#this post brought to you by the realization that our perpetrators are

[casketscratch]

One of the kindest things our therapist ever said to us, when we were struggling with coming to terms with how many of us there are in the system, was that our system is exactly the size it needed to be for us to survive until this day.

And I found it easier to be grateful for our complexities and structure after that.

I try to apply it to other things when they're getting muddled now, too.

Our protectors are exactly as defensive as they needed to be to survive.

We are exactly as many as we needed to be in order to be here now.

Our perpetrators and persecutors are exactly as angry (and loyal, and violent, and determined) as they had to be.

The parts who fawn, who freeze, who forget, who remember, who worry, who bite our tongue for us when they don't think they're ready to speak yet: exactly as they all should be. We are all who we had to be in order to see this moment. And this moment is not so bad.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Batya Ungar-Sargon

Published: Nov 8, 2023

About a week after the October 7 massacre, I passed a large group of people in an airport who were waiting to check in for a flight to Cairo. One of the women ostentatiously clocked the Jewish star I wear around my neck and started whispering with her compatriots. As I walked by, she shouted at me, “Palestine will be free!” 

I chuckled as I walked to my gate, thinking, Not if Egypt has anything to say about it.

Before October 7, I would have considered this whole scene to be wildly offensive. A stranger shouting an anti-Israel slogan at me, holding me responsible for the actions of the Israeli government simply because I am a Jew. 

But in the post–October 7 world, I had a different reaction: let her scream. 

It’s uncomfortable to be barked at by strangers. It’s not pleasant to find out that your classmates will not condemn the murder of your people, or to hear thousands of them gleefully chanting the slogans of a genocidal death cult committed to your erasure from this planet. It’s unsettling to know that your peers have adopted a worldview that allows them to convince themselves that you are the bad guy, you are the privileged monster who wants babies to burn—even as they justify and celebrate the burning of Jewish babies.

It is scary to realize that the same administration that “protects” your fellow students from every perceived slight and insult will side with them against you as they literally call for your annihilation. It can be deeply isolating to open social media and see post after post calling your people the perpetrators of the exact forms of murderous violence that was done to them not three weeks earlier. And it is maddening to watch those who hate us and wish violence upon us fashion themselves as victims—even as heroes.

But that feeling you get when you are facing those things down, that quickening of your heart rate, the flush on your face, the chill down the spine—these unpleasant sensations are what courage feels like. They are the physical symptoms of a moral compass that works, the manifestations of pride in who you are, of the fact that despite millennia of calls for our murder, we’re still here. You’re still here.

Treasure those feelings. Do not cower. Do not tremble.

I’m not suggesting you put yourself in actual danger. The assaults on Jewish students at Harvard and UMass are crimes and should be prosecuted as such. On Sunday, 69-year-old Paul Kessler dared wave an Israeli flag on a Thousand Oaks street corner and died after being assaulted. His murderer should spend his life behind bars.

But the worst thing that could come out of this moment would be for Jews, especially Jews on campus, to embrace the victimhood narrative that their peers subscribe to—and that universities large and small have reified in sprawling DEI bureaucracies. That worldview is a large part of what has brought us to this moment.

So do not cast your lot as a competitor in the oppression Olympics. Instead, reject that entire way of looking at the world.

Here’s the thing: it’s good to be unpopular with a mob whose worldview has done away with the concept of right and wrong and decided, with a Nazi-like commitment to racial ideology, that you are Jewish and therefore you are white and therefore you are bad. It is good to be unpopular with people who spent the weeks after October 7 on the hunt for Jewish exaggeration, Jewish lies, Jewish crimes. It is good to be unpopular with people who cannot separate evil from power and virtue from skin color. (Unpopularity, for now, is your fate, unless you are willing to cosign your own humiliation and join the left’s token “good Jews” who advocate against Zionism from the comfort of the diaspora for plaudits from the Squad.) We don’t answer to them; we answer to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the Rock of Israel and its Redeemer.

The good news is: it may not feel like it, but this country is on your side. College students are in one of vanishingly few spaces in America that sides with Hamas. Your professors will live and die in irrelevance, signing their names to their silly little letters and coming up with new jargon with which to defend terrorism while nurturing their grandiose hero complexes. Most of your peers will grow up and abandon their radical chic commitments. The progressive movement has taken a big hit, having shown its true colors to a nation that knows what is good and what is right, that can separate barbarism from civilization. 

But for now, remember this: to be a Jew is to refuse to kneel and refuse to bow. The stakes of standing upright have never been clearer than they are today, in this post–October 7 world. It’s good to have these people as your enemies, because the world will always have people who oppose what’s right and what’s good, and it is our destiny to fight them. Do it with pride.

==

"Sometimes it's better to be known for one's enemies."

[japhgura]

TOUSEN CURSE WOUND SNIPPET HELLO CAN I SEE PLASE??? (Even if it's not AEIWAM -specific I am *starved* for content of my blorbos)

Ok I see you I and I raise you Archive obsessed Captain finds something weird in the files and decides to undergo a temporary career change to Detective Captain - It is very much AEIWAM specific because I consumed your Kaname stuff and my inner child was healed fr (aka the pouting one that Kaname was such a wasted character in og bleach) So that was also kinda why I was tentative about posting it, I didn't want to rudely intrude in your world So this isn't the curse snippet... yet. But in contrast to the curse wound snippet this is Kaname POV so here you go buddy, blorbo supreme, giving back some of the joy that AEIWAM has brought me hopefully haha

1.4k Wordles The sound of quick controlled brush strokes and page after page being moved rivalled Hisagi’s. Tōsen had gotten used to the rhythm and speed his lieutenant worked at. ..With this new revelation, he was sure what he had noticed in the files in the archives hadn’t just been a weird feeling. His third seated officer was handling complex report and security forms at a speed no one should be capable of. At least not when seeing them for the first time. And according to the files this should be her first time doing lieutenant paperwork. Something was off.

The sound of the brush subsided and a few moments later Tōsen heard the sound of ink stone and water. Maegawa had seemingly taken a break from filling out forms to grind herself new ink. After a few strokes of grinding stone and gently sloshing water, the woman sighed and laid down her ink stone. 

“Captain, why are you staring at me?”, third seat Maegawa finally asked, the subtle irritation in her voice easy to hear for someone like Kaname. 

“Stare at you?”, the Captain of the 9th asked incredulously, pointing at himself.  

“Well- You know what I mean-”, she fumbled. “The tension in the air is so thick you could cut it with a Zanpakutō. If you have a problem with me Sir, just tell me please”, the blonde Shinigami sighed, a tad annoyed. 

Interesting. Maegawa Asahi easily had her feathers ruffled it seemed. Well, as long as a Captain was involved. Tōsen had long noticed his subordinate didn’t particularly take a liking to him. But well enough, he preferred being direct. 

“I wanted to work with you because you’ve been bothering me”, Kaname stated honestly, laying down his brush.  

“Huh??”, apparently Asahi hadn’t expected him to be _quite_ that honest. 

“Hisagi’s sick leave gave me a perfect opportunity to observe you for a while- “ 

“Observe? You’re blind, sir” 

“I know, let me live a little”, Kaname retorted after being interrupted. “Besides, it’s not like I need to see to realize something is bothering you. What’s bothering _me_ is that you refuse to vocalize your concerns. Especially now that I’ve found something... unusual”, Tōsen listened to the floorboards creaking under Maegawa. She was shifting her weight; he had apparently hit the nail on the head. Well then, time to go on the offensive. 

“As you know from our last excursion into Boolean algorithms - that you dozed off in midway through mind you - I quite enjoy archiving. Since I inherited the 9th, I’ve been striving to get our archives and database immaculately sorted and organized. And while doing that I couldn’t help but notice an oddity in the files from a short time, maybe a few decades, before Kensei became Captain. ...I noticed that same oddity in your personal files, Maegawa”, Captain Tōsen’s tone was factual, if not suspicious. This issue had been bothering him for a while and he was going to get to the bottom of it. However, he wasn’t someone who would declare his underling guilty without even giving them a chance to defend themselves. 

As he started talking about the odd files, Maegawa inhaled sharply. Bingo. Even if she wasn’t the perpetrator, she most definitely knew something about the oddity. He could hear fabric straining. She was gripping her shihakusho. This was almost too easy, Maegawa’s body language was quite literally very loud. At least to him. Usually that was a sign for someone very honest.  

What an unusual case he had inherited from his former Captain. Kensei had managed to win her favour back then. Kaname still remembered the flusteredness in her voice. She used to be a very caring and humorous colleague. How times had changed, huh. Shūhei and the other members of the 9th still had a good relationship to her. As far as he knew, no complaints. Well, Hisagi tended to flusteredly complain about teasing, but that in turn was good fun for Kaname, so he hadn’t felt the need to bother his suddenly distant subordinate until now. Kempt files on the other hand were a more serious matter. 

“You’re my third seated officer and yet I rarely encounter you. We both know that’s because you’re avoiding me. I know you adored Captain Kensei, but I’m well aware that is not the reason for your disdain toward me. I served under him as well. With you. I remember how much you disliked our former captain in the beginning too. I conclude it’s not me ‘replacing’ Kensei then. No.. You have a disdain and innate distrust toward everyone in the position of Captain in the 9th division. And having found those files I’m starting to put things together”, Tōsen shared his deductions. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk, interlacing his fingers as he continued: “And that scar.. That spot of shattered spiritual pressure-” 

He was cut off before he could continue: “How do you know about that-”, Asahi’s voice was strained, the tension in her body was audible through it. Apparently, he had hit a sore spot there. Quite literally. 

“Well, you would have to be blind not to see it”, a hint of a bemused smirk curled the corner of Tōsen’s lips. “Or, I suppose, in this case you would have to be blind _to_ see it”, he hummed. “There’s a distinct disconnect in the flow of your spiritual pressure. I’m aware you’re trying to hide it, but the sever is too severe to erase it completely. ...And a sever so clean... If you were wounded, well, scarred this way by a fellow Shinigami and the files have been erased then-” 

“I’m fine!”, the table clattered as Asahi got up too fast. The sound of paper scattering resounded soon after. “If you don’t need me here for paperwork then-“, the tremble in her voice was almost pitiful. She was about to storm out, when Tōsen spoke back up: 

“...I had a sister once. We were nearly inseparable. ..She was murdered” 

“...I’m.. sorry for your loss. ..But that won’t keep me from leaving now, Sir”, Asahi clenched her fists audibly, but he didn’t yet hear a footstep. 

“...Her murderer still runs free. They were never convicted. I have to live with that... Rage... With that _injustice_ every day. Maegawa, if there was a Captain before Kensei.. a captain you trusted.. and they betrayed you.... ...I would rather add another burden to my own shoulders than having my third seat officer have to live with such grave injustice as well. I’m saying that not only as your Captain, but as Kaname Tōsen”, Maegawa’s Captain stated honestly. 

For a moment, there was silence. Then, a deep, shaky sigh, followed by two or three barely audible dripping noises. 

“Spirit’s Sake, what do you _not_ know? I thought I could bury this by avoiding you. ….But you see far more than I realized”, Asahi sat down and leaned against the backrest, audible by the creak it made. It was a sound of defeat for all he knew. The tension fading from her body enough to make her lean back meant she was mostly likely ready to finally talk to him. 

“I will always be there for my division. And you’re part of it. You can start relying on your Captain a little. We may not always see eye to eye, but people tell me I’m a great listener”, Kaname chuckled, his joke earning him a snort from Asahi. 

- 

...Why had she repeated the same mistake again? First him, then Kensei and now even Tōsen. Again she had put her trust in her Captain and in the end she was left standing alone. Another headstone added to her graveyard of treasured connections. Maegawa felt her eyes sting. Betrayal. Was that all she was ever going to get? 

“...Bastard” 

“Asahi.”, a calm voice resounded within her head. She could hear the concern in his voice. Just hearing it was enough to relax her again. ..She wasn’t alone in her grief anymore. 

“...It’s fine”, a small, relieved smile crept onto her lips as Maegawa dabbed at the corners of her eyes. 

“Let her wallow, she does that a lot when it comes to captains”, a feminine voice spoke up inside her head. “She usually doesn’t cheer up as quick. Maybe worry about her some more and this inner world will finally stop raining. There’s not a lot of shelter in here, you know?”, the voice huffed. 

Asahi’s lips curled into a smile. “...Right. Well, let me join you in the rain at least”, she chuckled, sword meditation always calmed her, perhaps she’ll take a break to indulge her treasured Zanpakutō. Maegawa put the stack of paperwork Shūhei had asked for on the captain’s desk.  

Her hand lingered on the wood. As with Kensei and the first, all that was going through her head when thinking of the Captain’s betrayal was...  

..Why? 

[weirdsht]

jib-eseo

a/n: more detail writing practice so this is like very all over the place sorry

Warnings: mentions of stab wound and death, plot is allover the place, fem reader, platonic relationships only, implied child reader, I accidentally used hyung and when I noticed it it was too late to go back

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

If there's something missing in the warnings let me know so I can add it

Any form of interaction toward the post is appreciated <333

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It hurts, please someone, anyone, anything make it stop. It hurts so much

Pain that started from your abdomen started to spread all throughout your body. You weren’t even sure what happened nor were you sure why everything hurt. All you know is that you're probably slowly dying.

You try to keep your consciousness. Fight the black spots appearing in your vision as the pain climbs over to your head. If you close your eyes now you probably won’t be able to open it ever again. But your efforts were futile. The harder you try to fight back your headache throbs harder making you fade consciousness alone in a dark room.

Waking up with a scream, you soon realize that previous suffering is now gone. There’s still a throbbing pain in your abdomen but it’s nothing compared to the pain you felt last night. That doesn’t make your uneasiness go away as you notice that you aren’t in the old, dingy, abandoned apartment you fainted in. You’re actually laying down on a comfortable bed, not the cold hard floor you used to sleep in.

Everything looks shiny and expensive. Soft and comfortable sheets with half translucent corona that lessens the sun’s brightness coming in from the big windows near the luxurious vanity. A walk-in closet is also visible from your view. Lavish clothes of different colors are peeking out from the small opening available.

“Young master, where does it hurt? Shall I call Saint-nim?”

A benign, old man answered your scream. The old butler’s voice is composed but the chaos in his eyes says otherwise. Without even waiting for your response you see him signal to another servant to probably get the saint.

Confusion filled your entire being. You don’t know where you are nor who this man is. Not sure as to how to respond, you merely sat there staring dumbfoundedly at the butler who’s already inside your room with the saint. Ron, the name of the butler which you found out through the saint, was there as the saint-hyung checked up on you. With frantic and concerned movements the saint, Jack, successfully heals you. 

“Um I’m sorry but what’s going on?”

“Our princess doesn’t seem to remember what happened. You were attacked while you’re out playing. It has been a week and half already since that happened, but don’t worry your brother has caught the perpetrator as soon as you get injured.”

“Princess? Me?”

Hands that were brewing tea stopped along with the hands that were checking your body for any hidden injuries. Ron wasn’t dumb to not realize that you lost your memories. Being the capable attendant that he is, he continued brewing tea and preparing food as if nothing was out of the ordinary prompting Jack to do the same thing.

“I think young master Cale should be here, I will be right back after informing the young master of the situation”

Those were Ron’s last words after setting breakfast and leaving the room with the saint. Maids soon entered the room to make up for the two male’s presence. All of them were quick and attentive to your wellbeing. One maid helped you sit up, as another maid went inside the closest to pick out your clothes of the day. Another maid was even getting ready to feed you the soup Ron brought after pouring you a cup of tea.

 

You tried to refuse and feed yourself but soon found out there’s zero strength left in your body. This made you have no choice but to let the maids dote on you. At first it was awkward, you don’t know these people and all of their attention seemed to be focused on you. Soon you start to feel comfortable as their warm gazes and gentle hands continue to care for you.

“Is the princess allowed to take a bath yet?”

“Hmm well Saint-nim said she’s healing fine but lets just wipe her with a cloth to be sure. Let’s not risk aggravating her wounds.”

“Excuse me, but can you please tell me what happened? Ron only mentioned that I was attacked”

The maid feeding you seems to hesitate for a short while. All of them were outside your door as Ron and Jack tend to you so they obviously know what’s going on. 

“We weren’t personally there to see it happen but I heard that the young princess was stabbed.”

After you finished eating breakfast another maid helped you dress. They dressed you in a light blue, knee-length glitter mesh dress. As the maid was tying a black ribbon on your waist you heard a knock. A tall male with red hair went inside as soon as one of the maids opened the door. Seeing as there was nothing else to do, the people previously attending to you all went out of the room to give the masters of the house some privacy.

You observed the man that came in with two cute kittens. The man is wearing a light blue suit with white pants and a softly glittered light blue mesh shoulder cape. Everything about him screamed fancy and sophisticated that you couldn’t help but stare at him in awe. It looks as if this man only accepts the best of the best with no exceptions.

“You seem to be alright. Ron told me what happened, can you tell me the last thing you remember?”

Indifference could be heard in his voice but somehow you know that he is far from the tone of his voice. You don’t know who he is but you have this nagging feeling that he's someone you can trust with your whole life.

And so you told the unfamiliar man the last thing you remembered. How painful you felt while laying on the cold hard floor. The room that’s a far cry from the room you’re currently staying in now. Even the fact that all your memories consist of that. You remember nothing prior to the pain you felt before passing out, just the rotting room you were staying in and the deathly pain that seemed to be unending at the time.

 

After grasping your situation the lovely man, Cale, explained your situation. Apparently, you’re his sibling, the youngest child of the Henituse duchy to be exact. Your situation is a bit complicated, you’re the daughter of Duke Deruth’s previous wife but you’re younger than Lily who’s the offspring of Violan, the current duchess of the Henituse territory.

Cale took some time explaining why that is. Jour, your mother was pregnant with you when she died. You somehow managed to survive through a magic device that could help you finish developing even if you’re not inside your mother’s womb. This made your development very slow though, hence why you weren’t fully born until four years ago.

“You seem to be a reincarnated soul. Hmmm the shock must’ve made you lose your memories then maybe the trauma from your previous life surfaced that’s why you suddenly remember some of your previous life’s memories?”

[If that piece of trash had two brain cells to not target a child this wouldn’t have happened. I’m gonna eliminate them all, not one will be spared.]

Some unknown voice suddenly made its way in your head as you watched your hyung mutter his thoughts out loud. As if the unknown voice knew you were looking for him, a baby dragon appeared out of thin air beside the redhead. The black dragon flew over you. Following him are the two kittens that seated themselves on both of your sides.

 

Two chubby paws cupped your small, chubby cheeks. You came face to face with a pair of striking blue eyes that are filled to the brim with concern. Soft paws pat your head and chubby cheeks rubbed against your own. The two kittens also snuggled closer to you as their way of giving you comfort.

“Well you seem to be out of harm's way now so that’s good. Four years of childhood memories doesn’t seem to be that bad so there’s no need to mull over that.” 

Black dragon Raon seems to have different thoughts as he is still fuming. However the three children couldn’t help but agree and accept their guardians' words. 

Seeing that everything is cleared and over with Cale picked you up in his arms and the four of you were soon on your way to the garden.

The walk to the garden was quite lively. Many of the servants and people that saw you offered their greetings and best wishes for your health. Some of them went as far as joining you on your journey towards the garden.

“Cale-nim, will we be returning to the Super Rock’s villa now that the princess woke up?”

“Yes, her recuperation shall continue there. We have to start preparing to go back to the Endable Kingdom.”

A man named Choi Han is the one carrying you currently. It’s not your hyung but it’s fine as his arms were comfortable as if he has carried you a million times before. The garden walk was peaceful and lovely with small talks here and there from the group. You didn’t participate in any of them, opting to quietly listen as you bury your face on Choi Han’s shoulder.

With the sound of nature and soft voices all around you, you were soon lulled into sleep. The black haired swordsman smiled as he hugged you tighter after seeing your sleeping face.

“Cale-nim she’s asleep, I think it’s best we go back home now.”

“I’ll prepare the teleportation spell while you give the duke your greetings.”

Rosalyn left with Raon and the others trailing behind her as the two male went in the opposite direction. 

Deruth and Violan were sad about their daughter’s current predicament. To be frank the couple wants you to stay with them as you recuperate but they know better than that. Even if you’re asleep and have lost your memories they could still see that you’re as attached as ever to your older brother. Your small face always scrunch up whenever his presence gets farther away.

Furthermore, they know just how good their eldest son takes care of you even if he tries to make it look like he is being forced. They know that you’re in good hands and Cale and his companions will make sure no harm will come to you. So they kissed your sleeping forehead farewell as their son bid them goodbye.

The couple exchanged a firm glance after the teleportation circle disappeared. Both silently agree that they need to tighten the dukedom’s security even more. 

When you woke up you thought for a second that you saw an angel. Your hyung looked ethereal even though he was merely sitting while going over some documents. A concentrated look took over his place as all his attention was focused on the paper he was holding. His red hair is a bit scruffy from his hands constantly messing with it.

“Hyung, what are you looking at?”

Your groggy voice snapped him out of his concentration. He didn’t answer you immediately, but instead gave you a glass of water to drink before picking the papers again and showing them to you.

“That man on the paper is someone we need to find. We’ll search for him after you finish recuperating.” 

Black eyes stared back at you. You observed the image intently, only humming in response to let Cale know you’re listening to him. As you stare at the paper the headache of your subtle feeling as soon as you see the black haired man makes itself more prominent. 

Tears dropped from your eyes alongside the paper that also dropped on the bed. You felt uncomfortable. It’s as if your brain is forcing itself to do something and it’s making your head hurt even more. Your head hurts so much that you could only clutch on Cale’s sleeves and cry harder. 

“The man- that man on the paper you have. His name is Lee Soo Hyuk…”

Raon had come into the room with the Sun God Twins behind him. Taking pity on the poor you who’s still crying out in pain, he used his mana to make you go to sleep. Your limp body is then carried and arranged on your bed once more by using float magic.

Meanwhile a man with sleeves drenched in tears is astounded. Cale merely watched as Jack checked your condition and only nodded at the dragon when the communication device turned red. 

Seeing Alberu’s concerned face can be seen inside the orb, Cale quickly composed himself. Acting as if all was fine and dandy, the redhead offered the prince a smile. However Alberu knew Cale better than that. He can sense that something happened just before he called. But before he could even express his concerns his dongsaeng beat him to it. Cale’s voice was so chilling that everyone in the room and even Alberu felt chills run on their backs.

“That useless god of death, I’m definitely smacking that *scobberlotcher of a god later…”

*scobberlotcher - someone who avoids hard work at all cost

[adifferenttime]

Andrew Ryan vs. Robert House

On almost every House post I make, someone in the notes will reliably reference Andrew Ryan. I totally get it - they look similar, they're based on the same guy, the parallels are so clear that the NV dev team added an achievement for killing House with a golf club - but I think these commonalities tend to engulf both characters, blotting out some of their more interesting ideological/personal differences. It's useful to examine them in relation to one another, but part of that is figuring out what distinguishes them, which is just what I’ve attempted to do.

It's difficult for me to talk about Randian objectivism because I don't think it's sound enough to address on its own terms, but considering this is the philosophy Andrew Ryan has adopted, I kind of have to. What I’d identify as the core premise of Randian ethics is this: altruism is a moral wrong. Some Randians have argued that isn't really what they believe - that the real point is anything resembling altruism is self-interest in disguise - but they're departing from the beliefs of their icon when they make those claims. Per Rand:

The irreducible primary of altruism, the basic absolute is self-sacrifice – which means self-immolation, self-abnegation, self-denial, self-destruction – which means the self as a standard of evil, the selfless as a standard of the good.

The way Rand defines altruism is by linking it to self-sacrifice, which she uses to differentiate it from kindness or benevolence. Aiding others at no cost to yourself is benevolent, but not altruistic, and therefore not evil. Sacrificing your happiness to help another human being is, from Rand's perspective, evil, as is any philosophy that prioritizes the other at the cost of the self. This whole idea has been broadly rejected by most scholars on account of it being really fucking stupid. What justifies the leap from "man is naturally selfish" to "selfishness is good"? If selfishness is moral, wouldn't the most moral behavior be to exploit others through whatever means necessary, favoring force over the market? Rand defines happiness as "using your mind’s fullest power," achievable only when you "do not consider the pleasure of others as the goal," but why is this the only definition? What if your only options are self-sacrificial in nature? How do you weigh them if neither sacrifice is linked to values, individual achievement, or "your mind's fullest power" at all? Rand didn't care because she was too busy trying to ethically justify cheating on her man with her best friend's husband, but nonetheless, this is the philosophy Andrew Ryan’s adopted. He claims that "Altruism is the root of all Wickedness," in what's almost a direct quote from Rand herself.

To that end, Ryan builds a system that doesn’t just accept selfishness but actively incentivizes it. Every other principle he expresses is subservient to the ideas that selfishness rules man, and that for Ryan to act on his own selfish impulses is the highest good in the world. His lesser political principles (individual liberties, negative rights, the creation of a stateless society) don’t matter to him as much as the central precept from which they stem: that selfishness is his moral imperative.

What is the greatest lie every created? What is the most vicious obscenity ever perpetrated on mankind? Slavery? The Holocaust? Dictatorship? No. It's the tool with which all that wickedness is built: altruism.

It doesn't come as a particular surprise to me when he starts imprisoning dissidents or executing rivals or banning theft (standard practice in most societies, but not what an egoist would pursue; if you can get away with taking it, you deserve to have it, or so the thinking goes). I’ve seen him described as a hypocrite, but I don’t think that’s necessarily true considering everything he does is in line with his opposition to altruism. He'll adhere to his other principles only if they don’t sabotage his pursuit of personal power. This is evident in the fact that he only adopts a negative perception of Fontaine when his own interests are threatened, but doesn’t give two shits what Fontaine might be doing to sow conflict and harm people before that point. A guy named Gregory asks Ryan to step in against Fontaine early on before Fontaine's fully established himself as a threat to Ryan's power, and Ryan's extremely blase about it.

Don't expect me to punish citizens for showing a little initiative. If you don't like what Fontaine is doing, well, I suggest you find a way to offer a better product.

Contrast this with how he reacts when Fontaine has risen as a genuine business rival. This is from the log titled "Fontaine Must Go."

Something must be done about Fontaine. While I was buying buildings and fish futures, he was cornering the market on genotypes and nucleotide sequences. Rapture is transforming before my eyes. The Great Chain is pulling away from me.

This double standard is the natural outgrowth of his prioritization of self-interest. If your most deeply-held belief is that you should never give up your interests for others, ancillary rules become flexible in times of personal crisis, and Bioshock makes the case that putting someone like that in charge of a city will leave you with a crumbling, monstrous ruin.

Superficially, House has some similarities. Ryan executes political rivals; House has you blow up a bunker of his ideological opponents. Ryan is the highest authority in Rapture; House is the absolute monarch of Vegas. Their goals and moral codes, though, are almost diametrically opposed. When you ask House why you’re expected to trust him when he’s openly admitting to installing himself as the despot of the New Vegas Strip, he says this:

I have no interest in abusing others... Nor have I any interest in being worshipped as some kind of machine-god messiah. I am impervious to such corrupting ambitions.

Most of his resources are devoted to large-scale, impersonal projects, aimed either at building the power of Vegas or securing his long term goal of “progress” as he sees it. He’s rejected selfishness as a moral good because House is very far from Randian objectivism. He's a Hobbesian monarch.

In that respect, he shares an outlook on human nature with Ryan that I deeply disagree with (that human beings are essentially selfish), but in terms of what that means for the structure of a utopian society, House takes a very different position. From his perspective, human nature breeds suffering, not industriousness, and the only way to stamp out conflict - and, in a post-nuclear age, ensure the continued survival of the human race - is through a strong sovereign. The purpose of a state as laid out in Leviathan aligns very, very closely with the one House expresses.

...the foresight of their own preservation, and of a more contented life thereby; that is to say, of getting themselves out from that miserable condition of war which is necessarily consequent, as hath been shown, to the natural passions of men...

The monarch's successes are reflected in his society and the well-being of humanity as a whole. To subvert his goals is to subvert society's goals, and to doom humanity to the war, death, and suffering that exist in a state of nature. When you destroy his Securitrons/kill him, he doesn't plead for himself or get offended on his own behalf. He accuses you of betraying not him, but mankind.

Single-handedly, you've brought mankind's best hopes of forward progress crashing down. No punishment would be too severe. Fool... to let... personalities... derail future... of mankind? ...Stupid! Slavery... the future of... mankind? What... have you... done?

An important corollary of this idea which again distinguishes House from Ryan appears in Leviathan’s description of the political/moral responsibility of a monarch to his subjects:

...that great Leviathan, or rather, to speak more reverently, of that mortal god to which we owe, under the immortal God, our peace and defence. For by this authority... he hath the use of so much power that, by terror thereof, he is enabled to form the wills of them all, to peace at home, and mutual aid against their enemies abroad.

Hobbes and House give the monarch virtually unlimited power but match it to the monarch's duty, which he lives to fulfill. His obligation is to speak for the people, act for them, and protect them from all threats, internal and external. House generally abides by this, orienting his decisions around his goals for society irrespective of the personal cost (the negative consequences of his actions are a product of his fucked evaluations of what’s best for society, not personal greed). It’s not just a departure from Ryan’s philosophy but a complete refutation of it. He's almost died for what he's misidentified as the greatest good.

Given that I had to make do with buggy software, the outcome could have been worse. I nearly died as it was…. I spent the next few decades in a veritable coma.

This is not the behavior of an egoist. This is the behavior of an extremely arrogant but marginally altruistic (from a Randian perspective lmao) guy. This is some distorted “from each according to his ability” shit if you’ve managed to convince yourself your abilities exceed those of everyone else who has ever lived and that you can get the Mandate of Heaven by being really good at statistics.

The reason these guys develop such similar structures and hierarchies despite the ideological gulfs between them is because both of them are elitists who’ve experienced a massive failure of self-consciousness. They’re unable to conceive of other people as being fundamentally like them. Ryan separates people into the clearly-delineated classes of “producer” and “parasite,” ignoring the fact that everything he’s ever “produced” was reliant on a huge, coordinated effort between workers, architects, accountants, middlemen, and others, all of whom, in conjunction, contributed more to the realization of his dreams that he ever could have alone. Rather than realizing his own position is more parasitic and reliant on other people’s labor than that of anyone else in Rapture, he adheres to his doctrine of selfishness even when it’s not reflective of reality and is ruining the the lives of an entire city of people. He deludes himself into believing he’s a superman among ants instead of one flawed man who is reliant on the goodwill of others to help him survive, as are we all.

House, too, thinks he’s exceptional. Unlike Ryan, he acknowledges the necessity of the worker to a functioning society, but while he’ll accept his reliance on that labor, he doesn’t trust the laborer enough to share political power. House knows he’s invested in humanity’s survival and the creation of a better world, but he refuses to consider that he might not be alone in this goal. He chalks up the existence of the Legion to fanaticism/the ambitions of a sultanistic dictator and attributes everything the NCR has done to greed, without it ever occurring to him that the massive harm these nations have done was partially motivated by the same goals he’s devoted himself to - and that the atrocities he’s committed since his rise to power are, in some respects, very similar. House knows himself to be invested in the well-being of humanity, but he’s too arrogant to ask himself if his methods are wrong or trust other people to build a new path, one that doesn’t necessitate his complete control over the land and people of the Mojave. Ryan and House’s worldviews are distinct, and their flaws, as highlighted by their respective narratives, say some interesting things about how each set of devs view power and the pitfalls of elitism.

Anyway. If you put these two men in a room, they would probably try to murder each other, and I think that’s great.

[sierraraeck]

Bad Liar

Moreid (Spencer x Derek)

Masterlist

Summary: Ever since his first day at Quantico, Spencer has had only one thought on his mind: SSA Derek Morgan. He knows that any sort of relationship would be inappropriate, but that doesn’t stop the constant stream of fantasies from flooding his mind.

Category: Spicy fluff, smut alluded

Warnings: Non-graphic descriptions of sex, fantasizing, suggestive touching, kissing, very light cussing.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: This was inspired by the song “Bad Liar” by Selena Gomez. If you wanna give that a quick listen, go for it, if not, that’s chill too. I know that I haven’t been very active and haven’t posted anything in a while, but sometimes life just happens. Hopefully this was worth the wait…

Spencer had heard the phrase “I never stop thinking about you.” He’d heard it in reference to love and relationships when people were apparently so madly in love they couldn’t stop thinking about the other. He never really bought that. Love was just a bunch of feel-good chemicals that couldn’t affect the amount of time spent thinking about another person. Plus, how could anyone ever constantly think about a person? There were so many other things to think about like surviving high school, getting into college, graduating, of course his mom, and then getting into the FBI, and how he would surely not be able to make it all the way through Quantico training. No one could ever think about one person all the time. No, definitely not.

But Spencer wasn’t known for being a good liar.

His first day at Quantico he saw Derek Morgan, and he realized that he was wrong. He was so utterly and outrageously wrong.

Because after he saw him, heard his voice just once, his exceptional mind kept those interactions on constant repeat.

He was lucky he was so good at multitasking otherwise he would have definitely failed by now.

Not like he still wouldn’t.

He couldn’t sleep, not with someone like Derek Morgan intruding his every thought, every midnight desire. On top of that, they were about to go into the hardest week of physical training yet, and Spencer knew that this was the one challenge that his brain could not overcome.

The one redeemable thing about the humiliating experience he was sure would come during the following days was that he’d get to see SSA Morgan again. Sure, it'd be more embarrassing to fail in front of him, but at least he’d get to see him a few more times before they kicked him out for being the scrawny kid he’s always been.

The feelings of excitement and anxiety twisted his gut into a wonderful knot, keeping him from yet another night of sleep. Somehow that made it both harder and easier for him to get up when the clock hit 4:45.

Spencer looked between two blinds covering the window on the right, allowing him to see that the sun was still about an hour from rising. Slipping on his given shirt and pants, he hoped that there would be some source of caffeine at breakfast, preferably coffee.

He trudged into the bathroom to find his roommate already awake and dressed. “Big day. You excited?” Jeff, a man about a head shorter than Spencer but at least twice his width in pure muscle mass, asked.

Spencer just grunted in response.

“What? You’re not excited to get pitted against someone else so that you can flail around in an attempt to spar?”

“I’ll stick to teaching you the technique,” he quipped.

Jeff laughed. “It’d suit you better. Unfortunately your wizard brain and forbidden library won’t help you in this one. But dammit if you aren’t the smartest guy here.” Jeff shook his head as if it were a shame.

Once they were ready, along with the rest of the NATs, the group was directed to jog across campus to the building they’d be training in. The day was off to a bad start.

Spencer did his best to distract himself from the actual running bit, trying to analyze the people in his group and those they passed as they went.

Bored, hungry, important, invisible… Derek?!

He turned his head to follow the tall man with short black hair and dark eyes as the group passed him on the sidewalk.

No, that wasn’t him. Of course it wasn’t. Agent Morgan is waiting for us at the facility.

Spencer tried to hide the slight disappointment that came over him. He felt so stupid for looking for him everywhere, but he couldn’t help it. Even his own knowledge and logic was failing him when it came to this man he knew next to nothing about expect for his shining smile and intense eyes and toned biceps and amazing abs and powerful legs and delicious stamina and strong hands that could grip his neck and hold him down and his defined hips bones that Spencer knew would dig into his thighs and certainly leave bruises if he were to…

What was his issue? He couldn’t be thinking that way about one of his trainors.

Although it helped the jog pass by faster. Time flies when you’re having fun, right? Or at least imagining having fun.

When they arrived at the other facility, they were provided a quick breakfast, unfortunately no coffee today, and then led to the top floor with an entire wall traded out for floor to ceiling windows.

The room they entered was massive, large mats rolled out edge to edge, and the smell was musty. It felt humid, sticky sort of, and Spencer hated to think about why that was.

He quickly scanned the room and found his target immediately. Across the way, Derek had his opponent mid flip, landing harshly on his back with a thud. He helped the poor guy up, laughing a bit as he did so. His pearly whites were on full display when he looked up and caught Spencer’s eye. Spencer quickly diverted his gaze, opting instead to look down at his twisting hands.

“Today we will be focusing on hand to hand combat,” Derek announced once the group had wandered closer. “You never know when the perpetrator will decide not to run and instead to attack you, or when you will find yourself without any weapons other than yourself to protect you. The first thing we are going to practice are some basic jabs. Grab a partner and follow our demonstration.”

Derek and the man he’d thrown on the ground earlier, Grant, demonstrated the seemingly simple movements that Spencer and the rest of the NATs were supposed to replicate. Of course, everyone else made it look easy, but Spencer just couldn’t wrap his head around what his arm was supposed to be doing where and when. It was frustrating, even more so than he’d prepared himself for.

“Keep your shoulders here,” that velvety deep voice said, accompanied by his large hands on either of Spencer’s shoulders, adjusting them to more of an angle.

All Spencer could do was swallow hard and nod. He didn’t even dare to look back at him.

“And spread your legs,” Derek said. His breath seemed to get closer to Spencer’s neck with every word, and quieter as he went along. But surely that was all in his head? Right?

Spencer’s startled eyes turned to look at the older man. The edges of his mouth twitched before resuming that stern, professional demeanour. “It’ll help you balance.” With that, he nudged Spencer’s foot farther backwards with his own and walked away, leaving Spencer feeling unnecessarily exposed and confused.

The guy across from him, Harold, one of the only people who had been genuinely nice to Spencer from the start, was watching the whole interaction with suspicion.

The day trudged on with not much change. Spencer’s skin was still on fire from where Agent Morgan had touched him, but he tried to convince himself it was because he didn’t really like being touched. He knew that was a lie, especially in this instance, but it didn’t stop him from telling it.

After lunch, training continued. But at least it got more interesting.

“Grant just got called out on a case, so I’ll be needing someone to help me with this demonstration.” Derek waited just about three whole seconds before smirking, the mischief written all over his face. “Come on? No one wants to volunteer? It’ll be fun, I promise.” When he was met with more silence (even the guys like Jeff didn’t want to be thrown around by Derek), he was forced to choose someone. “How about… Reid.”

Spencer’s head shot up from the back of the group. No, no, this is not good.

Spencer had been dreaming about getting thrown around by Derek for a few months now, but this was definitely not what he’d had in mind.

The crowd slowly parted and Spencer had to face the music; he was going to be humiliated in front of everyone, like nothing had changed since high school.

Sighing, Spencer forced himself to the front of the group. “Lay down for me, knees bent, would you?”

I’d do anything you asked, was Spencer’s initial response in his head. What he really did was shrug and follow instructions.

“The reason we practice this move is because at some point or another, you will find yourself in either position.” Spencer wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that until Derek legitimately stood over him, a leg on either side, then proceeded to get down on his knees, essentially sitting on top of Spencer.

He couldn’t even focus on what Derek was explaining anymore. Breathing didn’t exist. There was no way this glorious man was sitting on top of him right now. All he could think about was how prominent Derek’s ab muscles were through his tight shirt and how he wanted nothing more than to lean forward and run his tongue over them. Spencer could almost imagine what they would feel like; the rise and fall of his muscles, the small hairs covering his body… Spread your legs, he had said to him.

“So then Reid would grab my wrist…” Derek’s use of his name brought him back to reality. If only he could live in his fantasies for longer.

Spencer looked up at Agent Morgan confused. Derek’s eyes got wider and looked at his right hand and then down at his own left wrist. Spencer somehow got the message and reached his hand over to grab a hold of Derek’s wrist. “Good,” he declared. “After that, he would hook his left foot on the outside of my ankle.”

Spencer quickly followed orders, trying to force his brain to supply him with the information he’d missed.

“Then, he’d use my weight against me to flip me over.” Spencer’s eyes got big when Derek said that, mentally panicking that he could never be strong enough for that. Derek nodded at him, so Spencer tried to roll over, and to his, and everyone else’s, surprise, he actually could.

Within seconds Spencer was sitting on top of a very pleased Derek. “It’ll work every time. Of course, if your unsub is skilled he’ll lock you in and flip you back over and potentially pull your arm out of your socket,” Derek explained while doing just that to Spencer, minus the arm-out-of-socket thing, “But we’ll take this one step at a time.”

Derek was back on top of Spencer with his legs wrapped around him in a vice-like grip, but quickly let go to help him up. Spencer gladly accepted the help.

Spencer doesn’t exactly have what one would consider a “big dick.” He always thought that was something to be ashamed of but standing there, getting hard in the middle of an FBI training academy, he couldn’t’ve be more grateful.

The NATs were sent back to work on the newly demonstrated move with their partners. Just as Spencer was about to flip Harold over for the third time, he looked over his head and rolled his eyes.

“What?” Spencer asked.

“What is it with you two?” Harold asked in return.

“What?” Spencer repeated. Harold nodded in the direction he was just looking, and Spencer followed his gaze. Derek was walking by, but nothing else seemed of import. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh please,” Harold snorted. He was a lanky man like Spencer, but just a bit shorter and with glasses. Sometimes Spencer envied his glasses, as his contacts often got on his nerves. He continued, “The touching, the constant eye contact, the word choice that could be inherently sexual, and then literally sitting on top of you? When there were plenty of other men and women he could have picked for that demonstration? Tell me you don’t see it.”

Spencer mulled over these words for a few seconds before flipping Harold over. Looking down on him, he said, “I don’t think that means anything.”

“Then maybe you need to get a new prescription,” Harold said, pointing to his eyes.

Spencer shook his head. “What do my eyes have to do with this?”

Harold sighed. “God, your gaydar is so broken.” He flipped Spencer over, stood up, and walked away.

Shortly after, class was called and they were all let go for the remainder of the evening.

“Reid, can I speak to you for a moment?” Agent Morgan called out as the first of the NATs started to leave. A few caught Spencer’s eye with unanswered questions in them, but no more than the mound of questions Spencer had been asking himself.

Without answering, Spencer walked over to the corner of the room that Derek was standing in. He could tell that he was waiting for every single person to leave the room before speaking.

Spencer thought for sure he was getting kicked out because of how horribly he performed throughout the day.

To his surprise, that’s not at all what the outstandingly attractive man had to say. “I wanted to let you know that you did a good job today during the demo. Not many people handle that so well.”

Spencer waited for him to say more, but nothing more seemed to be coming. Derek actually seemed a bit nervous if Spencer could read him right. He replied cautiously, “Thanks.”

Derek cleared his voice and said, “Yeah. And if you ever want to stay late and work on some moves I’d be happy to help.”

Spencer just got more and more confused as his interactions with this god-like man increased. “Thanks,” he repeated. “Why are you offering to help me like that?”

Agent Morgan shrugged. “You’re one of the smartest people in FBI history to come through here, and definitely the youngest. There’s absolutely no reason you shouldn’t become an agent, and I want to see you succeed. That’s all.” He shrugged again, and if there was anything Spencer had learned from the profiling section of his training, someone being over-casual was usually a sign that they were stressed about something they viewed with extreme importance, and were trying to play it off. Why would he be stressed to talk to me?

“I guess I’ll take you up on that offer. Will you be here tomorrow?” Spencer asked, trying to mask the hope in his voice. Who was he kidding; Derek was already one of the top profilers in the Bureau.

“I will be. You can plan to stay after then.”

Spencer nodded and walked away, but not before glancing back one more time. Harold was right; they did make a lot of eye contact.

The next day couldn’t go by faster. Spencer had spent practically the entire night thinking about everything that had happened, trying to figure out if Harold was right or not. There was no way. Spencer was just Spencer, a NAT, and Derek Morgan was, well… Derek Morgan.

He probably just thought that Spencer was a hopeless case and needed extra help. Yeah, that was it. It had to be.

When the day was over, Spencer wasn’t just relieved like he usually was, but he was excited too. It no longer mattered to him what the reason was for him being there late, he just wanted to spend more time in the presence of SSA Morgan.

“I was thinking I’d help you with that second move we learned today, the cross-punch jab combo,” Derek announced. His voice echoed just a bit off the walls of the training center now that it was completely abandoned.

He walked over to one of the punching bags lined up just a few feet from the wall, and Spencer followed him in a manner that could only be described as a lost puppy. Spencer could keep track of all sorts of numbers, but the sheer amount of repeating memories morphing into new thoughts morphing into full blown fantasies was even too high for him to count. He’d never known of a drug so powerful.

“I’ll show you the move again, then I want you to try and copy it.” Derek stepped closer to the bag and executed a textbook one-two combo, the muscles in his arms and back contracting in perfect unison. God, Spencer wanted so badly to just reach out and run his hands all over this pristinely sculpted man, but he denied himself, letting his hands tremble in place instead.

Spencer stepped up to the bag next to Derek’s and attempted to do the same thing. Derek watched with a sharp eye.

After a few reps, the skilled agent took long strides that landed him only inches away from the younger man’s back. “Keep tension here.” His hands engulfed Spencer’s waist and twisted them to the side with the ease of swatting a fly.

The feeling was so overwhelming Spencer thought he might never be able to move again, and honestly, he didn’t want to. Standing there in the grip of that man was really all he’d been wanting for months now.

The only thing that pulled him out of his trance was the way Derek’s fingers lingered as he walked around to Spencer’s front, drifting down far enough to send a clear message, one that even Spencer couldn’t miss, but not far enough to be completely intrusive.

But Spencer wanted intrusive. He wanted nothing more than for Derek Morgan to invade his personal space to the point of no return.

He looked at the older man with shock and a burning question, but didn’t flinch or move back. Derek simply bit his lip and scanned Spencer up and down at what felt like a snail’s pace. He felt like a helpless deer being sized up by a lion for his next meal.

Spencer swallowed hard.

He’d been wanting nothing more than to be in this very same situation, or one of the multitudes of variations he’d created in his mind, but now that it was here could he really go through with it? Was it really the best idea? Did he really want this? No, he couldn’t.

But Spencer wasn’t known for being a good liar.

The only signal Derek needed was the simple nod of Spencer’s head.

And he got it.

Like a snake ready to strike, Derek brought his lips to Spencer’s in an instant. His questioning fingers had an answer, returning to their strong hold over Spencer’s hip bones.

Spencer knew what was happening was completely inappropriate, but couldn’t find the will to care. The man he’d been dreaming about, spending every waking and non-waking moment obsessing over, was actually interested in him too.

All his fantasies were flashing before his eyes, Derek’s muscles now completely exposed to him. He frantically pawed at him, trying to feel and memorize every millimeter of the beautiful body before him, like every inch was another drop of water in his achingly dry mouth.

“Hey, hey,” Derek whispered. “Patience. Not everything can happen at once, remember, one step at a time.”

Spencer took a moment to breathe and look into the warm eyes he’d been drowning in. Only for a moment, though, as he had a lot he wanted to do, starting with kissing his way down this man’s chest.

Derek laughed a little at Spencer’s impatience when he placed his hands on his broad shoulders and lips on his burning hot skin. He didn’t mind, though. Unexpectedly, the young man knew how to use his mouth. He couldn’t wait to explore that particular skill set some more.

Within the next few minutes, bodies were slammed into walls, forced to the ground, and pushed further down into the floor than was previously thought possible. The echo of the room only amplified the intoxicating sounds and the wall of windows overlooking the campus only increased the arousal.

Spencer would have a new appreciation for the musty smell and sweat induced humidity in the room from now on.

The tension for the remaining month before the NATs graduated was unbearable. Harold made sure to point out the nauseating amount of glances passed between the two men, but was respectful enough to not point it out to everyone. He tried to deny anything had happened, but Harold wasn’t having any of it and let Spencer know he was a lousy liar, something he definitely needed to work on.

Come graduation day when all NATs would be receiving their department assignments, Derek made sure to personally hand Spencer his.

He carefully opened the envelope and pulled out the sheet of paper with one bolded line reading: “Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Spencer immediately looked up and locked eyes with Derek. He simply smirked in return.

Maybe his fantasy of having something more with the agent would become a reality after all.

-

Taglist

@90spumkin

[writing-in-april]

The 5 Stages of Grief

Stage Two: Anger (2/5)

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader (Spencer POV)

Summary: Spencer going through each of the stages of grief after the death of the reader. Stage two is anger.

A/N: Thank you for all the love this series has gotten just after posting the first part!! I know angst isn’t for everyone— and neither is seeing Spencer in pain but thank you to all the people who read it 🥰 Again there’s a lot of rhetorical questions in this chapter- plus a lot of repition in Spencer’s thoughts. and, again each chapter gets progressively longer (cause each stage lasts a longer period of time) I did want to clarify that the only thing in this series that’s really going to give away what season it’s in is the people that are on the team. Requests are open and thanks for reading!

Warnings ⚠️ (if you want full warnings for the series check the Masterlist): Unnecessary agression against Spencer’s co-workers, Spencer attacking an unsub, Talk of death, Blood, Talk of guns, Unreliable narrator

Main Masterlist | 5 Stages of Grief Masterlist

Word count: 1.6k

The water that I had been submerged under immediately following the denial slipping away was slowly being replaced with a fire that burned hot. As I was being brought back to the police station in one of the bureau supplied SUVs nothing else was on my mind except the scorching anger that flickered inside me. I was inflamed with rage, so much so that I didn’t care to respond to Morgan’s soothing words to me. The words did nothing to douse the flames flaring to life within me, it just made me wish I did shut him up back at the crime scene. I should regret that I almost injured part of my own team earlier when I was blinded by denial, but the roaring inferno that consumed me was forcing me to focus only on the man that dared to pull the trigger.

“Shut up!” I snapped hotly at Morgan. In response he gave me a wounded look, I could care less about his feelings right now, he didn’t have his significant other murdered right in front of him. That at least got him to be quiet for a moment, which allowed me to let a few hot tears slip down my cheeks. They were tears of frustration and anger, they might as well have been gasoline poured on me acting as a propellant for my hostile feelings.

What further fueled the fire that burned hot inside me was the fact that they would never fulfill the dreams they had for their life. There was also a small part of me that was selfish, the fact that I would never be able to experience those dreams with them, it only served as another accelerant for the fire within me.

They deserved a better way to go, they deserved not to be shot in the back alley behind a gas station. They deserved to die surrounded by loved ones after living a long full life, with me right beside them.

When we pulled up in front of the station I quickly shot out of the vehicle, almost forgetting to even unbuckle my seatbelt. Morgan swiftly followed behind me trying to catch up with my long belligerent strides.

“Wait kid!” He grabbed my arm that was still covered in their blood, cardigan had been soaked enough to even bleed through to my button up. My once pristine purple cardigan was stained blood red, I would never wear this again. As soon as I got the chance I would burn it, even if it was gifted to me by them.

“Don’t call me kid.” My statement was laced with a deadly tone, I didn’t want his help nor did I need his pity. I yanked my arm out of his grip, then storming up the steps and barging into the station. The police officers all looked at me with varying looks of sadness that made me want to wipe their expression off their face. They had no right to be sad. They didn’t even know them.

I paced by the evidence board waiting for any news, not caring that I was still stuck in my bloodied clothes. Most of the team had left to go follow a lead a while ago leaving me with Emily. At least she didn’t feel the need to speak to me. She knew there was nothing she could say or do to make this situation better.

“Spencer, can you come with me?” JJ asked me gently. I perked up instantly at those words, hoping that they had at least been able to track down some sort of information. At least then maybe my fire would be partially quelled.

My breath hitched when I saw what JJ had led me to see. There he was sitting at the interrogation table, the only thing separating us was the one way glass. There was no doubt in my mind, it was him.

JJ then looked at Hotch and Rossi with a saddened expression before joining Morgan in the room where the unsub was shackled to the table. They started the interrogation of what they were all probably saying was the ‘suspect’, but I knew him to be the perpetrator.

“Where did you find him?” The volume of my voice was soft when I spoke, though my words still had an edge of fury to it.

“He was found a mile away from the scene by some of the officers on patrol, with a gun of the same caliber that- Anyway, we are just waiting for ballistics to confirm.” Rossi was gentle as he explained the situation to me. My mind wandered again instead of fully listening to the reason this man was apprehended. Where was everyone’s rage? Why wasn’t anyone angry? The sadness everyone permeated right now, did nothing to help bring this man to justice. Justice was needed. Real action was needed. Vengeance was needed.

“It’s definitely him.” I wasn’t paying attention to the man’s recount or his alibi that I had no doubt was fake. It didn’t matter to me, there was no doubt in my mind that he was guilty.

“Are you sure?” Hotch finally spoke up with a tone of authority, seemingly unaffected by the events of today. “You never said if you got a good look at him or not.”

My face hardened into stone at Hotch’s question. Was he trying to make me more mad? Was he trying to goad me into retaliation? Did he even care about them? Did he even care that one of his co-workers had been murdered? Or was he really as stone cold as everyone made him out to be? Maybe Haley’s murder had really made him void of all emotion. I couldn’t do that. I needed to be angry, I needed it to fuel me into bringing this man to justice. Maybe it wouldn’t be the most legal form of justice, but I would make sure he’d see it, whether it was by my fist or the courts.

“It’s him.” I said with even more conviction, almost on the edge of yelling at the two of them. I turned around to face my two bosses, a dark expression taking over my face as I did. I wish they would just let me in the room.

Rossi’s face was full of pity and through learning to read Hotch’s micro expressions throughout the years I could tell he was trying to express his sympathy, though it felt hollow. The pity and sympathy only served to make the rage inside me more volatile, which I didn’t think was possible. I didn’t care that Hotch had experienced the same pain I was feeling and I didn’t care that Rossi truly had cared about the both of us. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to make me not want to burst through the door of the interrogation room and beat the man to a pulp.

My vision clouded over so I only saw red, I had been consumed by the fire within me. I was like an uncontrollable wildfire now, nothing would stop me. Nothing would stop me from reaching the source of my wrath.

————

My hands were bruised and bloodied, almost like I had punched my fists into glass repeatedly. The blood was seeping through the bandages, someone must have patched me up. But, who? I didn’t even know where I was right now or even how I had gotten these bruises.

Scanning my surroundings I realized I was sitting at the round table in my usual spot, my memory then started coming back to me. I remember JJ pulling me off the unsub after I barged into the interrogation room and had landed a few blows. In my fury of being pulled away from the source of my fire I punched through the mirror in the bathroom I had been dragged into. I remember the wounds on my hands being carefully cleaned by Emily with a softness that I didn’t see often from her. And, I remember being taken home on the jet accompanied by half of the team, the other half had stayed behind to wrap up the case. It scared me that I could barely recall the memories without a haze of fuzziness. I must have been so wrought with fiery emotion and exhaustion that everything around me had started to slip away as unimportant. The team must have brought me in here, they probably wanted to keep an eye on me and knew I wouldn’t want to go back to our apartment. Well, I guess it was just my apartment now. Yeah, the team was right to leave me here. If I even caught a glimpse of their belongings I was sure the rage would take over again.

My eyes immediately shifted over to the chair next to me that would usually be occupied by them. Tears once again filled my eyes, I had cried so much in the past few hours- or was it days? I had cried so much that I wasn’t sure how it was possible. My eyes felt raw, my nose felt raw, my skin felt raw, really my whole being felt raw from the abuse it had seen throughout this whole ordeal. I just wanted this to be over. I just wanted them back.

The fire hadn’t fully gone from me, and I wasn’t sure that it ever would. It flickered inside me, trying to force me into enacting vengeance on the man that had extinguished the person I cared about the most. But, the overwhelming feeling of desperation to see the person who mattered to me most had taken over to partially snuff out the flames into embers. I’d do whatever it takes, I just wanted them back.

—

All works:

@shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz

Spencer Reid/CM:

@calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss

5 stages of grief:

@joonie-centric @tatesimper @half-blood-dork @mcntsee @illuxions-x @rainsong01 @nomajdetective @loveheathens

[beware-thecrow]

Heroes killing people because they are bad people.

it is 10:30 am and i've had this asshole commenting one of my posts since 4 am about how heroes should go for the kill and i went to his tumblr and he's full mode "heroes should kill the villains" and goes commenting about this on every post he sees and for someone who likes Horikoshi that much he's been missing the whole point of the series commentary.

So, let's recap:

He wrote and arc about how a quirkless person faces bullying from a very quirk talented person and how the possesion of said quirk means that that person can become a hero even if they are a violent bully. In that same arc he points out a parallel where our prota sees a villain runing away from heroes asking them to leave him alone, just to be punched in the face by mount lady which results in the attack of a child.

Then he wrote an arc when we get to see some snips of a famous hero who uses his hero ambition to abuse his family. Also we see how there are people around who already are discontent with how heroes work for fame and status more than the common good and how while heroes go around taking photos and giving interviews, there are circles of villains already working under their noses.

After that he wrote and arc where the hero students save a girl from a very big villain and how said villain almost killed one of the students while the other had to face him and survived thanks to an actual miracle, making the point that these are children and yet they are being used as weapons while the grown ups remain incompetent.

Horikoshi then wrote a complete arc dedicated to the villains backstory, to develop the bonds between them and explain why they are the way they are and how someone like AfO used the same society that revolves around heroes to create his most dangerous weapon. This arc also serves to establish why the glorification of heroes also has implied the disregard of troublesome and dangerous quirks and the toll this has in their holders who find themselves outcasted from a society that washes its hands from them. (also in this arc we see that the villains don't take the life of their members as lightly as the heroes do, they make the point of saying that they are not replaceables because they see themselves as people and compromise to their bonds)

Then he wrote a complete arc dedicated to the war between those who use violence for control and those who answer that violence with violence and how someone who thrives in it like AfO found the perfect spot to put his awful plan in motion under the heroes noses thanks to the general deshumanization of others. (enter here great moments like "i'm the deku who never gives up!" "you are incapable of understand" "this is what makes us heroes and villains" or "i will never forgive you, and i won't forgive anyone") Also, here we see the lack of real agency the bad villain has and how far his subordinated are willing to go to protect each other. The answer: as far as the children would go for their friends.

In that same arc he wrote about how society and the hero commission are totally fine with sacrificing heroes to maintain the status quo and even put the case of Hawks killing a villain to show that killing them is nothing but a tragedy and that it was a very bad thing to do, also point out that the line that defines victims and perpetrators is less than thin (see Toga realization)

Then he wrote how Lady Nagant was chased for questioning the treatment of others and the use of heroes to kill at the same moment the comission decided to use a 16 y/o child as a bait for the biggest threat the world has ever seen, where the children were the ones that brought him home to rest. If it was it for the heroes, Deku still starving out there.

And now we are shown this woman with an incredible powerful quirk that can be used in many many ways, and yet she decides to use it for more killing, even when we as viewers know that the villain is a)having a mental breakdown, b)has little agency on what's happening, c)the way she's trying to kill him is nothing short of torture. Besides, sending those bombs to the ocean is dangerous nonetheless and not as far as you may think since Endeavor could see the explotion. (have you ever heard of tsunamis? besides, a japanese person writing of america sending bombs is hardly in a good light) In the same arc is pointed out repeatedly that she as a hero doesn't have permission to try to kill someone. (Heroes are to catch villains, but then they are delivered to the police for proper trial) Besides that, she's been very open about her comrades dying with her in a very entitled way when it has been stated over and over (again) that the hero tradition of sacrifying people is super harmful. More so when she said that she wants to be better than all might, so part of what she's doing is more about pride than common good. So yeah, that's a little recap of the whole series. Before anyone comes here to tell me "bUt He'S A mAss MurDeRer" I KNOW. The point of why i like villains over heroes is because villains are honest about their bad deeds, and still are more consecuent about the bonds they share. (with exception of AfO, of course. Fuck you AfO) Horikoshi has made almost every arc of the series about how heroes should be questioned, how their methods are arcaic, how they reap what they sow and to say "But HeROeS shOulD AiM To KIll ShiGaRakI" is to say that you have read the whole manga and wasted your time.

[pinkhairedlily]

[Open Your Mouth] Chapter 4 - R

See previous chapters here: AO3 | Tumblr

Summary: Or maybe it was just the first time she was treated like she had an agency. The gestures for permission, the unspoken questions of consent, the way he wouldn’t touch her first or grab her or mar her skin even when they were having sex. Most men would have their true natures revealed once shown the great pussy. But there he was, always cradling her like she was porcelain china. Not that she minded. It was a breath of fresh air to be held like that, in gentle caresses and soft whispers that beg to betray his true feelings at any given second. It was madness not to be consumed by it, but it was tragedy that she only knew of this reality just now.

-xxxxxxx-

April 20, 2021, 11:16 PM

“Still in questioning for two weeks,” Sasuke grits through his phone. “And they didn’t allow him to post bail?”

“Akugawa’s attorneys tried to appeal this week but it’s a no go. Doesn’t help that he’s brought to a different district so it’s completely out of our jurisdiction,” Neji replies. “Have you heard from Jugo?”

“Just a text message saying they lied to him and told him the directive was from Asuma.” Sasuke lets his fingers run through his hair, too frustrated to think straight this evening. “All they have against Akugawa are purely circumstantial. This is ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but the media ruckus is hungry for the gay serial killer angle. Well, I gotta go Uchiha.”

“Have fun. It’s your wedding anniversary tonight, isn’t it?”

“Shut up. Aren’t you with a woman yourself?” The call ends.

Rid of distractions, he is now at liberty to gaze freely at the rosette reading a book beside him. She gives him a smile and ditches the book to trace lazy circles on his chest. The lunch break meetings have become too short for the both of them thus the need for dinners and coffee. He didn’t plan on making a move, not when there is still an active case, but she’s enthralling in a sense. It’s her presence that pulls him into her orbit – or maybe it’s the pink hair and the emerald eyes that make it difficult to look away.

When he almost hailed her a cab for their fifth dinner, she grabbed his arm and slowly pulled it down to her side, intertwining her fingers with his. It was the first time he held her hand.

With a flushed face under the dim city lights, she asked him, “I would like it if you take me home with you.”

And even after arriving in his flat, he hesitated to kiss her. Only when she brought his fingers to her lips did he move, suddenly gripped with a drive to gently coax her into pleasure. She undressed for him in the dark, already wet and pulsating for his touch, his kisses, and he let the jasmine perfume perforate his senses. He was careful not to leave marks of his trail – after all, it might just be the last as it could be the first – and regrets were felt stronger when there were remainders.

The first time was followed by a second, and she posed a question. “Why are you so gentle with me?”

He looked at her face and tucked a stray strand behind her ear, the color of his dreams. “I’m afraid you’ll break.”

She took his hand and slapped it on her perky breasts. “Try and break me then.”

Where he wavered, she asserted – her nails leaving scratches on his back, bruising his lips, marking his neck, and pulling his hair – but she did it so beautifully that he basked in pain as she yelled his name in ecstatic throes.

He pulls away from reminiscing when the lazy circles start to draw lower. He softly takes her dainty wrist and places an open-mouthed kiss where her pulse is.

“I take it your team is still prohibited from pursuing other leads?” Sakura gasps.

Sasuke shakes his head. “Both chiefs had to save face, particularly when the district attorney got the call first, then the media, and we were the last to know. But it’s more of a pro-forma. My guts don’t tell me they’re still out there.”

“You don’t believe it’s him?”

“He perfectly fits Yamato’s profile. Had several sexual relations with married CEOs, naively accepted promises of secured futures, let down just as quickly as he has been picked up.”

Sakura climbs on top of him and starts to grind on his hardened member. “Too bad. Akugawa is a nice colleague. I was the one who encouraged him to enroll in those meditation classes.”

One arm wraps around her waist to keep her steady while the other tugs away the sheet that comes in between their moist flesh. He brings her breasts closer to his tongue, his words lapping against her skin. “Oh you must be good in yoga too.”

“I’m flexible like that, Detective.” She slips his cock insider her ready core, and the fitting sensation makes the both of them shiver.

“What other things are you good at, Dr, Haruno?”

She locks eyes with him and words are lost as they start to find rhythm in their thrusts.

-xxxxxxx-

April 25, 2021, 6:27 AM

“I take it they’re gonna name you as the director for the overseas expansion.” He asks as soon as they step out of her penthouse.

He didn’t expect to step foot in her domain; he knew it was how the elites operate, but maybe she waited for the sixth date to test him. He couldn’t deny how he was intimidated by her biometrics door, the large cctv panels on her foyer, and her voice-automated house system, but it fascinated him to see the bleak contrast of her plant-filled space against the extravagant automations and sharp marble floor.

“I’m not quite sure.” She angles her eyes on the retina scanner, and the security system beeps to life. The whole floor will be inaccessible even to the administration until she comes home. “Either way, it’s gonna be a success for the Senju-Haruno corporation and its shareholders.”

“Shouldn’t they give you bodyguards then?”

Her fingers ease in into his waiting hand. “I have a detective for a lover. I’ll be fine.”

He leaves soft kisses on her knuckles. “Can’t your lover be worried?”

“I don’t think they’ll come after me. I’m a woman, remember?”

6:41 AM

“Sorry to delay your trip to the office. I’ll just check the ravine again.” They hazard park on the side of the forest. “Stay put. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Sakura nods with a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll stretch my legs out for a bit, but I really wouldn’t want to wander. I don’t know the area quite well.”

He hops off the car, unaware that a nondescript black sedan stopped a few meters away from their spot. Sasuke traverses the wide trunks and mossy forest floor until he finds the exact dumping spot – a clump of thorny bristles and rue hedges. His eyes survey the surroundings and notices a disturbed, rather steep area above the ravine, a tricky slope which cannot be possible for someone like Akugawa. With his built, he would have skidded down when he dumped the body. It had to be someone petite.

Light footfalls behind him. Sasuke glances at the sound, his hand ready to pull out his gun.

“Sorry I followed you. I’m kinda jumpy.” Sakura waves at him from above the slope, her silhouette prominent against the morning backlight.

Then his eyes register another bigger, taller, heavier silhouette behind her.

“Sakura!”

Gunshots miss Sasuke by a breadth, but he doesn’t miss how the hooded figure clamps a hand over Sakura’s mouth and drag her away into the forest. He scrambles up and follows their trail, cursing his ineptness.

His breaths are louder than the wakening birds and traffic on the roadside, and his feet feel more like lead for every tree that leads him deeper into the forest. Then he hears two consecutive shots, and he feels all of his sensory motors go into overload.

Sasuke’s feet direct him to the sound. When the vines give way to a clearing, the first thing he sees is her disheveled rose hair, pulled apart from her high bun, tousled like an unkempt mane on her back.

And a dead man on the forest floor, a gunshot to the head, and another on his side.

She was trembling, eyes wide, clenched teeth, and closed fists. Giving her time to adjust to the events, he goes first to the perpetrator and lowers the hoodie. It’s one of the Mingwa private cronies, probably following him to make sure he isn’t doing independent investigations. But since they touched a Haruno-Senju heir, the corporate publicity will angle this as harassment and attempted assault while the private faction will absolve their hands of any involvement. He calls Kakashi and Asuma for help.

After which, he glances at her, and she finally blinks out of daze. She slumps against him as soon as he’s near, and the reverberations of her body immediately hit him.

“I’m sorry,” he says even though he has a lot of questions.

“He slipped and I went for the gun,” she whispers shakily against his shirt.

Yet he still wonders why there were two shots when one to the head could have sufficed, especially with unfamiliar hands. Or how she’s able to take down a man that size with her dainty wrists.

“I’ll call in sick today. Bring me home?”

He tightens his hug before he lets her go then he realizes he’s not familiar with the terrain.

She tugs on his coat and starts to walk. “If we cut across here, we’ll see the road in five minutes.”

-xxxxxxx-

May 5, 2021, 10:22 AM

“Did Dr. Haruno come back okay?” Kakashi sits down across Sasuke’s desk and fidgets with his unused pens. Even though the investigation was halted, his room remains littered with manila papers, bulletins, and notes on the white board. The necessity to preserve becomes apparent when they receive news of Akugawa posting bail this morning.

Sasuke nods in response. “She still went through with her trip to Belgium last April 28. I don’t know when she’ll be back, but I’m not privy to her internal emotions so it’s not my place to say she’s okay.”

“About time they gave her bodyguards.” The chief detective taps an unlit cigarette stick on his desk. “It’s great seeing you like this.”

“This what?”

“Happy?”

Sasuke clucks his tongue. “It’s not official. She just might be in it for the thrills.”

Kakashi smirks and lights up his stick. “Sex must be great then.”

“Get out, Hatake.”

A rap on the door catches both of their attention. Yamato comes in followed by Asuma, Tenten, Jugo, and Neji.

“There’s a fourth body in the same ravine. Body is now with the ME. Estimated time of death is enough for Akugawa to file for several cases. It’s gonna be a media bloodbath,” Asuma says.

As the lot file out of the office, Kakashi pulls Sasuke to fall behind a bit. “Trust no one, Uchiha.”

11:45 AM

There’s something off-putting about the smell.

This body does not follow the two-week gap; the ME estimated the date of his death on April 27. This slight change in MO presents the possibility of a copycat, but other than that, all injuries are the same – a stab in the carotid, teeth pulled out, arms and feet cut, genital missing – which means another thing, the killer slipped somehow and they’re on a rush. For what, they don’t know.

“Ando Suzuki, CEO of Suzuki Airlines for Japan,” Asuma states his name for confirmation. “Let’s do our usual. It’s time we ramp up our progress, Uchiha.”

Sasuke ignores the pointed insinuation and steps closer to the corpse. It didn’t rain last week despite the forecasts so the state of the body is more or less preserved. He brings his nose closer to the neck, right where the murder tool punctured the artery.

“Sasuke, what are you doing?” Tenten asks. “Forensics have close up shots for that.”

“It’s the smell.”

“Like decomposers and rotting flesh?” Jugo scoffs.

“Is it possible that they might have tried to remove him?” Sasuke asks the ME who quickly goes to him and helps him turn the corpse on its side.

They see fresh scar on the pricked wounds, like someone tried to drag them out of the ravine. As if they knew the position would give them away this time. The smell hits him strongly when the ME returns the corpse to a prone position, and Sasuke almost vomits when he recognizes it.

It can’t be. In controlled breaths, he steps away from the examining table and slumps against the wall. Kakashi notices but pretends not to. It’s Tenten who slithers beside him inconspicuously and taps on his arm. She raises a brow which he responds to with a cluck of his tongue.

“I’ve always wondered,” she starts. “Why can’t it be a woman?”

“If you can recreate a position of a woman stabbing the artery without defense wounds, let me know,” Yamato says with a cold smile. It’s meant to shut Tenten up; he doesn’t like his profiles being challenged. “And the smell you’re talking about Sasuke? It’s jasmine. The area probably has blooms.”

2:30 PM

“Something’s weird with Uchiha,” Neji pulls out his badge, ready to present it to the landfill. They’re revisiting dumping sites again for a second go-through. The killer is starting to leave breadcrumbs all over the place. “Did you see how pale his face went earlier?”

“Jasmine and rotting flesh don’t make good perfume,” Tenten figures. The guard sees their badges and gestures for them to come inside.

There’s a peculiar batch of scavengers in the area, people who aren’t part of junkshops or associations, just individual peddlers. A bald man in his 70s glances their way and starts to move towards their directions with only one foot and crutches for the other.

“Police?” He has a putrid gummy smile. “That lad didn’t come here again.”

Neji tugs Tenten away, but his wife stays rooted to the spot. “A lad?”

The old man opens his palm.

“He just wants money, dear,” Neji grumbles. “Let’s go now and talk to the real rational people.”

Tenten pulls out her wallet and sticks a wad of one dollar bills on the man’s hand. “A lad?” She repeats.

“Thought it was our fellow. We have young ones with us, you know, like your age but definitely shorter in height. He comes in dressed in a black raincoat and plastic boots, dragging bulky garbage bags like they’re not heavy at all.” His smile gets bigger by the count of the bills.

“Did you get a good look at this man?” Tenten asks, still unwilling to let go.

“Tenten,” Neji warns.

“This might be our lead. A concrete lead for once.”

“Wind knocked his garbage of a hood one time. Shiny bald head says hi.”

Neji is at the end of his wits. “Dear, you’re not even sure if he’s talking about our guy.”

Tenten sticks a 10-dollar bill on the old man’s almost torn shirt pocket. He proceeds with a guttural laugh, the phlegm oozing through each gasping breath. “He always dumps those bags on a full moon.”

4:30 PM

Sasuke sneaked in earlier to the administration office just before the receptionist’s desk came into view. With slight intimidation into play, he managed to get duplicate recordings of the cctv of the whole floor.

He taps Kakashi for help and another IT staff.

“Looks normal to me,” the silver-haired man remarks. “Why are you snooping on your girlfriend?”

“All of them were her patients at one point,” Sasuke replies. “And we don’t do labels.”

“But their visits were nowhere near their kill dates.”

“Their visits were logged as emergency procedures because Akugawa or their company doctor wasn’t available. So why?”

Kakashi smirks. “Are you insinuating they were there to get a glimpse of her? The recluse medical corporation heir. Nothings amiss in the recordings, right? No sexual body language?”

Sasuke hopes the same, but the lurch in his guts tells him otherwise. He swallows whatever saliva that hasn’t dried yet in his mouth in anticipation of the inevitable.

“The recordings are fine. She’s always accompanied by her assistant when she has clients,” the IT replies. “It’s the code that bothers me. You see, a malware is playing with it, looping the same frames while continuing the time ticks. Either someone knows their technology or this is a complete human error.”

-xxxxxxx-

May 7, 2021, 12:01 PM

“Oh, it’s you,” Laura says nonchalantly, never glancing up from her keyboard, and click-clacking away even though it’s already lunch break. “She’ll be out in a minute.”

“Do you know how to code?” He doesn’t spare her a glance either, his eyes trained on the door.

“Is this a side job? I can get Shin if you’d like. He fixes the systems here when he has time. He’s a computer geek before he settled for dentistry.” She stops typing and eyes her wristwatch. “She’s here.”

True enough, the door opens just as Laura tells him. She wears her rose hair loose today, falling like waves against her tucked in white long sleeve polo and denim jeans. She spots him after she gives her white coat to her waiting assistant.

Smile, wave, and unhurried walk to reach him. “A lunch break?”

“Wondering if you were still alive after your trip.” The jasmine in the air transports him to two different scenes, his memory being stretched out in two drastic dimensions, one where she’s writhing beneath him and one where he sees the corpse falling on top of him. The scents mix, and he fails to cover up his gag. Both women look at him with brows raised but he waves them off with his handkerchief.

“Days of absence and your heart grows fonder. That saying is true after all.” She places a hand on his cheek and softly taps it. “A sandwich?”

“I’m starving.”

“Two sandwiches then.”

8:19 PM

She invited him for dinner while they were munching on half-dozen random sandwiches from Subway. He didn’t talk about the case nor did he question her radio silence since her Belgium business trip. This was why she genuinely liked Detective Uchiha Sasuke.

Or maybe it was just the first time she was treated like she had an agency. The gestures for permission, the unspoken questions of consent, the way he wouldn’t touch her first or grab her or mar her skin even when they were having sex. Most men would have their true natures revealed once shown the great pussy. But there he was, always cradling her like she was porcelain china. Not that she minded. It was a breath of fresh air to be held like that, in gentle caresses and soft whispers that beg to betray his true feelings at any given second. It was madness not to be consumed by it, but it was tragedy that she only knew of this reality just now.

She knew he had an inkling. She messed up in the forest. If she had the luxury of time, she would have dismembered the man who grabbed her. A stab from a scalpel was a merciful way to go, and that man didn’t deserve it. Filthy hands.

The anger rushes to the surface, and she stabs the roasted meat rather too loudly.

“Is your meat still alive?” He emerges in her dining room and continues to look around. “Your wooden mansion is a far cry from your depersonalized penthouse.”

She laughs as she strains the cooked pasta. “I like having two personalities.” He must have triangulated by now that the location of this mansion is smacked in the center of the dump sites, a safe, close distance to the landfills, the forest, and even the meditation place. He must have seen the black pick-up truck on her garage, the one she uses for farming. She can see all the pieces fitting into a completed puzzle in his head, and she’s sad to let him go.

He opens the wine she placed on the counter, and he fills himself a glass. “You also have a crystal collection like Akugawa.”

“I gave him his first obsidian. Their healing properties are supposedly at maximum during full moon.” She places two plated bolognese pasta on the table and a wide platter of medium rare meat. “Dinner’s ready.”

“This looks good.” His tone is genuinely fascinated. “Didn’t know you could cook. We always dined in or ordered take out.”

“A change of pace, wouldn’t you think?” She also fills herself a glass of wine and watches in amusement as he takes a first bite of the meatballs she especially prepared for him.

“You should tell me where you source your meat. I’ll one up you in our next dinner.”

I’m too sad there won’t be a next one.

10:17 PM

Sakura changes position, and she’s on top of him, gyrating her hips in familiar pleasure. Sasuke wants to take it slow, to re-encounter her folds and curves after several days of not seeing her, despite his senses overriding in danger. He took her an hour ago, on her immaculate grainy wood counter, wine spilling on the sink as he thrusted into her unclothed core. She had gone commando, and this drove him insane. Maybe his lust is taking over him, clouding his judgment, muddling his perfect frame by frame memories, but he has to play this game. It’s only a matter of time.

He feels her insides throb in urgency, and he knows she’s near her orgasm. Her juices leak out, and he bucks against her wetness, releasing his load into her with eyes closed.

He waits for the scalpel to puncture his carotid, but nothing comes. “Sakura.”

She continues riding his limp member and rubbing her clit against his balls. A strategic distraction as they are coming down from a high. He expects her to trace lazy circles on his abdomen, a mannerism he picked up from their nights, but the dainty hands go to his neck instead.

He opens his eyes, and he sees a different Sakura. Her microexpressions are different, her eyes throwing daggers, soft pliant lips in hardened scowl, and hollowed cheeks.

“I don’t know what’s your issue with a scalpel, Sakura.” Her voice is different, the accent changed. “You must have fallen in love with him already. Such a frail human.”

“I wanted to prepare myself before I see him go. That is all.” Her face shifts and the emotions return to the Sakura he knows. He also notes the loosening grip on his neck, unaware that he is holding his breath.

Another shift and it’s back to the other Sakura. “She has such a saccharine charm effective in luring me to do things.” She smiles at him, but it’s not the smile he’s familiar with. “Don’t worry, you’re not gonna die yet.”

She chokes him with surprising strength. He places pressure on her wrists and elbows, but she doesn’t budge. His legs start to thrash out beneath him, and his sight starts to dim.

“Great work as always, sister. We’ve always wanted the truth about Madara, don’t we?”

[scoups4lyfe]

okay but why does olteca beating daiji makes sense considering what we've seen of their relationship so far?

olteca seems to like kagerou and even gives him a chance -> kagerou snitches on the deadmans and olteca says to daiji's face that he was better as kageoru while possibly not realizing that kagerou is the one that snitched on them -> daiji begs hiromi that he should have the demons driver so hiromi won't be able to transform -> olteca gets the demons driver and beats up daiji. like... why does it surprisingly fit???

ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ LOL

Man I read this post like

I think I got like 30% of what you were puttin down there 🤣🤣🤣🤠.

I was just talking to Nacho about those two

(because although we were originally discussing Oltecca + Cult Psychology/whether we should consider him a victim or a perpetrator; that soon devolved into my usual big ol’

“❓”

about Oltecca’s relationship with Julio and Aguilera and whether or not him and Julio had a genuine friendship /why Oltecca would fixate on fking with Julio for 4 episodes while showing literally no other emotional attachments whatsoever towards literally all the other losers in their cult —lol and THEN because I was talking about Oltecca’s relationships THAT brought our discussion to Oltecca and Daiji ////Oltecca and Ikki and why I thought his interactions with them were so interesting lmao)

Tldr; Oltecca deserves to be put under a microscope and studied for literally anything he does, ever.

😃

Like 🤷🏻‍♀️ I just find his fixation on Daiji really telling and reallllllllyyyy amusing. And his relationship with Ikki for those same reasons hahahahahaha. (The amount of times he’s watched Ikki win a fight and said to himself/no one in particular ( and I guess me as well as the captive audience LOL —)

“Beautiful as always” (Stunning; perfect; amazing — literally his comments are always some positive adjective about idk whatever Ikki’s doing at that specific moment)

Haha literalllyyyy the “a compliment is a compliment” tumblr post:

[yaboylevi]

Hi! I love ur blog, especially ur Snk Metas and Ereri metas. What are your thoughts on the whole “Eren has always been like this” (always been evil or capable of great evils like genocide) that a lot of people seem to agree on? I’ve always had a hard time believing in that idea because we’ve been shown multiple times that Eren is capable of sympathy and empathy, so to say he’s ALWAYS been like this is wrong.

Hi! Thank you!!

Looking through my snk 121 tag I found that I have already received similar questions, so I’m gonna link one here if you want the short version of it. Even if it was something I wrote up right after the chapter was out, it’s not like my opinion has changed much... more like, my faith in Isayama writing a decent conclusion and explanation in regards to Eren has plummeted in the past year and a half.

But anyway, now we have some new information pertaining Eren, so I feel like I can add more on this moment and my take on it in light of such new perspective.

Let me preface this with: Eren hates what he’s doing, is despising every second, was scared of his future visions, often paralyzed, desperate to find a better solution than this, because he knows - let me repeat it - HE KNOWS this is horrifying. We had hints throughtout the story, but many have ignored them. For me, Eren going through grief and apologizing for something he hadn’t even done yet in chapters 131 was no shocker at all, but I guess some people may have actually been surprised, I don’t know. It was right there since the Marley arc and his breakdown over Sasha, but many have completely misinterpreted that scene, denying it was desperation that he was feeling, so it was nice to finally have confirmation. Kinda.

However, you know, Isayama doesn’t seem to have picked a side on his characterization of Eren. Or maybe there is still something that’s concealed, because everything we have seen, isn’t evething that has happened, and it doesn’t explain yet some things about Eren and, relevant to this post, why Eren has decided to give up and give in to his future self’s memories of destruction. I’m sorry, but Eren believing “there is no other way, other than killing the whole world’s population, because the future cannot be changed” due to some memories is not gonna cut it, especially because we haven’t seen him fight too hard against it. In my opinion, at least. Or maybe he did, but we haven’t been shown.

The most hopeful part of my heart wishes he is already trying to change things, in a very roundabout and secret way, but the tired and logical part is done hoping. After all, Eren is alternating between being hellbent on going through with rumbling the world, and being absolutely horrified by it. I’ve been getting whiplash every month for a couple of years now.

As for your actual question, and that line during the Paths Time Travel...

Let’s start from here, shall we? That whole conversation with Zeke in Paths was to Zeke what chapter 112 was to Mikasa and Armin, imo. Chapter 121, huh, same numbers...but anyways. I think I have already wrote it somewhere, but I believe Eren lied, and purposely hurt Zeke. To make him, and Mikasa and Armin, realize something and act accordingly, maybe against Eren himself.

In Mikasa’s case, the realization was gradual since then, because Eren’s lies kickstarted it immediately. In Armin’s case, I think we still haven’t seen the full potential of it, though it may come next chapter - and I mean the “You were influenced by Bertolt, an enemy” angle. I am surprised Armin hasn’t followed this reasoning in regards to Eren, who has three titans within him, none of them particularly allied with Paradis. We left Armin seeing Bertolt, who is, in turn, watching him. I wonder if a conversation won’t happen right off the bat in chapter 136.

Anyhow, Eren, in chapter 112, also very much hit Armin and Mikasa where it hurt them the most - which is the same thing he did to Zeke here, bringing up his hate for Grisha and how it was the only think really fuelling him, and went through all the effort of making him reconcile with Grisha. Mmm, sus. Am I the only one feeling it’s sus??? I really have to wonder if he doesn’t kind of want/need Zeke to stop him, just like I believe he did with Armin and Mikasa. After all, there was no need to antagonize them and make them have reasons to stop caring for him, if he didn’t want to be stopped.

So, if it wasn’t already clear, Eren is a big liar, and he’s good at it if you don’t know him (and Zeke, Armin, and Mikasa have proven they don’t know or understand him very well at times). His acting skills have been shown all the way back in the cabin scene when he was 8 years old and tricked those traffickers.

There is another layer to these lies that I’d like to touch upon, though.

The line you were inquiring about feels exactly like his “I am free” in chapter 112. He sounds so sure, but it is a freaking lie.

See how both Armin and Mikasa are confused by such a bold, out-of-the-blue statement, the same way Zeke asks Eren “Since birth?” because, like, what is that all even about?

Eren has been feeling trapped in his own future memories to the point that his freedom of choice even existing anymore has become a big question mark. There is no freedom in following the path you were shown.

Eren’s urge to save someone from “having their freedom solen” by “physically assaulting the perpetrators first” has never, ever meant that he was willing to or okay with sacrificing innocents. Quite the opposite, in fact. There have been whole arcs about that. About Eren freaking out over people dying for him, refusing to sacrifice friends for the bigger picture, grieving for or sympathizing with innocents losing their lives or having them destroyed by some bigger threat. That has not changed.

So the big question remains: Why?

With these outrageous and confident statements about himself, I don’t think Eren is merely lying to his interlocutor to change their perception of him. I think he is lying to himself as well in the meantime. It looks like it did the trick, or not - based on how you want to interpret it. He really has been dissociating hard during his rampage.

But it all depends on what Isayama's angle is with Eren. In 112 Eren seemed to believe his “I am free” statement because he had an instant reaction to Armin challenging it. At the same time, now that we also have chapter 130-131 to enrich our reading, there is no way Eren felt free into the choices he made after hearing Willy’s declaration of war. He saw a terrifying future, he hoped against hope that it would change, but felt powerless and gutted and desperate that all pointed to such a future being unchangeable. So I do wonder if maybe he didn’t end up lying to himself - subconsciously or not - that he is free... and that he is always been this way - a cold-blooded murderer who did it all for justice.

Zoom in on Eren forlornly watching himself as a kid show pure kindess to a girl who just went through the most traumatizing experience in her life.

For the matter, I don’t believe Eren “has always been this way”. I actually don’t believe he’s ever been that way. I don’t know why many(?) people just accept whatever Eren says at face value, ignoring all context surronding it.

As I posted very recently, it doesn’t make sense for Eren to go from one extreme to the other without a better excuse, or explanation, or a more believable writing of it...or a plot twist that I guess I will wait for for another 4 months:

Eren came to realize that outside the walls people are just...well, people. There are good ones everywhere, people who suffered just like him, people who deserve better, certainly don’t deserve to be caught up in the Rumbling, people who have lives, children, moms, loved ones. This is highlighted again in chapter 131, because maybe, when Eren brought it up in the basement with Falco and Reiner, people didn’t think he was being genuine. So Isayama shows us again that Eren truly believed that.

And yet, the chapter before, Eren put those very same people on the same level of Titans when he used to think Titans were scum, a nightmare sent to eat them alive, because he addressed them with “匹”, a derogatory counter when applied to people, because it is usually used for small animals.

The parallel to how he used to feel towards Titans is smacked in our faces, because in Japanese, it’s the same exact line. He now feels that way about people.

...What?

It doesn’t make sense, right?

Because really, the same way Eren’s first impulse in Marley was to save Ramzi when he was being beaten up (and threatened with a worse fate than some bruises), the same way Eren helped him regardless and again went against 3 full-grown men, it’s the same way Eren rushed to Mikasa’s rescue when he didn’t even know her... or the same way he pushed himself into a Titan’s mouth just to save Armin. it doesn’t come from a sentiment of “I need to punish these monsters because they are threatening me”. It comes from a natural, intrinsic need to help and save others. It is deeply saddening that at the end of this journey, with Ramzi, he just feels like this natural predisposition of his is just a fake and turns him into a hypocrite.

So for Eren to say he has always been that way while looking at his 8 years old self stabbing a human trafficker in the chest to save a little girl to try and explain why he’s killing innocent people who happens to be living alongside “the bad guys” is a false equivalence. Either it’s a lie Eren tells himself and to Zeke to make both of them believe this is what Eren is, and has always been, and there is nothing they could do to prevent it - in a sort of twisted liberation from guilt because “if I was always like this, then you and I both shouldn’t have expected anything different”...

...or it’s Isayama’s failed attempt at presenting a theoretical concept he liked and talked about in interviews, suddenly turning Eren into a poster boy for it and canceling previous sides of Eren’s complexity as a character. I would like to believe Isayama hasn’t lost his magic touch this badly, but every day I’m less sure of it.

My opinion, for what is worth, is that that line you quoted is something he said to trick Zeke into detaching himself from Eren and going against him - breaking the bonds of love all around him has been a very deliberate choice Eren has made post time-skip - and at the same time it’s something Eren is trying to believe himself, in a desperate attempt at explaining to his own conscience that he was destined to bring such destruction, that he was always capable of it, and that there is a sort of justice in it where there isn’t. And he knows, deep down. That’s why he dissociates in the end.

In a very twisted, self-deprecating way, Eren is a liar to everyone, himself included. He has become an unreliable narrator about himself. Eren has completely shut down because he cannot stand what he is doing.

And I would very much like to know why he gave up on trying to find a different solution, if that’s what it is that happened, and why he sounds like a different person every other scene he appears in, in the next 4 months.

[lustinglilac]

Everything About You

A/N: This is a long one but, I’ve been meaning to post it, just hadn’t had the time to edit it until now! It’s a couple of different parts happening over a span of 3 days leading up to them finally getting together. (Not based on any episode in particular)

Pairing: EZ Reyes x OC (Nestor’s sister)

Warnings: blood, death, shooting, guns, strong language, brief sexual harassment, 18+, smut, choking, oral (m/f receiving), vocal EZ, unprotected sex.

Word count: 33.1 k (sorry, I couldn’t stop typing)

*gif not mine*

Thursday, 2:15 PM She rolled over in her empty bed, sighing, plain white sleep shirt rising over the curve of her ass.

“Fuck!” She was going to be late to Miguel’s interrogation. Her phone had at least five missed calls from her brother and three messages from her boss, Miguel.

She braced herself for the angry man on the other line as she finally called him back, “Where the fuck are you, Nic?” Her brother’s voice coming through tight on the other side.

“Nestor, fucking relax. I just got up.” She admitted cringing at her words, hopping on one leg trying to put on her pants and talk to him at the same time. She stumbled over the mess of laundry she had on the floor of her room, kicking it to the side to deal with later.

“Hurry the fuck up. The guys are going to be here soon and I can’t have my right hand not show up.” He hangs up abruptly, not giving her a chance to respond. He could be so frustrating at times.

She looked at her outfit in the mirror before brushing her teeth and fixing her hair to look somewhat presentable.

She knew Miguel’s cartel dressed to the nines but, in all honesty, she couldn’t be bothered right now considering she was too late to pick out a decent outfit, going for a more laid back option.

2:35 PM She had a few more minutes before she had to show up, taking her chances, grabbing the keys to her Cadillac and running out the door. She stopped at their local Starbucks, the drive thru line surprisingly empty. Luck was definitely on her side today as she ordered her espresso and paid, downing the tiny cup in two gulps.

“Si tú me llama'. Nos vamo' pa' tu casa. Nos quedamo' en la cama. Sin pijama, sin pijama.” The radio played softly in the background, making her hum along; she came to a halt at the shady spot where people did not make it out alive most of the time.

It was three o’clock on the dot as she cursed under her breath, throwing her empty Starbucks cup on the ground and walking quickly into the building; her breathing never faltering thanks to her rigorous exercise routine.

“She’ll be here, Miguel, she was just running an errand for me—“ Nestor’s voice sounded as she rounded the corner, coming to a halt at the gate.

“I’m here.” She smiled, panting slightly, as twelve pairs of eyes landed on her. Some widened, others more dark as they looked at her from head to toe, eyeing her body. She walked past the men closest to the gate, the Mayans, excusing herself and making her way towards her boss.

Nestor shook his head, running a hand down his face as Miguel all but frowned at her. He had known her and Nestor since they were younger, always having their backs because he knew they always had his. Miguel smiled, pulling her in for a kiss on the cheek as she gladly accepted before flipping off her brother behind Miguel’s embrace.

“Gonna let me get one last fuck in before I die, Galindo? How fucking thoughtful of you.” A strangled voice seethed to her left as the room was stunned into dead silence now.

She bit her lip anxiously, closing her eyes, huffing quietly as Miguel held a firm grasp on her as not to let her interfere with what was going to happen next.

“Hijo de puta— what the fuck did you just say?” Nestor abandoned his position at the table of weapons altogether narrowing his eyes at the perpetrator, tied up to the pew and struggling to breath.

“Hermano—“ Her voice coming out small in the room full of men. She knew what he was about to do. The man on the wooden pew messed with the wrong Oceteva as realization dawned across his bloody face.

“That’s his sister?!” A muffled voice from one of the men in leather vests gasped before being shut up by another older gentleman.

“Please— I-I didn’t know! Please!” Nestor had already brought his gun to the traitor’s temple, pulling the trigger without hesitation. She flinched slightly as the man’s body lay limp on the seat, Nestor telling his men to clean up the mess.

“Sorry you had to hear that—“ Miguel apologized sincerely, patting the younger woman on the shoulder as she shrugged. She was used to seeing and hearing worse from men who thought she was just another easy girl, Nestor always coming to her defense when it did happen though. She’d always told him, “Nestor, I can handle myself.” Yet, he couldn’t help but be protective. She was his baby sister after all.

“It’s fine. What can I do for you, though?” She crossed her arms over her chest as she watched her brother’s movements behind Miguel. He was pissed the fuck off, to say the least.

“I’d like to introduce you to my newest hires.” He walked her over to the stunned men in the corner, who wouldn’t dare make eye contact with her. Hell, not after what just happened. She smiled tightly, despite wanting to roll her eyes at their sheepish behavior.

“They will be working with us, reporting back any suspicious activity going on that we may have missed. Although that is highly unlikely.” He stated matter of factly making her nod her head in agreement. “Gentlemen, this is Nicole Oceteva, Nestor’s second in command and his sister.” Miguel kept his naturally stoic posture as he introduced her.

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Oceteva. We look forward to working with you.” She read the name tag of the person who had spoken to her, choosing his words carefully, Presidente.

“Please, call me Nicole.” She smiled warmly, sticking out her hand for him to shake. “I look forward to getting to know all of you.”

EZ furrowed his brows, eyeing her warily. How the hell had she been so comfortable after what just happened minutes ago?

“Bishop.” The older man returned her smile as he turned around to his crew and introduced them, “This is Riz, Taza, Tranq, Gilly.” He pauses to let them shake her hand hesitantly, “Coco, Angel, and EZ.” The younger looking Mayans more confident in stretching out their hands for her to shake.

She couldn’t take her eyes off of EZ as he had been introduced, his touch lingering the longest. She pulled away from his warm grasp on her hand immediately at the sound of her brother’s voice, “Nicole—“

Miguel let her go as he stayed behind, whispering something to the Mayans that had to do with business no doubt.  

EZ had felt the same, he felt a spark run up his hand as soon as she had taken it. He knew she could sense it, too. He watched her walk away, the sway of her hips distracting him, until Miguel cleared his throat, nearly catching him staring.

“You didn’t need to do that, Nestor—“ She huffed as the dead body had been taken away seconds ago, eyeing the pew in which it once lay.

He scoffed, stubborn as ever, “Nah, he deserved it, trust me. Next time, you come here on time, even earlier than when I tell you, I don’t want you slipping up again, understand?” He looked down at her shorter frame, trying to intimidate her but he knew better than that.

“Mhmm.” She mocked. They both knew she probably wasn’t going to kick her habit because Miguel was too lenient when it came to her, he loved her like his own sister considering he never had one, she was the closest thing.

The Mayans were long gone by now as Miguel strode back to the siblings in his tailored suit.

“Everything okay?” Miguel scanned her face for any signs of distress as she nodded confidently, attempting to grab one of the guns from her brother’s array of weapons.

“Yes. How’s Emily? And my nephew?” She asked eagerly as Nestor slapped her hand away, making her pout and turn back to her boss.

“They’re doing well. Your nephew misses you, Nicole, don’t be a stranger. You are always welcome in our home. In fact, I have a charity event set up for this weekend, I would love for you to be there.” Miguel spoke as one of his men put on his suit jacket for him, straightening it out.

She contemplated her decision for a moment, tossing her hair to the side, “She’ll be there. I could use the help anyway.” Before she even had a chance to answer, her brother had spoken for her.

“Great. Saturday night, six o’clock sharp.” Smoothing down his collar, he turned on his heel and exited the building. She grinned politely until he was out of sight and then turned to frown at her brother.

“You’re not my lawyer, I don’t understand why you need to answer for me.” She stomped her foot like a child.

“When you start acting right, I’ll consider it.” Nestor huffed and fixed the holsters hanging under his arms.

“You literally embarrassed me in front of those guys! Three of which were so fucking cute!” She clenched her jaw tightly, wanting nothing more than to shove him into the wall for being so protective.

“Hey, watch your mouth.” He raised his eyebrows at her confession. “I won’t let you get involved with some lowlife who worships his bicycle.”

She could not believe how persistent her brother was, “Pretty sure they’re motorcycles. And next time don’t bother calling me when I’m running late. I’ll show up when I want to.” She turned away from him and strutted out of the stuffy room and into the daylight, Nestor hot on her heels.

“You stopped for coffee? Really, Nic?” He scoffed as he kicked the discarded paper cup towards her.

“I was thirsty!” She grumbled and slammed her car door shut, thanking God she didn’t have to see him until at least the night before Miguel’s gala. It’s not that they didn’t have a good relationship as brother and sister but he did manage to get on her nerves, a lot of the time.

She finally calmed down and put her car into reverse, backing out into the street, deciding on not heading home just yet. She made her way past the busy streets, traffic hitting hard at this time of the day. She finally got to where she wanted, pulling over into the designated parking spot.

She needed to find a decent dress for Saturday, she couldn’t show up in just anything. And if her favorite Mayan, at the moment, was going to be there Nicole definitely wanted to step up her game.

She was welcomed immediately into the air conditioned boutique, as the ladies had come to recognize her since the few times she’d shopped there with Emily.

“Nicole, what can we do for you?” The store manager smirked as she stalked towards her favorite customer. Nicole didn’t respond just yet as she eyed the rack of new dresses that hadn’t even been taken out of their plastic bags.

“Hmmm... I need a dress. Preferably long, preferably blue. Nothing too revealing but also, I don’t wanna look like a nun.” She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow as the staff scrambled to find her what she’d just described.

She took a seat on the plush sofa as they presented her dress after dress, flipping through them like pages of a magazine. Until one finally caught her eye, it was gorgeous right down to the detailing. It was the only one that had been on an actual mannequin.

“I’ll take it.” Nicole was floored by the way it looked on the mannequin and to be honest, she couldn’t wait to wear it. She’d have to find a way to conceal her thigh holster in it considering that the hip-high slit left little to be desired. Nestor was going to flip out, but she didn’t care. She wanted it more than anything.

“And it’s just your size. It was meant to be, Nicki.” The manager held her hand out greedily to take her credit card, swiping it and packing the dress neatly into a box, handing her the bag.

“Muchas gracias, chicas.” She blew them a kiss and walked out into the warm air of her town once again.

She couldn’t wait to get home to try on the dress, speeding off in the direction of her house. Nicole grabbed her belongings and headed inside, dead bolting her door and running down the hall to her room.

She stripped off her clothes leaving her in a black lace thong and her bra, taking the dress out and placing it up against her body, the smooth silk fabric rubbing against her skin softly. She slipped it on with ease, the fabric tightening at her waistline and flowing loosely down the back of her legs.

Nicole picked up her thigh holster, securing it around her thigh to test it, it would definitely not be concealed but she’d have to deal with the consequences if she wanted to wear this stunning piece. And she really did.

With a soft sigh, she took the dress off carefully, placing it back in its box for safe keeping.

Nicole walked down the hall to her spacious kitchen, preparing herself a bowl of pasta and sunk down into the couch to enjoy it. Before she knew it, she’d dozed off with the TV playing in the background, a small blanket draped over her body. ••• “You got a deathwish? Hey, EZ—“ Angel was fuming as his brother had pissed him off yet again.

“What?” The younger Reyes turned around abruptly, glaring at Angel.

“Don’t do it man, I saw that look in your eyes. Nestor’s sister, don’t fucking do it.” He warned him as Ezekiel scoffed loudly.

“What look? I didn’t do shit, Angel. Tranquillo.” He was getting defensive and Angel knew better than to press him. Not yet at least.

“She’s the competition. You never fuck the competition.” Coco piped up from his spot at the bar, downing his beer in a few quick sips.

“What do you know about competition, loco?” Gilly couldn’t help but comment.

“Matter fact, what do you know about fucking?” Angel waited for a reply from the Mayan, grunting amusedly when he didn’t get one, “That’s what I thought.”

“Blowing this out of proportion, as always.” EZ was beyond angered at the way they spoke about a woman they barely even knew. He wondered if she’d be there Saturday night.

They’d been invited to Miguel’s gala as a second pair of eyes and ears. Bishop hesitantly accepted since he knew it wouldn’t really be their scene but, they were desperate for money so they took the invite anyway.

EZ was tired from the day’s events, slipping out of the clubhouse, driving his bike all the way to his father’s, settling in for the night.   ••• “Nicki! Open the door!” A loud banging on her front door interrupted her training session, pausing her music making her huff loudly running to answer it at the sound of her brother’s voice.

“What, Nestor?!” She swung the door open aggressively, wiping the sweat off of her brow and going back to her workout in the spare room.

He came in with two other guards she hadn’t seen before, she figured they were new hires considering the event was going to be packed with strangers and it was being held in Miguel’s own home.

Nestor held up a blueprint of the mansion to her face, “We need to go over the layout.”

She sighed loudly, stopping her assault on the punching bag and looking between him and the two new members, “I’m listening.”

“We keep it tight, secure, we have eyes and ears in every corner of the room, got it?” Nestor laid the paper flat on the desk in front of them, “This hallway right here has no cameras, it’s a weak spot, that’s where Nicole will be positioned. You two, front entrance, ID guests and make sure their names appear on the list.” He spoke aggressively, making sure his crew heard every word of the plan.

“This,” She motioned to the group, “Could’ve been a group FaceTime, Nestor, not a house visit.”

“That’s what I said.” One of the new guys snorted, earning a death stare from his boss.

She rolled her eyes at the way the man shut up immediately, apologizing to Nestor, not daring to look at him.

“Yes! Thank you, he gets it!“ She turned to the young man bold enough to speak back to her brother, “Don’t let him intimidate you.” She winked.

“That’s enough!” Nestor’s hand coming down harsh onto the wooden desk, crumpling up the blueprint, “I’ll see you on Saturday Nicole, and don’t be fucking late.” With that, he and his men left her home letting her get back to her activities.

She locked the door behind them, downing a water bottle, breathing quite heavily as she checked her phone for any new messages.

With a heavy sigh, she got up from the couch, heading for her shower to cool off. She needed to do her nails, picking a nice red color from her selection of nail polishes before stepping into the mist of water.

She washed off the sweat, shaving off the thin layer of stubble that had accumulated on her legs before doing the same to her underarms. She stepped out, drying off her body and applying some moisturizing cream, she sat at her vanity concentrating on shaping and filing her long nails perfectly.

Once she was pleased with the way they’d come out, she waited until they were dry to start touching anything. She needed to get her things ready for tomorrow evening.

She neatly folded her clothes and placed them in their respective drawers before tidying up her bed. She would have to be on high alert the whole night considering she had one of the weaker spots to guard. She picked out an outfit to wear for the remainder of the day, settling on a black shirt and a pair of cargo pants with sneakers.

She forgot that she promised her brother she would have dinner with him tonight, checking the time in order to start cooking something up to bring over to his place.

Dinner time rolled around, Nicole grabbing her belongings and heading over to Nestor’s. He didn’t live far, about fifteen minutes away by car; they used to live together until Nicole wanted to have her own space and Nestor his which was understandable.

“Qué pasó?” She smiled as he opened up the door to his lavish home, not a speck of dust anywhere.

“Hey. Thought you wouldn’t show.” He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek, ruffling her hair slightly and taking the glass tupperware from her hands.

“You ready for tomorrow night?” She spoke, setting up the island with two plates and utensils, uncovering her food. She hummed pleasantly as the smell filled her nostrils.

Nestor looked at her, “Yeah, we have everything secured. What are you wearin’?” He asked her around a mouthful of salad.

“A dress.” She tried to divert the attention to another subject, “You?”

“Okay, why’re you actin’ so weird? What color? Maybe I’ll match with you.” He laughed loudly at the disgusted look on her face, not that he was planning to match with her but it was funny to rile her up.

“Don’t even. People already think we look like twins, let's not give them another reason to add to the list.” She scoffed.

They wrapped up their dinner silently, getting comfortable on each end of one of his couches, watching whatever movie was playing on TV. The siblings enjoyed one another’s company, as much as they won’t admit it, because growing up they only really ever had each other.

It was getting dark out and Nicole really didn’t wanna be falling asleep at the wheel, calling it a night as Nestor walked her to the door, “See you tomorrow, hermana. Get home safe.”

Before she could respond, a knock at the door startled her as she looked at her brother with a  curious expression, “You expecting someone?”

“Ah shit. It’s the bike riders.” He opened the door up, revealing the same men she’d seen yesterday, smiling at them over Nestor’s shoulder.

Her eyes scanned the group of them for EZ, not being able to tell who was who underneath their helmets and the fact that it was quite dark out.

“Nestor, can we talk?” Bishop spoke calmly. Nestor grunted a response, seeing his sister out in order to handle the business until she protested, wanting to hear what they had to say.

“Absolutely. What about?” Nicole stood at the doorway, questioning the older man. Bishop looked over his shoulder at his club, looking back to the siblings with a grin.

“Nicole— I excused you. You can go.” Nestor pointed his stare at her, motioning for her to leave.

She scoffed, raising her eyebrows, wanting so badly to argue with him right now but deciding not to, “Ugh. You’re fucking annoying, and don’t forget it. Goodbye.” She stomped her foot, huffing in frustration as Nestor snickered obnoxiously at her attitude.

“What did you want to talk about?” Nestor’s hushed voice sounded behind her.

She was barely watching where she was going as she headed to her car, catching herself before she bumped into a mass of muscle, “Excuse me.” She whispered harshly, looking up at the figure.

It was him. Her breath caught in her throat, she was flustered for the first time and if anyone knew Nicole, they knew she never got flustered that easily.

“Sorry.” EZ coughed, moving out of her way, a few snickers were heard behind him.

“No, don’t be. My fault, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” She bit her lip, watching him shift his eyes between her and her brother at the door who hadn’t noticed their interaction yet.

“All good.” EZ smiled down at her smaller frame, mentally face palming himself for his lame choice of words. All good? Really, Ezekiel?

“Well, have a goodnight. See you around.” Her eyes held a glimmer of hope that he’d return the same words.

“Yeah, see you around.” He breathed out, keeping his distance, just as Bishop had finished conversing with Nestor.

With that, she left the scene, hot and bothered, all eyes on her due to the interaction that just occurred. ••• Slipping on the beautiful silk fabric, she secured her gun to her thigh holster, trying to conceal it as best as she could; the thigh high split really brought attention to that part of her legs.

Nicole was almost ready to go, checking often to make sure her brother hadn’t arrived to pick her up yet. She made sure her purse had all of her essentials in it and put on one more coat of lip gloss just for safe measure. She figured she wasn’t going to get on Nestor’s nerves tonight considering it was a huge event and it was important to Miguel.

She slipped on her heels, making sure they were snug before heading down the hall slowly, adjusting her dress every now and then. Her hair flowed down her back, makeup kept to a minimum as not to overpower the color and details on her dress.

Nestor was outside with his men, honking once to signal his arrival just as she closed the door behind her and turned around, eyes following her every move to the waiting car.

“Where’s the rest of your dress?” Here he goes again. She rolled her eyes at his old fashioned thinking, flipping him off and settling into the passenger seat, smiling over her shoulder at two of their men who occupied the backseat.

“Not even a ‘Hi Nicole, how are you?’ ‘Oh, Nicole you look beautiful’.” She hit his shoulder.

Nestor scoffed, continuing to drive for another few minutes before pulling up to the lavish mansion. It was a quarter to six when they’d arrived and some guests had already begun populating the front yard, waiting to be checked by security.

She opened her door, swinging her legs out as elegantly as possible, trying not to catch the dress on anything. Her heels clicked on the pavement as she strutted past the front door with Nestor and his posse, winking to the two younger men who had been at her house the other day.

Miguel turned around upon hearing the doors open, “Que bonita. You look beautiful, as always.” He marveled at the young woman, pulling her in for a kiss on the cheek just as Emily emerged with her son on her hip.

“Nicole! Oh my goodness.” Emily gawked at her from head to toe, eyes wide as she took in what she was wearing.

“Hey! I missed you!” They hugged each other tightly.

Nicole placed a kiss on her nephew’s cheek as he smiled at her, “I cannot get enough of that face. Look how big you got!” She cooed.

The ladies had a lot to catch up on since the last time they’d seen each other, gossiping and laughing occasionally as guests poured in. Her eyes searching every now and again for the soft brown ones she’d grown accustomed to.

She kept a watchful eye out for that hallway Nestor had positioned her to, making sure no one went out of their sight of vision. After an hour of chatting with guests and receiving multiple compliments, and some stares due to her scandalous dress, he finally decided to show up.

Her breath caught in her throat as she turned around, facing the handsome man who wore all black and he looked damn good. She bit her lip absentmindedly as she watched him, easily slip through the crowd, not once leaving his club’s side.

“You’re drooling, hermana.” Nestor nudged her, smirking once he caught sight of who it was she was staring at.

She gasped, “Shut up.” Grumbling something under her breath, she turned around, taking a sip of her drink and conversing with the men at the bar. She threw her head back, laughing at a story, completely missing the fact that some scumbag was trying to talk her up. Though, the boys around the bar were quick to shut up, on guard as the sleeze made a scene.

“Beautiful body and easy access? I could have fun with you.” He slurred, bold enough to thrust his hand out to grab her exposed thigh.

She clenched her jaw, shocked that someone had the nerve to come up to her like this, looking around her at the stunned faces, the whole room going silent, as she turned around slowly catching the perp’s hand, twisting it back with a vengeance, moving her body out of the way to slam his head into the wooden bar, pulling him back by his hair as he groaned in pain, nose gushing blood.

“Not so fucking easy now, huh?” She seethed in his ear as she let go of him harshly, the man stumbling back nearly unconscious, guests moving out of the way to let him fall to the ground. He choked on his own tongue as the men behind her pulled him up, dragging his body outside.

“If this motherfucker got blood on my dress—“ She huffed silently checking the fabric for any signs of red spots. She sighed out of relief once she saw that her dress hadn’t been dirtied.

“You good?” Nestor came to her side immediately, making sure his sister was okay before proceeding to deal with the drunken bastard outside.

She smiled politely at the people still staring, making her way to the hallway that she was securing, knowing they wouldn’t know where she was. She needed a second to breath.

EZ had been watching though, the whole ordeal from the moment the man had made a bet with his buddy at the bar that he could land “that hot piece of ass” and it made his blood boil but he wasn’t going to make a scene. Her expression was deadly, he noted, as she turned around to face the bastard. He was stunned but kind of turned on at the fact that she was able to handle her own.

“Man, I wouldn’t wanna fuck with her.” Coco had commented next to him as they were taking the drunkard out of the room. EZ simply grinned, watching as Nicole composed herself and walked off, eyes following her body the whole way down a dark hallway.

“I’m gonna go find the bathroom.” He downed the rest of his drink, fixing his jacket as he stood, looking around discreetly making sure no one saw him follow her.

There they were, together, in a secluded corridor of Miguel’s mansion, tension at an all time high.

Her eyes had to be deceiving her as she gasped, looking at the man standing in front of her, “You lost?” She asked him, pretty eyes widening as he shook his head sheepishly.

“Nah, I’m right where I wanna be, actually. You okay? I saw what happened—“

She stepped closer, almost closing the space between them, heat radiating off both of their bodies, “I’m okay. Nothing I couldn’t handle.” She shrugged nonchalantly, meeting his gaze once again.

“Good. Just wanted to make sure.” EZ reached his hand out cautiously, holding her small jaw in his much larger hand tilting her head up, “You don’t deserve to be treated like that. I know, better than anyone, this is a man’s world, they’re intimidated by you, shit, most of my guys are too. You’re somethin’ else, Nicole.” He inched closer until she melted into him, lips pressing softly into hers.

He pulled away, realizing where he was, “Shit. I’m sorry.” But he wasn’t met with resistance, instead she pulled him back down by the lapels of his suit jacket, whimpering softly when she caught his lip with her teeth.

She pulled back breathlessly, panting slightly, lips swollen and wet, “Fuck me.” Her doe eyes looked up at him, tempting him to take her right then and there.

He groaned lowly, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, if he wasn’t hard two minutes ago, he was definitely rock hard now. His self control was slipping more and more as she took his hand, running it down her body to the thigh high slit that could make any man fall to his knees.

She watched him the whole time, even when she took his long, thick fingers and slid them past her holster and into the flimsy thong covering her pussy, his breath hitching slightly as he felt how fucking wet she was.

She shivered as he finally took control, swiping a finger up her slit collecting the sweet cum that pooled there, bringing his hand out and up to her waiting mouth as she sucked on his fingers, moaning softly around them, shooting a wave of pleasure straight to his cock.

He leaned down to press his lips to her temple, “Are you sure?” He asked her as she let go of his fingers with a pop.

“Yes, please.” She nodded her head waiting for his next move.

He shut his eyes for a second, breathing out, reveling in the way she spoke so politely. She was going to be the death of him, literally and figuratively.

EZ slowly backed her up to the wall, the molding digging into her back as she gasped, pressing his lips to hers once more desperately. He needed to feel her, to taste her right now.

He grunted as she pressed her hips into his, bringing her palm down to cup him through his black slacks, “Fuck, I been wanting this since the day I first saw you. You’re perfect.” He grinned softly at her as she stared up at him, wanting more.

“Then do it, EZ. Ruin me.” She tempted him. He didn’t need to hear anything else after that, eyes clouded with desire as he kneeled down in front of her, grabbing her left calf and placing it on one of his sturdy shoulders.

She literally felt like she was dreaming, she, like him, couldn’t believe this was happening right now. He nudged her clit over her thong, rubbing it till she whimpered for him, pulling down her thong harshly and spreading her lips with his fingers to his hungry gaze.

“Perfect. Everything about you is.” He hummed making her throb, pressing her head into the wall behind her as he leaned in, pressing his tongue flat to her pussy.

“Oh, fuck.” She was a mess above him and he’d barely even started. As per her request, he was definitely going to ruin her.

He licked at her clit, then fucked her with his tongue, adding a single finger to the equation, “That’s tight.” He growled against her, chin wet with her arousal as he continued his assault.

“Yes, yes, oh fuck.” She whimpered, barely catching her breath, the only sound in the hallway was that of her soaked cunt. Her ears were ringing, her vision nearly went black when he curled his finger against that one spot that made her dizzy.

She was dripping, making a mess on his face, and he couldn’t stop, her smell alone enticing him wanting to make her cum at least 4 times with just his mouth.

“Gonna cum?” He hummed, pressing deeper and rubbing her clit even faster as her body tightened and then spasmed without warning, her release covering his hand down to his wrist.

“Oh my god. You were fucking made for that.” She praises him, pulling him up for a searing kiss.

“I could barely get two fingers in you. So fucking tight.” He spoke against her mouth, biting her lip and letting it go making her giggle.

“I wanna return the favor. Please.” She spoke eagerly, cupping him through his pants again. He was huge, she could already tell and it excited her that much more.

“Nah, you don’t have to—“

“But I want to, EZ. I want you to fuck my mouth.” She pouted.

For the second time that night, he’d lost his cool, his desire for her overpowering his mind. She pulled him into the empty spare room that she knew all too well, having spent multiple sleepless nights in there when she had nowhere else to go, when Miguel was kind enough to help her out for a few months before she could stand on her own two feet.

“Woah— whose bed is this? I don’t wanna intrude.” EZ tugged on her hand, making her stop and explain.

“Don’t worry. It used to be mine. No one’s gonna find us, trust me.” She assured him as he eased up only slightly, the dreaded thought of someone catching them still in the back of his mind.

She kicked off her heels, hiking up her dress, getting onto the large bed, “EZ, relax. Wanna make you feel good.” She was level with his face now as she pulled him closer to her and made him sit back against the headboard.

Her eager hands undid his belt buckle and then his zipper, reaching a hand into the waistband of his boxers, feeling his cock pulsate under her touch.

“Fuck.” He grunted breathlessly, helping her pull him out all the way, pushing his pants and boxers down his thighs a little more.

“Shit. You’re big.” She gasped quietly, seeing him in all his glory, his cock fully erect and leaking cum at the tip. She took him into her hand, pumping slowly, biting her lip as she watched him struggle not to thrust into her hand.

He couldn’t take it anymore, beginning to push her head down gently towards his dick, “Gonna take me all the way in your throat? Fuck that pretty mouth of yours.”

Nicole let out a satisfied hum at his words, she licked a long line from the underside of his cock to the top, repeating the action again making the Mayan hiss at the divine feeling.

“Keep doing that, yeah, just like that— fuck.” He groaned sending a wave of heat straight to her pussy. As embarrassing as it was, she was wet again just from his words.

She tested the waters, delving deeper, licking and sucking, the slurping noises obscene in the darkness of the room.

He pushed her head down deeper, fingers threading through her hair as he guided her on his length, her tongue never ceasing.

“Mmmm, fuck.” He gasped, jaw going slack as he watched her incredible mouth take what she can of him, her hand doing the rest of the work at his base. He thrusted into her mouth making her gag lewdly around his tip, sending him over the edge for the first time.

She swallowed every last bit of his seed, wiping some spit at the side of her mouth. She unbuttoned his shirt quickly, wanting nothing more than to feel the abdominal muscles underneath and lick at his tanned skin.

She straddled his waist, careful not to step on her dress, the thigh high slit proving to be of use in this situation as she grinded down on his bare cock.

EZ palmed at her breast, pulling down the cup revealing to him a shiny metal bar pierced through the nipple, swiping a calloused thumb across it, making her arch into his rough touch, “So sexy. Wanna fuck you, make you mine, baby.” He licked at it, the coolness of the bar sending a shiver down his own spine.

She took it upon herself to grab at his cock, aligning him with her soaking wet hole, sinking down slowly as both their breathing nearly stopped at the sensation.

“Fuck, yes.” She whimpered as he adjusted his grip on her curvy hips, scrunching up her gown just enough to get a good hold on her to thrust upwards.

“Too fuckin’ tight, shit.” He struggled to catch his breath and bottom out at the same time, inching his way into her making sure she was comfortable enough. He finally bottomed out, staying still for a minute until she clenched around him deliciously, begging him to move.

She whimpered when he finally decided to give a little testing thrust upwards, his cock engulfed in her warm, wet pussy, never wanting to leave. She couldn’t help but let out a breathy moan, the feeling all too much for her to handle.

She grinded down on him one more time before he took matters into his own hands, ridding himself of his dress shirt and placing a chaste kiss to her swollen lips.

“Wanna get a better angle, mi amor— make sure you feel me.” He grunts, pulling himself painfully slowly out of her, leaving her to clench around nothing, her thighs burning.

He placed her legs to the side, helping her slide the dress down her body until it was all the way off, leaning his head down to kiss just above the soft skin of her navel.

She didn’t have a moment to compose herself before she was being coaxed down gently to her hands and knees, ass up in the air for his viewing pleasure.

“EZ, please—“ She let out a breathy moan as the cool air hit her most sensitive spot that he’d been in just a minute prior. He cursed, watching her pussy still clench around nothing and listening to her breathing pick up.

“I got you, sweetheart.” He promised her, placing a soft kiss to the bottom of her spine, making her shiver. She was dripping, her core pulsed with anticipation of what was going to come next from him.

He wrapped a calloused palm around each one of her thighs, spreading her for him, pumping his length once more before inserting himself into her. Her walls stretched to accommodate him, though he couldn’t see it, her face contorted in the pain and pleasure of it all. Her grip on the sheets below her tightened as he pulled her back onto him, making her hiss softly.

“Nicole— shit.” EZ grunted behind her,  struggling to catch his breath as she clenched around him wanting him to move already.

He wrapped a hand around her hair, arching her back into him, and thrusted in and out of her tight heat. Her breath caught in her throat, choking on her words at the new position.

“Yes, baby, oh fuck!” She panted, barely able to form any other words.

Ezekiel let go of her hair, bringing his palm to rest against the column of her throat and squeezing a tiny bit, kissing the side of her cheek and groaning into her ear when he felt her pussy squeeze his cock as he’d done so.

Oh, so she was into that shit? Ezekiel smirked against her cheek, choking her just enough, bringing his other hand down to rub harsh circles into her clit. Her nails sunk into the wrist between her thighs when her body almost gave out, writhing with pleasure as he held her tightly against him.

“Don’t fucking stop— oh my god.” Her throat raw from the activities as she continued to meet his thrusts, feeling the swollen head of his dick press against her g-spot vigorously with every snap of his hips.

“Let go— cum for me, baby.” EZ sighed in her ear, the fingers on her sensitive clit never easing up. He felt her body tense, milking his cock for all it was worth as she came.

“Where the fuck did she go?” A muffled voice accompanied by footsteps sounded in the hallway.

“Shit—“ She was panting and gasping as she came down from her high but he had yet to find his own release.

“Can you stay quiet for me? Hmmm?” EZ whispered, pulling out of her swollen, dripping cunt and flipping her onto her back. She nodded wordlessly as he penetrated her once more.

“Feel so fucking good— wanna stay here forever with you.” The Mayan grunted, placing a kiss to the inside of her thigh, thrusts never slowing down as he chased his own orgasm.

She let a loud moan slip between her lips. EZ clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes rolled back as the tight feeling in the pit of her stomach returned. She was about to cum for the third time that night.

The snap of his hips began to get sloppier, eventually tempting him to pull out, thick white cum painting the lower half of her abdomen.

“Wow—“ She gasped softly before being cut off.

The door handle to the room they were currently using jiggled, his eyes flitting between her and the locked door. He huffed quietly, pulling on his boxer briefs and helping Nicole slip on her thong.

“EZ—“

“Ezekiel— my name’s Ezekiel.” He whispered, smiling at her.

“Ezekiel— I really enjoyed this. Us. And I don’t want it to be a one time thing—“ Her eyes held a glint of hope that he’d felt the same way.

“Yeah, me too.” He pressed his lips to hers, kissing her softly. Before they even had time to react, the door swung open harshly.

“Get the fuck out. Right now.” Nestor’s voice deadly as the two of them pulled away. She barely even had her dress on, grabbing the comforter off the bed and shielding herself from her brother’s view and the extra eyes behind him.

“Nestor wait—“ Her voice wavered, she couldn’t look him in the eye, especially not now.

“Nah— get fucking dressed. Party’s over.” Nestor seethed, glaring at the half naked man standing next to his sister, “I’m not done with you yet, puto.”

With that, he and his men left them to get dressed. Ezekiel shook his head, mind racing a thousand miles a minute.

“I’m so fucking sorry.” She sighed, wiping away the single tear that ran down her face.

“Hey, hold on, what’re you sorry for?” He took her jaw in his palm holding it gently and caressing the skin of her cheek, “Family is family. He’s always gonna worry about you, he’s your brother. Believe me, I know more than anyone.”

“I’m honestly surprised he didn’t shoot me—“ He chuckled lightly, trying to lighten the mood.

“I wouldn’t have let him.” She sniffled, shutting her eyes for a split second before composing herself.

“Oh, yeah? My protector, huh?” He smiled down at her, kissing the top of her head, taking her smaller hand in his and walking out of the room.

[softisdangerous]

Excerpt from Chap 17 of Call of the Blood

Eric’s POV - Thursday July 16th & Friday, July 17th, 2009

I closed the bar for the night. Interrogating the drainers had been useless, and their screams were both irritating and loud, but at least Chow enjoyed his work. Pam had been telling me for months that it was time to adjust our styling again, to keep up with the times and that my long hair was getting to the point of ridiculous. I did not like to change my hair, but I was inclined to let her pamper me a bit. I had been short tempered with her, nearly biting her head off at every question she asked me. My ill-temper was only exacerbated by the fact that I was ridiculously thirsty, and the only thing that sounded remotely appetizing to me was Jane’s fresh blood.

But I wasn’t about to put her at risk again. No, I lacked the control to drink from her right now. It was nearly unthinkable that after a thousand years I still couldn’t master all of my bloodlust, but I wasn’t too proud to admit it, if only to myself. It did have me questioning what made Jane so unique. I was beginning to wonder if she was all human, or if she had some latent ancestry that made her blood addictive, and made the drinker…what? What effect did she have on me? Insanity? Obsession?

Love?

I squashed that thought quickly. No, she was just unique and Godric was missing.

Pam was putting foul chemicals on my head and idly explaining what she was doing, but I wasn’t focusing on her words. I was still attempting to think. Godric missing? He would have told me where he was. He had always informed me when he was leaving, even if he knew that I wouldn’t be pleased by his departure. How could he be missing? The drainers had no methods that Godric wouldn’t have been able to overcome. He was too old, too powerful for drainers to have taken him. And based on the conversation of prisoners downstairs, I doubted there was nothing these racists could do that Godric wouldn’t simply be able to bat away. That wouldn’t stop me from questioning him, most vigorously.

I despised the newest addition to the prison in the basement. Royce Allen Williams. It constantly talked, finally admitting shame for past actions, only now, when confronted with imminent demise. I knew these weak types. If released, he would return exactly to his old ways, claim it was an act of God and continue on with dishonorable acts. My teeth were already on edge and then when it discussed escaping… I couldn’t control my rage.

Pam sighed loudly when she heard its plans to escape.

“Don’t fuck up your hair,” she demanded as I stood to go collect it.

“I won’t Pam, I’ll bring it up, let Chow do the dirty work, and then he can put the rat back in it’s cage.”

She huffed, but didn’t stop me.

I strolled down to the basement silently.

“I got a plan. I'm busting us out,” the racist claimed.

“Don't be an idiot,” the V dealer advised wisely.

“I'll come back for you. Promise,” the man claimed. I made some noise so they would know I was coming. I heard their heart rates jump and it was almost enough to make me smile. I hummed softly to myself.

“Shh, Shut up.”

“Shushing won't do you any good, Sweetheart. We hear everything. Since you made me come all the way down here, I'm gonna take out some of the garbage,” I told them as I removed the cape that Pam had placed on me to prevent the chemicals in my hair from staining my clothes. I knelt down in front of the pathetic piece of trash that had burned Malcom, Liam, and Diane’s nest to the ground. “Royce Allen Williams, we have a few questions for you, with regard to a fire which killed three of our kind.” I stared him down.

“No fucking way, man. I don't know anything,” he said, pretending to not be afraid, but I could hear his heart pounding.

“Crimes against vampires are on the rise. We even lost a Sheriff just days ago. We seek answers.” I unchained him and pushed him forward and then, most surprisingly, he turned and struck me across the face.

He screamed at me, “Die, you dead fucker!”

I was furious when I felt the burn of silver against my face, how had I not noticed? The stench of human filth was disgusting and overwhelming. One more reason to not chain prisoners this way; it was impossible to scent silver through the odor.

That silver burn against my skin… it amplified all the emotions I had been trying to resist. My fear, my rage, my bloodlust. It all came pouring forth.

I eviscerated him where he stood, drinking his filthy blood and pulling off several of his limbs. It was, in no way, satisfying. I felt worse than before, still thirsty, and more on edge than ever. I tossed an arm away, and it accidentally splattered against the final prisoner, the V dealer, Lafayette Reynolds.

“If you have any silver on you, now would be the time to reveal it,” I told him.

From his hiding spot behind a post he called out, “No way. I ain't that stupid.”

“Yes, you are,” I replied. And then I noticed how much blood I had on my hands. I went to wipe my mouth and realized I had splattered it all over. “Is there blood in my hair?” I asked the man.

“What?” he responded. Was he an idiot or just hard of hearing?

“Is there blood in my hair?” I asked him again, louder.

“I..I don't know, I can't see in this light,” he stuttered out.

I zoomed over to him.

“How about now?” I asked, looking into his deep eyes.

“Yeah, there's a little bit of blood there,” he stammered, his heart pounded deliciously. At least he was honest. I wished I could scent him more, but all I could smell was the blood of the racist and the foul scent of human waste.

“Well this is bad. Pam is gonna kill me,” I realized out to loud to him.

“Who the fuck is Pam?” he asked and I found it amusing that he had so quickly forgotten his place.

“Why, do you wanna meet her?” I asked, toying with him.

“No. No. I'm good,” he replied, and I found his mock confidence charming.

“Well, you're going to,” I told him as I unchained him.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked as I held him by the back of the neck and pushed him forward.

“To find out what you know,” I explained, kicking the remaining bits of the racist out of the way. “I wouldn't try anything rash if I were you. I'm still hungry.”

I brought him up to the office where Pam and Chow were waiting, I pushed him into the chair opposite the desk as Pam started berating me.

“What the fuck, Eric!” she snapped. “You’ve ruined your hair!”

She had already been upset with me, and now this?

“I’m sorry Pam, it was not my intention,” I told her with a sigh, I didn’t often apologize to her, but it was called for.

I sat on the stool, she put a fresh cape on me, and then she began to assess the damage.

“This is a disaster. We'll have to go much shorter than I planned.”

“Yeah, well, I said I was sorry, Pam. But he took silver to me,” I explained. I looked at the V dealer, Lafayette Reynolds. “You were there. You saw it. Defend me,” I urged him.

“I don't know what it is you wanna know, but point me in the direction, and I give to you,” he told me earnestly and fearfully.

“I've seen your website,” I started, Chow had shown me it earlier. It was an impressive bit of tawdriness, and I was certain it was lucrative. “It's quite, uh, low rent. But your clients miss you, Lafayette. They're wondering if you're ever coming back.”

“Am I?” he asked, and I let the silence linger. “Look, I'm here because of the V, right? How 'bout I give you the names of everybody I ever sold to?” Already so cooperative? Lovely.

“And all this time I thought prostitutes were good at keeping secrets,” Pam snarked, knowing the prevarication of that statement more than anyone. Prostitutes would only keep a secret for a price, and for her the price had always been quite high.

“Don't get it twisted, honeycomb, I'm a survivor first, a capitalist second, and a whole bunch of other shit after that. But a hooker, dead last. So if I got even a Jew at an al Qaeda pep rally shot at getting my black ass up out this motherfucker, I'm taking it. Now, what you wanna know?”

Pam smiled, absolutely delighted, and I could see why. This Lafayette Reynolds was a cut from the exact same cloth as her.

A survivor first, a businesswoman second, and a hooker dead last.

“The vampire you had your little arrangement with. Eddie Fournier. What happened to him?” I asked.

“I don't know. I swear to God I don't. Last time I saw him he was doing real good. But I think he may have been taken by somebody,” Lafayette had hesitated to tell me this information, he must have an inkling of the perpetrator.

“By whom?” I prompted.

“I don't know,” he started. “I mean I ain't sure.”

“Hm, that's not very forthcoming of you,” I told him. I looked over at my enforcer, who had been waiting so very patiently. “Chow, you're up.”

“No! No, chill out. Shit,” Lafayette held up his hand to Chow, motioning for him to stop, and then Lafayette caved. “I think it... I think it was... Jason Stackhouse.”

“Jason Stackhouse?” I asked, nonplussed.

“Sookie's brother,” Pam reminded me in Swedish. “Could be fun,” she added and then I remember him. Handsome, AB negative, and he had come to the bar looking for vampire blood.

“Fun, but also stupid. Sookie is too important for us now,” I reminded Pam. She was an asset, one that I wanted working for me.

“That's true,” Pam agreed, reluctantly.

“Sadly, this information is of no use to me. Not now, anyway,” I told the confused looking Lafayette. Then I moved on to the line of questioning that I had been most anxious to discuss. “I understand dealers of vampire blood sometimes trade product with one another across state lines. Any buyers in the Dallas area?” I asked, revealing some of what I had learned from the drainers before I had killed them. Their blood was all bagged up and sitting in the freezer now, and the irony of draining drainers was not lost on me.

“One,” Lafayette said right away, cooperating fully. “He never gave me his name though. I have an e-mail address. Pussylover9@shemail.com.”

Pam smirked at the email address, and I wondered briefly if she was going to change her online handle.

“A friend of mine in the Dallas area, his name is Godric, has gone missing. Now, while the circumstances of his disappearance are unclear, it stands to reason his blood would be very valuable, as he's over twice my age and ten times the vampire I will ever be,” I said and realized that I had said more than I wanted. That my worries about him were sliding smoothly from my tongue and that I needed to feed again if I was ever going to get myself under control.

“Oh Eric, you don't do humble well,” Pam said teasingly, trying to lighten my mood. She knew with Godric missing, I was more on edge than ever.

“I was not being humble. This happens to be true,” I nearly snapped at her again, and I saw her hurt at my behavior toward her. I focused back on my line of questioning.“Your associate, this ‘pussylover’, has he or she mentioned any new product coming on the market?”

“No, no. And I would tell you. You know that,” he told me and I knew that he was honest, but it frustrated me to no end that he had nothing that could help.

I turned to Chow and asked him, “Take our guest and lock him back out, will you?”

Lafayette jumped to his feet. “Fuck that, I ain't going back down there. I gave you…”

“You gave me nothing!” I shouted, furious that this man had no information that would lead to Godric.

“I'm not going back.” Lafayette tried to push Chow away, and I gave the order again.

“Chow, now.”

Lafayette fought against Chow and I found it curious. I couldn’t help but be impressed by his vigor, his fight, his passion.

“I gave you every... I gave you everything! I ain't going back down!” he continued to shout as Chow manhandled him back down to the basement.

It was then that I heard the sound of an additional human heart beat and the soft scent of roses. I reached out to my blood in Jane and, of course, she was standing in the hall outside the office. What in Hel was she doing here?

The door creaked open and there was sweet little Jane. Her eyes widened as she took in my appearance. Perhaps this would scare her off for good.

“Jane,” I greeted her.

“I guess I should have called,” she said meekly.

“Yes,” I replied. She certainly had the power understatement. I turned to Pam, “Leave us. I need to glamour her.” Pam looked over at Jane and shook her head, leaving the office and shutting the door behind her. Why had Jane even come here? I didn’t want to have to do this, but she left me with no choice! I looked over at little Jane, she looked especially young and doll-like. “I have to glamour you now. You realize that?”

“Why?” she asked, clearly confused.

I prayed for the patience of Baldr, and I rested my hands on my desk. She drove me absolutely insane.

“You saw one of the prisoners, and he recognized you, even. What is to prevent you from telling the human authorities what you saw?” I asked her, and she stared me down.

“I won’t,” she promised. “It’s none of their business. You’re the Sheriff. He was the V dealer, I assume?” she asked, crossing her arms, and pushing her perfect bosom higher.

“Yes,” I acknowledged.

“I won’t tell anyone I saw him. Please… don’t glamour me,” she begged me and I saw her lip tremble in fear. I believed she wouldn’t give up this information knowingly, but her mind was open to any vampire, and now the telepath as well. I had to glamour her, for her own safety.

“It’s too dangerous for you as well. Especially now that you’re friends with a telepath, your silence could incriminate you,” I explained to her. Those dark blue green eyes of hers steeled and I could help but feel proud of her. She could be quite brave, facing something that she feared so greatly.

“What will you do? Make me forget?” she asked.

“That path leads to many problems, as you saw with Ginger. You will retain the memory, but you won’t be able to think of it. You will know, but you won’t be able to say anything about it.” I didn’t want to have to glamour her, and I worried about this.I knew too much glamouring would damage her mind. And her mind was a unique one.

She nodded at me, drawing her courage around her.

I hated this. I remember what she had told me, that it felt like mind rape. I never wanted to make her feel violated, especially in light of the other trauma she had experienced.

“Fine,” she told me and I began the glamour.

“Jane.”

Her eyes glazed over and I imposed my will on her.

“You will not be able to think of the man that you saw Chow take to the basement. You will not speak of what you witnessed to anyone.”

“Of course,” she agreed.

I released her and she lurched to the trash bin, vomiting. Humans and their fluids. I’d had enough of them today. She sat on the couch, and I felt her through the blood. I felt her upset. Why did she do this? It made me hate myself.

“Why did you come?” I asked her.

“I wanted to talk to you. I can see that you’re... busy. I’ll go. I’ll text or call next time,” she told me vaguely, standing to leave. I grabbed her arm, my intention had been to ask her to elaborate, to explain what her purpose was but I felt her warmth beneath my hand and all my urges to devour and claim her came hurtling to the surface. The look she gave me, the feeling from her in the blood...lust. She wanted me. She wanted me even when I was covered in blood.

My fangs dropped hard and I was seconds away from biting her throat and fucking her on my desk.

What the fuck was wrong with me? I released her quickly and forced my fangs up painfully.

“Jane. Things are...tense. With my Maker missing,” I tried to explain, but I really couldn’t. I couldn’t explain my loss of control around her.

“Let me know if I can help,” she offered sweetly.

She had no idea of the danger I posed to her, I shook my head at her. “I will not hurt you again,” I promised her.

She smiled her strange sad smile, the one that made the area where my heart used to pulse ache.

“Goodnight, Eric,” she said softly, and then she left.

What the fucking Hel!? I slammed my hand against the wall, creating a crack in the plaster and I didn’t give a flying fuck.

What was wrong with me?

****

The next evening I took Pam to the mall and allowed her to shop and style me as she pleased. It seemed the very least I could do and having my childe close brought me comfort. I wore Godric’s platinum coated fang around my throat, as if wearing it would allow me to find him.

As we were strolling through the mall, who should we see but Bill fucking Compton.

Then, in a stroke of genius, I had an idea. Bill’s telepathic human could search for Godric. Sookie could investigate the humans at the Fellowship of the Sun and see if Stan’s assertion that they were behind Godric’s disappearance was correct.

“Go to the bar Pam, I’ll meet you there after I negotiate with Billy boy,” I told her. She brushed invisible lint from the navy tracksuit she had dressed me in and then departed with a smile. While it wasn’t what I would choose for myself, I was fine with indulging my child in her game of dressup.

I strolled through the store, and meandered over to Bill.

“Good evening, old sport,” I greeted him, hoping to make him feel at ease. He would be easier to bargain with if he was in a giving mood.

“Eric?” he said, astounded, by either my presence or my new attire, it was hard to say.

“It's the new me. You like?” I asked, smirking. How many times do we have to reinvent ourselves?

“I do. Very much,” Bill agreed, the Mainstreamer he was, he would likely follow all the latest human trends. I almost scoffed at the idea of him wearing one of those hats that truckers wear. The sales associate that had been attempting to hit on him, backed away sheepishly.

“Oh, okay,” she looked between us and I realized that she thought we were a couple. Hilarious, as if Bland Bill could stir my passions.

“We need to talk,” I told him.

He glared and I led him away from the humans and began to explain.

“The Sheriff of Area 9 in Texas has gone missing. Have you heard about that?”

“I hadn't, but I know the vampire of whom we speak. His name is Godric, correct?”

I wondered how Bill knew of Godric. But Godric’s reputation did precede him.

“Indeed. Now it goes without saying he needs to be found. Which is where Sookie comes in. As she's yours, I'm asking your permission to take her with me to Dallas,” I explained my plan to him.

“Eric, you can do whatever you want with me, but I am not putting her in this position anymore. I cannot and I will not allow you to bring her into these matters,” he said, not even attempting to barter with me.

“We made a deal, your human and I. That if I didn't kill, she would work for me as often as I like. Now, you remember this, don't you? You were there,” I reminded him.

“Taking her across state lines is a far cry from taking her to Fangtasia for the evening,” Bill said sternly, clearly not willing to discuss this further. What a fool.

“I'm only asking your permission out of respect. If I want her, I can simply take her. Is "no" your final answer?” I asked him.

“It is,” he said firmly.

I shook my head, and replied, “Poorly played, Bill.”

He wasn’t even willing to try to bargain with me, and I wondered again about his purpose with the telepathic waitress. I checked my phone on the way out of the mall, surprised to see that I missed several calls from Pam. I called her as I strolled out.

“You rang?” I asked.

“Mmm, yeah, the lovely Lafayette Reynolds tried to escape and Ginger shot him,” Pam said in her usual tone.

“Is he dead?” I asked her in Swedish.

“Not yet, our meretricious little Macgyver dug the metal hip out of his dead compadre with his teeth, used it to break his chains, and then attempted to seduce Ginger into letting him go,” Pam explained gleefully. “I like him, can we keep him?”

“Creative,” I commented as I exited the mall. “I’ll be there soon.”

I went behind the mall and took off in flight. I had to stop and pick up the accounting work from Bruce, and then I was able to return to Fangtasia. I strolled into the back, checking over the numbers for the bar. It was scented with rich thick blood, flavorful and powerful...full of untapped potential.

“Sorry to keep you waiting for so long,” I said as I entered the office. “How's the leg?” I asked Lafayette.

“Shitty. Thanks for asking,” he replied with sarcasm at his pain and Pam grinned again.

“After all your proclamations about what a model prisoner you were going to be, you had to try to escape,” I said, curious about his reasoning, but he did say he was a survivor first. I couldn’t really begrudge him that.

“You were going to kill me anyway, right?” he asked next and Pam smirked. We’d certainly have to kill him now, he wasn’t going to make it without medical care.

“Now you'll never know. So, what's it gonna be, Lafayette? Would you like the leg to kill you, or would you prefer us to do it?”

“I'm gonna go with plan C,” he said and he surprised me, such a rare thing for a breather.

“There's a plan C?” I asked.

“Make me a vampire,” he offered.

“I beg your pardon?”

Then he began to make his case, “And you can put me to work in the bar. I'm a good dancer. You seen it on my site. Shit, I get up there and move Earth and heaven, go-go style.”

I came and stood over him, not sure what he knew about vampires and turning. “You are aware there's a gaping hole in your leg? You're damaged goods,” I tested him.

“Not if you turn me. I'll be good as ever.” So he did know at least that much. “Look, I... I'm already a person of poor moral character, so I'll hit the ground running. And I damn near glamour people already. Give me what y'all got, and it's on me, cracker. Not only will I be a badass vampire, but I'll be your badass vampire.”

For a moment, time was frozen. I was sucked into the memory of Pamela asking me to turn her, and me refusing, and her making her case to me. And then her killing herself anyway and I decided… I chose to have her by side, my companion.

My badass vampire.

I liked this Lafayette Reynolds. He lived with a sort of honesty that was rare, and he had shown himself to have the survival instincts and spirit that would take him through the ages. He interested me, and so very few men did. He also reminded me much of Pam and I could see that they would be excellent blood siblings, thick as thieves. It would be good to have youngling around, so fresh and eager...

I scented his rich blood, his untapped potential and….it all intrigued me.

Was I actually considering this, now, with my control all over and Godric missing? Was this just another way in which I was losing touch? No, best not to make any major decisions now. We could start to drink from him now, I could reconsider later, after I’d fed, and had a clearer head. He had a few good nights left in him still.

“Interesting. I'll take it under advisement,” I told him. “Pam, Chow, chowtime,” I offered and Chow grinned at my play on words, puns really were the height of humor.

Then, I leaned over and bit Lafayette.

He was absolutely delicious.

[edie-k]

The Art of Segue

Title: The Art of Segue

Pairing: Ron/Hermione

Rating: PG (language and mild suggestive dialogue)

This is a sequel to a story I recently re-posted called “The Art of Christmas Tree Selection”. Originally written prior to the publishing of Half Blood Prince, this is slightly AU but not so much that it significantly bucks canon. It can be read separately but I really like the first one so, you know, read it.

Disclaimer: HP and it’s characters aren’t mine.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“What has you so happy?” asked Warren Granger as he entered the kitchen of their home.

“Oh, it’s Christmas time! What’s not to be happy about?” asked Judy, drying her hands on a kitchen towel and turning from the sink where she was finishing washing the dishes. “Everything is so beautifully decorated, everyone is in such good moods, our daughter is home for the holidays…”

“With her boyfriend,” Warren said, as he pulled a chair away from the table and sank into it.

“Whom we both love,” Judy reminded him, as she opened a cupboard door.  

There was a lot of truth in all of her statements. Warren was ecstatic to have his little girl at home. Since Hermione finished school three years ago and the violence that troubled the magical world had been over almost as long, they were able to see her more often. Still it was never enough. Having your child home for the holidays was the best present a parent could receive. And Warren enjoyed having Ron there as well. After four years of dating Hermione, Ron seemed comfortable among their family.

Warren wondered if he was too comfortable.

“It seems different this year, doesn’t it?” Warren asked.

Judy smiled and turned to her husband. “Do you need me to explain why it’s different?”

Warren sighed. “Definitely not.”

Judy laughed. “It’s the exact opposite of Ron’s first Christmas.”

Warren chuckled at this as well. When Hermione brought her boyfriend home over Christmas holiday during her seventh year, Ron avoided the two of them as much as possible and clung to Hermione as a buffer. Warren managed to drag the boy away for proper questioning by forcing him to come along to retrieve a Christmas tree. Ron looked as though he might have jumped out of the moving vehicle. However, when pressed, Ron gathered up the courage to tell him in plain terms what Hermione meant to him and Warren admired his bravery in an uncomfortable situation. Warren felt a bit guilty for cornering the poor kid (although it lessened when he remembered how pale Ron became when he mentioned keeping his hands off his daughter) because he could remember very vividly being questioned by Judy’s father. Ron would understand someday when he did the same thing to his own daughter’s boyfriend.

He and Hermione’s daughter.

Because Ron wanted to marry Hermione.

Oh yes, Ron made it clear three Christmases ago that he wanted to marry her someday. And for the past three years, Warren happily lived in the world of “someday”. But this year was different.

“You can’t avoid him forever!” Judy said with a smile.

“I’m not avoiding him!” Warren insisted.

Oh Lord, was he avoiding him. Or at least being alone with him. Ron and Hermione had arrived two days earlier. During the day, both Judy and he saw patients at the office and the only time they saw Ron and Hermione were in the evenings. Today marked what was supposed to be the beginning of he and Judy’s ten-day holiday, but Warren had offered to fix a patient’s broken crown even when a perfectly capable on-call doctor was available. After this, he went shopping for Judy’s Christmas present, which occupied most of the afternoon. He arrived home shortly before dinner to a knowing but disgruntled look from his wife and a scolding from his daughter.

“Where have you been?” Hermione screeched the instant he entered the living room.

Warren stepped back, startled at her outburst. Ron glanced up from the magazine he had been flipping through and gave Warren a sympathetic look. Warren realized that Hermione had been fuming about this all day.

“I was out Christmas shopping,” Warren said quickly.

“All day? You were only shopping for one person!”

“I-I treated a patient this morning,” Warren said. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was reminded that even though she was an adult, he was the parent and Hermione was his daughter. However, it was hard to validate this when Hermione was in the right.

“Don’t you have a perfectly good on-call doctor for that?” Hermione asked.

“Love, maybe you should just-” Ron started to say but Hermione gave him a withering look and he mumbled, “Never mind.”

“Yes,” Warren said. “But this particular patient is very squeamish about dental work and he preferred to have me as the attending dentist.”

“Well, I hope it was worth wasting a day that you could have spent with your only daughter,” Hermione huffed, sinking into her seat on the couch next to Ron and returned to her book. Ron looked up at Warren and threw him another sympathetic smile.  

And he still had not found a proper gift for his wife.

“Are you continuing not avoiding him tomorrow?” asked Judy.

“Well I-I haven’t quite finished my holiday shopping,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Can I suggest taking your daughter along? She may be helpful and I think she would enjoy the time with you,” Judy suggested.

“An excellent idea. I think I could use a female perspective,” Warren answered. “But wait. That means you’ll be here alone with Ron tomorrow.”

“I’m not the one that’s scared of him,” Judy answered, a large grin forming on her lips.

“Ha, ha,” he said dryly. He stood from the table slowly and stretched. “I suppose I will find Hermione and run the plan by her.”

“Now wait one second,” Judy said, putting a hand up to stop him. “Hermione isn’t the only one who wasn’t happy with your all day disappearing act. But I do have a way for you to make it up to me.”

“Do tell,” he smiled, noticing his wife had gathered various bowls and other baking tools on the kitchen counter.

“You can run to the store and pick up these ingredients so I can start my Christmas baking,” she answered, handing him a slip of paper.

“I think I can handle that,” he replied with a smile.

“Can I come with you, sir?” The sound of the unexpected voice caused Warren to jump in surprise. He turned to meet the eyes of his daughter’s boyfriend. Warren could feel Judy’s smirk penetrating the back of his head.

“I’m just running to the store,” Warren said weakly.

“I know,” Ron replied. “But I’ve been cooped up in the house with two women all day. No offense, Dr. Granger.”

“None taken Ron,” she said, now smiling broadly. It was horrifying how much pleasure the love of Warren’s life could take in his pain. “And I’ve told you- Dr. Granger is unnecessary. You’re an adult, you may call me Judy.”

“Sorry,” he replied, ears reddening slightly. “So, is it alright if I tag along?”

“I think it’s a splendid idea,” Judy replied. “Warren got so distracted while shopping this afternoon, it will do him good to have someone to keep him on task.”

Warren nodded numbly.

“I’ll just run upstairs and get my coat,” Ron replied, turning and leaving the room.

Warren turned to his wife, mouth open.

“He is scary. Look how he crept up on you like that!” Judy exclaimed, the mocking evident in her voice.

“What should I do?” he asked.

“Get your keys and your jacket,” Judy said. “And maybe your checkbook. I heard that the wizarding world is a bit old-fashioned so they may require a dowry.”

“JUDY!” he cried. How could she even joke about this?

“Relax,” she chuckled. “You’ll be fine.”

He sincerely doubted it.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The first time he and Ron were alone together, there were a few moments of awkward silence before Warren began his interrogation. In the times they were together since than, conversation flowed naturally with comfortable pauses. But Warren knew that this time, if he left a lull in the conversation, Ron was liable to make his move. So in the five minutes Warren had prior to meeting Ron at the car, he brainstormed for every topic unrelated to Hermione that he could think of to fire off questions about.

“Is it difficult to be spending Christmas away from your family?” Warren asked first. Ron was related to so many people that it was a topic that could keep him talking for awhile.

Ron snorted. “It’s fine. I see plenty of them the rest of the year and we’ll be spending New Year’s there. Besides, I know exactly what I’m missing.”

“And what’s that?” Be descriptive. I want all the details.

“Bill and Fleur will be arguing over baby names. Mum will be nagging Charlie and Cory about when they’ll have a baby, Fred and Angelina about wedding stuff, George about settling down, and Percy and Penny about the baby’s cough. Dad will try out some Muggle device he has no clue about. Mum will continue to not-so-subtly hint to Harry and Ginny that the love of their lives may be right under their noses and make way too much food.”

“It sounds like you know the routine,” Warren laughed.

“Oh, there’s variation. Sometimes Bill and Fleur argue over who the godparents will be,” Ron said with a grin.

That exchange ate up about 45 seconds of the car trip. Warren grasped for another topic.

“Harry is joining your family for Christmas?” Ron nodded. “How is Harry? We haven’t seen him around recently.”

“He’s fine. He likes being an Auror and I think he’s enjoying no longer having the weight of the world on his shoulders.”

“Ah, yes. And how does it feel to actually be out in the field?” Warren asked. Warren glanced toward Ron. Ron was a specialized law enforcement officer now. He must carry some sort of weaponry right? Did he have it on him right now? Warren knew that Ron didn’t have a firearm because two years ago, they viewed a program on television and Ron had not known what a pistol was. Perhaps he carried some sort of knife? Or did wizards just hold the perpetrators at wandpoint?  Wandpoint did not sound very intimidating but then again, Warren was not familiar with what exactly a wand could do. Wandpoint also did not sound like a real word, at least not in his dictionary. He made a mental note to ask Hermione about it later.

“The increase in wages is definitely something that I enjoy,” Ron said with a laugh. “It’s nice to be out there making a difference.” Warren glanced at Ron and noticed that he looked a bit hesitant.

“Is something wrong?” Warren asked and then mentally slapped himself. Yes, he could be nervous about asking his girlfriend’s father for his permission to marry her, Warren chided himself. But don’t worry; you were right there to prompt him along.

“No, no. Not really. I’ve just had a difficult choice to make and I think I made it but- I find myself second guessing.”

This could not be regarding Hermione. Even if he did not want Ron to propose, he knew that Ron was certain about Hermione. So what was he uncertain about? “Maybe I can offer some guidance?” Warren suggested.

“The afternoon before I started my vacation, my sister-in-law called me in her office.”

“I thought she taught Interrogation to trainees,” Warren said.

“She does but Cory is also the assistant interrogator in the Auror department,” Ron said.

“I don’t understand why she would call you in,” Warren said, confused.

“She called me in to tell me she received a promotion. She’s the head of interrogation for the Aurors, in addition to her training duties.”

Warren nodded. He could see where this was going but was baffled as to what the problem was.

“She told me that her and Shacklebolt, who heads the Aurors, were offering me the assistant interrogator’s position. And that’s a huge job. There’s room for all sorts of advancement and the pay is excellent.” Ron paused for a second and reddened slightly. “Told me it’s rare that someone with as little experience as me would be offered the position but I was one of the best at interrogation. I mean, they have all sorts of other people that are already in the interrogation department that would die for that job.”

“Then I fail to see the problem Ron,” Warren replied.

“At first, I was worried about not making a difference. Field work, catching the bad guys- that’s why I have wanted to be an Auror since I was fourteen. It’s why I went through all those years of training.”

“But interrogation is an important part of the justice process,” Warren argued.

Ron chuckled. “Believe me, Cory made sure to point that out many times. The fact is that even three years after the war-” Warren still cringed every time he heard that word and thought of Hermione’s involvement in it. “Death Eaters and war criminals are still being caught. With all the rebuilding and with how corrupt the prosecution department was prior to the war… without thorough Auror interrogation, people are going free,” Ron said and his eyes darkened slightly. “I can’t stand the idea of any of those bastards- er, I mean-”

“No, it’s okay,” replied Warren, thinking of the man who left Hermione unconscious in a hospital bed for two painstaking days. Bastard seemed to be the only appropriate term.

 “I just don’t want any of them to go without punishment,” Ron said. “What’s the point of field work if they aren’t going to prison?”

“There isn’t one,” Warren answered. “That’s why they want the best people possible.”

“I feel sort of guilty being promoted above all these other people already in the department but Cory says we have personality traits that make us naturals for this work. She calls it persistence but I’m not sure that’s what our family members would call it.”

Warren laughed. He himself was feeling a bit guilty for avoiding Ron this week. He did like the boy. He liked that Ron was soliciting him for advice and seemed genuinely interested in his opinion. It was almost a conversation between a father and a…

Bloody hell.

“There’s another reason why I’ve decided to take the job,” Ron said and suddenly, Warren was thrown back in time.

It was two summers ago and Warren was sitting outside with Judy during a gathering at the Burrow. Ron, Hermione, and Harry were sitting at the opposite end of the picnic table as Warren and Judy. Hermione was quizzing both boys on terms for their Interrogation exam and Ron seemed to be doing well. Harry on the other hand-

“What’s the best way to get all the details from a reluctant witness Harry?” Hermione read from the pieces of parchment in front of her.

“Take their word for it?” suggested Harry. “Bloody hell, I don’t know! What does this have to do with being an Auror? Why do I need to learn about questioning witnesses? I’m never going to be an interrogator!”

“Not with that attitude!” scolded Hermione. Ron smirked at his friend from across the table. Hermione sighed. “Ron, do you know?”

“Make the witness feel comfortable, talking about matters unrelated to the case. Be sure to obtain responses from them. Smoothly transition into your actual questions and do not let up until you have your answers. The lull and ambush,” Ron explained.

Harry scoffed “That will never work.”

Without even realizing it, Warren had been lulled. And here came the transition.

“First of all, it’s safer. There’s still plenty of risks, although I do have to be on emergency field call two nights a month. Criminals have been stripped of wands and weapons prior to interrogation, so they can still be dangerous but much less so.”

“Uh huh,” replied Warren. He wanted to stop Ron so badly but he felt compelled to listen and respond. Harry was wrong; the lull and ambush worked brilliantly.

“And I already mentioned the raise. And the hours are excellent. Except for those two nights on-call and the emergencies that are few and far between, it’s daytime hours. Hermione hated me working nights. She’ll be so happy. It couldn’t have come at a better time.” Ron stopped and took a breath. “Because I have something to ask her and something to ask you as well.”

In her sixth year, Hermione wrote her mother a letter that he wasn’t supposed to read. She informed Judy that she and Ron were dating and exuberantly listed all his virtues. Of course, she had left “master of segue” off of the list.

They approached a stoplight and Warren let his eyes close. This was it. He had three options. He could throw the car in park, get out, and run like mad. He could shove Ron out of the passenger’s side and slam on the gas pedal.

He really didn’t like option one. He loved this car. He had waited years to have this car. The thought of abandoning it broke his heart. And option two seemed even less viable. Ron was a bit taller and due to his Auror training, much fitter than him. He doubted that he would be able to push him out. That just left option three.

Accepting his fate. Warren kept his eyes closed as Ron began to speak.

“D-Dr. Granger, I-I love your daughter,” Ron started. Warren’s eyes flew open. Was he actually nervous? After that brilliant ploy to lull him into complacency? He stared at Ron for a moment until he heard a car horn sound angrily behind him. Warren pressed on the gas and drove under the green light, still processing this shocking revelation.

“And she makes me- she makes me the happiest man in the world,” Ron continued. He was stuttering!

“Hermione, she’s-she’s perfect. She’s everything that a person could possibly be. There’s no one that is even close to being worthy of her, no one that can give her everything she deserves. But out of everyone, I think I would try the hardest.“

Ron looked so serious, so earnest. Warren had no clue as to how he should reply but before he could open his mouth, Ron charged on.

“Sir, I want to marry your daughter and- and I’m asking your permission to do that,” Ron said. He paused and wrung his hands. “To ask her to marry me,” he clarified unnecessarily.

Warren took a deep, calming breath and turned to take a good look at Ron. He was extremely white; his freckles standing out against his pale cheeks and his hands were shaking ever so slightly. Realization hit Warren like a ton of bricks.

He held the power. All week, Warren was- all right, Judy, scared- of Ron and there was absolutely no reason to be. Ron held no power in this situation. Ron was forced to seek out his permission! He was practically begging! All Warren had to do was say no, send this boy on his way, and keep his daughter a little girl forever.

But even as the delicious thought formed in his mind, he knew that it was wrong.

Here was a boy- no, a man- that promised him long ago that he would defend Hermione and do anything for her. He was a man whom his daughter loved and whose name never failed to bring a smile to her face. After today’s conversation, it was obvious that his job would allow him to be able to take care of her (not that his daughter could not take care of herself but it was reassuring nonetheless). Ron even admitted that he could never be worthy of Hermione but still swore to give her everything that he possibly could.

Could he really say no to that?

Sure he could. But Hermione was going to marry him whether she had his blessing or not. And since Ron had properly and respectfully come to him, Warren may as well resign himself to maturity as well.

“Well, Ron, if you’re going to marry my daughter, you’ll need to drop this ‘sir’ and ‘Dr. Granger’ nonsense,” Warren said, forcing himself to be more jovial than he really felt. “But uh, let’s hold off on, Dad. Warren will be fine.”

Color flooded back into Ron’s cheeks and his tense face relaxed began to relax. “Really?” he said, his tone a bit incredulous. “You mean, you’ll let me marry Hermione?”

Warren laughed, more genuinely this time. “Yes, I will.”

“Wow,” he said quietly. “Wow. Now I just have to get her to say yes.”

“I doubt that will be much of a problem,” Warren replied. Ron still looked somewhat uneasy about how Hermione would really answer.

“When’s the big day?” Warren asked.

“I don’t know, I don’t even know if she’ll agree to marry me yet.”

“No,” Warren chuckled. “When are you proposing?”

“Oh, um, I have it sort of set up for New Year’s Eve. Do you want to be there? I mean, you and Judy? My whole family is going to be there and I know my mum would love to have both of you there,” Ron said nervously. “We’re all- I mean, we’re all sort of going to be family I hope.”

Warren glanced back at Ron for a second. As Hermione got older, she became more and more involved in the wizarding world and one of his fears concerning Hermione marrying Ron was that it would draw her completely away from their world. Maybe those fears were unfounded. Ron often joined them for holidays and the Weasleys regularly invited him and Judy to join them for family gatherings.

“I’ll have to check with Judy but I doubt we have anything more important happening,” Warren answered, as he steered the car into a parking space. He and Ron exited the car and head into the store.

“Oh, and would you not tell Hermione?” Ron asked.

Warren laughed as he fished Judy’s list out of his jacket pocket. “I’m not going to ruin your proposal!”

“No, about the job. I haven’t told her about it yet. I was waiting- well, I was just waiting to tell her. I thought I would surprise her after I was able to actually accept the job,” Ron said. His ears started to turn red. “I just- I just thought it would be better to tell her once we were back home.” His face had begun to catch up with his ears. “So it wouldn’t interfere with our Christmas.”

Warren looked at him curiously. Why would he be holding off on telling her? “I would think that it would make a nice Christmas present for-”  

Ron was staring straight ahead, face aflame as Warren put the pieces together. Ron wanted to wait until he could properly celebrate with his daughter, which couldn’t happen under her parents’ roof. Warren glanced down at the items on Judy’s list.

He may need to add a bottle of scotch.

The Grangers’ parent names are shout-outs, Judy to sproutgirl and Warren to lavenderbrown. Love both of those stories.

Also, I want to thank allybee for permitting me to use Ron’s line about trying the hardest from her story “Love, or Something Like It” on Checkmated. It’s my second favorite romantic line (I swear, one day, Ron will say “I remember everything.”) and I’ve been dying to use it. Blatant plagiarism is only cool with permission.

[princepondincherry]

The Tragedy of “The Wrong Jedi”

The first time I watched the Jedi Temple bombing arc in Star Wars: The Clone Wars, I was kind of uncomfortable with how it played out. I felt like it misrepresented how the Jedi Council would have handled the situation, that Anakin was going too far and uncomfortably close to the Dark Side, and that Ventress was handled strangely. But after reading a whole bunch of posts by tumblr user gffa and others about how the Jedi didn’t handle it too terribly, I’ve had to rethink my view. Thinking about it more, it’s definitely even more tragic than I realized.

I’ve got a lot to say (seriously, a massive wall of text) and, even though this is a really old show, I might as well put spoilers under the cut.

Okay, first of all: Ahsoka might not have been found innocent if she stayed in jail, but I bet she would. Barriss knocked out the guards and left Ahsoka a keycard to break out of her jail cell. As soon as she used it to break out, Ahsoka fell into the trap. If she’d just sat in the cell, eventually order would have been restored in the prison, and there would have been some sort of evidence that someone else was trying to frame her. Unless Barriss managed to spin it so it looked like Ahsoka broke out, killed some clones, and then returned to her jail cell? Seems unlikely. The genius of the trap was that breaking her out was exactly the sort of rule-breaking she’d expect Anakin to do, so I can’t blame her for falling for it.

Actually, taking a step back, the frame-job only worked because Ahsoka was an impulsive Padawan. I tried imagining how other Jedi would have reacted, and a few of them would have ended up much better. Anakin probably would have been screwed too, but a lot of more-experienced Jedi would have just begun meditating calmly in the cell and been able to follow the promptings of the Force to end up with a better outcome. In particular, Obi-Wan probably would have laughed about the key card and managed to talk his way to some sort of advantage with the clones who came to investigate. (And, of course, someone like Yoda might have just sensed Barriss like Tarkin said Ahsoka should have been able to.) None of this is Ahsoka’s fault, of course--she’s a great Jedi; she’s just in training still, and not the calmest.

Moving on, the Jedi Council expelling Ahsoka *really* bothered me, and I don’t think that’s an uncommon opinion. Other people (gffa, again) have talked at length about how they were under great pressure from the Senate, and so it wasn’t entirely their fault, but I still thought it was a terrible, if understandable, decision. They brought that the Senate was concerned they wouldn’t be impartial, but I thought, “Let the Senate be concerned. The Council *know* they’re impartial, so if Padawan Tano is guilty, they’ll find her guilty and punish her. Which, of course, is what the Senate wants. And if she’s innocent, they should support her no matter the political consequences.” But then I realized that the evidence against her was so strong at that point that the Council was probably assuming any trial would find her guilty, and the only real point of contention would be the punishment. The Jedi would probably decide on a punishment that wasn’t strong enough for the Senate’s liking. So instead, they decided that expelling her from the order *was* their punishment. It’s my opinion that this was either discussed in offscreen Council deliberations or just understood by the Councilmembers, who’ve worked together for a long time. The episode probably just didn’t make this explicitly clear because we’re intended to emotionally be on Ahsoka’s side, feeling betrayed like her, and only figure out the larger implications later with more thought and analysis. If this is true, it totally worked on me. You could definitely make a good argument that they still should have made a stand, but with public opinion and the opinion of the Senate turning against them, they had to pick and choose their battles.

                                                     THE TRIAL

The real thing that convinced me to write this post was the emotions and framing of the end of the trial, when Anakin brings Barriss forth and gets her to confess. The whole trial makes masterful use of oppositions. First, Tarkin and Padme are prosecutor and defender. They literally enter from opposite sides. Symbolically, since we know these characters, this is Grand Moff Tarkin supporting his vision of punitive control (he calls for the death penalty!) versus Senator Padme Amidala, supporting the rights and freedoms of an innocent. The symbolism and conservation of characters is nice enough that I can overlook how stupid it is that an Admiral and a Senator are the ones arguing this case or that the Chancellor of the Republic is also overseeing a trial. (Also, a Jedi accused of sedition is a BIG DEAL.)

Palpatine, of course, gives a grand speech about how Separatists have fooled the Republic before, laying on the irony as thick as he can as he accuses Ahsoka of being part of a plot to tear the Jedi Order apart. There’s an interesting interaction when Anakin breaks his stride right before he declares Ahsoka guilty, and I imagine he was torn between annoyance and his desire to have Anakin like him. And then when Barriss starts her big speech about how the Jedi have lost their way, he must be thrilled that these sentiments are getting such traction among the populace that even a Jedi espouses them and gets such a public stage to proclaim them.

Because--and this is the important part--Barriss is WRONG. - “The Jedi are the ones responsible for this war.” -- INCORRECT - “We have so lost our way that we have become villains in this conflict.”--INCORRECT. One thing that bothered me is that so much of the anti-Jedi argument is that they’re killers, but we almost always see them fighting droids. This is the most bloodless war ever, even assuming there’s a ton of offscreen collateral damage. ONSCREEN we see the Jedi avoiding collateral damage as much as possible. - “We are the ones that should be put on trial; all of us.”--No, literally just Barriss should be put on trial, for her senseless crimes. - “My attack on the Temple was an attack on what the Jedi have become--an army fighting for the dark side.”-- Incorrect on two counts. Others have explained how the Jedi are CLEARLY the good guys in this show, and more than that, her attack on the Temple was pointless murder that failed to even make a clear statement. She killed Jedi, non-Jedi workers, and clones, so I guess she was just symbolically opposing the war effort, but considering she had to explain herself before anyone guessed her motives, I don’t think she did a very good job.

Once you accept that Barriss is wrong, this becomes extremely tragic. - Anakin’s clearly struggled with the dark side over this whole arc, but he hasn’t Fallen. He’s still firmly a Jedi, firmly rooted in the Light. He lets Ventress go when he realizes she’s not responsible (which may have been a bad decision ethically, but it was probably better than just killing her), tries talking calmly to Barriss first, and sees justice done. He works within the system by making sure Ahsoka is arrested. - The music is just SO GOOD. When I was believing Barriss, the dark, dramatic music just made me more uncomfortable (”ahh, the bad guy is right?!”), but now it’s just sad. - This trial has been taking place in a Senate courtroom with the Imperial logo prominently displayed on the wall, Tarkin prosecuting, and the future Emperor presiding. But when justice is truly served, it’s by Anakin Skywalker, a Jedi Knight opposing Palpatine, and four Jedi Guardians escorting a prisoner. And...look, in terms of iconography, those guys are awesome enough to challenge all the Imperial paraphernalia, with their masks, armor, and special yellow lightsabers. Seriously, I’m surprised over the strength of the feelings I’m having about the clash of icons here. The failing Republic/future Empire is about to perpetrate a great injustice, but in march the traditional guards of an ancient peacekeeping order in full dramatic procession to bring true justice.

Barriss and everyone else taken in by anti-Jedi propaganda fail to realize that the Jedi aren’t the cause of the problem--they’re just a bandage struggling to help people like Padme hold a failing Republic together as crime syndicates, the Sith, and more base forms of evil such as corruption tear it apart.

I’ve written waaaay too much already, so I won’t talk about it too much, but Ahsoka’s arc in season 7 supports my thoughts. Basically, that arc starts with her realizing how the common people often have at least semi-legitimate reasons to dislike the Jedi, and it ends with her realizing that she’s been acting like a Jedi the whole time (and the one hostile Martinez sister realizing that since Ahsoka’s basically a Jedi, she’s been judging the Jedi too harshly).