#when did you become the morality police

[mando-abs]

Okay so my dad is allowed to say curse words in my household but he immediately gets offended when my mom tries to watch OFMD???

[psychosodomy]

i was gonna read lolita via audiobook but reading about three very horrific european rape cases has actually got me so on edge rn i keep jumping when the door opens.

[meejijis]

"Why are all SK fans proshippers" Silence fetus

[ghelgheli]

In contrast with professional drag queens, who were only playing at being women onstage, [Esther] Newton learned that the very bottom of the gay social hierarchy was the province of street queens. In almost total contrast to professional queens, street queens were "the underclass of the gay world." Although they embraced effeminacy, too, they did so in the wrong place and for the wrong reason: in public and outside of professional work. As a result, Newton explained, the street queens "are never off stage. Their way of life is collective, illegal, and immediate." Because they didn't get paid to be feminine and were locked out of even the most menial of nightlife jobs, Newton observed that their lives were perceived to revolve around "confrontation, prostitution, and drug 'highs'." Even in a gay underworld where everyone was marked as deviant, it was the sincere street queens who tried to live as women who were punished most for what was celebrated-and paid-as an act onstage. When stage queens lost their jobs, they were often socially excluded like trans women. Newton explained that when she returned to Kansas City one night during her fieldwork, she learned that two poor queens she had met had recently lost their jobs as impersonators. Since then, they had become "indistinguishable from street fairies," growing out their hair long and wearing makeup in public-even "passing" as girls in certain situations," in addition to earning a reputation for taking pills. They were now treated harshly by everyone in the local scene. Most people wouldn't even speak to them in public. Professional drag queens who didn't live as women still had to avoid being seen as too "transy" in their style and demeanor. One professional queen that Newton interviewed explained why: it was dangerous to be transy because it reinforced the stigma of effeminacy without the safety of being onstage. "I think what you do in your bed is your business," he told Newton, echoing a middle-class understanding of gay privacy, "[but] what you do on the street is everybody's business."

The first street queen who appears in Mother Camp is named Lola, a young Black trans girl who is "becoming a woman,' as they say'." Newton met Lola at her dingy Kansas City apartment, where she lived with Tiger, a young gay man, and Godiva, a somewhat more respectable queen. What made Godiva more respectable than Lola wasn't just a lack of hormonal transition. It was that Godiva could work as a female impersonator because she wasn't trying to sincerely live as a woman. Lola, on the other hand, was permanently out of work because being Black and trans made her unhireable, including in female impersonation. When Newton entered their apartment, which had virtually no furniture, she found Lola lying on "a rumpled-up mattress on the floor" and entertaining three "very rough-looking young men." These kinds of apartments, wrote Newton, "are not 'homes.' They are places to come in off the street." The extremely poor trans women who lived as street queens, like Lola, "literally live outside the law," Newton explained. Violence and assault were their everyday experiences, drugs were omnipresent, and sex work was about the only work they could do. Even if they didn't have "homes," street queens "do live in the police system."

As a result of being policed and ostracized by their own gay peers, Newton felt that street queens were "dedicated to "staying out of it" as a way of life. "From their perspective, all of respectable society seems square, distant, and hypocritical. From their 'place' at the very bottom of the moral and status structure, they are in a strategic position to experience the numerous discrepancies between the ideals of American culture and the realities." Yet, however withdrawn or strung out they were perceived to be, the street queens were hardly afraid to act. On the contrary, they were regarded by many as the bravest and most combative in the gay world. In the summer of 1966, street queens in San Francisco fought back at Compton's Cafeteria, an all-night venue popular with sex workers and other poor gay people. After management had called the police on a table that was hanging out for hours ordering nothing but coffee, an officer grabbed the arm of one street queen. As the historian Susan Stryker recounts, that queen threw her coffee in the police officer's face, "and a melee erupted." As the queens led the patrons in throwing everything on their tables at the cops-who called for backup-a full-blown riot erupted onto the street. The queens beat the police with their purses "and kicked them with their high-heeled shoes." A similar incident was documented in 1959, when drag queens fought back against the police at Cooper's Donuts in Los Angeles by throwing donuts-and punches. How many more, unrecorded, times street queens fought back is anyone's guess. The most famous event came in 1969, when street queens led the Stonewall rebellion in New York City. Newton shares in Mother Camp that she wasn't surprised to learn it was the street queens who carried Stonewall. "Street fairies," she wrote, "have nothing to lose."

Jules Gill-Peterson, A Short History of Trans Misogyny

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

Real Talk: Ace Didn't Need to Ask For Help, It's On Garp

i always hate when i see comments about how ace was an idiot or ace should have just asked garp for help because, no? like dawg wtf do you mean?

the one thing we have been told repeatedly across the manga and anime is that ace could have lived his entire life being perfect and he still would have ended up on that podium

he could have become a marine, a police officer, a teacher, a chef and all of that would have been reduced to nothing the moment his parentage was discovered

yes, ace became a pirate of his own volition, but sengoku never mentioned his piracy

he never mentioned all the criminal activity ace did as the captain of the spade pirates or even later as the second division leader of the whitebeard pirates

you know what sengoku did bring up though the moment he got on that damn podium? ace's parentage

he mentions nothing that gained ace his bounty to begin with when he gets that den den mushi in his hand. why?

because it doesn't matter that ace is a pirate. what matters is that they are eradicating the last gol d roger's bloodline

bear in mind that they were killing pregnant women and young children who could have even had the slightest possibility of being roger's lover or kin

akainu deadass says that he doesn't care if every other pirate at marineford escapes as long as ace and luffy died and he would ensure their deaths personally. and for what? not their piracy. none of their crimes. not even for ensuring that the truth that certain countries and lands that were actually saved by pirates instead of the marines never got out

but because their fathers were gol d roger and monkey d dragon respectively

solely because of that, he deemed neither of them deserved to live

and as far as garp goes - i love garp as much as the next person but garp has never done anything for ace to trust him enough to ask for help even if he felt he deserved to ask

garp's negligent parenting coupled with the abusive words ace grew up hearing led ace to believe he didn't even deserve to be born. when he even asks garp if his being born was a good thing, garp can't even tell him 'yes'. he just says 'time will tell'. my brother in the blue seas, that is an elementary schooler questioning his right to exist

ace is defeated by blackbeard in episode 325 (chapters 434-441), luffy hears about his execution being set in episode 416 (chapter 522) and then finally ace is killed in episode 483 (chapter 574). that is 158 episodes and 140 chapters total and in that time what ace receives from garp are conversations that boil down to

"you did this to yourself"

"i just wanted you to become a fine marine"

"i don't have sympathy for criminals but i do have sympathy for family"

and garp actively preventing those who wish to save ace from reaching him. yes after akainu strikes ace, garp does react viscerally with instinct to protect his grandson, but that's too little too damn late at that point

garp having his moral dilemmas mean nothing when, however long ace spent in impel down, he isn't trying to help him

garp having his 'wishing things had been different' thoughts mean nothing when garp is preventing people from saving his grandson

there's a reason garp lets dadan beat and berate him when they reunite in windmill village and it's because he knows she's right

over the course of 20 years, garp has consistently chosen work over ace and luffy. as much as i love dadan and co, bandits are not a good choice to have raise your grandkids and then be the surprised pikachu meme when neither of them wish to become marines

garp's inability to see past the system he disdains yet clings onto actively shoots him in the foot

prevents him from seeing that ace is right when he says he never could have become a marine

luffy could have never become a marine. i do hear arguments saying that luffy might have had a fair chance considering garp is biologically his grandfather but i say that's truly up in the air considering how, even with that knowledge, akainu still wants to put luffy on a poster

but that's all to say, asking why ace never asked garp for help is ridiculous

the fuck would ace look like asking the man who has done nothing but

unintentionally fostered ace's resentment towards luffy in their early childhood

told ace it was his own fault he landed where he did

falcon punched marco halfway across marineford

for help?

and that's not even mentioning the fact that up until that point, ace didn't believe he deserved to live. he didn't think he had the right to exist. the only thing that kept him going up until that point was hoping he'd find an answer that justified his being born and his love for luffy and sabo. ace tells luffy in his dying breaths if it weren't for the two of them, he would have gave up on living a long time ago

yes, garp loves ace and luffy

he loves them both dearly but he is also incapable of putting them before work, before his ideals of justice. these two truths can coexist at the same time. garp's stubborn to a fault and his moral dilemma resulted in both inaction and the prevention of ace's escape

so to say that marineford would have gone differently if ace had asked is seriously undermining the character work. because in reality, it's up in the air on whether or not that would have done anything. ace asking garp for help could have gone either way and that's the beauty of the gray area regarding garp's actions during the summit war

and yes, i can get why it's frustrating that ace turned around to fight akainu when he could have just left and got it back in a blood a different time

but aside from ace having a temper about specific topics, we do get an answer as to why he couldn't bring himself to runaway when we finally are able to dive into his past with luffy and sabo:

he doesn't want to run away from any situation because ace is deathly afraid of losing something if running away ends up being the bad call

and in that moment, luffy was behind him

even if akainu hadn't talked down whitebeard, ace would have inevitably turned back around because he wouldn't have been able to shake his fear of losing something or someone he cared about

as long as there is something precious for him to potentially lose, ace will never run

he was doomed from the start

his being the son of gol d roger doomed him from the start

and that's what makes ace so tragic

[thatfrenchacademic]

"The biggest issue is students using it, me spotting it and having no recourse whatsoever to do anything about it." can you elaborate a bit further

Hello !

So to explain a bit more: we [aka your lecturers, teachers, teaching assistants, etc...] know that some students will use ChatGPT.

And there is a discussion to be had about how to work with this, how to design assessment which allow students to leverage something which may simply become a fixture of writing in a workplace environment, but that is not the discussion we are having here. Because that is not what we are worried about.

The defensible, problematic situation is: a student straight up entering the essay prompt on ChatGPT, and using the grand skills of Ctrl+C / Ctrl+V, submits it as their own paper.

And our main worry, I think, was for a long time that we would not be able to catch it. That students would, actually, be able to fool us and that we would actually think this was a student who understood the course, who put in the work, and who deserve to be rewarded for their grade. That was the main fear.

But here is the thing.

And listen up, students :

Essays written by ChatGPT :

Suck

Are spotted from a mile away from the person reading it

For real. They suck.

I cannot stress enough how easy they are to spot. You are NOT fooling anyone. I do not need the platform's AI-detecting tool to know when an essay was written by Chat GPT. It is so, very painfully obvious when that's the case.

But the problem then becomes : ok, I have spotted a student who cheated.

What am I even supposed to do with it.

It is one thing to KNOW that an essay was AI-generated, it is another to defend it to a plagiarism committee. First of all, does it actually count as plagiarism ? Second, how do prove, with certainty, that the student did not write it ? How to I convince the plagiarism committee that this is worth looking into ? I am in the role of a police officer, who needs to convince the DA that this is a winnable case, that prosecuting will not be a waste of their time. But I don't have a Similarity Percentage to rely on. I don't have an original source to say "look, this is the exact same wording!" like in a classic plagiarism case.

Best case scenario, I can make my case for thee student to actually be called to the plagiarism committee, where we probe into how, exactly, they wrote their essay, until they fold. Unlikely, morally questionable, and in all likelihood, ineffective on students already so confident in their bullshit that they have the audacity to submit a fully AI-generated work for their finals.

Now, students, gather up, especially if you have considered using Chat GPT this way. Because right now, you might think it means you can get away with it.

But let me tell you something. First, that essay is getting the shittiest grade we can give you. Because you know what is more difficult than a lecturer proving that a student used AI to generate their essay ? A student proving that they deserve a better grade. Once we give you a grade, burden of evidence is on you to prove that you have not been graded properly. And we can come up with 15 reasons why an essay is a shit essay. We put on kids' gloves, when we lecture and give feedback. We give the simplified version of most theories, we give the basics of how to structure an essay, the bar we set is spectacularly low, because students come in good faith, they are learning, they will not be held at the same standard as academics. But if you try to argue that you need a higher grade, when you had the audacity to not write a single word of your work, the kids gloves are going to come off real quick, and your lecturer will be able to very convincingly explain why, actually, giving you a passing grade was a mercy in the first place.

Second. Academics, especially angry academics, are a gossip machine.

You may get a passing grade, and there may be no official note of it in your file whatsoever. But I can guarantee you that your lecturer will chat with their colleagues. That every single one of your essay that year, and the years to come, will be looked at with so much scrutiny I hope your referencing for every single work reaches perfection. Every single paragraph will be looked at with the knowledge that you are likely to have had it AI-generated. Lecturers will tell their TA to look at for That One Student when they grade you .You will not be getting any flexibility from us, no extension without full documentation to support it, no letter of recommendation from any member of the faculty, no word in your favor if you are bordering a grade bracket. If we are feeling especially petty, we might even forget to answer your emails or answer any question you have with such warmth and kindness you really still never feel like asking a question again in our class. And I know that, because that's already happening. I have the name of three undergrads that we know, for a fact, did not write their own essay. Two are not even in my modules at all.

Now. That's pretty mean. But if you have the absolute audacity and lack of ethics required to submit an essay for which you have not written a single word, and thought it would actually work, when your lecturer spent probably more that 80 hours working in this module this term, gave you the opportunity to meet for office hours, to ask any question in person or in email, to have extensions, accommodations, additional time ? When you decided that putting exactly zero second of your time, considered that you were above that - and above other students- and yet we were not able to officially sanction you for it, we had to give you a passing grade, the same passing grade as students who actually made an effort?

Yeah, sorry, you are not getting any sympathy from your lecturers anymore.

[aerascreamer]

I’ve been seeing a bunch of posts about the Batkids calling Dick out for being a cop and although I find them funny, the actual discussion would be going like this (also pardon me for any inconsistencies):

Jason: no way you actually became a cop Dickward-

Dick: I did. I saw how evil spread so deeply in Blüdhaven. I saw how the police contributed to the darkness of the city and the corruption running rampant. And I believed I could change this. I believed I could fight corruption from the inside and find good cops willing to fight for justice. For the longest time I supported and was supported by Gordon, Montoya and many more dedicated police officers who believed in the same cause as me. But I underestimated the corruption. I underestimated the depth the root of evil has reached. The officers on the top cared only about status and power, they only stick up for each other and if you didn’t comply and give up your morals, you’re harassed, isolated, driven out of the precinct. Fuck did my mental health took a toll. I constantly had to navigate disgust at the other’s behaviour, the stress of trying to fight back, and the hopelessness of the situation. And I had to keep up being Nightwing on top of it. So I needed to leave. I had to give up and lose this battle so I could continue the war. Had I stubborned my way into this wall, I don’t know if I’d still be here today…

Jason:

Jason: … I’m really wondering how Gordon is able to handle that kind of pressure if you couldn’t.

Dick: In my opinion, he cleaned up the GCPD years ago from a ton of bad weeds so its current state is much more manageable than Blud’s police. And he had the help of Batman, me, yours and all the others.

Jason: That make sense… also you need a god damn therapist.

Dick: No.

—

On a more serious note, typing this post made me realised how many other posts made Dick into a goofy character and even a joke.

Although I’m a sucker for fire fighter or gym teacher Dick, I recognise the potential Dick as a police officer has for storytelling, for exploring Dick’s resilience and morality as well as the harmful establishment that is the police system. I have yet to see someone explore this path with Dick either succeeding and becoming a figure similar to Gordon, or failing and having to fall back in vigilantism to make a change. Yet this possibility is rehashed as a joke, much like Dick himself.

In many more lighthearted post, he is treated as this bubbly over the top character who is poked fun at (being a cop, the Discowing, the mullet, obsession with cereal, butt jokes etc.), much like Tim is reduced to sad wet cat coffee addict. To me, Dick is a steady figure careful of each of his moves. He is a man who’s life is dedicated to hope, justice and positive change. He is a competent leader who wears a smile to reassure everyone and give them strength when heading for battle. He is a fierce protector whose anger you don’t want to be on the receiving end.

It’s fine to make him chirpier and more extravagant but to the point of becoming an almost comic relief? The JLA did not choose him and his team to fill in for them for nothing.

[sp0-t]

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋

PoliceForce!141 x VictimsPartner!Reader

warnings - murder(er), descriptions of a crime scene, blood, not really gore, loss of a loved one.

summary - the investigation of an arising serial killer has every civilian on their toes, however it has a whole police precinct in even more of an erratic frenzy. The police force assigned to the job get the call that yet another body has been found, most likely another victim of the recent killer. The body count is high, but the tensions are even higher…

💿 (a/n) - it’s finally here!! Long awaited first post of this most likely very long ongoing series. The reader doesn’t really come out in this part but bear with me they will be out in the next! I hope you will stick around for future parts and other works in general. If you’re new to my page or this story in general, Hi! Welcome! If you’ve been following along with my updates and my page, thank you for sticking around! And I look forward to seeing you! Most importantly I hope you all enjoy and stick around some more!

prologue/ ➤ part one / part ???

2… 3… 5… 8…? How many would you leave this time, you didn’t know. You were on 10 now, how many did it take till you got bored of this one too? This one wasn’t as fun, this one didn’t put up a fight, this one took all the fun out of it. It was too easy honestly, it made you bored, easily. You stopped yourself at 23, sighing as you stood up.

You walked over to the trash can lazily taking off your gloves, making sure to engulf the knife in both gloves before begrudgingly tossing it into the tiny metal tin trash can. The metal bang rang through the small office space as you walked to the door. You pull out a cloth from your pocket before turning the doorknob and heading out the door.

“What was his name again?”

The sound of stretching as he pulls the blue latex gloves over his hands quickly dissipates while approaching the house's front door.

“Darren Boyle, he’s some rich big-time director of a construction company.”

“…Is there a reason you’re telling me this man’s finances?”

“Yeah, actually…”

The EMT halts her walking and hands the report to him

“Nothing was taken from the home, no money, no belongings, nothing.”

He takes the report and looks it over.

“Yet he still has 23 knife wounds all over his body”

The walk to the office space was short and brief, with multiple people at the crime scene, and multiple things happening all at once. The flash of the camera, the sound of plastic evidence bags, and the smell… that smell, that concoction of iron and decay that permanently scars the nose with its presence alone.

The rest of the force was already present at the scene littered around, each doing different tasks.

Officer Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, is probably the smartest in the entire county. From someone who started as a mere medical student, that ended up not being able to bear the weight of being the cause of a lost human life, went to become someone who brought “life” and justice to the lost and their families. He is the forensics specialist of the team, offering his smarts and intuition to the force. Gaz can pronounce the cause of death by a simple examination of the body, as well as match DNA evidence to a perpetrator, blood, fingerprints, spit, etc.

Officer Johnny “Soap” McTavish, investigator as well as one of the best interrogators, right behind Officer Riley. Soap used to be a big-time private investigator sometimes, often, closing cases faster than the police department itself. This eventually led to the police department trying to recruit, and find, Soap to their forces for his high investigator talent, which landed him with the force, after a very eventful high-speed chase…

Officer Simon “Ghost” Riley, aka. death reincarnated. Was discovered from his time as a mercenary, and would finish any job no matter the morals or ethics involved. The blood from his past haunted him, when he retired from his brutal position, he discovered his now-current sheriff. Who heard his story and convinced Ghost to come out of his early retirement and become a detective. Ghost took this offensively at first, seeing the offered position as some type of “downgrade”. He ended up convinced into the position and is now one of the most well-known detectives in the nation.

That leaves the sheriff…

“Sheriff Price. It’s been a while, although I’d prefer if we didn’t have to meet under these circumstances.”

“Laswell, always good to see a familiar face. Although I'd have to agree, these circumstances aren't exactly.. ideal.”

“A killer in your part of the city. A serial.. killer.”

She says the last part while narrowing her eyes behind her shoulder at the now dead body

“So”

She says with her head still facing the body

“Whats your plan.”

It wasn’t a question.. it was a demand

She turns her head, her frustrated look now landing on the sheriff.

“To catch this prick.”

They both made heavy eye contact with each other. Trying to square up the other with their looks alone, the tension rising. that is until they are interrupted

“Sheriff! You have to see this.”

A shout from Gaz, across the home office. Price’s attention immediately being stripped away from Laswell and reattaching to his officer

Gaz stands from his crouched position near the victim’s desk, the Sheriff joining his side to glance at what he had found. In Gaz’s hands was a piece of paper, one that had been splattered in blood, It wasn’t just paper, it was a note.

… a note for the Sheriff

written by: @sp0-t ©️

[sunboki]

— FOR THE NIGHT. a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

WORD COUNT. 1.1k words

AUG'S NOTES. this bangchan is from my “Korea’s Most Wanted” universe because i have yet to get over him from october…

“Bin, you said it was shipped friday.” The man, Christopher Bahng, grumbles, massaging the pinch between his brows.

His counterpart, Bin, whom he was now quarreling with on the phone groaned profusely, claiming how shipments were already slow—not to mention with the new investigations on his business underway.

The life of The Gunsman isn’t an easy one. It’s a constant game of tag against the police and the government while wielding a well-planned dictionary of excuses to avoid suspicion. 

So now, as Bahng’s precious system becomes increasingly jeopardized, he finds himself losing more and more sleep to a worrisome degree.

And, having left the party filled with chairman, associates, and colleagues alike, Bahng slips into the safety of his car, once again troubled with the demands this illegal trade calls for.

“Well tell him I’ll have to serve his head on a platter if the ammunition doesn’t arrive by Friday. I’m running a charity event with how many funds I’ve given the idiot.”

Although halfway into Bin’s response, a quiet, though audible sound rustles in his backseat.

Instantly, he’s lurched a pistol from his thigh, aimed directly at the responsible interruption.

“Bahng. Bahng?” Bin echoes, only to be hung up on as Chris takes in the sight before him.

Lying in his backseat, curled up in a miniature ball, is a girl.

Your face is wrinkled in discomfort, hand resting right below your cheek, smushed against his car, a Lamborghini’s, interior.

How you got here without him noticing is beyond him, how long you’ve been here an even larger mystery.

His hand falters with the pistol, gawking with obvious surprise prior to stuffing the weapon back into its leather holster.

Instinctively, he would’ve called an assistant, asked them to take you home, find someone who knew you. Except, by the look of your current state, he has an inkling you wouldn’t be the greatest help navigating.

You’re gone.

Plus, the party’s already drawing to a close, people scattering out in every direction. The last thing he needs is to draw attention to himself.

Bahng may work illegally, lacking the fear of blood on his hands, but he’s not heartless.

Stifling a sigh, he rakes a hand through his hair, repeatedly clearing his throat in the case you woke up.

Leave it to him to end up with a random girl in his backseat.

Fine. Home it is.

Or, one of his many homes in the area.

Starting the engine, he spares repeated glances at you on the drive back, simply met with your same, woeful expression. Eyes screwed shut, lips pursed, cheeks stained a pink hue.

Pulling in, he stalls in the front seat, debating on all his morals up till now.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this..” Words a mere mutter, he carefully opens your door, gingerly dragging you out from your awkward position.

Knees pulled to your chest, Bahng keeps one, scarred hand on your back and another beneath your thighs while your head hangs, both hands bunched into fists, pressed to your chest.

Scared.

Whatever happened before, however you got here, you were scared—that much was known.

Somehow, the realization had him holding you closer.

Swiping the code to the door, he silently curses the loud beep, confusing himself with his concern for you.

Why did he care? You’d wake up, he’d get your home address and send you off. Why was he now so conscious about your comfort?

Heading up the winding stairs, he pulls his office chair from its place, deciding water as the best option.

“I’m going to put you down for a second, okay?”

Gently idling you into the chair, his movements halt when your arms reach up around his shoulders, a soft, barely divisible whine slipping past your lips, unwilling to let go.

He can barely recognize anything with how loud his heart rams against his rib cage.

Pull yourself together Bahng.

Ensuring you were still asleep, he slips into the kitchen, filling a glass with water before returning to you.

Your head jerks from when he holds the rim to your mouth, unwilling to cooperate.

“Just water sweetness,” He soothed, hating how worried he was, how senseless this behavior was.

Yet, he only continued to ease you into each sip, palm cupping your cheek for support, narrowly masking his astonishment when your eyes slowly opened, barely awake.

“Mm..?” Your vocal cords betray you, leering on the verge of dream and reality as you try acknowledging your surroundings.

No amount of recollection aids your perception in figuring out how you got here, only aware of the blaring ache in your head and a strangers voice in the distance.

One thing’s for certain. You feel awful.

Discerning the splash of water dumped down a sink, you’re once again hoisted into his arms, disappearing back into unconsciousness as Bahng nudges open his bedroom door, settling down on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t mean to man-handle you, but we need to get these shoes off.”

Situating you upright, his arm slips down, propping each of your ankles where he can pull the heels from your feet.

Softly placing you down, he savors your feeble grip grasping at his clothing, gradually loosening in an attempt at holding his face.

“Unfortunately, I can’t stay here all night sweets, you’re gonna have to let go,” Bahng whispers, easing your wrists down to your sides.

Unfortunately? What’s gotten into him?

Although, just as he adjusts the comforter over you, turning to go, he hears a sniffle.

C’mon, ignore it, she’s fine.

Another sniffle.

Screw it.

“If you tell me where you live I can take you home?” He utters, lingering by your bedside like a child waiting to hear if they can go on a play date.

It’s painful admitting the effect your tears have on him, brows creasing so sadly in a way he can’t ignore.

“Are… Are you gonna hurt me?” You whimper, feeling absolutely exhausted the longer your mind races, frantically piecing together any clues of your whereabouts to no avail.

The pad of his thumb wiping free falling tears, he shakes his head, a miniature smile gracing usually serious, unmoving features.

“I can’t say I haven’t hurt someone before, but I’m not gonna hurt you, alright sweetness?”

Nodding fervently, his face contorts, admiring the adorable manner you blink up at him, lashes all clumped from crying.

Look, his ego isn’t too fragile to admit you’re cute.

“..How did I get here?”

Bahng chuckles.

“I don’t know the answer to that myself.”

Freeing your arm from his sheets, you furiously rub your eyes, frown tugging at the corner of your lips, hiccuping as your breathing shallows.

“I know things are scary when you’re this drunk. I promise everything will be a thousand times better in the morning.”

And with that, he pulls the comforter over you, bidding a quiet good night and nearing the door for a second time.

This time, you intervene, latching onto the fabric of his shirt.

“Thank you.”

What did he just get himself into.

He sucks his teeth, surveying the sleepy eyes you’re torturing him with.

“Don’t mention it.”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[baby-tini]

Hi!!! Not a request, just a question if you don't mind. Ever since I found your account and read your SSK poly work, I've been thinking about this for a while, what would happen if Chuuya and Dazai found out you killed someone?

I like this question, simply because I've thought about it a lot, but context is needed for this situation. Although I will say, despite the context, Dazai and Chuuya would still protect you, whether this murder were too be premeditated or not. You mean more to them then the law, especially if it's PM!Dazai and Chuuya. But I'll give a premeditated and accidental murder scenario for them.

TW- Murder, Manslaughter, Implication of Assault.

Premeditated-

If the murder was premeditated, PM!Dazai and Chuuya would surely have contradicting reactions, especially if you were also working for the Port Mafia at the time. If you are working for the Port Mafia, it isn't gonna be a big deal, and while Chuuya isn't too big on killing, he does it because it's his job. PM!Dazai on the other hand, really doesn't care, you're in the mafia, murder is apart of the job. Now, if you're not apart of the Port Mafia then you're gonna get a different reaction from both of them. From PM!Dazai, instead of nonchalance, you'll get interest. He knows people have a plethora if reasons why someone would commit murder, but he wants too know yours. What brought you to that point, of taking the life of another, were you angry? Vengeful maybe? Perhaps you were owed something and came too collect, he's not sure but he wants too know. With Chuuya, he'll be sad about it, you're not involved in their job and he doesn't want you too be, and this is one of the reasons why. Although Chuuya has a strong sense of loyalty, he also has a pretty strong moral code. Although this won't make him dislike- or even hate you, depending on the reason and who you killed, but he may look at you a little differently for a while.

But when it's ADA!Dazai in the situation of you premeditatedly killing someone, I think that he would give you a different reaction, as opposed to PM!Dazai, again depending on whether you work for the Port Mafia or not, would vary ADA!Dazais reaction. Simply because, and this is assuming you met ADA!Dazai after he left the Port Mafia, and Chuuya depending on if this a poly or not. But if you did meet him after he left the Port Mafia and you committed this murder, he'd use his position too protect you, but he'd also want too know why you did it. He'd feel a bit melancholic, mostly for you. Merely because he understands what it feels like too take someones life, especially with him trying too do better, become a good man if you will. He doesn't want you too live with the potential guilt, but because it is premeditated, I don't doubt that he'd have an inkling that you were up to something. He'd try too convince you not too, and too just let the police deal with it, but even he knows that people don't always get the justice that they deserve. So, if it was something that you felt you had too do; a last resort of sorts, he'd help you out, he'd be more efficient at getting away with it, given his experience. If you did work for the Port Mafia, which he'd do his best too get you too leave, he's not too thrown off, that's apart of being in the Mafia; committing murder.

Accident-

If you accidentally murdered somebody though, PM!Dazai, in my opinion, wouldn't care and I say that simply because, he, himself, has stated that he's not a virtuous person; meaning that he is someone who habitually does wrong to his own detriment and takes pleasure in it and he also, very obviously, lacks a moral compass. I think he'd be more intrigued about what about lead up to the murder, instead of the murder itself. If it were too be because they were trying too hurt you, or assault you, he'd give evenless of a fuck, because realistically, if he found out that someone was trying too hurt you, he would've killed them himself. So you doing it, actually prevented hours of torture for that person, especially if it was quick, they should thank you in the afterlife. PM!Dazai would just simply have the body gotten rid of, disposed of, like trash as he brings you back to his, cannonic, shipping container. Chuuya though, he'd have a more extreme reaction, depending on the context and circumstances. If it was someone trying too hurt you, he'd be pissed, gently taking you away from the scene as he barked orders at his men too get rid of it, hushing you as he let you cling to him in either shock or tears as he pressed gentle kisses to the top of your head. He'd get you counselling if you need it, obviously under the guise of the Port Mafia, he doesn't need this being reported. But if it were more of a recklessness on your part and you were playing around, Chuuya would be a little pissed at you. Scolding you for a while, but he knows things accidents happen, so he'd just have his men get rid of it and you're forbidden from doing the thing that led to that accident in the first place.

The reaction you would get from ADA!Dazai, really wouldn't differ from PM!Dazai in this specific scenario, because it was an accident, he'd want it too be taken to the police, seeing as you've done no wrong. Especially if that person was trying too harm you, you had every right too defend yourself and although he's proud of you for being able too handle your own, the chances of you being out of his sight are very low now. Now, if it was a reckless mistake on your part, he wouldn't let it get out, because that is no longer self-defense, but is now Manslaughter. Which you could go to jail for, he wouldn't be happy with you but he's not mad either, and I say not mad because accidents do happen, but also not happy because you've essentially put yourself in a situation that he now has too get you out of, while he'll still protect you with everything he has, he'd like you too refrain from having anymore of these types of... accidents.

[jewish-vents]

I am tired of being told "antisemitism on college campuses isn't a real thing" when I was jumped at my college and had my shoulder and two ribs broken by angry "pro-Pal" "activists". The school classified it as a mugging and moved on. The police didn't even really bother with the pretense of an investigation. So when I see leftist YouTubers and bloggers and Instas and Tiktokers all tell me there's no antisemitism while I sit here with a sling, trying to find the way to sit that will hurt the least, remembering the slurs I was called as I was struck, I'm not convinced. I don't suddenly see this is all a lie by (((the Israelis))). My shoulder and ribs remain broken. My memory has always been near eidetic. There is no ambiguity about events to me. I know what happened.

All I see when I see these kinds of posts and videos are people who are either actively antisemitic or too lacking in moral fiber to say anything as Never Again becomes Right Now. And if you're going to go ahead and stop being moral, I'd prefer you say it to my face. At least the three guys who jumped me (because it takes three goyim to fight one disabled Jew, obviously /s) didn't lie and tell me they were on my side or "Never Again!" or "punch nazis!" while they did it.

They have more integrity than the people pretending to be accepting or moral while they also try to gaslight the world into ignoring reality.

.

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Dexter Van Zile

I recently witnessed something I haven't seen in a long time. On Friday, August 16, 2024, a group of pro-Hamas activists packed up their signs and went home in the face of spirited and non-violent opposition from a coalition of pro-American Iranians and American Jews.

The last time I saw anything like that happen was in 2006 or 2007, when I led a crowd of Israel supporters in chants in order to silence a heckler standing on the sidewalk near the town common in Amherst, Massachusetts. The ridicule was enough to prompt him and his fellow anti-Israel activists to walk away, as we cheered their departure. It was glorious.

On August 16, 2024, the pro-Hamas activists conducted their retreat from Lexington in two stages.

First, they walked away from the intersection of Massachusetts Avenue and Pleasant Street, where they have been protesting on an intermittent basis since October 7. Then, after they retreated a couple of hundred feet down Mass. Ave. (while tenacious, but peaceful, pro-Israel protesters followed them), the Hamas supporters packed up their signs and withdrew altogether, leaving an Iranian-born American citizen to conduct a solitary rear-guard action. Once the pro-Israel protesters took pity on the police officers charged with keeping the peace and got ready to leave, the pro-Hamas supporter also left — clearly a little bit worse for wear.

The pro-Hamas folks did not abandon the site of their weekly standout because they were outnumbered. The two groups were evenly matched. In fact, the pro-Hamasniks may have even enjoyed a slight numerical advantage over the pro-Israel folks who challenged them. Nevertheless, it was the anti-Israel folks who retreated.

The pro-Israel activists, who had coalesced around a core of Iranian human rights activists associated with From Boston to Iran, used a very simple message to break the resolve of the pro-Hamas activists: "You are on the side of rapists and murderers."

The pro-Hamas protesters tried countering with the lie that Israel is committing a "genocide" in Gaza, but it didn't work on the pro-Israel folks who just kept repeating their message: If you're pro-Hamas, you're siding with rapists and murderers. They offered this message in chants and individual conversations.

The pro-Israel folks didn't bother reminding their opponents that Hamas attacks civilians while hiding behind civilians, thereby making civilian casualties inevitable. They didn't waste their breath reminding the pro-Hamas folks that Arab and Muslim leaders have killed millions of Arab and Muslim civilians without much comment from the progressive left in the United States. The pro-Israel folks knew these facts — but didn't waste their time repeating them on the streets of Lexington. They just kept repeating the central truth of the conflict in Gaza: Hamas is a bunch of rapists and murderers, and many leftists and anti-democratic radicals in the US have taken their side.

Most importantly, our strategy worked.

By repeating the simple truth of what's happening in the Middle East, a gathering of pro-Israel Jews and Iranians stripped a gathering of pro-Hamas protesters of the moral superiority in which they have wrapped themselves since October 7. By sticking to the "Hamas is a bunch of rapists and murderers" message, pro-Israel activists reminded any self-proclaimed progressives who joined the Hamas supporters, that the October 7 massacre was not performed to "liberate" the Palestinians — but to build a social order in the Middle East in which terror and violence is the dominant culture, as opposed to peace, tolerance, and full rights for all religions, genders, and minorities.

It is no accident that Iranians who oppose the theocratic leadership in Tehran have become a powerful force of anti-Hamas activism in the United States. Having to deal with the rapists and murderers who oppress their friends and relatives, Iranian human rights activists understand that the violence against moderate Muslims, non-Muslims, and women in Iran has a common root with the violence of the October 7 massacre. They know that the violence perpetrated against Iranian and Israeli women is justified by radical Islamism, a supremacist ideology that privileges the rights of Muslim men over non-Muslims and women.

Although leftists should know this as well — many don't, and they need to be reminded repeatedly, and publicly, of the true nature of the radical Islamist movement they help support. One day, they will be the target of the Islamist oppression endured by Iranians and Israelis and when it happens, they won't be allowed to say no one told them.

[moonrisecoeur]

thoughts on this post aka detective leon and serial killer reader. warning for dark content obvi, mentions of weapons, blood, bodies, murder. also sub leon makes an appearance as usual lol. fem!reader too!!

sorry for the wait lol i’ve been folding laundry anyway let me cook

you know that fucking cop is onto you, he knows more than you want him to but for some reason, even when you know you’ve messed up and are sure you’re gonna be caught, you’re not. no one knows about the evidence you accidentally left behind, clues that trace back to you. when you go back to try and ruin the crime scene to throw the police off the scent, it’s all gone. just a dead body and all of the blood you love to spill.

it bugs you a little bit. where did it go? but you watch as the cops search the crime, hiding in the bushes behind the house when you see the cop you… you just know is the one who did it. he looks like he’s seen that crime scene already, and there’s something bunched into his pocket. that looks almost like your glove that got caught on something and left behind as you were escaping.

you realize he’s looking you dead in the eyes as you make painfully awkward eye contact with him. he smirks and looks away. you wonder why he isn’t telling his colleagues about how he saw you, you wonder why he seems almost amused by you. it’s driving you mad.

you’ve seen him before. you recognize him now. you don’t know his name, but he’s got blonde hair, long enough to cover his blue eyes. looks like a doll. he’s a detective, always showing up to crime scenes in those pretty, expensive suits. he wears a nice watch, cleans himself up well.

you get your hands on his file, all of his records, the time he spent as a patrol officer, back when he was younger. his hair was shorter then. his eyes a bit brighter. he was cute. and now… he’s much more than that. he’s distinguished.

—

leon saw you once, before you could run out when you realized the cops were coming in. he remembers how you looked. bloody, gloved hands holding a kitchen knife. you didn’t see him, but he saw you. he sees you again in the bushes, and you see him this time. it’s a moment where everything stops, and leon feels his dead heart pitter pattering like it hasn’t done in years.

you kinda lose the light in your soul when you become a detective. he’s more somber now than he was when he was on patrol, but what can you do?

he finds out everything he can about you, cross referencing the evidence he finds that everyone else seems to miss with every little thing he can gather, in hopes of figuring out your name, or anything about you, honestly.

he’s come to the conclusion that your sloppiness is caused from the pleasure you take in killing. you leave too much evidence behind, too many clues, christ it’s like you want to be caught, but leon can’t help but be fond of you now that you’re intentionally leaving clues for him to find. little messages like ‘for my favorite detective, ♡’ on notecards next to the body. no one knows what you mean. leon’s becoming more obsessed by the minute.

he’s learned everything about you, every motive, every killing, why, when, how you did it all, and his coworkers know nothing. they’re not even sure how many you’ve killed, much less know anything about you.

it’s betraying his morals, sure, but who really cares? he’s killed people before, he’s no better than you. sure, he tried to convince himself he did it to protect the innocent, but he’s got his own thirst for blood. can’t really blame you for doing for fun what he does for work. you lose your morals anyway when you’re a detective.

he covers for you, gives excuses and ideas to lead the other detectives in the wrong direction. destroys evidence for you. lies for you. he’s desperate for you attention, and he finally gets it when you come into the police station.

you’re not disguised, not dressed to hide your identity. you look.. normal. you smile at the person working the front desk. you’re polite, charming, courteous. leon almost passes you by before double taking and realizing that it’s you.

“well, hello, it’s nice to meet you, detective kennedy,” you smile, reaching out your hand for him to shake, which he does awkwardly. you realize that he’s a lot less cool than he seemed when you first saw him. his lack of social skill is almost charming.

“are you… what are you doing here? are you turning yourself in o-or something?”

“i wanted to see you,” you say simply to him.

he blinks, confused.

“do you want to speak with me? or should i just go, detective?”

“i.. i think we should talk,” he smiles back eventually, “i want to talk to you. really talk.”

you meet him later, after his shift. you tell him your story, your motives. even though he knows them, he lets you talk. he likes listening to you. he tells you about his work, what he’s done to protect you, and when you ask why, he shrugs, “you’re too pretty for prison.” he matches your bluntness.

it takes everything in you not to burst out laughing, amused by leon kennedy’s mind, how his brain even works.

he continues, “but listen, if you’re gonna keep… you know, killing people, you need to run it by me after the fact. i need to get there and make sure there’s no evidence that other detectives will find. don’t worry, i’ll get you a burner phone and everything. just call me when you do it. i’ll help.”

“hmm.. alright. now.. do i owe you anything for your.. protection, detective? should i.. show you how appreciative i am that you’re helping me get away with murder?” you lean in close, suggestively. leon can’t help that he’s easy to seduce.

“i.. i think you don’t owe me anything, but.. if you’d like..” he stutters. you smile. he’s so cute to play with.

he takes you back to his place. you tell him he wouldn’t like yours, with the victim you have tied to a chair in your bedroom. he raises an eyebrow, and you try to calm his worries by saying, “its fine, i drugged him so he wouldn’t wake up until tomorrow… do you wanna watch me torture him?”

“i’m… okay, baby,” he says, his voice gravelly and soft at the same time.

you hook up obviously when you get back to his apartment, and it’s the best sex of his life. maybe it’s because he likes dominant women already, but there might also be something thrilling about a woman putting her hands around his throat who’s very well capable of squeezing until he stopped breathing entirely.

thankfully, you don’t asphyxiate him. you lay in his bed with him afterwards, and there’s something so strangely normal about the way you curl up into his side as he draws shapes on your back with his fingertips.

“are you ever.. gonna kill me?” he asks, out of the blue, stirring you from your drowsy state.

you look up at him, and he’s worried you’re considering it. there’s a gun on his nightstand. he panics. you would never get away with it, he’s sure. your dna is all over his body, his clothes, his apartment, surely you’re not that sloppy of a killers.

“i haven’t decided yet,” you say simply, resting your head on his chest.

“o-oh…”

you chuckle, sensing anxiety and tension in his body at your response to his question, “i would only ever do it if i thought you were gonna betray me or something, pinky promise. no matter how… beautiful you would look dying..”

he gulps, and you feel endeared by his fear. he’s.. cute when he’s nervous.

the next day, he wakes up. he puts on another suit, and another fancy watch. he drives you home before he goes to work, and he kisses your forehead before he gets back into his car, “am i gonna be seeing you again tonight?” he asks.

you chuckle, “i’m counting on it, handsome. trust me when i say i look very good in red.”

[rintoshis-archived]

𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐑𝐄𝐃 - ft. miles morales

🀄、pairings: miles morales x reader warnings: mentions of paranoia, death, mentions of blood, slightly angsty, fluff at the end, slow burn, legit doesn't make total sense, not proofread, lyric references, venom, profanities, kissing (nothing smutty), mentions of gwen and hobie, poor spanish (blame duolingo...), with translations, no actual current plot of atsv, own plot, might not make sense if you didn't watch the movie, mutants, giants, mentions of skinned bodies, false accusations, arguments, a lot more within these lines, peter being a bad mentor, involves miguel, margo, peter. w/c: 4,297 notes; i really did not expect this to be long ... but yeah! this might not make sense and there might be whole lotta ooc BUT THIS IS MY PLOT I DO WHAT I WANT RAHHHH 🤣🤣🔥🔥 anyways i didn't know what i went with the storyline but there are a lot of depressing moments here ... i hope y'all are ok btw .. okay bye ily

'SOMETHING BAD IS 'BOUT TO HAPPEN TO ME' You thought. Your paranoia didn't help you sleep at night, the empty feeling of always being secluded from the world. Your dimension didn't have any Spider-people, and in contrast to Miles's dimension; it was harder to pick yourself up and fight for the city.

The feeling of cold sheets wrapping around your limbs, the fabric only bringing you more comfort. His smell lingered on your pillows, his jacket hanging on the back of your door. You didn't wanna leave Miles. The banging headache raised when you cried for the rest of the night, tears flowing down your cheek.

This might be pathetic, sure. But you weren't happy with the world you were born into. You missed the vibrant city of Miles's dimension, the moments you spent together to train him to become the best Spiderman of the century. You could only laugh at that thought.

Your eyes are glued onto your ceiling, the empty white color reflecting your current mind. Hell, if you could go back; you would. Your eyes close heavily, and the feeling of your hot eyelids resting on your eyes.

'I DON'T KNOW IT BUT I FEEL IT COMING.' The returning feeling of being helpless, a deep voice circulating in your mind. As much as you didn't wanna admit it, you were fragile. The Spider that bit you wasn't as ordinary as you thought. That goes without saying; Miles got bit by an unordinary spider, too. But something about that insect made it a little more special than other Spider origins.

The Spider actually talked to you. Its venom projects into your blood cells, infesting your mind and body. ''The city needs you, the city needs you, the city needs you, the city needs-'' If you could spray bug repellent inside of your head, you would've done it already. The echoing voice inside of your brain didn't subside even after you've covered your ears with pillows.

You were restless. Your spider suit resting on your chair. The radio your dad previously had woken you from your slumber, the screams and sounds of innocent people screaming, a cop reporting for backup.

''This is Agent- Shit! Get away- We need backup, now! Call for the nearest-'' The voice cuts off, only leaving you with the sound of a broken stereo. Out of instinct, your webs sling the radio to your hands, turning some of the knobs to get more surface of the situation.

Nothing comes out, the last person who reported to the station was that 'Agent'. You hop out of bed, took the suit, and quickly put it on. You contemplated for a while, but the sudden shiver of guilt only awoken the voice that whispered in your ear. ''The city needs you, the city needs you, the city needs you, the city needs you.''

The sounds of police car's sirens echoed in the street, a building being griefed by an explosion. Big claws and bloodied cement was the scenery when you arrived. You heard a lady scream in an alleyway, and all of the police cars emptied out of people. No cop was left alive, they were all skinned out of their bodies.

''G-Get away from me!'' The lady's voice stung your Spider-sense, the sound of big feet stepping towards the lady. You were on the walls, peeking at the villain. It had a broad back, spikes decorating its spine, and green and vibrant reptile skin. You land on the floor, attaching your webs to the spikes of its back. ''You heard the lady.''

Your webs were strong enough to pull the reptile back, jumping high to let it sling behind you. A loud thud could be heard miles away, the cement of the building cracking from the giant's impact. You approach the lady, putting two hands up. ''Are you okay?''

The lady's eyes widened while looking behind you, your spider sense didn't detect the big chunk of cement that was coming your way. Your hands almost act instinctively, grabbing ahold of the cement before it crushed the two of you.

Your webs threw the brick back, crumbling on the body of the reptile. ''You should run.'' you flash a small smile of assurance to the lady, webbing the two buildings to get closer to the villain. Your eyes catch a small glimpse of a black and red suited person in the sky, spider sense tingling at the sight. Your head turns to the building where it landed, getting distracted from what was in front of you.

''Move!'' A voice echoes from the roof of the building, your head quickly turns back to the lizard, his hands almost grabbing a hold of you. A sudden bolt of lightning almost blinded you, causing your eyes to close at the brightness.

A huge hole in the sky opens, the edges of it being coated with pink, purple, and hints of green. It looked like it glitched into the sky, with strings of what looked like webs inside of it. Miles had already electrocuted the lizard for a short time, as he approached you.

''Y/N! I'm here!'' His hands wrap around your torso, feeling your warmth over your suit. ''Miles?'' Your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him into a hug. ''H-how are you here? What the fuck is that?'' You ask of the hole in the sky, some of the cars and poles flying inside of it.

''Listen, we need to go.'' His hands grab yours, webbing to the closet rooftop. ''No... No! I need to see my aunt-'' Your eyes widen, his hands pulling you into the black hole. Your argument with your aunt didn't lull even after the 'talk' you both had.

''¡Dios mío, Y/N! Te lo dije una vez, dos veces, trice! Y no nos escuchaste ni a mí ni a tu mamá!'' (Oh my gosh, Y/N! I told you once, twice, thrice! And you didn't listen to me or your mom!) Your hands slam the door on your aunt, refusing to continue this talk with your aunt. You had just lost your dad, you couldn't save him from that stupid mutant that appeared right in your dad's station house. Your dad's friends whom you even considered your own; dead before your eyes, bodies laying and pierced in her stomachs. ''Do not slam that door on me, we are not done!'' Your aunt opens your door with pressure, her words poisoning the whole room. ''Tía, yo también te lo dije un millón de veces!'' (Aunt, I told you a million times too!) It wasn't your fault. It wasn't your fault that your dad still wanted to be the hero even when he can't. It was his fault. ''¿Cuántas veces tengo que decir esto? You can't be meddling in the policía's jobs! You killed your-'' (How many times do I have to say this?) ''Get out!'' Your webs shut your door with force, webbing the door handle closed. ''No entiendes, tía, I didn't kill Papa!'' (You don't understand, Aunt) ''You just don't understand, Y/N! Your mom is crying, the whole police is after you! They think you murdered your father! You need to stop, Y/N. You are not the 'hero' of this city!'' Your auntie bangs on your door, but your hands remain on your ears, cuddled up to your pillow.

It 'MIGHT BE SO SAD, MIGHT LEAVE MY NOSE RUNNING.' You couldn't leave your auntie, and your mom didn't stop crying, she stopped coming to her job and didn't speak to anyone else.

'I JUST HOPE SHE DON'T WANNA LEAVE ME.' Those words ring inside of Miles's head, he had already fought his battle with Miguel just to see you again, and he was willing to go through it all over again.

''Listen, your aunt will be fine! You'll be safe there!'' Miles tries to pull you in, and you let him. You take his words and put them inside of your heart. The feeling of being airborne in the galaxy takes over your senses, a huge tube leading you both into another portal. Your hands tremble inside Miles's grasp.

You both land in an elevator, a platform bringing you to up top.

His thumb rubs your skin, hoping to have calmed you down. You both fall into an elevator, Miles's hands still intertwined with yours. ''I should probably explain, huh?'' You didn't respond, your mind almost wandering away staring at the wall. ''Y/N?'' When the warmth of Mile's skin leaves yours, your head turns to him.

''Did you say something?'' ''Yeah... Did you listen?'' ''No... Sorry, could you repeat that?'' You hear Miles sigh, his hands knotted with each other to his chest. ''Well, Miguel wanted me to pick you up... Kinda.'' Your head tilts a little, and a tinge of unsureness laced Miles's words. ''Kinda?'' You ask, almost surveying him. ''Well I did kinda sneak out and asked Margo to take me to your dimension but that's not the important part!''

Miles raises his hands as if it were for defense and you laugh. ''You're so stupid.'' You nudge his shoulder. ''Why'd you take me here-'' You feel almost a big punch in your stomach as if you'd glitched out in a game. ''Woah!'' Miles panicked, rummaging through his pockets. You were surprised he had put pockets in his suit. Maybe you have to do that, sometime.

''I forgot to give you this.'' He takes your hand before you glitch out again and put on the bracelet on your wrist. Nausea stopped, feeling a little bit better from the piece of silicone around your skin. You laugh a little, seeing Miles's panicked expression even from over his mask. You took off your own mask, breathing in some air. ''So.. Why'd you take me here?''

Miles took off his, too. ''Well, I missed you, of course.'' A window appears behind you both, the land seemingly upside down. ''Woah...'' ''We're in Nueva York.'' The door opens, and Miles captures your hands in his, leading you to the upside-down hallways.

''T-there's so many...'' You didn't expect almost a hundred- maybe more Spider-people. All of them were different, some were on wheelchairs, some were riding horses, and some were incubated in a yellow-orange barrier.

After what seemed like a million light-years, you both reached a dark part of the building, a girl who seemed like she was purple waved at you two and started working back on her computer.

''Miles Morales.'' A dark voice grew out of the dark, a floating platform lowering from the sky. ''Miguel, we're back.'' ''Another outsider.'' Miguel turned to face you both, the man looked like he hadn't slept in years. You frown at his comment, he didn't know who you were.

''Miguel O'Hara, this is Y/N L/N.''

An infant webbed around the room and caught you three off-guard. ''Mayday! Good job Honey!'' A man with a baby carrier enters the room, phone pointed at the child. Mayday, cute name. You smile at the sight of a cute baby webbing freely, she'll be a good Spiderwoman when she grows up. ''Miles! I haven't seen you in so long!'' The man put his phone back in his pocket, putting two of his hands on your shoulders.

''Peter!'' ''Miles! Hey, bud! Who's this?'' Peter smiles at you, and you give him another smile back. ''I'm Y/N.'' You shook his hand, and he immediately pulled away to catch Mayday. She was climbing on Miguel, a funny sight to see. You didn't fail to see how Miguel was so... Muscular. His webs looked different, it looked like it glowed with a orange light.

You knew to not fuck with him, especially when he was the only one in the room who didn't wear a bracelet to keep him from not glitching out. ''Y/N L/N. You must know what kind of place this is, I assume?'' Miguel says, capturing Mayday in his hands. Miles looked at you, slight panic arising in his eyes.

''Uhm, I brought her here. She can help me, Hobie, and Gwen-'' ''There are enough problems that I have to deal with. Put her back, Morales.'' You didn't know who Hobie or Gwen was, but Miles mentioned that they went on missions together. That Miguel had a foul mouth, for sure.

''You've caused enough shit, Morales! The start of the spot, breaking a canon event, and even rebelling against my rules!'' Miguel webbed down to the floor and threw a bomb on the floor. Once it hit your foot, it opened up a dome.

''What the fuck-'' You try banging on the walls, the sounds outside almost being muffled from the inside. ''Miles!'' ''Enough is enough, Morales. I guess I'll have to send you both back then.'' You see Miles trying to bargain with Miguel, but Peter interrupts. ''Miguel, loosen up pal. Let them experience their puppy love in the HQ, gosh they're so cute together-'' Miguel shoots a web to Peter's mouth and put him in a dome as well.

'DON'T YOU GIVE ME UP, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP.' These words fill your mind, still trying to get out of the barrier. Your words couldn't reach Miles as he backed up beside you, his hands on the dome. ''Miguel, for someone who's the so-called 'master' of HQ, you really don't know how to stop making the same mistake all over again.''

Miles shatters the projected dome and takes your hand to escape out of the HQ. Peter waves at you both as a goodbye, seemingly proud of Miles for what he did. ''You're a bad mentor,'' Miguel says, chasing you both. The dome fades away, and Peter takes off the web on his mouth. Peter grabs Mayday's pacifier and put it in her mouth. ''Let's go, honey!'' Peter chasing you both.

''If I would've known we'd be running from a Headmaster of an HQ full of Spider-people, I would've come prepared, Miles.'' You two web from wall to wall, knocking some people over and leaving them with a short 'sorry'.

''It's not like- Woah-! I planned this to happen!'' You laugh at his words, keeping up with his pace. ''You can't let me leave you in the dust, Miles!'' You pass Miles, but he quickly catches up. ''I won't!'' He grabs your hand and slings you on his back, sticking onto him like a koala. You both giggle a bit while making your way to Margo. ''I missed you... I missed... Us.''

You rest your head on Miles's shoulder. ''What you said earlier... Who's Hobie and Gwen?'' ''Some friends of mine.'' You smile, kissing his cheek. ''Gwen, huh?'' Miles laughs at the pout that he felt on his skin, ''HONEY, I BELONG WITH YOU AND ONLY YOU, BABE.'' Miles's words made you smile as you both land in Margo's office, seeing her work away on her computer.

''Miles. What did you do now?'' Margo didn't look back, she already knew what you both wanted. ''Send us back to my world,'' Miles says, but your eyes almost want to disagree with him. Miles notices the slight worry in your eyes, he only captures your hands in response.

You knew you'd always wanted to go to Mile's dimension and spend time with him and Mrs. Morales. ''Alright. But I can't guarantee you'll be able to go back to HQ in one piece.'' Margo stated, her spider was already ready for you both.

''Miles, why are you doing this to yourself?'' Margo asks, as you both hop on the platform, hands still in his. ''I JUST DON'T WANT HER TO LEAVE ME.'' Margo only rolls her eyes with a smile and started her machine. The spider started knitting a cocoon around you two, and your hands tighten in nervousness.

''It'll be okay. As long as you have that bracelet, we can live together forever, happily.'' Miles reassures you, tucking hair behind your ear. Miles snakes a hand around your waist and pulls you in for a kiss once the spider finished webbing.

Miguel and Peter could only stare at you both, Peter looking like he was lovestruck. Peter's hands rest on Mayday's eyes while Miguel only rubs his temples. ''Oi! No lovey-dovey in the machine!'' Margo teases before it teleports you both.

A FEW MONTHS AFTER ...

''Miles, Y/N! Dinner!'' ''Innaminute!'' Miles screams out while you two were playing on a PS4 in the living room. Lieutenant Morales watched you two, occasionally taking photos of you both. ''That's unfair!'' You laugh at Mile's whining when you threw a banana on the road, causing his character to slip.

''See 'ya! Eat my dust!'' Miles bit his lip in concentration, leaning his body on where his character would go, bumping into each other. ''Dinner is getting cold, you three!'' Mrs. Morales approaches you three in the living room, catching her husband taking a video of you two playing games.

Her head rests on his shoulder, smiling at the view. ''Amor de cachorro, eh?''(Puppy love, huh?) Mr. Morales laughs and kisses his own wife once you two finally finished the game. You jump in celebration, laughing at Miles's frown. ''I won! I thought you were the best of this game-'' Miles grabs your hand and pulls you into his lap, kissing your lips.

Once Miles's parents finished smooching Mr. Morales interrupts you both. ''Oi! No kissing in the house!'' You smile on Miles's lips before pulling away from his lap. ''I'm hungry.'' ''Let's go eat?'' ''Race 'ya there!'' ''No fair!'' ''Don't run in the house!''

Because in the day, you both are just teenagers attending school, but at night you both have duties to save the city.

woahwoah this was so long ... ‧₊˚ ⋅ fusaes 2023 do not copy

[weebsinstash]

As much as I want to have children by this man, let's take a moment to sip our platonic yandere Miguel juice

-i can't decide which sex he'd be more partial to in a 'child'/you since in the movie there was Gabriella but in the comics he eventually has a son who becomes the next Spiderman but--

-as a girl i just naturally think of a lot of those sorts of gender specific ideas 👉👈 he's this big scary hulking intimidating threat and his "daughter" is the one melting his cold exterior

-doesnt matter if you're a grown ass woman, Miguel sees you struggling to braid your hair and suddenly here he is, full dad mode, doing it for you,and depending on how close you two are, maybe he disguises it with "ugh, stop spending so much time messing around with that. If I do it for you will you get back to work? 🙄", but really it's just your new self proclaimed dad/tio wanting to help braid your hair and help you feel pretty and, oh, how he can fondly remember the last time he helped braid "his daughter's" hair...

-of course this evolves to him just loving to do things with your hair. Braid it, wear it natural, style it, use products on it, hes got you. you were just trying to put your hair in a lazy updo like a ponytail or bun and this man doesn't let you leave until he's got you completely combed out, hair braided with ribbons, and of course this entire time youre awkwardly sitting there in a chair in his absolute cave of a workstation with this gargantuan 6'9 man there, "so how was your day? Staying out of trouble?"

-really I mean. Is stealing other people's kids NOT technically in character for him. You're unfortunate enough to trauma bond with this man and you're never getting rid of him

-you hear Miles Morales call him tio (as in the tio meaning dude) and you jokingly teasingly start calling him tio, which Miguel secretly pretends is the version that means uncle. You're just constantly joking around or looking up at him with these big pouty eyes, "but tio 🥺 can't I PLEASE--" and its like. Lmao people know that if they need to ask Miguel for a favor, that it increases their chances to have you ask in their stead

- I mean, as a female adult abused as a child by my own father, raised by a single mom myself, like...

Reader flinches away when Peter B goes to give you a supportive pat on the back or comes in for a high five after a mission and you force yourself to laugh because you're feeling more than just a little awkward and in the spotlight. "Oh, sorry, that was dumb!" And they eventually get you to kind of anxiously word vomit "my dad used to just kind of, rough me up sometimes when I did something wrong! It-it could've been a lot worse honestly, but, it-it just makes me kinda jumpy around guys sometimes! It's not a big deal, or personal or anything. I'm sorry if I made you feel bad 🥺"

Peter B, Jessica, and Miguel all there as older parental figures and also literal parents, immediately exchange looks and agree like "oh hell naw, don't like that" and you get silently adopted by all three of em right then and there

-if it's a physically abusive father and you're still the victim of abuse, I imagine your dad had some suspicious figures suddenly show up in the middle of the night to terrify and threaten the shit out of him and suddenly you aren't getting as manhandled anymore

-can you imagine, like, you show up to Spider Society one day with a black eye "oh, this? It's, it's nothing. My dad is just, he's about to make police captain and he's really stressed about it is all" cue all your friends mentally high fiving around the table because your abusive piece of shit dad is going to die and you don't even know. When it happens they'll all be "oh no, sweetie, I'm SOOOO sorry :(" meanwhile they're thrilled bc now you don't have any parents and they can weasel in there as your new family, schedule your birthday parties, monopolizing more of your time, things like that

-goddd I just imagine it could become some kind of weird fucked up enmeshed scenario where the structure it's providing for your life is actually good for you meanwhile Miguel is like, retroactively kind of soothing some of his trauma both from his own childhood and what happened with the second universe he broke that it's just like. You're a grown ass adult and this man is tucking you in goodnight and saying "te amo, mija" at the doorway and you bet his ass is going to stand there and not let you sleep until you say it back. He knows you're just absolutely seething at him and he'll still refuse to leave without a grumbling "te amo, papá 🙄"

-He eventually just has you doing so much shit and depending on him so much that it starts to become second nature to you. one day you're in the Society doing one of the odd jobs you're allowed to help with and suddenly you're thinking, "Ugh I actually don't know what to do next, I wish Papá was here to-- WAIT SHIT NO I MEAN MIGUEL--"

-lmaooooo as a non Spanish speaker I keep thinking of how awwwwwful it would be if he actually forces you to learn Spanish. Not inherently because there's anything wrong with Spanish, but, I'm not always smart, and I can just SEE him quizzing your ass, forcing you to have entire conversations in Spanish, always clicking his tongue or chuckling at you when you make a mistake and he just thinks you're so cute struggling to learn 🥰 man hears you're trying to take extra lessons from Miles and he instantly drops everything he's doing to go track the little scamp down. Insert meme "I can forgive being an anomaly but I draw the line at teaching Reader bad Spanish"

-siiiiiiigh eventually the day comes when you're in big danger and you need his help, maybe you disobeyed him and was hanging out with some other Spiders in another dimension when there was a sudden villain attack, and he comes to your rescue as a villain does something dramatic like has a gun to your head or a knife to your neck and the second you see him you're just overwhelmed wirh a sense of relief, calling out for him, calling him dad/tio/papá whatever, and he's just like 😭❤️ pumping his fist internally, like YES you are so grounded when you get back home but also 🥰 you finally called him dad without him having to twist your arm 🥰 nevermind if the "villain" who kidnapped you was actually a Spider who owed him a favor, and this whole thing was to teach you a lesson about listening to your Papá, that's not important ❤️

-Miguel who forces you to learn Spanish vs Miguel who forces you to be Catholic. I can excuse kidnapping and forced adoption but I draw the line at making me practice religion 💀 no but seriously, he probably does have certain morals and values he instills/forces upon you if he thinks you need them, and he'll probably be one of those fathers, "are you leaving the house dressed like that? Go change" and orders you not to hang out with certain people he doesn't approve of or thinks have bad character (like hobie lmao)

-bruh you two will be on a super serious important mission and this man will be like "it's dark, hold my hand so we dont get separated"

Eventually it comes to a point where you're, not perfectly behaved but, just about. If someone finds Miguel, it means you're not very far away, or vice versa. Members of the Society quickly learn not to make any advances on you or make any "adult" comments unless they want to get suspiciously hurt during a personal training session by the big boss himself. You think you're safe just cause Miguel isn't around? Nah, cause then you have Peter B and Jess keeping an eye on you, and, not that YOU'RE aware of the extent, but, if Miguel ever gets worried, he can just ask Lyla what you've been getting up to, since your modified little daypass has her installed into it and she can track your every move ❤️ helicopter parent? Oh honey, you have NO idea...

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Can you please do a hero x villain spice where hero punishes villain for something 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 and make it VERY spicy im begging

When the villain woke up, they were delirious and sweating. At first, they squeezed their eyelids together, for the stinging light seemed to burn their retinas.

They gulped for air and let their head fall back, taking in a few breaths before they could register that they were bound to a chair.

“What the…”

Although they needed a few seconds to get used to the brightness, they were fully aware that they weren’t alone.

“Oh, hello,” the hero purred once the villain spotted them leaning against the wall in the corner. From what the villain could see, they looked smug, very satisfied too and the villain wasn’t sure if the burning desire under their skin was normal or from the sedative.

They seemed to be in an interrogation room but thankfully there were no cameras. The villain always said dumb shit when they were alone with the hero.

“What did you…”

“Shhhh.” The hero sat down on their lap, hips against hips with their arms on the villain’s shoulders and —fuck— that woke up the villain. “God, your eyes are really pretty.”

The villain felt heat conjure in their cheeks and they wanted to look at the floor. However, there was only the hero they could look at and, admittedly, it was a good view.

“All those muscles, too. You’re really stiff, though.” The hero grabbed their shoulder and squeezed lovingly as their nails dug into the villain.

“I…Christ—” The villain couldn’t help but moan. They’d been sore for days, ever since they’d helped some other villains during a heated hostage conflict.

“Listen,” the hero said. They grabbed the villain’s jaw gently. “You’re clever, I know that. We all know that. But taking people hostage? Not your style and not smart.”

“I…” The villain’s laboured breath became more controlled but still lacked any calmness. “I’m sorry.”

It had been…a complicated situation. Hostage situations were incredibly difficult to pull off and obviously illegal as well as dangerous. When the villain had agreed to it, they had had their reasons.

“You’re ruining your chances at redemption. I thought that’s what you wanted? I thought you wanted to be better.” The hero pressed their hips deeper into the villain’s which made the latter close their eyes, reaching for the self-control they needed so bad. The hero was so close and still out of reach.

Yes, the villain wanted to be better. They knew their methods were wrong and making them a criminal but there was also strategy involved in this.

“This is important to me.” The hero brushed the villain’s throat with their lips. “You’re not a bad person.”

“You kidnapped me,” the villain whispered as a little tingle of excitement formed in their stomach. They loved it when the hero wasn’t sticking to their moral code. It was like they were rubbing off on each other.

“The police were after you, so I caught you first. I saved you,” the hero replied.

“I love how you’re trying to tell yourself that this is heroic,” they said, grinning tiredly.

“What is this then?” The hero repositioned themselves on the villain’s lap, resulting in more friction against the villain’s crotch. God, this was some other type of torture.

“Mean.”

“Mean?” the hero asked. “Oh, dear, I eat villains like you for breakfast. I can be so much meaner.”

They tugged on the villain’s hair hard enough to be pleasurably painful. The villain knew they were too desperate.

“You’re seeing other villains?” they asked. Unexpectedly, the hero gave the villain’s neck a wet kiss and the villain swore it activated their whole nervous system.

“Of course not. I’m just teasing,” the hero murmured.

“Mm, good, good.” Their eyes found each other and for a second, the villain could only stare at their enemy. Sometimes, they regretted what kind of life they had chosen. If they had chosen another path, become a hero, maybe they would already have the hero to themselves with no second-guessing and no jealousy knocking on their door regularly.

“May I?” the hero whispered and at first, the villain wasn’t quite sure what they meant. Until they got closer. Until their hand was on the villain’s thigh.

“Do whatever you want.” The hero kissed them quite possessively. They were eager and skilled when it came to intimacy. Although the villain didn’t want to call themselves lonely, they knew that the hero was driven by the same feeling. To want someone is easy but to deserve affection?

There were times when the villain had doubted that they deserved to be loved. And yet, the hero was there. They were present. With their tongue in the villain’s mouth and their hand in the villain’s pants.

It felt indescribably good.

“The hostages,” the hero began when they had to gasp for air.

“Come on, not now…” The hero kissed them again but they continued to whisper against the villain’s skin.

“You can’t just do that. You can’t take people hostage.”

“I…” The hero’s hand was exactly where the villain wanted it but the hero’s movement was less than little. “It was in exchange for a favour.”

“I think you have to speak up a little.” The hero tilted their head, genuinely curious, and slowly began to move their hand more.

“…I wanted to protect you, I — fuck — I worked on the job and in exchange the others leave you alone,” the villain said. Their brain was fried. And their heart was beating happily until their head was red. However, their answer surprised the hero.

“Wait, really?” They stopped and the villain cursed quietly, suffering from the dying ecstasy. The hero looked…happy? God, the villain couldn’t really tell, they were too deep in their personal pleasure limbo.

“Yes,” they admitted. “Protection for you.”

That made the hero smirk.

“We won’t need protection today, my love,” they joked.

“I fucking hate you,” the villain answered, despite mirroring the hero’s grin.

What they weren’t aware of was that the hero’s disapproval regarding the hostage situation was serious. They didn’t let the villain finish even once and that was pure horror. Otherwise, they were quite sweet today.