedly at the conspicuous clock on the wall and Enjolras’s scowl deepened. “Exactly, it’s 2 in the fucking morning. I have a 7 o’clock meeting, which you knew damn well, so why you had to go pick a bar fight with some guy twice your fucking size—”

“So sorry to be an inconvenience to you,” Grantaire drawled, slurring his words just slightly. “Can’t imagine what it must be like to have made plans that get interfered with by someone else’s priorities.”

Enjolras ground his teeth together. “Are we really doing this here and now?” he asked.

Grantaire just jerked a shrug, not meeting his eyes. “Do you have something better to do?”

Enjolras sighed and scrubbed a tired hand across his face. “I’m sorry that I had to cancel tonight,” he said, with as much patience as he could seemingly muster, considering the circumstances. “But I needed to get this proposal done ahead of the meeting tomorrow, and I don’t really see what the big deal—”

“You never do,” Grantaire interrupted, still not looking at him. “That’s the problem.”

“You knew going into this—”

“Just like you knew going into this that I’m a drunk and a disaster,” Grantaire interrupted, finally looking at Enjolras, his expression hard. “Well, congratulations, Apollo, it looks like we both knew what we were getting into and yet somehow, we’re both still disappointed.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “I’m not,” he said tiredly. “I’m not disappointed, Grantaire, because that would require me to actually expect better from you, and I learned my lesson on that a long time ago.”

Grantaire just grinned, a horrible, twisted grin. “Right back atcha.”

The officer returned with Grantaire’s belongings, and Grantaire grabbed his phone, wallet and keys, returning them to his pockets. Enjolras took a deep breath, but whatever he clearly wanted to say seemed to stick in his throat, and he looked away. “C’mon,” he said instead. “Let’s go home.”

Grantaire nodded once, shoving his hands in his pockets as he slumped after Enjolras, neither man touching the other.

— — — — —

“He’s not technically under arrest,” the cop told Enjolras as he led him back to the holding cell. “But that’s because we couldn’t really mirandize him when he was passed out.”

Enjolras eyed Grantaire, sprawled across the bench in the holding cell, and sighed. “So once he’s coherent, he’ll be charged with, what, drunk and disorderly?”

The officer nodded. “Yeah.” He glanced at Enjolras. “Look, it’s not my place, but, uh, maybe look into getting your friend some help?”

“Yeah,” Enjolras murmured, his expression drawn. “Maybe.” He sighed and turned. “Guess I’ll go preemtively pay his bail—”

“Apollo?” Grantaire croaked, and Enjolras sighed again.

“Give us a moment?” he asked the officer, who just shrugged.

Enjolras crossed to the bars of the holding cell, his arms crossed tightly in front of his chest. “Tell me,” he said, his tone clipped, “were you trying to get hit by a car by passing out in the street, or would have just been a fun little side effect of this spectacular attempt at blowing up your life?”

Grantaire groaned as he forced himself into a sitting position. “Honestly don’t remember if it was deliberate or not,” he muttered, swaying slightly as he blinked unfocusedly at Enjolras.

“There are easier ways of killing yourself,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire managed a small, sharp smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve considered those as well.”

Enjolras’s expression tightened and he looked away. “You used your one phone call for me,” he said.

Grantaire shrugged. “Didn’t know who else to call.”

“Probably anyone besides your ex.” Grantaire flinched and Enjolras sighed before telling him, as firmly as he could manage, “This is the last time. Do you understand?”

Grantaire barked a dry, humorless laugh. “If there’s one thing I can promise, Apollo, it’s that this won’t be the last time.”

“Maybe not for you,” Enjolras said. “But I’m done. So the next time you get picked up for a bar fight or public intoxication or whatever suicidal shit you decide to get yourself into next time, call someone else.”

He didn’t wait for Grantaire to answer, just turning on heel to leave him in the holding cell while he went to go pay his bail.

One last time.

— — — — —

The phone rang, and rang again, and Grantaire’s grip on the phone tightened. “Come on,” he muttered to himself. “Come on, pick up, pick up.”

But the phone just rang until the tinny, robotic voice informed him that no voicemail had been set up for this phone number, and he heaved a sigh as he hung up, a headache blooming in his temples that had absolutely nothing to the better part of a handle of whiskey that he’d worked his way through that evening. 

“Nothing?” the booking officer asked, and Grantaire ground his teeth together at the fake sympathetic tone.

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’, and he scrubbed a hand across his face before heading back to the holding cell.

The booking officer trailed after him. “Do you, uh, want to try calling someone else?”

Grantaire just shook his head. “No,” he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest as the officer opened the door of the cell for him. “I’ll try again later. He’s probably asleep.”

The officer glanced up at the clock that showed it was barely 10pm, and he shook his head as he closed the door after Grantaire. “Your choice,” he said with a shrug.

Grantaire sighed heavily as he slumped down onto the hard metal bench, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to reach for an absent glass or bottle of beer, or else for a hand that used to be his to hold. His throat felt tight and he swallowed hard, tilting his head back to rest it against the wall of the holding cell.

He closed his eyes against the tears that he could feel prick in the corners of his eyes, though he honestly didn’t know if he was crying because Enjolras hadn’t picked up, or because there was a part of him that still thought that maybe, in the morning, he would. One more time.

[possessesnightshift]

regarding the beautiful bisexual italian man who allegedly is responsible for the uhc shooting...

look, i totally get the impulse to obsess over this random guy and turn him into some kind of a working class hero. we're all desperate to root for someone who can take direct action against healthcare tycoons who make our lives so much harder.

but lately i've noticed a shift in the gravity of this discourse away from "why the hell did a man need to die to get pharmacies to stop rejecting all my claims?" and more towards "i want to hear the cute italian twunk moaning and gagging on it..." and like...

i do get it. not only is he just a very clearly attractive man (despite all the media trying in vain to find the worst pictures of him to show), but he has a grab bag of random personality traits that manage to make a lot of people relate to them, even if the claims are dubious at best

he was an avid reader, he was an elon musk follower, he went to an ivy league, he was a chronic poster, he had anxiety, he was a stemcel, he was bisexual, he had mein kampf on his goodreads list, he wanted a white girl to go bug on his dick...

all of these things combined are enough to make this man fascinating to almost anyone. some of them even make him sympathetic to a lot of people (even if stuff like the bi thing is most likely unfounded)

but i want to make something absolutely clear.

this is not. about. luigi mangione...

hell this isn't about ANY suspect that could be the perpetrator (we do not KNOW if luigi mangione can be found guilty until an actual jury goes into deliberation. otherwise we're just putting our blind faith into the nypd which is definitely sketchy, even if the evidence does seem to indicate it's him thus far...)

no this is about one man and one man only:

Brian. Motherfucking. Thompson.

even if this act had been done by some unglamorous 60 year-old trailer trash person instead of a fit, attractive 26 year-old, this shooting is still not about him or his politics or whether he should or shoudln't face justice

no this is about the fact that brian thompson was valuable enough to his company to be a multi-millionaire, but not so valuable that the meeting he missed due to his execution had to be postponed. not so valuable that his position wasn't filled in a matter of days.

this is about the fact that the unceremonious death of an "innocent" man was a better policy in terms of increasing people's access to health coverage than anything the democrats or the republicans advocated for in the past decade. it's the fact that brian thompson's death apparently hurt people very little and helped people a lot.

it didn't have to be this way.

they made it this precarious on purpose because they assumed they could get away with it.

gun to my head? i personally think luigi mangione doesn't deserve to see jail time even if he is guilty. daniel penny executed a black homeless man and he doesn't have to go to prison. kyle rittenhouse is a free man. meanwhile marcellus williams was proven innocent and executed anyway for the crime of not murdering anyone. you can't convince me there are no murders the state wouldn't just unconditionally support if it's in their class interest. if that's the way it is, we deserve to allow this man his "legal kill" that serves us in our defense against the violence of the capital class.

but even if he goes down, even if they make an example out of him, it does not matter.

because this story is not about the killer.

it is about the man who was killed...

and the question of why he had to die for our healthcare needs to be properly addressed...

enjoy the memes for this brief moment in time. but once the glamor and intrigue dies away and we can stop drawing horny fanart of the alleged shooter, we need to circle back to talking about brian thompson. he needs to be the centerpiece of this story. his actions. his ruthless drive to turn a profit. the community of billionaires looking out for themselves. THAT is what this should be about...

we are brushing up against severe disempowerment in the new trump administration. we CANNOT fumble this opportunity for class solidarity...

get it all out of your systems

and turn right back around and demand to know whether these ceo monsters are planning on rejecting our claims the moment this story has faded into the background