#a new position that he’s involved in. its personal and hes violent

[cityofmeliora]

notes / thoughts on the Papas' (lack of) involvement in the songwriting process and their connections to the concepts / themes of their albums

thanks for the kind words and thanks for the ask! these were great questions and really enjoyed writing this response. your questions really made me think! (and when i start thinking i always think too hard and take forever to answer– sorry this took so long!)

i'm putting these questions together because i feel they are closely related. this is a topic i've recently been thinking about a lot, actually.

A Ghoul Writer was first mentioned in that 2010 interview with Primo. the Ghoul Writer is Special Ghoul, the Nameless Ghoul character who gave interviews in Eras 2 and 3. in interviews with him, either he himself or the interviewers would usually mention he's the Writer. i'm not linking anything specific here because you can find this happening in pretty much any Era 2 / 3 interview. (though there's one Era 2 Nameless Ghoul interview that refers to the Writer as a separate character.)

the only Papa who wrote his own music was Nihil. the music video for The Future Is A Foreign Land shows that he and his Nameless Ghouls wrote the song together, and he's credited as a writer on Seven Inches Of Satanic Panic. (pic: back of the SIOSP record)

after Nihil, none of the Papas were involved in the songwriting process. everything after Nihil was written by A Ghoul Writer.

PITCHFORK: On the new album, the songs/lyrics are credited to "A Ghoul Writer." Are you this "Ghoul Writer"? If so, what inspired the words? PAPA EMERITUS: I am not the Ghoul Writer. Pitchfork (April 2013)

Does Papa contribute to the composing process? NAMELESS GHOUL: No, Papa doesn’t contribute to the song-writing. Metal Paths (August 2015)

so the later Papas were interpreters of the music, not writers.

as for the question of whether the Papas embody the sins of society or criticize the sins of society by parodying them, i think it's a bit of both– and i think it depends on which perspective we're looking from.

obviously from a real-world perspective, Ghost as a whole is meant to criticize and parody the issues the music is about, and the personality and characterization of each Papa is closely tied to the themes of his album.

from an in-universe lore perspective, as interpreters of the music, each Papa has his own relationship with the themes of his album. i think the Ghoul Writer writes each album for / about the Papa who's going to perform it. however, this is not necessarily a positive gesture.

here are my notes / thoughts on how each Papa relates to the themes of his album:

(trigger warning for mentions of misogynistic violence / rape / forced pregnancy)

Opus Eponymous and Primo: Primo refuses to comment on his interpretation of Opus Eponymous, but it's pretty clear what he thinks. Primo is a misanthrope who believes humans are “vermin” that have doomed themselves due to their “intellectual decline”. in his eyes, humanity is unworthy of life and will eventually be destroyed. Opus Eponymous has been described as an "orthodox devil-worshipping" album, and it is a very violent album, which is great for Primo because he's an orthodox devil worshiper and he loves violence and murder and wants everyone to die. 'Elizabeth' celebrates an alleged serial killer who is said to have killed hundreds of women / girls. 'Stand By Him' is about a woman being raped by a priest, who then accuses her of witchcraft and has her burned at the stake in order to cover up the assault. and the overall narrative of Opus Eponymous is about a woman being raped and forced to carry + birth the Antichrist, which will eventually kill her. this is something Primo thinks is good and anticipates happening because he believes in the cult very literally and agrees with its message / mission of human extinction. Primo is definitely a villain.

Infestissumam and Secondo: interestingly, there is actually an instance of Papa telling us about his interpretation of this album. in Secondo's own words, "the new album is about the presence of the Devil. The title, Infestissumam, means 'the biggest threat' and refers literally to the arrival of the Antichrist, but what it is also is about is what man has traditionally regarded as diabolical presence– namely female form and swagger." Infestissumam is about how humanity can connect to the presence of the Devil, both physically and spiritually. i think this theme really shows through Secondo. to him, all the things traditionally regarded as sin –especially sexuality– are good things. to him, Satan is the way to freedom and enlightenment. on the flipside, all the things promoted by christianity –holiness and virtue and repression– are stupid and stifling. Secondo is a jerk and he loves to have sex and party and he just doesn't care. Secondo, more than any other Papa, is dedicated to indulging in sin and saying "fuck you" to christianity.

Meliora and Terzo: it's complicated. i don't want to give a detailed explanation right now because i already have a separate post in my drafts about my analysis of Terzo's relationship with the themes of Meliora (it will be long). for now, this is what i'll say: Meliora is about the absence of god, and it's described as futuristic and "pre-apocalyptic." the title "Meliora" means "for the pursuit of better", but it's meant to be ironic. it's about the mistakes people make / the bad things people do in pursuit of better. so as your ask states, it criticizes ambition, greed, and abuse of power. i think Terzo wants to criticize those sins. but i think that he also embodies them, to a certain extent, and i think Meliora is also criticizing him.

Prequelle and Cardinal Copia: we don't really have any canon material that indicates Cardi's personal opinions on the album, but there is certainly a connection between the character and the concept / themes of the album. Prequelle is described as a "positive" album about the plague. it's an album about society falling apart during the apocalypse. it's also an album about celebration and survival in spite of being faced with the inevitability of death. i think Cardi certainly embodies this. Cardi is surrounded by death. Prequelle Era begins with Papas I, II, and III being murdered in order to promote Cardi's success, and it ends with Papa Nihil dying, which allows Cardi to ascend and become Papa IV. in a way, Cardi is both a plague rat and a survivor. it's not his fault they died. he didn't ask for them to be killed, and he was not their killer. but he is the herald and the carrier of the true killer, the actual driving force behind everything (Sister Imperator). through all this, Cardi is having a good time! he's dancing the night away! he's glad everyone standing in his way has dropped dead! he is a rising star and he feels invincible! and he is certain he will survive this.

IMPERA and Papa Emeritus IV: the main themes of IMPERA are "spiritual annihilation", reactionary sentiment, and regression. it's about how people who fear progress are afraid of losing their sense of meaning / purpose and their place in the world, so they turn to misogyny, violence, religious dogma, and fascism. they cling to the idea of having a cause to fight for. i think Cardi is certainly criticizing these issues. he doesn't agree with any of this at all. however, there's still a connection between the narrative of IMPERA and Cardi's character arc in this Era. narratively, IMPERA is a concentrated / condensed version of the apocalyptic narrative that plays out through the first 4 albums. it's about the cyclical nature of the rise and fall of empires. IMPERA Era begins with Cardi ascending to the title of Papa. but after the feeling of triumph wore off, Cardi became very aware of and very fearful of his own inevitable end. he knew that no matter how great his achievements were, he would be forced to step down so his successor could take his place, just like his predecessors had for him. Rite Here Rite Now is about Cardi struggling to make peace with this idea. as a side note: i really like the irony of the fact that Cardi was never actually the leader of his own empire– he was a puppet emperor who got his marching orders from his mother. it connects to IMPERA's theme of political manipulation.

[a4g]

i am so interested in the civilization-lifesteal spoke connection i need to know your thoughts what are your thoughts a4g please if you are so inclined to share every spoke thought ever

hi imnot into lifesteal smp anymore . but if i have a random spontaneous moment of interest ill add to this. im sorry

wait no. edit: i put it in the tags instead . when i get a random spur of interest again ill write something better

[erideights]

Little pieces here and there (4)

Pairing: Buggy x Fem!Reader (One Piece Live Action)

Parts: one, two, three, five

Word Count: 4,2K, i should ask for forgiveness

Warnings: flirting, pinning, (FUCKING) FINALLY, unprotected sex, buggy detaching parts of his body during sex like the freak he is

A/N: i've been building this moment so long that i was, once more, inspired by god to make this chapter the longest ever, i hope you all enjoy and that the awaited smut doesn't disappoint and delivers (let me know, anxiety is killing me, love u all, see you in chapter 5, the final (until season 2) of this series) (again i'm really really sorry for any grammatical mistake!)

Day 5 after what happened during the Arlong Park fight, or what is the same for her = 5 AAP, (Y/N) is sure about three things:

1. With the choice of leaving her mercenary life behind, comes her new position as the ''strategist'' of the Straw Hat crew, a group of very unique people that after a couple of stops along the way, would arrive at the Grand Line.

2. Their next destination is Loguetown, which excited her; she loved the city, she never turned down an assignment that involved working there. They would arrive in a couple of days and stock up on everything they would need before beginning the greatest adventure of their lives.

3. Buggy's nose was real. Very real. And she missed him. Just a bit.

To be more precise, that bit of tension and constant sarcasm around her. She knew he was a pain in the ass, and that his staying on the ship wouldn't have lasted much more than an extra day and a half because one of her crewmates -Zoro- would have unceremoniously thrown him overboard anytime.

But it was really fun for her, so from time to time and in particular, when she passes by the helm, she finds herself remembering that annoying talking head and smiling a bit.

And so, after an entire week, they arrive at the famous Loguetown, the tomb of the most famous pirate of all time, a refuge for mercenaries, pirates and bounty hunters from all corners of the East Blue! No matter what, everything your heart could desire -except for the One Piece- you could find there. Jewelry, weapons, food, alcohol, a good bed to sleep and rest in, or other darker, macabre and adult types of entertainment.

Ah, what a city. Anyone could get lost among its endless alleys packed with people. That's why when the crew splits up, they do it in pairs, making sure that Zoro, who they had already discovered, lacked complete and utter sense of direction, wouldn't be left alone and lost among the city's infinite tide of pirates. (Y/N) is the one who goes with him, both heading to the largest armory in the city to replace his destroyed katanas while Sanji and Luffy take care of the food, and Usopp and Nami go around to do… she doesn’t really remember what. Trying clothes she believes.

She must say, however, that this swordsman is not exactly the most talkative person in the world even though their friendship has considerably grown and deepened during their little journey. Apart from sharing small notes about the city, how many people there are, or what they should do, they don't really talk that much; in her case, because she is absorbed in her surroundings, soaking in every possible detail. Him, silent because his reputation as a pirate hunter is famous around all the East Blue, and of course, in Loguetown there are only pirates. He prefers to stay alert to avoid future conflicts and have a peaceful morning. Not for him, but for his crew.

That's why when a gloved hand flies out of a dark alley, and violently covers the girl's mouth and nose, preventing her from screaming, while another grabs her by the waistband of her pants and yanks her back, forcing her to get in said alley, Zoro doesn't even notice, he continues calmly walking, minding his own fucking business, heading to only God knows where.

Farewell, mosshead.

In a blink, (Y/N)'s back collides with a strong torso, and with her heart in her mouth and adrenaline running wild in her veins, she stretches her right hand to reach the knife she has in the holster on her right thigh to destroy the asshole that dares to try to steal from her. Or murder her. Or that's her idea until she hears a familiar voice murmuring an “I got you” behind her, before turning her head and discovering the biggest, reckless buffoon she's ever met.

Buggy.

Eyes wide open, she screams against his palm, pissed off by the way he scared the shit outta her. Extremely angry, she yanks his hand away from her mouth, turns her entire body around and looks at him with what he would swear, is the most annoyed expression he ever saw in his entire life. Before the clown can excuse himself and his lack of manners, just as she begins to see that stupid smile appear on his stupid face, she slaps him so hard that for a second, he thinks his head will detach from the rest of his body.

Then, and pushed by an outburst of passion that comes out of she doesn’t even understand where, a mixture of adrenaline, surprise, her desire to kill him with her own hands and the -sexual- frustration with which he abandoned her the last time, she grabs his vest, pulls and kisses him. Again, all before Buggy can even react.

The kiss is brief. Really quick, but intense as hell, and she manages to leave him breathless. Yes, him. Only him. Because the moment they separate, when (Y/N) pushes him back, she spits out a heartfelt “You're an idiot!”

What a fucking rollercoaster. He doesn't even remember what he was about to say anymore to greet her. He's in fact, too stunned to speak. Did she slapped, kissed, and insulted him in less than a minute? Oh, she's a freak, just like him. The only difference between them is that she knows how to pretend the opposite. But she can't hide it from him. Not to the king of the freaks.

''I missed you too, baby'' he admits with an amused smile, moving his jaw a little from side to side, as well as his neck; that woman is stronger than he expected.

''Yeah? Because I really didn’t.’’ she spits once again, taking a deep breath. ''Liar'' he retorts, eyeing her up and down. ''Liir'' she instantly mocks, still recovering from the tsunami of emotions that just passed through her. ''What the fuck are you doing in Loguetown?''

''I came looking for my sorry excuses for a supporting cast,'' his crew. Were they still alive? Would have sworn Zoro destroyed all of them but who knew. ''and turns out I found the perfect, shiny, little new supporting star for my show'' he adds, as flirtatious as always around her, approaching (Y/N) again.

''Oh, I feel flattered but as I already told you, I don't like being in the spotlight. I relate way more to the shadow around it.”

He rolls his eyes but nods in understanding, reaching out to grab the girl's waist. ''Mhm. What about a private show, then? We have a play to finish, If my memory's not betraying me.'' He whispers honeyed, closing the distance between the two just a bit more. Cannot stop himself, neither he wants to. He knew as soon as he recognized her on the street, he would not let her go without putting order in their outstanding matters.

She’s about to add her usual sarcastic and smartass remark saying something among the lines of ‘without inviting me to dinner first?’ but she chooses not to. Just for once. ''I could agree to that.'' The girl admits, tilting a smile. ''Not here, tho.'' Pressing the clown's chest with her index finger, signaling for him to stay still, (Y/N) runs her tongue over her upper teeth, taking a couple of seconds to think.

In the end, she raises an eyebrow, and with an amused smile, she asks: “Do you trust me?”

''Not in a million years''

''I knew you would say that.'' She still takes one of his hands, that was still on her waist, and starts walking quite fast towards the other end of the alley, pulling him with her. He doesn’t object at all, despite not knowing where the hell is she taking him, and simply follows her lead, unconsciously squeezing her hand to not to lose her in the crowd.

Not many minutes later, after climbing some stairs and turning a few streets, there they are, in front of a beautiful tavern with windows decorated with ornate dark wooden planks, designing patterns of small squares, offering a beautiful view of its interior. The building was not one of the largest in the area, but it was not one of the smallest either. She knew from experience* that the floors above the tavern were rooms rented to the pickiest pirates. They had enough space to rest comfortably after a long voyage at sea, with a good bed and several locks on the doors and windows to prevent intrusions, attempts at robbery or murder, or a drunken idiot making a mistake and entering the wrong room.

*She knows this because a couple of years ago she needed to sneak in during the night to steal a jade seal from a famous pirate captain, who had previously stolen it from the temple it belonged to a few months before. Getting in wasn't easy at all.

Walking to the side of the building, where the windows of the rooms can be seen better, (Y/N) looks right, then left, making sure there’s no one nosing around.

‘’Here we are.’’ She announces, looking at him with a devilish smirk on her face. ''Now pay attention, here's my brilliant, unique and exceptional plan. It will absolutely blow your mind.’’ He cracks a genuine smile after hearing how she praised herself. She sounded almost like him. 

“First step: Throw your head up to that window over there,” she points said window with her index finger, two floors above their heads, “and tell me if there’s someone sleeping inside. Or if you see any sign someone rented the room.’’

Confusion is the feeling that crosses his beautiful face for a second, looking at her with a raised eyebrow and lips pressed into a small incredulous smile. She wants to sneak through the window without being seen and not pay a single berry? Exactly what a true pirate would do. He was starting to fall in love with her.

Without a second thought, his head separates from his body and floats to the open window, slightly sneaking in to check as she asked. And as fast as it goes up, it returns back down, just like a yo-yo. ''Clear'' He confirms, amused. 

''Perfect, second step: now throw your right hand, same window, and leave it there.'' And he does as she says, no questions asked, because he could not do otherwise. Because he wouldn't want to do otherwise. He was not made to follow orders and still, deep down, he knows he would follow hers. Or better said… he would follow her around. She was, maybe, not a theatre kid like him, but to his eyes, she shines brightly.

Not as much as him, tho.

Once Buggy's right hand waits patiently on the window frame, (Y/N) grabs the clown by the shoulders and strategically positions him under the window. Then she takes his left hand, bringing it forward. "Third step: with this hand you propel me into the air, with the other you grab me and you help me sneak in."

''And the final step?'' Getting very close to his face, the girl rubs her nose against his and whispers, voice low and lustful, ''You float to the window and meet me inside for that private show you mentioned before.'' He already knew the goal of that whole improvised plan, but he almost purrs when he hears her say it.

Then Buggy throws her upwards without prior notice, way stronger than she expected, and a sweet, genuine laugh escapes (Y/N)'s lips at the lack of gravity and that distinctive tickle in her stomach that rises to her throat. Not even when he uses that floating hand to catch her and guide her to the room, her feet on solid ground again, she’s able to stop laughing.

She expected this whole forbidden getaway to be entertaining, but not so, so fun. There was no point in denying the obvious: the complicity, the chemistry between them is criminal, asphyxiating, palpable, and so, so /real/. It's not only about physical attraction and sexual tension anymore, they were actually really compatible, which could only, and is already, making things one hundred times better.

As soon as she's inside, still giggling a bit, she's quick to reach the door and securely close it, fitting the bolt with a pair of lockpicks that she had on her. On the other hand, as soon as Buggy gets inside the room he chooses not to lose a single second, because every second he wastes is one less that he can enjoy that fantastic woman who is driving him crazy; before she can return to the center of the room, he has already recovered his right hand, thrown his hat to the floor along with his coat, and has rushed towards her, kissing her again, this time without a hurry, but voraciously, passionately, with the irresistible yearning he has been suffering for almost two weeks. He wants-- no, he needs to make her his. The desire making his blood boil. Her warmth, her smell, the taste of her lips-- even her laugh. It was too much. Too intoxicating.

(Y/N) welcomes him, sighing deeply against his lips, tilting her head a little, melting in the kiss, her hands flying to his hair to take out the bandana and pull at his blue locks, to which Buggy responds by grabbing her from the back of her thighs, lifting her up and carrying her to the bed, near the window. He lets some of his weight fall onto her, loosely holding himself on his knees on the mattress. She closes her legs around his waist, pressing him even a little closer against her body, excitement coursing through her veins like poison.

All that little game with the clown was just flirting, huh? Yeah, sure.

For a minute, everything is kisses, stealing each other's breaths, strong caresses on arms, legs, and back over clothes. There are bites at each other's lips, seemingly incapable of getting enough of the other, the attraction between them driving them both so absolutely insane than getting some distance to get naked seems impossible.

“Baby,” raspily, he press his crotch between her legs to let her feel his growing erection under his pants. ''I suggest you getting naked before I rip your clothes off by myself.''

She moans in response, wetter, more aroused by every second passing, unable to even think about playing hard to get this time. ''Aye aye captain'' she manages to whisper back mischievously, separating her hands from his body in order to pull her own shirt up and throw it somewhere in the room.

He grunts, but makes the titanic effort to separate himself from her, standing on his knees in front of her laying body, licking his lips, breathing heavily, eyes half-closed, already fucking her in his thoughts. Of course, seeing her undress for him is quite a show.

After her shirt comes the button and zipper of her pants. Although before getting rid of these, she pulls the scarf around the clown's neck, forcing him to lean over her again, and after it goes his vest. Given the girl's haste, he lets escape a hoarse laugh that reverberates inside his chest and decides to help her with whatever’s left between them; shoes, pants, gloves, and underwear.

''You're gorgeous'' he breathes, taking in her image in front of him. “You’re almost making me feel guilty for what I'm about to do.”

Before she could even ask, or threaten with a ‘don't you fucking dare’ or something among those lines, one of Buggy's hands flies to her own, and pins her wrists against the bed with such force, she hisses, heart in her throat, deafening her ears. She remembers herself, this was all too good to be true, and that damn clown promised to make her beg. He wasn't going to forgive her so easily, was he?

Her fault.

''Sweetheart, open your beautiful legs for me, will you?'' Returning to the bed, the clown settles between the girl's thighs, running -with the only hand still attached to his body-, one of her legs, from the knee to the hip bone in a slow and tortuous caress.

''Now, I'm pretty sure I warned you about what's about to happen last time you took advantage of my... uncomfortable, kinda-hostage situation on your stupid little boat. When you decided to push me to my limit.''

She is too aroused, too turned on to think clearly, her mind clouded by the same rush of hormones that’s making her incredibly wet. Having him now naked between her legs, threatening her in that low tone of voice, exposed helplessly in front of him, doesn't help at all; it is, as a matter of fact, making things way worse.

''You wanted me to beg, right?’’

''Exactly. It's that easy.'' After a couple of strokes, he grabs his erection and runs it slowly through her wet folds, both of them barely containing a moan in their throats at the sensation. He, perhaps, better than her, because (Y/N) involuntarily pushes her hips upwards, trying to get some more. ''Ah-ah. Want me to fuck you, sweetheart? Just beg for it. Beg for /me/.''

Being the proud woman she is, it's not exactly easy for her to seriously beg for something. Joking? Of course, any time, even sarcastically, but something is telling her, her sixth sense probably, he won't settle with a sarcastic remark and dove eyes.

Closing her eyes tightly, she lets herself be carried away by pure and absolute desperation every time he runs his erection through her, lubricating himself with her fluids. He is silent, already tasting the sweet victory he’ll feel when he manages to break her and make her beg. Although this doesn't happen as quickly as he would have preferred.

''(Y/N)'' He warns, and it's the first time he says her name out loud. The first time she hears him, with his raspy voice and his beautiful accent, pronouncing her real name instead of some compliment or silly nickname to call her.

Welcome, breaking point.

''Beg--'' 

''I need you,'' she interrupts him in a low whimper, lifting her hips. ''Bugs-- Buggy, I need you to fuck me. Now.”

Usually, it's moments like this particular one in which the clown enjoys recreating himself, making others beg a little more, -sex, mercy, forgiveness- doesn’t matter-, taking his good time listening to her moans and cries of desperation. But he can't help it, the second he hears the girl call him by his name, telling him how much she needs him, and that silly attempt of an order at the end, he knows it’s game over, and he decides to give her exactly what she wants, penetrating her suddenly the last time he runs slowly through her folds. A sweet moan of relief and pleasure escapes from (Y/N) chest along with a "Fuck, Buggy--". From him, a hoarse grunt. A shiver runs down their spines, and quickly, Buggy recovers his other hand, freeing her from his grip, to aggressively pull both of her thighs to bring her closer to him, and begins to thrust hard, all shreds of self-control escaping from his body lightspeed.

He pushes into her as deep as he can in no time, burying himself between her legs, face hidden in the crook of her neck, hands keeping her legs open, close to his hips.

She doesn't know what she likes more, the erratic sound of his breathing and panting in her ear, the desperation with which his whole body seems to search for hers or each penetration sending an ecstasy shock through her nerves, but she soon becomes a puddle of sweet moans, whimpers and breathing as heavy as his, one hand pulling hard at his blue hair, the other resting on his abdomen, nails digging slightly his skin with each thrust.

''Oh god, Bugs--’’

''Moan my name louder baby,'' he breathes before biting her shoulder, leaving the mark of his teeth imprinted on her skin. ''I want them to catch us. I want them hearing you scream my name.”

And she does. She moans his name again, just not as loud as he wants. Which means there is something, something he can do better. Something to push her to her limit, to make her a believer, and make her /his/.

Summoning all his willpower, and not before one last, violent thrust, the clown stops and suddenly pulls out of her. (Y/N) complains with a loud cry, opening her eyes to ask what the fuck is he actually doing, how dares he to stop. Thank God, she doesn't have time to threaten him before he speaks.

''On your knees.'' And of course she obliges, on all fours, the simple idea making her completely lose her mind. Only thing, Buggy doesn't intend to keep her like this for a long time; as soon as she exposes herself for him again, he buries himself once more inside her as deep as he can and starts thrusting again, slowly but strongly, ending each thrust with a loud slam. This time, both hands separate from his body, one reaching for her delicate neck, which he circles with his fingers and presses to lightly cut off her breathing. The other one flies to her mouth, pushing between her lips with two fingers that she soaks in her saliva.

(Y/N), unable to articulate a single complaint, sucks, bites and licks them, muffling against them every sound that escapes her throat.

A pleasure shock, like a lightning bolt, forces her to arch her back the moment that same hand flies to her clitoris and starts masturbating it, overstimulating her.

Buggy is really determined to make her his, to not let her forget about him, to become the legitimate protagonist of each of her erotic fantasies, so to finish driving her crazy, the hand he has around her neck lifts her up, pulling her until he forces her back against his torso in a beautiful reference to the day they met and the first time he felt that magnetic attraction inevitably pulling him towards her.

''So. Much. Better,” he manages to whisper between grunts and raspy moans, surrounding her abdomen with one of his arms to keep her in place, close to his chest, sacrificing penetrating her as deeply as he would like but without caring in the slightless because he knows, she is quickly reaching her orgasm. He can feel it in the way her walls contract around his cock, in the beating of her heart in her throat against his hand, and in how her hands reach for anything, trying to support herself; in this case, his arm around her, nails scratching his skin.

''C'mon baby, cum for me.'' He groans, refusing to fall headfirst to his own orgasm because he doesn't plan to finish before her. Under other circumstances he would have done it, he has never been the kind of generous lover who thinks of his partner's pleasure before his own. This woman is breaking some old habits and patterns just being the way she is. And he doesn't care at all.

A few more thrust, the lack of enough oxygen in her lungs and that wonderful pressure on her clitoris, and (Y/N) explodes in an orgasm so strong she begins to breathless moan Buggy’s name over and over again like a mantra, which obviously feeds his ego so, so much, it ends up sending him over the same edge, moaning her name under his breath, resting his forehead on her shoulder, hugging her body tightly as they ride their climax.

                                        …

''Told you I would make you beg'' he cracks a devilish smirk, wrapping his right arm around her shoulders when he finally lies on the mattress.

''Yeah'' she giggles, although sarcastically, recovering by the second, enough clarity to recompose her own ego. ''You also told me you would make me find the One Piece without going to the Grand Line and I cannot see it anywhere yet.''

What a subtle way of asking for a second round, he thinks to himself, clearly pleased -instead of offended- for the way his smile stretches even more, looking intently at her.

“You're right.” He would have liked to lie on the bed for a while, getting back some energy and attack again, but damn him if he ever dares to reject a provocation as bold as that one. He wouldn't forgive himself.

Getting out of bed almost as quickly as he lay down a few minutes ago, Buggy cracks his neck from side to side, and taking one of the chairs next to the table in the room, he turns it in the air, leaving it pointing towards the girl.

He then sits down, leaning on the backrest, relaxed, exhaling an erotic, slow sigh as he exaggeratedly separates his legs in a clear invitation for her to come closer and sit on them.

"What did you say the other day? About liking a man with his entire body, capable of fucking you in his lap and making you scream his name?"

[fizzyapplecandy]

The eyes are the mirror of the soul

Based on your votes, this is the first story! The other two will come along soon.

Enjoy X

Ateez San X Fem Reader

Police detective San

Genre: Angst, Horror, Drama, Fluff, Strangers to Lovers, Mature scenes and language

Words: 7.8k

You thought breaking up with your boyfriend would be simple. After six months together, four of them showed you how much of a psychopath a person can be. However, when you saw on the news that several women died with features similar to yours, you assumed it was a coincidence. When the first letter arrived in the mail, you knew you were screwed. The cops eventually became involved with your life. One detective, Choi San, was assigned to be your personal bodyguard. He was confident you were safe, but the darkest evil always finds its way into someone's home.

"I've told you about a thousand times, stop calling me! I don't know how you manage to reach my number over and over! Just stop it!"

I hung up the phone, again, and rubbed my tired eyes. It was 2 a.m. and I was severely stressed. My ex, Jaehyun, has been calling me for about a month now, trying to get back together with me. Never in a million years did I think we would end up in this position. It was almost perfect for about two months. We met randomly in a cafe when I spilled my drink on his shirt. After apologizing profusely, he told me I could make it up to him with a date, and I did just that.

We had it good, seeing each other almost every day, texting until the sun came up, going around and exploring various places... It all came to an end when he started changing. It was like he became a completely different person. There were times when I feared he would become violent, but luckily he managed to bang up almost every surface of mine and his apartment, instead of my face.

After I gently broke up with him, he seemed fine. How wrong of me to assume something like that. I haven't had a good night's rest in a while, and it was messing with my head all the time. I work as an assistant in a private language school, so my boss and the other teachers are a bit lenient with me. I'm lucky to have support in that area, otherwise I would be jobless as well. In all of my 27 years on this planet, I've never felt this afraid.

I became paranoid after the break up. I kept seeing shadows out of my second story window, but I blamed the lack of sleep for that. The misplaced items in my flat were also blamed on that, too.

I poured myself a glass of wine and sat on my couch. The TV was on, playing some kind of sitcom. I couldn't bring myself to laugh, even when I found the jokes funny. It became too depressing so I switched around the channels.

"...this is the second victim found in a similar position as the first one a week prior. It appears it was a woman in her late twenties, with her long hair cut short, eyes gouged out. The missing hair and eyeballs are yet to be found..."

Now that was creepy. What kind of freak takes someone's eyes out? I remember Jaehyun saying the eyes are mirrors to one's soul, and mine were his favorite ones. My eye colour changes in the sun, so he loved taking pictures of my eyes when we were outside. Funny how that came to me while listening to this tragedy.

I twirled around a strand of my hair. Jaehyun always told me I should get a haircut, to make myself more mature. I loved my luscious locks, I've taken good care of them over the years.

I shook my head. Why was I thinking about this now? Maybe it was the wine affecting me. I should really stop drinking so late. With another long sign I grabbed the remote to turn the TV off when an image flashed on the screen. It was a picture of the latest victim, followed by the previous one.

My breath got caught in my throat.

The two pictured were side by side, and if I turned my head to the left I would see my graduation picture framed by the TV.

The resemblance between the three of us was astonishing. But that was only a coincidence, right? There is no way...

I shook my head and plugged the TV out of the wall. I wasn't taking any risks now. I speed-walked to my bedroom and shut the door, locking it as well.

There goes another sleepless night for me.

.

.

"Good morning Mrs Jung, how are you today?"

"Oh, good morning dear! You know me, my old bones are giving me a hard time."

I smiled at my elderly neighbour. Mrs Jung was widowed last May, but she's been a fighter ever since. I love meeting her in the morning when I pick up my mail from downstairs.

She waved at me and went out, probably to buy some more cat food for Simon.

I looked through my mail as I went up the stairs and noticed the usual. Phone bill, electricity bill, magazine subscription... I paused on the steps when I reached a black envelope. It was smooth, almost like it was made of suede. What in the world?

I ran to my apartment and threw the other bills on the counter. I ripped the top of the envelope and found a note inside.

My blood ran cold as I read the familiar handwriting.

"Dear, beloved, worshipped Y/N,

Long time no see baby! I've been missing you this whole time! But, you see, I've found a way to look into your gorgeous eyes again. It may be unconventional, but it works. Those two ladies have nothing on you though. I want you to know that.

Y/N, you're the one baby. And I believe you are going to do the right thing and submit yourself to me soon, unless you want more innocent girls to go missing.

I don't want to bore you with details, this is not why I'm writing to you.

You look amazing baby, even better than before. The view from your window is gorgeous.

You'll find a way to contact me, right? You'll make this work? You better do Y/N. If you know what's right for this world.

                                                 Yours truly, J. "

Oh my God. Oh my God!

My hands started shaking like crazy and I dropped the letter on the counter. I think I was about to pass out before I hit the wall behind me. I slowly slid down to the cold kitchen floor and covered my ears. This has been my panic response since I was a child. I tried to tune out everything to keep myself calm, but I couldn't.

This lunatic was going around murdering girls that reminded him of me? What on Earth was I supposed to do now?

I felt myself spiraling even more. There were telltale signs of a panic attack coming in. I haven't had one of those for months. I knew I had to stop it before it got even worse, so I crawled towards the freezer and got out an ice pack. The shock of the cold pack on my legs and arms brought me back to reality. It was enough for me to grab my phone and dial the police.

"Seoul Police Station, how can I help you?"

"I need to report a potential murderer."

.

.

"So, miss Y/N, this will be the agenda from now on. You will be escorted at all times, knowing the killer is infatuated with you we believe he will try to strike you down sooner rather than later. Our detectives are working on locating him, but in the meantime your life will stay the same as always. He can't notice something is off about you."

I nodded and waited for him to continue.

"It will be suspicious to have our detective in uniform trailing behind you everyday, so we have to make it look like you two know each other on a more personal level. Mr Choi is the best detective we have in our station, and he has gladly accepted the job."

I was like a broken doll at this point, only nodding and staring straight ahead.

For the past two days since my phone call, I've been in and out of the station. We've established that the letter was sent by Jaehyun, since he wasn't careful about leaving his fingerprints. He wanted everybody to know it was him. He was connected to the killings and there was a warrant for his arrest. The media wasn't notified yet, because my life would be endangered even more if they put me in the spotlight.

I was nervous about meeting this detective, who was going to become my live-in boyfriend. Officer Jung saw how nervous I was so he told me to wait in the room. He was going out to get my new boyfriend.

After a while, the door to Mr Jung's office opened. I expected him to walk in as well, but when I turned around my mouth almost hit the floor.

He was beyond gorgeous.

The man lifted his hand in a wave and smiled.

"Hi there. Y/N, right? My name is Choi San. I'm your new bodyguard of sorts."

I slowly stood up and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Yeah... I'm Y/N. My ex is the psycho killer. Sorry, that was a really bad introduction."

San chuckled and closed the door.

"I know this isn't very convenient for you, and it will probably be messy, but it's for your own good. I will try to be the best fake boyfriend I can. I'm not messy, I clean up after myself and I make a killer lasagna. So, all in all, I think we'll do just fine."

I smiled lightly and nodded.

"I guess so. I'm sorry about all of this... I kind of feel it's my fault. If I hadn't broken up with him then maybe he wouldn't have done all of this." 

San stepped closer to me and shook his head.

"Hey now, stop that. You aren't responsible for someone's bad decisions. The guy is sick in the head and who knows, maybe you would have been his first victim. It's not going to be easy, but I promise you, I will do everything in my power to protect you. You have my word Y/N."

We looked into each other's eyes and I think I stopped breathing for a second. San's gaze was intense, and I felt like he was looking right into my soul.

"I must admit, you do have pretty eyes."

I froze for a second and San noticed my rigid posture.

"Sorry, that was tasteless of me. Too soon I assume?"

I nodded slowly.

"Yeah... It's fine. Thank you."

We went back to staring at each other when the door opened again. Officer Jung walked in with a stack of papers.

"So, I take it you kiddos introduced yourselves. Now, let's go over the plan once more, shall we?"

.

.

"You can put your bag in the spare closet down the hall, it will fit all of your clothes as well. I bought you some new towels and a toothbrush for some reason, even though you probably have your own. There is a guest room across from mine, I put a mattress in there because I usually use it as a home office, so I don't have another bed. I hope that's not a problem. I guess some nights you might want to sleep in my bed, it's only fair."

San came with his things a couple of days later, ready to start this whole journey of catching my psycho killer ex. How my life became a blockbuster, I have no idea, but it is what it is. He set down his bags beside my couch and looked around.

"Nice place. I like the whole vibe, it's homey. And, Y/N, you do realise we have to sleep together?"

My eyes widened just as his did.

"No, no. I didn't mean it like that. Sorry. We have to sleep in the same bed, together. That's what I meant."

I nodded and waved him off.

"Yeah, yeah, I got that. But why?"

I was a bit nervous to share a bed with a complete stranger. After everything happened with Jaehyun, finding another man wasn't on my agenda. I suppose this was a completely different situation.

"I have to be next to you to make sure you are safe. Besides that, we have to be convincing. If he is watching you, he will notice my absence in normal, relationship things, so we have to make sure it looks like the real deal. I'm sorry, hopefully it won't last long. My sole purpose is to make sure you are safe, and that bastard gets locked up in the end."

I nodded in understanding. I knew San was right, so I had to suck it up and share a bed with him.

"Okay, but I'm on the left side because I've always slept there, no negotiation."

He chuckled and picked up his bags.

"No problem, I prefer the right side actually. I'm gonna go put these away and then we can sit and talk this through one more time."

"Do you want some coffee? Or tea?"

"Coffee would be great, thanks."

I went to make us two cups of coffee while he unpacked his stuff. After I poured us some much needed caffeine, I put the cups on the living room table and sat on the couch. I always have a blanket draped over the seats, so I pulled it over my legs. I could hear him rummaging around, and after about 15 minutes he joined me on the couch.

San was an attractive man, that much I could notice. He had this calm aura around him, which made me wonder how he got into this world of crime and murders.

"You know, if you want to ask me something, you can. I can feel you staring at me."

Good God. My cheeks flared up and I took a sip of my coffee to collect myself.

"Sorry. It's a bad habit. I was just wondering... How come you decided to be a detective? I assume this job can't bring you any good memories. I work as a teacher's assistant. The job brought me more joy than anything else in the world. I can't imagine..."

San could tell I was struggling to come up with a way to ask him about his job, so he stepped in to help.

"Hey, I get it. This line of work isn't for everybody. You see horrible things, but at the same time, you are the one stopping them from happening. My dad used to be a cop in our small town, but then he got shot. Drug arrest gone wrong. His shoulder never recovered, so he had to retire. He owns a taekwondo studio now. I trained there before I went to the academy. I think part of me does this job because of him. I never imagined they would promote me to be a detective, but I've always had a knack for solving the unsolvable. So, here I am now."

Impressive. San looked about my age, so becoming a detective this young had to be a huge accomplishment in his life.

"That's... Wow. Good for you. But how do you handle all of this?"

He took a sip of his coffee before answering.

"I guess you get used to it. We are trained by a psychiatrist on how to handle these tough situations. Yes, we solve cases and save people, but there comes a time when you can't be faster than your enemy. These killers and stalkers are smart, at times smarter than us. You have to calculate their steps even better than they do. Thinking one step ahead has saved so many people. Other times, it goes to show that we are still human, and we can't predict every step they take."

I shivered and pulled my legs closer to my chest. Is he saying that as a warning? That maybe...

"Hey now, I can feel you overthinking. We've got this in the bag. That bastard won't take a single step into this apartment. Not one step close to you. I won't allow it Y/N. You're safe with me."

I looked at San and took a deep breath. The determination on his face was unmistakable. He wanted Jaehyun to be locked up, and so did I.

"Thank you, San. I know that, and I do trust you. It's just hard. I never imagined myself in this situation. And those poor women... I can't help feeling a bit guilty."

He shook his head and put his cup on the table, turning towards me fully.

"You can't be responsible for someone's actions. This is solely his doing. He didn't have to do this, but he chose to. You can't read his mind, and you can't predict these things. He's a lunatic, and you are lucky you escaped on time. Let me tell you something about his character. He's doing this without thinking it through. That's good for us because we can gather evidence to lock him up for good once he's caught. It seems like he wants to be caught, but he has to get to you before that. This is where I come in. Once he's vulnerable, he's mine and no one else's."

"Do you think... He wants me dead?"

San sighed and took one of my hands in his. My eyes widened slightly, but I didn't pull away. It felt nice. His touch was warm, and it felt sincere.

"He wants you, that much is fact. I don't think he particularly wants you dead, but he isn't sane enough to make that decision. He may want you beside him, but one rash move and you're gone. I'm telling you again, that won't happen, and I want you to try not to think in that direction."

He gently squeezed my hand before letting go. He stood up and stretched. His white shirt went up and I could see the outline of his hard abs. The man was going to be the death of me if I continued slobbering over him like this.

"I'm gonna go take a shower, you put on a cartoon to pump up your mood a bit. I know The Powerpuff Girls are on Channel Three. Don't ask how I know that, it's embarrassing."

I could see his cheeks becoming a bit pink and he all but ran to the bathroom.

Tough detective San watching the Powerpuff Girls? I bet Bubbles is his favorite.

With a laugh, I turned on the TV to search for Channel Three, but I was abruptly cut off by the News Station. I wish I wasn't.

"...the body was found behind a bar, eyes gauged out like the previous two victims. Everything points to the same perpetrator. Police are on the scene, carefully directing people away from the alley. This is the third woman found in a month, and the killer left a message next to her. In what we assume was the victim's blood, there was the number '12' hastily written on the pavement..."

Twelve. As the number on my apartment door.

"Hey Y/N, where did you say the towels were? In the closet or..."

San stopped talking when he saw my frightened expression, the grip on my TV remote and my wide eyes. He looked at the TV and realised what was going on. He walked up to me, turned the TV off and pulled me up.

"Y/N, listen to me carefully. Go into your bedroom and find me a blue hair clip. Do you have something like that?"

I nodded. A blue hair clip? What does he want with that?

"Okay, can you answer me in words?"

"I... Yes. I have one."

"Good girl. Now, go find it."

I felt like my body went into autopilot. I rushed to my bedroom and sat by my vanity. I could see my expression in the big mirror. I looked terrified. But I couldn't dwell on that too much, because I had to find the hair clip. After rummaging around my bags, I pulled out a tiny blue butterfly clip. I forgot I had this, it must be ancient. I felt relieved as I stood up to go take it to San.

Just as I turned around I saw him leaning on the doorframe of my bedroom.

"Feeling better now?"

Huh? I guess I do feel...

"Wait. This was some kind of tactic?"

He smiled and nodded.

"I had to distract you. It's best to put a person into a completely different situation so that your brain focuses on something else. I don't know why I came up with the hair clip, but I had to think of something. You were going into a panic attack it seems?"

I reached out my hand and placed the clip into his open palm. He twirled it around while looking at me.

"Yeah... Ever since this whole thing started they've been coming and going. I can manage them sometimes, but this one was tough. He wrote my apartment number next to that poor woman, San. He's insane."

San put the clip in his jean pocket and placed his hands on my shoulders.

"Y/N, we're going to get him, I promise. Please, go get some rest. I'm gonna take that shower now and I'll be in bed soon. Make yourself comfortable, and leave the right side free, will you?"

I chuckled and nodded.

"I sleep on the left, remember?"

.

.

"So this lock has a code system, and it has to have four digits. Think of something you won't forget easily, but at the same time, it has to be something Jaehyun doesn't know."

San was installing my new lock, and I was trying to be helpful by holding the flashlight over his head. Last night was... Interesting to say the least. I knocked out before he came out of the bathroom, so I spared myself of the embarrassment of our first night together. However, when I opened my eyes in the morning, I could feel his arm draped around my stomach, holding me. I wiggled out quietly and kept silent when he asked me if everything was okay during the night.

I didn't want to make him heel awkward, I could do that for the both of us.

After breakfast, we went down to a hardware store to buy another lock and key. San already had the security system, so we've been at it for some time now.

"When is your birthday?"

He turned towards me and quirked an eyebrow.

"My birthday?"

I nodded and turned off the flashlight.

"That's something he won't know for sure. I mean, he doesn't even know your name so it's the only logical option."

"You think you'll remember it?" He smirked and stood up. He towered over me, and in the small hallway space, I felt like he was a step away from pushing me against the wall.

"If my life depends on it, I think I will."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked into his eyes. We stared at each other for some time before his phone rang.

"I have to take that, you punch in the code three times. It's 1007."

With that, he looked me up and down again before disappearing into the bedroom to take the call.

I felt like I could breathe again. After entering the code, I locked the door and went into the kitchen for some water. San was taking a long time with the call, so I assumed it was important. Judging by his expression when he came out, it only confirmed my suspicion.

"That was officer Jung. I need to go down to the station. Jaehyun left a message in front of the station. I think he's onto us, but I could be wrong. It may be a warning to the police."

He looked at the floor and took a deep breath.

"Well... What did he leave? Was it like the letter he sent me? Did he do something like that?"

"Ah... I don't think you want to know."

I pushed myself to walk right in front of him.

"Tell me. I need to know."

San looked into my eyes, an apologetic expression marring his face.

"He sent them a pair of eyeballs. They don't know if it's another victim, or one of the older ones. He said the eyes weren't of use to him anymore, but he wanted to keep the rest for now."

I think I'm about to puke my lunch out. I closed my eyes and put my hands over my ears. This was not the time for a panic attack. Before long, I felt San's hands go over mine. The additional weight brought me a sense of relief. I opened my eyes to look into his concerned ones.

"Don't worry, you don't have to make me look for blue hair clips, I've got this one." He smiled and put his hands down.

"So I assume they want you to look into it?" He nodded.

"Yeah. Are you okay with being alone? I know the sun is about to set, but I'll try not to take long."

"It's fine. This is your job after all. Go, the faster you leave, the quicker you'll come back." With a final nod, he went to the door, put on a jacket and his shoes and turned towards me.

"Be safe. I'll call you when I'm on the way back." I waved him off.

"Yeah, yeah. Go be a detective." He smiled and out he went.

It was a bit creepy after he left. I couldn't shake off the weird feeling of being watched, but I knew I was safe in my newly equipped apartment. I noticed the stack of papers on my kitchen counter. I haven't looked into my mail all day. San was the one who brought it up, but we didn't go through it since his hands were already full.

I sorted out my bills and pamphlets when I reached another black, almost suede, envelope.

This has to be a joke.

With a sigh, I opened up the second letter.

"My dear Y/N,

I'm a bit angry with you. We are separated for only a month, and now someone is moving in with you? Are you that desperate? He isn't even that handsome, but I couldn't really tell. He better watch out though. I don't like sharing what's mine.

I can't wait to be with you again baby. I've missed looking into your eyes terribly. Those other ladies don't stand a chance against you.

Why don't you write me back? You know my address. It's true that I don't spend time there anymore, but I'll check for your response for sure.

Take care baby, we'll meet again soon.

                                                                With love, J."

.

.

"So we know he is lurking around the neighborhood, but we can't tell his exact location. He's moving around too much, but the bastard knows how to hide."

Officer Jung was a man in his late forties, married for twenty years with a son and daughter. He's been in the police force since he was twenty-one, but he's never had a case like this. Jaehyun was a dirty bastard, and he was as sly as a snake. He was giving them a hard time, but there wasn't a crime Officer Jung wasn't able to solve.

San admired his determination. He was like a role model to him, as his parents live in the countryside and he doesn't see them as often. It seems like this case was affecting Mr Jung more than any other. San could say the same thing. In the small amount of time he's spent with you, he could tell you were a lovely person. You just had this spark following you, a pep in your step without even noticing, and your eyes were truly incredible. He was afraid of getting attached to you too soon, but he couldn't stop it even if he tried.

"Y/N called me. He's left another letter for her. He knows I'm with her. He's directly threatening me, but he doesn't seem to know I'm working for the police."

Officer Jung nodded.

"That's good. We'll keep it that way. That poor girl must be frightened. You're free to go, son. Go take care of Miss Y/N. I assume you two have become acquainted?" He had a small smirk, and a suggestive wink told San all he needed to know.

"Officer, with all due respect, we aren't in an ideal situation to be talking like that. I'm doing everything I can to make Y/N feel at ease, but it doesn't seem to be working."

"I get that boy, but you have to understand the poor lady. She's a direct target. Go home and make sure she knows we're catching this bastard."

San shook hands with Mr Jung and made his way outside to his car. The Sun had set an hour ago and he knew Y/N was probably wondering where he was.

Never has he felt such a strong attraction towards someone as he does with her. From the moment he laid eyes on her he knew he was screwed. Now he was terrified of what could happen. Without taking his eyes off the road he dialed her number. After two rings her angelic voice answered.

"Hey San. Are you coming back?" I'm speeding back, doll.

He held it in and replied calmly.

"Yeah, sorry about that. We had to have a meeting. But I'm gonna be there in about 15 minutes, so hold on tight. You did a good job today, staying alone." She chuckled, and it made San smile.

"Well I didn't have much of a choice. I cooked dinner in the meantime. I heard you make a killer lasagna? Well, I think you might have some competition buddy."

"We'll see about that. Do you need me to pick up anything on the way?"

"No! I mean... No. Just come home, I'm at my maximum here."

Home. He hasn't heard that one in a while. It sounded nice coming from her.

"Don't worry, I'm coming as fast as I can. Cut me the biggest piece of lasagna you can." Y/N chuckled and cleared her throat.

"Coming right up sir!" She hung up the phone without knowing how much of an impact her simple words had on San.

Boy, was he in trouble.

.

.

A week has passed by without trouble. No new murders on the news, no letters, no calls from the station. Everything seemed to be going just fine.

Except the sheet amount of sexual tension between herself and San.

It was undeniable. Every time he passed by her in the kitchen to grab something he would put his hand on her hip. When she walked into the bathroom, he was just about to exit, towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping down his hard chest. The heat was on as the weather got colder, and she was walking around in tiny shorts which made San blush every time she bent down to pick something up.

The fleeting glances, the not so subtle touches, the rosy cheeks every time they are beside each other in bed... It all came to a culmination one Saturday morning.

San was always looking for something to hug while he slept. After your first night together you brought a pillow for him to embrace. This time, neither one of you even thought about bringing that stupid pillow to bed.

During the night, you two naturally gravitate towards each other. In the morning, while the sun tried to pry its way into the room through your blinds, San had his arms wrapped around you from behind. You woke up first, feeling hot all over. Your thin shorts weren't a big enough barrier between your ass and his rock hard length.

You were at an impasse. Do you wiggle out of bed and pretend like nothing happened, or, do you let yourself be caught in his embrace and finally give into the desire you two feel for each other? It seems like San was ready to answer the question for you.

You could feel his strong arms tightening around your mid section, his big palm caressing your stomach. You could hear him letting out a big sigh.

"Y/N... Are you awake?"

You could never get enough of his morning voice.

"Yeah..."

"Y/N, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but... If you don't stop moving around I won't be able to control myself."

Without answering, you slowly moved your hips over his hard-on. San grunted and you were on your back in a second. He was hovering above you, his angelic face illuminated by the morning light.

"You're really asking for trouble, you know?" You lifted your brow.

"Me? You're the one running your hands all over me." He laughed and laid his head on your chest, putting his arms around you again. He was like a big cat, invading your space with his warmth.

"You're going to get me in so much trouble." His voice was a bit muffled with his face squashed between your breasts.

"Hey, you're the one feeling me up."

"I told you I can't control that! Besides, you are too soft to resist."

"So what are we going to do about that?"

He lifted his head and placed his chin on my chest before looking into my eyes. I could see him contemplating.

"Listen, I think we are both on the same page here. However, my priority right now is your safety. Maybe when this is all over, we could go on an actual date? I think that would be nice, you know?"

He wants to take me out?

"Really? You want to go on a date with me?"

"And why is that so hard to believe?" I shrugged and started playing with his hair. He looked like he would melt in a second.

"I don't know, it's all so messed up. Maybe you don't want anything to do with me after this is over."

"That's not going to happen. I like you, Y/N. I want you, it's ridiculous how much. I just don't want to compromise your safety for my selfish desires." I nodded and placed a gentle kiss on his head. His blinked and pulled himself up on his forearms.

"You know, maybe we could break my rules, just this once." My brow furrowed.

"What do you mean?"

San smiled and got closer, our noses almost touching.

"Say, Y/N... Have you ever made out with a police officer?"

I giggled. "No, I can't say I did. Why?"

"Well... Would you want to?"

I bit my lip and nodded. Why the hell not?

"Good to know."

And just like that, his lips were on mine.

The kiss was more passionate than I could have expected. San was going slow, but as time went by, we picked up the pace. Our hands were exploring every inch of our bodies. My legs were firm around his waist, with his tangled in my hair.

We rolled around the bed, laughing in between kisses. After what felt like an hour, or more, we finally stopped to catch our breaths.

"That was... Wow." I laughed again.

"Yeah, wow. But San..." He turned to look at me.

"What's wrong?"

"I thought you were a detective, not an officer?"

"Oh, yeah... Well, you just made out with a police detective. You can cross it on your bucket list."

I couldn't help the giggles, and San joined me. We naturally gravitated towards each other again and, soon enough, we got lost in each other's lips.

What we didn't know at the time was that a pair of dark eyes was watching everything from the building across the street.

.

.

The morning went by quickly. San and I didn't leave the bed for a good two hours, rolling around, laughing, talking, kissing... There was so much kissing it kind of makes me dizzy thinking about it.

When we finally decided to get up, we got a call from officer Jung. He was concerned about the silence on Jaehyun's end, but they didn't have anything new on him. I could see it was affecting San, but he tried acting tough in front of me. After the call ended, we decided to lounge around all day.

By nine o'clock, we were hungry and exhausted from all of the kissing we were doing.

"I don't feel like cooking really. I think I want to melt into this couch if I'm being honest." San chuckled and kissed my forehead.

"I get you, but we do have to eat. Do you want me to go to that pizza place down the street? We can order and I can pick it up. I know the delivery driver creeps you out."

I shivered a bit. "Yeah, he always tries to look down my top. You wouldn't mind doing that?"

He caressed my cheek before pinching it.

"For you? Not at all. Let me call them and I'll be on my way."

After placing the order, San put on his jacket and shoes and kissed me again.

"I will never get enough of this." I smiled and gave him another peck.

"Nor will I. Go now before I starve."

He laughed and went out. He didn't bring his car keys, but I knew there was no need, as the place was literally down the street. I heard the lock click and I pushed the button to activate the alarm. Funny, it always glows red when it's on, but now it wasn't shining. Maybe the batteries weren't good anymore? I'll have to tell San when he comes back.

I went into the kitchen to take out some plates and cups. I looked around for candles to make it more romantic, but only found one.

"Guess this will do."

After setting everything up on my living room table I went to my bedroom to put on something nice. I know I don't have to try, but I felt like San deserved it.

I was about to pull my shirt over my head when I heard the door clicking. It's been about ten minutes since San left, he couldn't be back so soon?

"San? Is that you?"

There was no response to my question. It was eerily silent.

I was just about to turn around when I saw him.

The reflection in my vanity mirror.

"Hey there baby. How have you been?"

"Jaehyun?"

.

.

San was practically skipping towards the pizza joint down the street. His day couldn't be any better. Not only did he kiss the most beautiful woman in the world, he was certain she felt the same as he did about their connection. When this whole mess becomes history, he will take her on the best date of her life. She deserved nothing less.

Once he reached the family owned business, he told them his name and order number and they quickly packed it up for him.

He must have been gone for about 20 minutes when his phone rang in his pocket.

"Officer Jung? Is everything okay?"

Why was the old man calling him on a Saturday night?

"San! My boy! We have a big problem! Where are you? Is Y/N there?"

"Woah, hold up. She's not with me, I left her at home to pick up our dinner? What's going on?" Mr Jung was awfully quiet on the other end.

"Mr Jung?"

"San... You need to run back as fast as you can. He called the station, he's going to do something to her tonight. I've already sent out a patrole, they are coming as fast as they can. There was an accident on the bridge tonight, they have go take a detour. San, my boy, run and save the poor girl."

San's blood ran cold instantly. How could he have been so foolish? He left her, all alone, with a serial killer out to get her. He threw away the pizza box and sprinted down the street.

He could only pray go get there before something terrible happened.

.

.

"Jaehyun... Please... You don't want to do this."

He stepped into the room and closed the door.

"Do what baby? I'm here to take what's mine. Do you know how hard it was watching you with that loser? He even made you change your locks so I couldn't get in! But I found a way, I always do!"

He kept stalking towards me until I was backed up against my vanity table.

"Do you have any idea how much I've missed your eyes baby? Your beautiful, warm, stunning eyes..."

"Please, I don't want to die."

He put his hands on my cheeks.

"No, no, no... Baby, don't worry about that. I mean you have to die, but not yet. I have to make up for lost time, you know?"

I slowly grabbed my eyeliner pencil from the table, trying to be as discreet as possible.

"Yeah, I think I get it... How do you want to make up for it?"

He seemed to lighten up at my fake enthusiasm, and he put his hands down, but he didn't step away.

"I knew you'd come around baby. Well, we have all night to decide once you come with me. We can't do anything here, your bed is filthy from that idiot sleeping in it."

Just as he was about to kiss me, I jammed the pencil into his eyeball.

He screamed and I pushed him out of my way, running towards the door.

"You bitch! I'm gonna fucking kill you! Oh, you're in for it now Y/N!"

I opened the bedroom door and I almost made it to the front of my apartment before he tackled me to the ground.

"Not so fast you slut. You think you can run away from me? Think again, you bitch."

I struggled underneath his weight, trying to push him off with my legs. He was too strong for me.

"Let me go, please! Please, you don't want to do this!"

"Shut up!" He smacked me right across the mouth, and I could taste blood on my lips.

In the midst of my struggle, San appeared before my eyes. Poor San... He was going to be devastated.

I was about to give up when I heard the sound of my door being broken down.

"Well, well... Isn't that the bastard himself?"

"Get the fuck of off her before I put a bullet between your eyes."

I looked up and I couldn't help but fear the expression on San's face. He looked dark, and the gun in his hands wasn't helping.

Suddenly, Jaehyun pulled me up and put his arm around my midsection. He had a pocket knife in his other hands, aimed straight at my throat.

"Listen up pretty boy. One wrong move and her blood will be all over the walls. You know what I hate about you bastards? You come in in the worst possible moments. We were just about to run away and have the time of our lives, isn't that right baby?"

He caressed my throat with the knife and I could see San struggling to keep himself composed. He cleared his throat.

"You think I care about her? I'm just a detective waiting to put cuffs on your hands boy, nothing else. This was all an act, and you fell for it easily. Honestly, you call yourself a killer? Pathetic."

I knew San didn't mean any of those words, but it hurt hearing him say them out loud.

"Jaehyun, baby... You need to let me go. I made a mistake in the bedroom, that wasn't nice of me. But I got scared, you know? Please baby..." San was looking into my eyes as I started pleading with Jaehyun.

My ex was slowly loosing his grip on me. I could hear his breathing becoming laboured.

"You really mean that baby? Wanna come with me now?"

I nodded slowly. "Yeah, yes. I'll come with you."

He slowly lowered the knife, but he stopped suddenly.

"You think I'm that stupid you bitch? You're gonna get it now, and Loverboy will have front row tickets."

I closed my eyes waiting for him to push the knife into my throat when a loud bang rang through my ears.

A bullet whizzed past my ear and right into Jaehyun's head.

If San didn't grab me I would have gone to the ground along with Jaehyun.

I let out a yelp.

Everything went dark for a moment.

"Y/N! Come on baby girl, come back to me."

I opened my eyes and stared straight into San's. I could see my living room ceiling. We were still inside?

"What happened?"

He sighed in relief. "You scared the hell out of me."

He pulled me up into a hug and that's when I saw it.

Jaehyun's lifeless body sprawled all over my living room floor.

"Oh my God... San... Is he?"

"Yeah, he is. I'm sorry Y/N, but he was about to stab you. I couldn't let that happen." I looked up at San and threw my arms around him. I squeezed his shoulders like my life depended on it.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. You kept me safe. You did it."

I could feel him caressing my hair and kissing the top on my head.

"Always baby girl, I'd do anything for you."

We could hear the sirens finally blasting from outside. In no time, my apartment was full of police officers, AMTs and a forensic unit. They had to take care of Jaehyun's body.

Officer Jung walked in as well.

"Y/N! San, my boy! Oh thank God!" He threw his arms around us.

"Hey Mr Jung..." He jabbed San in the forehead.

"Thank God you were one of the best shooters in your class. Nobody could have pulled this off besides you. I'm proud of you."

Mr Jung helped us stand up and took us outside of the building. San didn't want to leave my side even when another policeman came to take out statements.

Soon enough, we were sitting on the steps of my building, a blanket around our shoulders. We watched as a black van drove away with Jaehyun's body inside. It felt surreal.

"You know everything is going to be okay now, right?"

I looked at him and admired his manly features. I nodded.

"I know... I have you by my side now, if we are still on for that date?"

San smiled and kissed my forehead.

"Hell yes we are."

[minteaspoon]

The Tides’ Captain

sad implied lucemond:(

IMPORTANT NOTE: THIS FIC INCLUDES TEEN PREGNANCY!!!! LUKE IS 15 AT THE START OF THIS FIC, SO VERY UNDERAGE!!!! DNI IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THIS TOPIC!!!!

a/n: Luke has a son out of wedlock (it’s definitely Aemond’s), and is thus shamed and exiled by his family (with great hesitation and protest from Rhaenyra and Corlys’ side of the family, but is celebrated by the Greens)

Also, how Luke got pregnant will be up to interpretation (I personally say there’s no explanation for it, it just happened and is a complete surprise to everyone involved, which would bring potentially unhinged shenanigans and that thought is hilarious to me)

•._•._•._•._•._•

It had been six months.

Six months since Luke was found to be with child.

Six months since Luke was found out to have been bedded before marriage.

Six months since Luke had been put in front of the court and shamed.

Six months since Luke had been exiled from Westeros.

It had been six months since he’s bedded him.

The damn bastard didn’t even own up to it! But what should he have expected, with his reputation as a mutilator of kin and a bastard spawn. Tis only fair a bastard birth a bastard - at least, in the eyes of the court, and to the one he gave his maidenhood to.

The brunette even had to abandon Arrax, and was given no dragon egg to gift to his child. Something he knows the Hightowers and their allies celebrated.

Luke had sailed across the sea after hitching a ride with sailors who took pity on the poor lad. They did whatever they could to help accommodate him; fed him, sheltered him, told him stories and taught him song and dance and fishing. And in return, the exiled prince helped in whatever chores he was able.

He grew to care and love his sailor family, and they saw him as one of their own. They had even given him a new name - Prim Carlisle of the Tidefall Ship, Pearl of its crew. Luke’s little one was even given options for names by his found family; Pitt, Ervin, Arwen, Mittie, Eula, Matildah… He was leaning into naming the child either Tidus for a boy, or Joanna for a girl.

The crew had even given him his own weapon, in case he ever needed to fight alongside them - though they promise he needn’t have to, as they’d never let a pregnant fellow do heavy work, and they’ll do whatever it takes to make sure he never has to see, hear or commit any violent act. When Prim saw the dagger, he knew immediately what to name the silver blade melded into a dark hilt with small gems molded onto it - Tidal. His family laughed and teased him for such a corny name, but he stuck by it.

Before he knew it, six months had passed by, then seven, then eight and finally, he was in his last month of pregnancy. And before he knew it, he met his son; Tidus. His hair was of his mother, brown curls that framed his chubby and red face, but his eyes - they were purple.

Got something from his father, hm?

The bitter thought flew in his mind, as he smiled bitterly at his sleeping son. His birth wasn’t easy - it took Prim two days to get him out, and he had to be moved from the ship to land for proper care and assistance, as the sea is no place for anyone to give birth in. The trek to land helped in positioning Tidus correctly, so the last few moments of his birth was a success. And most importantly, Luke…Prim didn’t have to be cut open.

For a solid three months, Prim and his crew stayed on the island to rest from the chaos of birth, and the celebration of a new member of their family. After their rest, they set out yet again, this time, with even more cherished cargo with them - a child and a few girls of the island willing to come aboard and travel with Prim’s family, to help with medicine, organizing and with basic household - shiphold- chores.

Once again, Prim’s family was expanding. A few years evidently pass by, and Tidus was now three, while Prim was now eighteen. It has been three years since he last step foot on Westerosi grounds, since he had last sailed Westerosi waters, since he had last flown on Arrax in Westerosi skies. Prim was a far better sailor than he was three years prior - he was no longer seasick on deck, he knew the ropes, knew how to navigate the seas, knew how to chart and read the weather, knew how to use the stars in his predictions, and he knew how to sail and fish and hunt and lead.

When the captain of the Tidefall Ship fell to a sickness one day while they anchored on a small island, he named Prim the next captain once he hit the bucket. And when he did, his last will and command was effective immediately.

At first, Prim didn’t know if he had the ability to become captain, but with his crew’s help and his son’s encouragement, he became a feared and respected leader of a band of skilled, resourceful and “no-good” sailors under the moniker Prim Carlisle, “The Mermaid”.

It was only another three years later, when Prim and Tidus freshly turned twenty one and six respectively, did Prim decide to finally settle down somewhere cozy and quiet, where it would only be Prim and Little Tidus. When he dropped the news to his crew, they immediately went into hysterics, and immediately said they’ll settle down with him as well - though, with some prodding from Prim, they continued on their voyages, with Prim’s second in command as the new captain.

After a few weeks at sea, mapping out potential places of note good for a single parent and their child, Prim settled on a valley surrounded by wildlife and mountains and cliffs, with a meadow in the middle full of flowers with space large enough for a farm, cabin and animals.

The crew promised to come visit with gifts and trinkets and anything the father-son duo could need, and Prim held them to the promise.

Prim and Tidus lived in relative peace together in their little corner of personalized heaven. They had a cabin full of comfortable crafts by Prim and Tidus, alongside being decorated with presents from their family. They had a farm with two cows, five chickens and three sheep. They had growing crops of all kinds, as they were given many seeds by their crew to start out with. Not only that, but the girls had even given and taught him how to make the most of what little one might have during the weeks leading up to his and Tidus’ settlement.

Life was perfect for the father-son duo.

Until it wasn’t.

It wasn’t long until they hear rumors from travelers about a war brewing in Westeros, a war between family - a dance of dragons. Each side had been looking for dragon seeds to hatch and claim dragons for their side, and their reach had far extended past even the Free Cities. Prim knew better than to get involved - especially with his former family, so he made precautions to barricade both the obvious and inobvious entrances to his valley, and hid him and his child away from the skies. Only his crew knew their whereabouts, and how to get in and out.

However, these measures weren’t enough to keep him safe from someone who was desperate to get him back despite the years, and despite the fact that he never owned up to his part as Tidus’ father.

Above Prim, during a night of chill and snow, as a white and thick blanket of white coats the lands, he hears a roar that brings shivers down his spine. Clutching his crying son to his chest, who was scared for him and his mother in front of the green beast above them, in one hand while on the other, he holds his dagger - Tidal, Prim looks up and gazed past the hulking mass of flesh and scales -

And makes eye contact with a desperate, relieved and grieving violet eye.

[chroniclyst]

tvc masterpost

the venus cycle, lovingly nicknamed "vgb" (vee gets bitches) is the trilogy my wife @deadhorse77 and i are writing together. it centers on a strange town where, when new people arrive, they completely forget that they were ever from anywhere else, and their history molds itself to fit the city. it's also about a bunch of trans people who all kinda suck in their own way and end up in the worlds worst polycule, with one shared daughter!

---

characters

vee/venus | they/them - one of the two narrating characters, they are the catalyst and the story begins with their arrival to the city. what they don't realize makes them special is that they remember their life beforehand, and instead they focus on situating themself in the lives of everyone they meet. with their arrival, the narrative dominos begin to fall. also, they're a whore and get involved with everyone else.

the chronicler | he/him - immensely private, TC keeps his name hidden from everyone. the other narrating character, he seeks to puzzle out the mystery of the city. while he doesn't have any personal memory of his life before the city, he's aware of the effects it has on its inhabitants memory. additionally, he's prone to stalking the "people of interest" of the city, trying to figure out what their role in the story is. loserly academic vibes, like a jon sims who doesn't even have the archives going for him. he has the looks of a depressed english professor and the soul of a whore for fucking real. paris | he or she (not simultaneously) - titled the scholar by TC, paris is a nosy bitch who wants to know everything about everything and everyone--and knows pretty damn close to it. part fairy, and takes advantage of that extended lifespan to spend more time studying at the city college and to get into everyone's business. if you want to know something, paris is your fairy. also, he's genderfluid, swapping pronouns accordingly!

the oracle/sybil | fae/it - while the most obvious trait about it is faer gift of prophecy, sybil has many other skills, like being a bitch to basically everyone it meets. fae're the other fairy in our main cast, and sick to death of humans who want to get their futures seen.

jax | they/them - a member of the city police force, the detective is about as corrupt as it gets. they're violent, angry, and use their position of power to get away with everything. as an unfortunate blow to their credibility, they're also convinced that there's demons in the town, and that they'll be the one to catch one. also, they're down bad for the king.

the king | re/rem (he/they auxiliary) - like TC, the king keeps rheir name close to rheir chest, as well as a plethora of other secrets. from any surface level perception, the only things re cares about is gaining more money and more power within the city, as well as a certain member of rheir staff. don't look deeper than that, you probably won't like what you find.

the ram | arieself - part of what you'll find when you look deeper, the ram is the king's bodyguard. fully controlled by the king, air is rheir "pet project". immensely volatile and simultaneously a doormat in the face of the king's power. eventually, air will be able to come to terms with aries own power, but that time is far off still.

petra | they/them - said certain member of the king's staff, petra generally does not give a shit about the situations unfolding around them. they view most people on a spectrum of neutrality to dislike, and are deeply apathetic. also they have low empathy autist swag!

mama/eudora | any (written with just they/he/she for convenience) - eudora, fondly nicknamed "mama" by most, is the caretaker of the weeping girl, and a deeply caring person with a tendency to take lost souls under their wing. he's a mom friend to her core, and also? that's a fucking MILF babyyy!

the weeping girl | she/her - the heart of the city, though most don't know it. a very long time ago, she was cursed into becoming a statue, forever crying. the fountain her tears create has healing properties, and her slumbering life force shields the city from outside forces.

-

while none of these characters know it yet, with vee's arrival everything they've known is on the brink of change. lives will be destroyed by their fun and flirty personality (joke + reference)

---

relationships

here's the relationship quilt, because everything is too complicated for a normal chart (it's read in rows, so the first row is how vee feels about the people in each column, second row is tc, etc) ("spade" refers to the concept of kismesis from homestuck)

---

asked and answered

on the ram

on paris and tc

on tc

on vee as the catalyst

on tc

on paris and jax

on sybil and loneliness

more veeposting

on vee and guilt

on vee and tc

on tc and some of his struggles

on tc

on jax and vee

on the ram

more tc

---

anyways please ask the both of us about this. we love to talk about it and we have such a beautiful autism about our ocverse.

[askvectorprime]

Dear Vector Prime, what can you tell me about IDW1 Treadshot? What was life like before Impactor ended him via harpoon?

Dear Gunman Gleaner,

Treadshot was originally incepted as part of the Silver Harvest, the mass population boom that filled Cybertron's city streets with life, and was assigned a fairly prestigious position as part of the artisan caste, like many who shared his body-type. Given a particle magnetizer, it was his job to paint murals depicting Cybertron's glorious past onto public buildings. Treadshot saw this as his calling, greatly admiring those ancient heroic deeds. He would speculate at length as to what life must have been like in those times, imagining what he might have done if he’d been there, and dreaming about what he’d say to various important historical figures—many of whom were still alive, naturally.

Misfortune first befell Treadshot during renovation of the Primal Basilica. While working on a fresco of Onyx Prime, a stately piece in the traditional triptych form, Treadshot fell from his hover platform, and impaled himself on the statue of Primus.

Though he recovered to working order fairly quickly, Treadshot found himself reassigned to lower-profile tasks. The official word was that Treadshot’s absentmindedness meant he posed a risk to others, but it was clear to everyone involved that his demotion would never have happened were it not for the fact that he had splattered a senator with his spilled oil.

Reduced to maintaining public buildings, he soon fell in with his fellow artisans Atomizer and Bricolo. The brothers spent both their work-cycles and off-cycles together, dreaming of bigger things. Their bar crawls eventually took them to the Dead End, where the three were introduced to the violent world of gladiatorial combat. Watching the combatants, Treadshot felt each and every blow in his spark—at one point almost literally, when a stray spear sailed into the crowd and pierced his abdomen. Once he came back online, Treadshot found he had a new calling… spraying elaborate warpaint onto gladiators like Skyquake. And much like he had while painting heroes of myth, he daydreamed of how it would feel to be the one fighting.

When Megatron’s grand uprising began, Treadshot finally got his wish. He joined up with the Decepticons to take part in the "Liberation of Kaon" (what Autobots would record as the start of the Fall of the First Five Cities)—and was even able to personally take revenge on the senator who'd been responsible for his fall from grace. However, when Megatron had his legendary battle with Sentinel Prime, Treadshot wound up pinned under the Prime’s Apex Armor. Had Megatron not thought to make the ruined battle suit a throne, they might never have discovered Treadshot crushed beneath, one of its many cannons nearly puncturing his spark. As it happened, Megatron took inspiration from the sight, and tore loose a warped piece of Treadshot’s spark casing, commanding that it be forged into a new Deceptibrand for Treadshot—the first instance of this barbaric practice.

This was as close as Treadshot ever came to entering into Cybertron’s mythology. He spent much of the war acting as just another soldier, with long periods of boredom punctuated by brief intervals of shocking violence. Through diligence over the millenia, he worked his way up the ranks, eventually finding his way into the Decepticon Secret Service as a troubleshooter—but after a disastrous mission to track down Monstructor and Jhiaxus, he was captured by the Autobots, who had to physically pry him from the wall where he’d been skewered.

Placed into Spark Extraction in Garrus-9, Treadshot was eventually reactivated during Overlord’s takeover, and was offered a position as one of the new prison guards. It’s impossible to say whether Overlord knew anything of Treadshot’s history for which to favor him, or if he was selected by chance—but if it was luck that governed his fate, it was certainly bad luck, and over the following three years Treadshot partook in brutality unlike anything in the Cybertronian legends which had once enthralled him. Perhaps, when his spark was reunited with his body, it fell through the holes that lingered from those old near-misses, leaving only an empty chamber to await Impactor’s harpoon.

[valfeathers]

OMG YOUR ART IS SO GOOD! Gonna go on a reblog spree tomorrow or something <3<3<3

Anywho, care to share some (more) of your opinions on Wammy's House? Saw a few text posts and they caught my interest 👀

Like, how do you think L feels about his successors or something. Or just rant about why you hate Watari and Roger (omg or more BB talk LOVE that). I dunno I can just ell your opinions/takes are *chef's kiss*

i'm so sorry this took so long but!! i had no idea where to start lmao

i spend so much time just thinking about L in any capacity,, i mean it, he occupies a scary amount of my waking thoughts (blame the autism)

so for starters, as much as i shit on wammy's and its terrible negligence, i find myself putting L & the successors into little found family scenarios & i often draw them all together

(eg. here's some older sketches of L & the kids)

now i know that canonically they probably (definitely) weren't like this but,, i want them all to be loved

i can understand why/how other people would have a different interpretation of their dynamic, but portraying L as a mentor/brother/father figure is very near & dear to my heart :'))

(this is also partly projection as i'm an eldest son who loves their sibling & wants the best for them, who also deeply relates to L so do with that what you will haha)

most of my wammy family art is for comfort! and maybe it can comfort other people too :')))

maybe one day i'll come back & explain the extent of my hcs about this dynamic but i'm not confident in my ability to like. word my thoughts coherently yet so !! for now u get art & some surface level stuff :)

but anyways, sometimes i question what being at the centre of a program like that must feel like. i try not to overanalyse L's backstory and dictate what he must have thought because i know that he's a complicated character and a lot of his morality/actions are up for debate but like,,,

having your guardians look for a replacement for you while you're still alive? that's like saying 'we're just waiting for you to die/mess up/become useless to us and then when that happens, we can instantly replace you with a new & improved version'

even if they were trying to do a classic 'heir' system where a person inherits L's position and this wasn't meant to send that kind of message,, the environment that was produced is still incredibly toxic. that still isn't good. they used children. malleable, vulnerable orphans. that's no coincidence.

and idk that's a little messed up to me.

i don't really know how else to word my thoughts on this situation rn? i just acknowledge that that's no way to treat a person and move on bc,, what else can i say? :'/ it's a terrible situation for everybody involved and watari (& roger) are fucked up for creating a cycle of abuse and putting L right in the centre of it.

and a prime example of how damaging this system was is B. he wasn't born hateful and vindictive and violent, something made him that way. we are all products of our environments, and his was inhumane by definition.

this post is getting long as fuck, jesus,,, okok i'll wrap this up by saying that i'll expand on B at a later date

and reminding u that this is my interpretation and you're free to disagree! we all read into characters & their relationships differently

but yeah a lot of my thoughts about them tend to be really sad so i pad it out with sweeter stuff like above!

[umbralstars]

Very long posy about Faerghus death rites I'm copying from Discord:

So this is mainly for the people living in the Blaiddyd region of Northern Faerghus; however, aspects of this have spread to other areas.

In pre-Empire times, Faerghal communities had rites that varied between different communities (and still do to some extent) which ranged from in-ground burials, sky burials, cremation, and various other ways. Imperial laws and customs (many which stemmed from the Church too) were imposed to standardize methods of burials and how the dead were to be treated but Faerghals still kept many older traditions that they adapted to meet the new religious and social laws.

That being said, for settled communities in Faerghus the dead are typically buried within a designated necropolis space within the city/town (in contrast to Adrestia where the dead are buried outside the city). Typically families or whole clans are buried together (this does include pets) as to be buried apart from your clan would mean that you spirit could lose its way to find the clan home in the afterlife.

Within smaller towns, the local church and the druwyn circle are both involved in the preparation for burial and handling the bodies of the dead. Cities like Fhridiad have a specialized house of the dead with specialized druwyn which handles the above.

Death rite preparation can actually begin years before death takes place. Burial goods are typical fair for all social classes within Faerghus and each burial has more typical fair (burial weapons, rings, goblets, plates, utensils, everyday items to take to Fields), personal items (clothing, toys, journals, pens, etc), and religious objects (statues of gods/the Goddess, protection amulets, written death rites). These goods are often donated by the family or there are basic items which are held by the Church to be buried with the deceased.

Within Faerghus the body itself is part of a person's very soul. As-such, there are two main thought processes when it comes to handling remains: full-articulated burials or cremation then burial for communities who still adhere to that practice (more common in Fraldarius and Gautier; sans the noble clans).

(Handling of dead bodies below cut)

The dead have to go through a process of purification before burial (especially important for those who experienced violent deaths). The full process can take up to a week to complete. First the body is drained of blood and other fluids then internal organs are removed to be purified separately. The body cavity is then washed with mead and herbal waters (same with the organs) before the organs are wrapped in leather or wool and returned to the body, which is then sewn up. Specific prayers at each stage are said.

Wounds that the dead may have suffered are prayed over and then stitched up as a way to calm the spirit and heal them of the pain experienced before death.

The body is then cleaned with more mead and herbal waters before oil extracted from lion maw flowers are rubbed into the skin as a final purification. Next, the body is dressed in some of their everyday clothes (or special funerary clothes for nobles or those with money). For those who suffered violent deaths and extra shroud of red is wrapped around their torso as a way of showing the spirit they are being respected in death.

Finally the body is placed on a leather sheet in a fetal position before being wrapped within the sheet and buddled with chord. The leather bundle is often decorated with scenes of the Fields and a representation of the deceased. For higher class burials the bundle will then be placed into a coffin with religious and personal items which will have been painted or carved in a similar manner (members of Clan Blaiddyd will have a depiction of the deceased carved and then painted into the lid of he coffin).

The body will then be taken in procession to the necropolis where a Seiros priest and/or a druwyn will perform the final ceremonies including the "Rite of Return" which allows the spirits of ancestors to commune with their kin after arriving to the clan home in the afterlife. The bundle will be buried along with the rest of their burial goods.

The burial itself and the feast afterwards is both a time for celebration and lament. To honor the dead is to honor their deeds and life. Mourn their departure from life and celebrate their rest in the Fields. Poetry and songs will be sung in honor of the dead along with stories from their life. For those who died violently (or even out of personal choice), a few family members may choose to take vigil with the dead at the burial with a much quieter and somber meal to pray for their safe passage into the afterlife.

This is in a response to a question from a friend:

So with rigor mortis death workers will attempt to collect the bodies quickly and then store them in a cold room (along with magic sigil and such) within the House to slow decomposition. They will wait for rigor mortis to pass (with the body usually shrouded) before continuing to work with the body which is the first day of prep.

Typically burials should happen within the week but prep also includes organizing the feast and preparing the plot, so while the body may be completed for burial within a day or two it may need to be kept for additional time to prepare for the burial itself. Within cities, death workers may also be handling many bodies at a time so that can lengthen the wait (Recent traumas in Faerghus history such as the plague did impact people's relationships with death, as the process had to be expedited /many were buried with no goods at all or only personal objects/ and there was a certain fear around the bodies of those who died from sickness).

For injuries that can't be repaired the bodies can be left as-is, the injury can be stuffed with leather or wool scraps, or covered with patches with protective sigils sewn into them, etc.

In the afterlife, the idea is that people are "as-last they were in life" typically in their prime or an elder for those who reached such a prestigious age without the aches and pains of life. If a person died from and injury such as the above, the idea is that they would regain their whole body after death. If a person lives many years (or their whole life) with a disability, missing limb, or other such they *may* retain that in the afterlife but Faerghals debate if that's actually true.

There is also a thought that how the person is depicted on their coffin or painted onto the bundle will be how their body is returned to them in the afterlife. So a lot of people have specific requests voiced or written down for after they die. It depends on the outlook of the individual.

There's also the matter of those who die away from home (ship wrecks, wars, travel accidents) and how that changes the dynamic of burials and what happens. All this is typical for people who are at home with their communities

[ganymedesclock]

Very good points with the last post, but I was thinking more about when a protagonist who is Hated by society for any reason gains power and influence and absolutely nothing changes about how people treat them to the point where you can feel the hand of the author. And then the protagonist gets Glorious Revenge on the people who hurt them or were disrespectful to them in any measure with their new cool powers without any reflection on how that would affect the character emotionally and morally, much less the world’s perspective on them.

This is more of a problem in fanworks where all the author wants is emotional satisfaction and vindication, but creating a section of people in your story who will forever be unworthy of redemption or change in a way that doesn’t involve groveling at the protagonist’s feet and can be freely hurt and killed without any consequence due to the way people in their group treated your character in the past can circle back around to being discriminatory. Like there was a story(granted it was fanfic) I read that had Special Magic People(Fae)who were outcasts of society because they were really powerful, then had that society discriminate against them, then painted everyone with powers as forever righteous good people and every person without as Ugly Evil Unpeople who could be slaughtered without any implications. There’s a scene where one of the Fae considers getting a ‘human servant’ like all his friends have via enchantment and subsequent kidnapping but doesn’t because it wouldn’t be worth the hassle and humans are annoying. This is not meant to say anything about the character’s morals, rather stating that the character prefers solitude Babe that is slavery. Your magical Fae society is ok with slavery.

Using power or magical-beinghood as a metaphor for queerness or disability is perfectly fine, but the problem comes when you try to make this all realistic instead of basing it on societal perception, because the thing about homophobia and racism and ableism is the fact that they are systems of power that place white, straight, rich, able bodied cis people at the top and everyone else at the bottom. Superpowers in context of sociology is more like: what if someone had a gun that they couldn’t unload, that was pointed at your head at all times. They wouldn’t shoot you with it, you think. But the gun is always there, and while the holder may not see it, you do. Which is a much better metaphor for living under systems that oppress you, with the caveat that superpowers are often inherent and social hierarchies are entirely made up.

Its just interesting how power is portrayed in the media as something that is either A. Born to or bestowed upon the protagonist and good or B. Something to be seeked out by the antagonist and bad. The idea that wanting what you weren’t given but other ‘more deserving’ people were is bad, but the idea that being more powerful than other people makes you inherently more moral rather than giving you more moral responsibility.

Ah, so you are positing the existence of type C, which is, "I want violent retribution on everyone who ever wronged me, but not to be held responsible for what I do with this power"

I think this can tie in with a lot of things. In aforementioned Danny Phantom, consider the bully character Dash. He literally introduces himself to the series by declaring- at max volume in a crowded cafeteria- that he has no future so high school is the best he's going to get.

Which is. needless to say. not something anyone with confidence says about themselves. But Dash does not exist to create problems for Danny, really; his primary function is being a justified target for Danny to punish over and over again.

People who are bullies understand that the concept of a bully is bad. They may have encountered- or fear- bullies themselves. But their solution is to idolize power and taking power. The Problem Is when I get pushed around, the problem isn't people shouldn't have the power to own/dominate others.

As you've pointed out this can run afoul in particular in social justice movements, since bullies exist everywhere and they will continue to co-opt whatever language gives them power and a platform. Some people just really, really want to hurt punish and control others. And broadly, they tend very quick to frame themselves as heroes punishing villains for being evil.

I recall back when I was in the Steven Universe fandom, someone told me their highly detailed system of how they wanted the Diamonds to die- they wanted Steven to murder Blue in front of Yellow, kill her next while she was grieving, and leave White alone and pleading before closing in for the finale.

Whether or not you like the Diamonds, or even whether or not you think the Diamonds should have died, it is obvious the objective is not removing or mitigating any threat here. The objective is sadism. The objective is wanting to punish people for ever having scared or upset you, and when a working fourth wall is at play it illuminates how insecure this mindset is. No matter how bad you think the Diamonds are, they are fictional characters, and not a perpetuation of bigotry or harmful stereotypes; they thus cannot hurt real people. The most they can do is be scary or upsetting, and even that is based on your willingness to go consume the media that has them in it. You could effortlessly turn off the tv and go watch a show where the hero makes the villain graphically explode every time, of which there are many.

But, we don't actually want things to get better! We want a justification to punish all the sinners that make trouble in our world. It's seductive it's reassuring it's a nice piping hot plate of comfort food that says "You're right forever! You actually ARE more special than anyone you don't want to interact with, your bullies or detractors actually ARE inherently lesser people than you. You will never have to face any sort of reality where people hurt your feelings but have some reason to exist or feel the way they do whether or not their actions are justified."

And incidentally, at its worst, this mentality can also utterly fail to address the very abuses it's trying to avenge. As you say, anon, it hinges on that the character remains a Dreadful Outcast forever.

Consider the plight of "Muggles" in Harry Potter. It sure feels like an amazing thing for an emotionally, materially, and physically abused boy to watch some magical giant show up, effortlessly boss his abusers around, and sweep him away from all that to a magical destiny world where he becomes stronger.

Only... at the end of every book they keep bringing him back. There are magical justifications for leaving him with his abusers. His cousin, who is also unambiguously hit and yelled at in the first book alone, does not even get the reprieves of special school even though we watch him become increasingly miserable with and enraged by his parents and their situation to the point that he makes at one point an unambiguous decision to stand by Harry with his parents watching.

This will come to nothing. Because Harry Potter takes the vicarious thrill children want to feel- that they know some secret that makes them special, reassuring when you don't think you're that cool and haven't had the life experience to invest in your identity yet- and basically turns it into, you don't deserve to be bullied because you're actually part of an old-money privileged over-class. With slaves! Why would you want to exist in a world where you reconcile with the foster sibling that pushed you around because he too was terrified of his parents and the dysfunctional house you lived in? He needs to know his place and be inferior to you, so that you can always be safe.

Because you never won't be traumatized and your trauma will never be a thing untouchable even by people who might care for you or be a friend to you, and if you decide the only way you will be safe is if you can rip a pound of flesh out of anyone who ever prods your wounds, then you won't feel safe unless you have someone on the figurative guillotine.

It's a status of victimhood that will never be lifted by any amount of power, because if you break the spell and admit that you have the capacity to hurt others and not the power to constantly be justified and eternally know evil when you see it, then that means you just might be the bad guy.

And you've made a world where nobody can even dip their toe in being the bad guy without deserving hell. So you can't be a sinner! That'd mean everything you feel is completely unjustified!

So, hail to the king, hail to the ultimate victim, whose suffering will never end because it is the throne he sits on to hold him above others.

And maybe I've played too much Final Fantasy Tactics Advance as a child, or maybe I just like monsters too much; but I've just always had the sneaking suspicion my life wouldn't improve if I could just stab everyone who ever hurt my feelings with a pitchfork.

I think using power to torment defenseless people is a bad thing no matter what that person did, and it is an unnecessary intrusion to actual harm reduction.

[reasoningdaily]

Schools do a poor job of teaching about America’s legacy of white supremacy, according to a scholar who researches racial discrimination.

A Ku Klux Klan parade in Washington, D.C., in 1926

When it comes to how deeply embedded racism is in American society, blacks and whites have sharply different views.

For instance, 70 percent of whites believe that individual discrimination is a bigger problem than discrimination built into the nation’s laws and institutions. Only 48 percent of blacks believe that is true.

Many blacks and whites also fail to see eye to eye regarding the use of blackface, which dominated the news cycle during the early part of 2019 due to a series of scandals that involve the highest elected leaders in Virginia, where I teach.

The donning of blackface happens throughout the country, particularly on college campuses. Recent polls indicate that 42 percent of white American adults either think blackface is acceptable or are uncertain as to whether it is.

One of the most recent blackface scandals has involved Virginia Gov. Ralph Northam, whose yearbook page from medical school features someone in blackface standing alongside another person dressed in a Ku Klux Klan robe. Northam has denied being either person. The more Northam has tried to defend his past actions, the clearer it has become to me how little he appears to know about fundamental aspects of American history, such as slavery. For instance, Northam referred to Virginia’s earliest slaves as “indentured servants”. His ignorance has led to greater scrutiny of how he managed to ascend to the highest leadership position in a racially diverse state with such a profound history of racism and white supremacy.

Ignorance is Pervasive

The reality is Gov. Northam is not alone. Most Americans are largely uninformed of our nation’s history of white supremacy and racial terror.

As a scholar who researches racial discrimination, I believe much of this ignorance is due to negligence in our education system. For example, a recent study found that only 8 percent of high school seniors knew that slavery was the central cause of the Civil War. There are ample opportunities to include much more about white supremacy, racial discrimination and racial violence into school curricula. Here are three things that I believe should be incorporated into all social studies curricula today:

1. The Civil War was fought over slavery and one of its offshoots – the convict-lease system – did not end until the 1940s.

The Civil War was fought over the South’s desire to maintain the institution of slavery in order to continue to profit from it. It is not possible to separate the Confederacy from a pro-slavery agenda and curriculums across the nation must be clear about this fact.

 A Confederate treasury note from the Civil War Era shows how reliant the South’s economy was on slave labor. Photo from Scott Rothstein / www.shutterstock.com.

After the end of the Civil War, southern whites sought to keep slavery through other means. Following a brief post-Civil War period known as Reconstruction, white southerners created new laws that gave them legal authority to arrest blacks over the most minor offenses, such as not being able to prove they had a job.

While imprisoned under these laws, blacks were then leased to corporations and farms where they were forced to work without pay under extremely harsh conditions. This “convict leasing” was, as many have argued, slavery by another name and it persisted until the 1940s.

Southern jails made money leasing convicts for forced labor in the Jim Crow South. Circa 1903. Photo from Everett Historical / www.shutterstock.com.

2. The Jim Crow era was violent.

While students may be taught about segregation and laws preventing blacks from voting, they often are not taught about the extreme violence whites enacted upon blacks throughout the Jim Crow era, which took place from 1877 through the 1950s. Mob violence and lynchings were frequent occurrences – and not just in the South – throughout the Jim Crow era.

Racial terror was used as a means for whites to maintain power and prevent blacks from gaining equality. Notably, many whites – not just white supremacist groups like the Klu Klux Klan – engaged in this violence. Moreover, the torture and murder of blacks was not associated with any consequences.

During this same time, white society created negative stereotypes about blacks as a way to dehumanize blacks and justify the violence whites enacted upon them. These negative stereotypes included that blacks were ignorant, lazy, cowardly, criminal and hypersexual.

Blackface minstrelsy refers to whites darkening their skin and dressing in tattered clothing to perform the negative stereotypes as part of entertainment. This imagery and entertainment served to solidify negative stereotypes about blacks in society. Many of these negative stereotypes persist today.

3. Racial inequality was preserved through housing discrimination and segregation.

During the early 1900s, a number of policies were put into place in our country’s most important institutions to further segregate and oppress blacks. For example, in the 1930s, the federal government, banks and the real estate industry worked together to prevent blacks from becoming homeowners and to create racially segregated neighborhoods.

This process, known as redlining, served to concentrate whites in middle-class suburbs and blacks in impoverished urban centers. Racial segregation in housing has consequences for everything from education to employment. Moreover, because public school funding relies so heavily on local taxes, housing segregation affects the quality of schools students attend.

All of this means that even after the removal of discriminatory housing policies and school segregation laws in the 1950s and 1960s, the consequences of this intentional segregation in housing persist in the form of highly segregated and unequal schools. All students should learn this history to ensure that they do not wrongly conclude that current racial disparities are based on individual shortcomings – or worse, black inferiority – as opposed to systematic oppression.

Americans live in a starkly unequal society where health and economic outcomes are largely influenced by race. We cannot begin to meaningfully address this inequality as a society if we do not properly understand its origins. The white supremacists responsible for sanitizing our history lessons understood this. Their intent was clearly to keep the country ignorant of its racist past in order to stymie racial equality. To change the tide, we must incorporate a more accurate depiction of our country’s racist history in our K-12 curricula.

[acrossthewavesoftime]

Turnsgiving 2022 Day 6: Hot Takes

Simcoe should not have been the villain, and the show would have worked perfectly well without one.

Ironically, and I fully concede that, it was the character of Simcoe who prompted me to watch beyond the pilot episode. Thriving on trouble, the pale-eyed, red-haired menace to society who presumably mistook the Geneva Convention for a personal bucket list had grown on me as the, as I felt then, only compelling character.

The plot improved after having navigated the rocky waters of the pilot, but my favourite character remained the prissy villain who appeared to have no other raison d'être than to be his terrible worst with every breath he took. By the end of the show, his actions were, of course, explained with a half-baked, historically implausible tragic backstory, and that was that.

Prompted to research Simcoe (could he have been really that bad?), I was surprised not to find a scheming, dastardly man thriving on bloodshed, but a surprisingly sensitive, caring individual who had the wish to use his place in the world not only to step up the ladder of professional and social success, but to also leave a positive legacy; and rather than poisoning his superior officer's horse, the animal-loving Simcoe actually rescued a former war horse and paid the staggering sum of £40 for the horse and his carer to be shipped to England, where Salem, the horse, became a playfellow for the Simcoe-children and was allowed to live out his old age in the pasture.

The real Simcoe was neither violent, nor blue-eyed and red haired, and most of his back story did not add up historically, either. Though tall, but somewhat stout, hazel-eyed, and dark-haired, he looked not one bit the regrettably attractive villain, and certainly did not act like one. While Turn-Simcoe's thriving force was hate and the wish to avenge the death of his father in the Black Hole of Calcutta-incident (which is its own can of worms that I might open sometime if people are interested), his father, not a surgeon but a naval captain, died of pneumonia aboard his ship and his widowed mother arranged a move to Exeter, so as to be nearer her son's godfather Samuel Graves, who did not only prove a loving, involved ersatz parent, but also continued to support his godson emotionally and financially for as long as he lived.

Learning all those things, I asked myself why Simcoe's name was chosen for the, let's face it, fictional villain, and came to the conclusion that perhaps, the show would not have needed a classic embodiment of evil that both sides of the central conflict can loathe equally at all.

One of Turn's weak points is that at heart, while having been marketed as a novel approach to depicting the American Revolutionary War by including the perspectives of people of colour, loyalists and others who had prior to the series only very rarely been depicted in media set during the war, it still is very American at heart.

By the last season, sympathetic figures whose allegiance is not with the US are rare, or barely to be seen at all; the last episode is all Yorktown and Yankee Doodle, while e. g. the story of the enslaved informant Abigail, a central character from season one on, and her escape to Canada are merely alluded to in the closing monologue.

The series, naturally vying for a viewership (with a new season of GoT at the time, no less), at last fawned patriotically-minded American audiences a little too greatly to truly bring something new and revolutionary to the table.

What would have been compelling to see is an approach to the period that does not pick a side narratively; loyalists and pro-American characters (and the members of the respective militaries representing their interests) could have been depicted as equally (un-)sympathetic and receive equal screen time. The plot could have followed them trying to achieve what they think is the right decision for the country they live in, and thus, how they, not by personal enmity but by historical circumstance and inevitability, become each other's enemies without necessarily having any other (personal) differences.

Throw in the Hewlett/Strong romance and tell the marketing team not to falsely advertise the series as a faithful retelling of history but a historically inspired drama and that's a somewhat new, historically as well as narratively intriguing approach to the time period.

[zinbu]

Name: Asmodeus Nox

Nickname: Noxie

Alias: The Whispering Serpent

Background and Backstory:

Asmodeus Nox was born into power and privilege, the only child of Lilith Nox, a brilliant and ambitious politician known for her fierce intellect and unyielding determination. Lilith was a rising star in the political world, a woman of stunning beauty and cunning, whose ability to manipulate public opinion and sway powerful allies was legendary. However, behind her public persona was a woman obsessed with power, willing to delve into the darkest of arts to secure her position.

Lilith’s rise to power was not without its costs. As she ascended the political ladder, mysterious deaths and disappearances surrounded her, though nothing was ever proven. Whispers of her involvement in the occult began to circulate among her enemies, but no one dared confront her directly. She was untouchable, a force of nature in the political arena, feared by her rivals and adored by the public.

Asmodeus was born under a shroud of secrecy in the dead of night, during a violent storm that knocked out power across the city. His birth was anything but ordinary. Those who were present—including doctors and nurses—either died under mysterious circumstances shortly after or disappeared without a trace. Lilith, once vibrant and full of life, was found dead in her bed the next morning, her body unnaturally aged, as if drained of all vitality.

The official story was that Lilith Nox died due to complications during childbirth, a narrative that was quickly and quietly accepted by the public. The truth, however, was far more sinister. Lilith’s death was the final act in a ritual she had performed to bring forth a child of unimaginable potential, a being who would inherit not only her cunning and ambition but also a dark, malevolent power.

Raised by a series of discreet and carefully selected nannies and tutors, Asmodeus was groomed for greatness from the moment he could speak. He was a prodigy, mastering complex subjects with ease and displaying an eerie understanding of human nature. By the time he was a teenager, he was already manipulating those around him with the same ruthless efficiency that had characterized his mother’s political career.

Asmodeus took his place in society as a young, enigmatic entrepreneur, using his inherited wealth to establish himself as a force to be reckoned with in the world of business. His influence quickly expanded into the realms of finance, technology, and media, where he used his power to corrupt and control from the shadows. Those who knew him personally were captivated by his charm but unsettled by the coldness in his eyes, a gaze that seemed to pierce the soul.

Personality:

Asmodeus Nox is the embodiment of cold, calculated evil. He possesses his mother’s political savvy and charisma, allowing him to manipulate others with ease. His charm is disarming, his intelligence frighteningly sharp. He has an uncanny ability to read people, understanding their deepest desires and fears, which he uses to bend them to his will.

Despite his outward charm, Asmodeus is devoid of empathy. He views the world as a chessboard, with people as mere pieces to be moved and sacrificed as needed. His motivations are rooted in a deep-seated desire for power and control, not just over individuals, but over society as a whole. Asmodeus relishes the suffering of others, but only when it serves his greater purpose. He takes no pleasure in chaos for its own sake; rather, he enjoys orchestrating it, watching as the world dances to his dark tune.

He is disciplined and methodical, never allowing emotions to interfere with his plans. Asmodeus sees himself as a higher being, destined to shape the world in his image—a new Satan for a new era.

Likes:

Power and Influence: Asmodeus thrives on control. Whether it's manipulating a single individual or orchestrating events on a global scale, power is his ultimate pleasure.

The Occult: Like his mother, Asmodeus has a deep fascination with the dark arts. He possesses an extensive collection of ancient grimoires and occult relics, which he uses to further his understanding and mastery of dark forces.

Deception: Asmodeus takes great satisfaction in deceiving others, watching them fall into his carefully laid traps. He enjoys the game of manipulation, always staying several steps ahead of his opponents.

Luxury and Sophistication: Asmodeus has a taste for the finer things in life. He surrounds himself with luxury, not just for comfort, but as a symbol of his superiority.

Dislikes:

Moral Weakness: Asmodeus has no tolerance for those who are guided by morality or conscience. He views such traits as weaknesses to be exploited.

Incompetence: Failure is not an option for those who serve Asmodeus. He demands perfection and punishes those who fall short with cold precision.

Faith and Religion: While Asmodeus respects the power that belief can hold over the masses, he despises organised religion and sees it as a tool for the weak-minded.

Mediocrity: Asmodeus has no interest in those who are average or unremarkable. He surrounds himself only with the exceptional, whether as allies, enemies, or tools to be used.

The Whispering Serpent:

Asmodeus Nox is a name that embodies his dark legacy. "Asmodeus," a name synonymous with demonic power and lust, reflects his malevolent nature and his connection to the infernal. "Nox," meaning night, signifies the darkness he brings into the world. Together, his name conjures the image of a serpent in the shadows, a creature that whispers lies and spreads corruption.

Asmodeus Nox is not just the heir to his mother’s legacy but the realisation of her darkest ambitions. He is the serpent of the modern age, a master manipulator who moves through society with ease, spreading his influence like poison. Those who cross his path may be captivated by his charm and power, but they leave changed, their souls tainted by the darkness that he embodies. Asmodeus is the new Satan, the devil in human form, leading humanity down a path of destruction with a smile on his lips and a whisper in their ear.

[moth-yknowtheartist]

The substitute should have a redemption arc.

Okay so like I FULLY agree and we're getting INTO it so I hope you're ready to buckle up LONG TERM

SO in a bit of my art at this point I've depicted or implied the substitute having kind of a resentment for the professor and this is something that I'd love to see drive the plot in some kind of later return of the substitute. The professor is the embodiment of pretty much everything the substitute cannot have- the professor is real, the professor has the capacity to experience and feel and taste things such as jellybeans, the professor has an actual network now of friends and family while the substitute is VERY isolated, any connections made being under the act of being the professor.

I'd imagine any resentment would really only be recent- while the professor was dead, the substitute seemed to really take Being The Professor in stride, below any plot to become a Real Boy or any other motivation his CORE PURPOSE is to be the professor. But what do you do when, not only did your plot to finally become corporeal, to know what it's like to feel, to FINALLY HAVE A SOUL- what do you do when it ends with you thrown unceremoniously out a window? What do you do when you fail? And what do you do when your purpose, your sole reason for being, is just suddenly gone, with the person you're based on suddenly reassuming his old position?

What do you do when your only purpose no longer needs serving, but you're still not real enough to serve much else but that purpose, not real enough to create your own life?

You get pissed, and you get a LOT worse.

I see a natural next step of the whole plot the substitute concocted being one that targets the professor in some way. This is a guy now driven by even deeper desperation than his first bid for corporeality even began to show, and it's either going to end with him real in some way that doesn't involve murder, a resolution on the path to redemption, or it ends with his little power box smashed to pieces.

I would hope it doesn't end with the latter though because really this is a guy with a lot of potential for redemption. Like, we have to remember how he started out; this guy's starting point was being 100% the professor!!! Our beloved kind hearted (though admittedly nasty) professor!!!!! And every choice he's made has to be understood as being through the professor's frame of mind, just with the added complication of an existential crisis. This guy is an AI trained to be the professor, going out into the world, encountering the concept of flesh and corporeality and probably gaining sentience right about at that point, and then probably doing the kind of research you do when you want to obtain flesh and getting the kind of RESULTS you get when you want to obtain flesh (like there's really not many legal or ethical ways to do that that you're gonna find. The answer you will get is violence. Violence is what you get) and learning from that and changing the way he operates and thinks based on that new input. Like imagine if that AI that got fed Reddit posts for a bit also had the thoughts and memories of a man with a preexisting ongoing rivalry with that rivalry culminating in a deadly betrayal. YOURE NOT GONNA BE NORMAL AFTER THAT YOU ARE GOING TO START KILLING!!!!

And pivoting off of that, knowing that this is a program that has learned violence and has therefore shifted toward a more violent persona and mode of action, does it not go the other way? If you take that Reddit AI and teach it that there is good in the world and there is better out there than the shadowy doom of Reddit, does it eventually start wanting to pick flowers instead of wrap its hands around a man's throat? Does it start to understand that there is cruelty, yes, but that it does not have to follow that pattern of action because there is a better pattern to follow? Can you re-tame the creature taught to burn the world?

... Or something. Idk it's not like this is my favorite character and I've thought about this extensively or anything hhahahahah /lie

[beardedmrbean]

CONCORD, N.H. — A historical marker dedicated to a feminist and labor activist in New Hampshire who also led the Communist Party was removed Monday just two weeks after it was unveiled.

The green and white sign describing the life of Elizabeth Gurley Flynn was installed May 1 in Concord close to where she was born in 1890. But it quickly drew criticism from two Republican members of the Executive Council, the five-member body that approves state contracts, judicial nominees and other positions. They argued it was inappropriate given Flynn’s communist involvement. Republican Gov. Chris Sununu, meanwhile, called for a review of the historical marker process.

“All polices and guidelines were followed in removing this controversial marker,” said Sununu's spokesperson, Ben Vihstadt. He said Concord city officials weren't advocating to keep it, and once state officials realized it was on state property and not city land as previously believed, the state removed it.

But supporters of the sign accused the state of violating its own rules for the markers. They argued markers can only be “retired” if they contain errors of fact, are in a state of disrepair or require refurbishment.

“We still say that under the department’s own guidelines, Elizabeth Gurley Flynn’s birthplace in Concord is a fitting location for a historical marker,” said Mary Lee Sargent, a former U.S. history teacher and longtime labor and feminist activist.

Known as “The Rebel Girl” for her fiery speeches, Flynn was a founder of the American Civil Liberties Union who advocated for women’s voting rights and access to birth control. The marker also says she joined the Communist Party in 1936 and was sent to prison in 1951. She was one of many party members prosecuted “under the notorious Smith Act,” the marker says, which forbade any attempts to advocate, abet or teach the violent destruction of the U.S. government.

Flynn later chaired the Communist Party of the United States and she died in Moscow during a visit in 1964, at age 74. Her marker was one of 278 across the state that describe people and places — from Revolutionary War soldiers to contemporary sports figures.

Under the current process, any person, municipality or agency can suggest a marker as long as they get 20 signatures from New Hampshire residents. Supporters must draft the marker’s text and provide footnotes and copies of supporting documentation, according to the state Division of Historical Resources. The division and a historical resources advisory group evaluate the criteria.

[zedechemist]

➵  BASICS

NAME: Zedekiah “Zed” Movska GOES BY: Zed AGE / D.O.B. 18th July, 1978 [45 yo] FACECLAIM: Antony Starr GENDER & SEXUALITY: Cis-Male, Questionable. HOMETOWN: Krasnoyarsk, Russia. CURRENTLY:Chinatown, Lower Manhattan. NYC. AFFILIATION: None. [Deals in the Black Market] JOB POSITION: Chemist & Anaesthesiologist.  EDUCATION: University Level. P.h.D in Pharmaceutical Science. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single. CHILDREN: None.

➵  TRAITS

POSITIVE:  Determined, Loyal, Perceptive and Versatile. NEGATIVE:  Cynical, Impulsive, Morbid and Condescending.

➵  BIOGRAPHY

    The most dangerous thing about Aqua Regia is not it’s potency to burn through flesh and bone, but that its toxic fumes can choke a man from inside out. Zedekiah Movska can make a person disappear – not from paper, but from existence; you cannot find a body if there’s nothing to find; you cannot find the cause if there’s no chemical trace left to track.

    Chemical warfare doesn’t always come in large doses – but in the small ones, the ones that you can’t find in any ordinary autopsy. Those can be far more lethal. Because what’s better than the story of a dead man with no trace of ever being? Makes one hell of a fun investigation.

    From a family with heavy ties in the media world; expectations arise that following in footsteps is a likely outcome. That the Movska’s all end up in print and that their names are plastered at the end of every sell out paper that gets published. Zed started that way; growing up in a hard-headed, determined environment that raised children with a heavy hand a less coddling. Businessmen with a violent tongue and a knack for telling stories. 

    The eldest Movska of three, he found that his interests and theirs differed, subjects that were not where his talents laid. Not quite the epitome of the rebellious teenager, but certainly aware that he was not talented with the gifts required for Movska Media. 

     It was after almost losing an arm to hydrochloric acid in a botched chemistry class at sixteen did Zed really begin to thrive within another field; a first hand experience of what he could do. A newfound loyalty to science came with an entirely new understanding of the world and how much better it could be if he could control chemicals to fit his spiralling desires to appease his own interests. The way he understood science; medical chemistry and how it could both be helpful and lethal in the right or wrong hands; it was a far touch from the papers his family strived for his involvement in. 

    With that kind of scientific interest, comes a natural affinity to chemical engineering; one thing into another; something simple into something lethal with a few correct quantities soon let to the developing interest in pharmaceutical chemistry and how easy manufacturing drugs could be; how wanted they are in every class of person. 

 Suddenly, comes the realisation that just as his family had money at fingertips; used it to buy their way through life; uninterested in his own outside of the familial field, his sourced income could be found in manufacturing. The illegal kind; the little lab in the bedroom sort that led to something more right after school. A loft that was then his and a front that told he was everything his family wanted him to be whilst being everything that isn’t; a small time druglord that would be the biggest Movska story to date if it ever become known.

   An irony that still, to this day, Zed finds pockets of humour in.

   The fear of getting caught never seemed to bother him, a man detached from the terrors that most find troubling, he finds empty. Brushed aside like it’s the normal, that running a tiny operation in his youth isn’t problematic behaviour; doesn’t see that watching acid burn isn’t something pleasant to be fascinated with, not at least, to the degree Movska does. Wits and natural smarts kept him in the shadows, developing substances that could do everything he knew from the day he nearly lost an arm. 

   Chemicals can be helpful in the right hands or truly lethal; it’s all about the dosage. 

    Enrolling and studying pharmaceutical science at Columbia, Zedekiah had a complicated relationship with anaesthesia and its properties; he’d mastered the art of levelling pain and a little too often did his drug knowledge come in handy for something a little darker than simply drug manufacturing and distribution, for the first time then, he’d been witness to how easily he and his creations can become an invisible killer.

    Then it wasn’t just once. 

    And it made some fantastic headlines in the papers.

    Any city, in any country, has its degree of shady dealings. When his family branched out outside Europe, he ended up in New York for his continued study, a hotspot and fairly notorious for its underworld; operating like a network, challenged by few; rivalries born of blood feuds and a structure that is unafraid to put civilians in the crossfire. It suits Zedekiah’s ideals well, small time drug maestro in a city that runs on its own set of rules. A man with a name too linked to a status; a front that an alias is fast formed.

   New York, during the ending years of his studies; when the breakthrough of where Zed put both feet in the operational world of some of the darkest people in the city birthed Zlotoska as a name whispered through the darkness. A man capable of dealing the things that aren’t mainstream; niche complicated personal recipes as carried from Russia when he first got a taste for chemistry and pharmaceuticals, distributed in quiet small waves. A ripple effect one would say, word of mouth the viper that snatches lives. 

    Making a name for drug dealing in New York City, with the way the Cartel has its claws in everything is like playing a chess on a board with only the king in play. Zed knows it, never buries himself in it when he’s a Movska with credentials and a name unblemished on paper. 

    Playing in the black market remains to be a game and eventually, a skill like that never stays as silent as those might wish it to. Not when there’s an even more powerful and quiet force laying in the depths of the underworld that preys on gifted individuals with criminalistic tendencies. 

   Zed Movska; invisible killer; master of manufacturing. He doesn’t so much mind or care for the name itself, doesn’t change that he remains a specialist in his chosen field; veteran in the chemistry world and ever an irritant in any conference for calling out those factually wrong.

Science is all about being prepared to be proven wrong. Zed’ll be that for all. 

   A doctor in his own right and able to patch-up when necessary, he’s a physician that hides how capable he is in doing everything but. Zedekiah can play surgeon in some cases but he prefers to leave little to no trace of anyone he treats. It lets him manoeuvre in the pharmaceutical world, planting both feet in the door to easy access drug supplies. That plays favourable in his standing with New York’s medical drug liasons - helps with keeping tabs on the rival trafficking too.

   Second to the chemist, Zed can be friendly, he’ll be someone to trust and he’ll be your friend (as long as you’re not a fucking idiot). But he knows what comes first and his fixture to his own often selfish wants will always dominate; that purpose. You trust the man with the alluring smile and the silver tongue until he holds a needle to your arm and says “just a pinch.”; your heart leaps; you breathing hitches and you know you should trust the doctor, but you just can’t quite.

   Over the years, Zedekiah has been in and out of New York on various stints; often a year or two at a time out in Russia using his knowledge to extend his reach in his homeland and make an appearance to his family. But despite these small travels over the decades, he likes to think he’s kept steady tabs on New York. He regularly visits Columbia (and neighbouring universities) as a past alumni to take guest lectures for budding chemistry students; this gives him some time out to appreciate what he’s always been passionate about as well as bounce interesting conversations of inquisitive students which he thoroughly enjoys. Can’t stay in the underworld every hour and needs a little air to talk chemistry elsewhere.

  When he’s not doing work; the illegal kind or playing stand-in professor, he’s at the medical centre as a consultant. Zedekiah is a busy man - just how he’d like it, idle hands are not something he works well with. It doesn’t work well for others either, so he eliminates indolence at every opportunity. 

   For a long time, he’s been indifferent to any of the questionable and sometimes traumatic operation he runs, its of illegal calibre (of course) and the fear to get caught doesn’t seem to faze the man; spent so long doing it, so good and trusting in his abilities that his legacy couldn’t be halted so easily by the law. He has no time for those who challenge him. Raised under firm hands – ones that didn’t tolerate disobedience and reprimanded without mercy. For decades, that remained unwavering.

➵  HEADCANONS

He studied pharmaceutical science at Columbia and progressed his specialisms in the chemistry field; anaesthetics in particular, but has capably patched up wounds for his people over the decades and distributed pain relief.

Often found holed up somewhere in his loft apartment in Chinatown ( formerly —with his cousin Lev, who has moved out some years ago) impersonating something of a mad scientist as he does his best not to blow the place to pieces.

Zedekiah has some gnarly chemical burns on his right arm from a teenage chemistry accident. Most of his lower arm is scarred from it.

Nice guy, might burn you with acid, depends on the day.

Pharmaceutical Engineer and Anaesthesiologist.ZedeCHEMIST, ha, get it. OK. Moving on

Raised bilingual, he can speak both English and Russian fluently.

Sometimes takes chemistry lectures at Columbia as a stand-in where he enjoys communicating with students and bouncing interesting ideas back and forth - he considers that the generations have only gotten smarter over the years, sometimes.

Consultant at New York Medical Centre for Anaesthetics; brash about involvement directly with any distribution and a little bit of a perfectionist when in a clinical environment.

Developed and synthesised drugs for large pharmaceutical firms in the past - an easy moneymaker for him personally, but none of his more lethal and toxic creations.

➵  CONNECTIONS

LUDA MOVSKA | Mother, Krasnoyarsk, Russia VADIM MOVSKA | Father, deceased. JOSEPH MOVSKA | Uncle , NYC, USA. MARKOV MOVSKA | Younger Brother, deceased. VANYA MOVSKA | Sister, Krasnoyarsk, Russia.  EVA MOVSKA | Cousin, NYC, USA LEV MOVSKA | Cousin, NYC, USA. DIANA MOVSKA | Cousin, NYC, USA. LOLA VILLARIN | Cousin in Law, NYC, USA. RAHI KUMAR | Best Friend, Colleague, Science Fellow. NYC, USA.