#and my rapist only lives a couple streets down

[embergalaxy]

i hate that i live in an unsafe area and cant go on walks by myself, not even during the day

[al1fers-haven]

"OH DEER"

Alastor x Vox's wife!reader

Part 1 - Part 1.5 (You're here!)

You had been at the hotel for a couple weeks now, completely ignoring the news and any form of technology that Vox could find you on, even trying to steer clear from going outside, to begin with after a couple of times trying.

You had bonded a lot with the fellow members of the Hazbin hotel, you and Angel had bonded the most it seemed. Both having worked with the Vees and had romantic and sexual relations with them, it brought you together. Especially when it came to the harder nights the porn star seemed to have because of Valentino. "So...what's your deal?" Husk looked towards you as you looked down at the margarita he had made for you about 12 minutes ago. Attempting to figure out what exactly was going on and why you were here to begin with.

"What? Oh- nothin' much. Trying to wrap my head around this whole.." You waved your hand around in the air. "Redemption thing?" Husk nodded, grabbing his own bottle of whiskey and sighing. "What? You really believe in it?" You shook your head no, giggling a little bit. "No, I've met heaven. They won't let any soul go through anytime soon unless it is someone really important. You would think if souls could be redeemed I wouldn't be here, right?" Husk sensed the slight tension at the mention of heaven. A small smile on your face. "I uh...yeahh..." He let out a small noise and opened his bottle. "Well, why are you here? Alastor got you on a leash?" You sat up at that. Suddenly getting a lot livelier at the mention of the radio demon. "Oh! No, he would never! Uhm...i ran into him on the street, we had a nice talk. He's helping me hide from my ex-husband." Husk deadpanned, pointing his bottle at you. "What?" You lifted your glass up and chuckled a bit behind it, rolling your eyes. "I seem to get that answer a lot...I ran into him after me and my husband had gotten into a huge fight. Luckily enough he is one of the many people Vox can't touch! So here I am..!" You laughed nervously. Watching as Husk got more and more confused. "You were married to Vox? as in the overlord Vox?" You deadpanned, running a hand through your hair as your smile dropped. "Well he wasn't 'Vox, head of Voxtech' when I married him! We go way back to the living world." He slowly nodded. "Is he uh....treatin you well then?" Husk took a sip of his whiskey, leaning against the table. "Oh! He's been a complete sweetie to me! Making me snacks, even getting me some new clothes from Cannibal Town!" Your cheeks grew more and more colorful as you spoke about the overlord. Take a flustered sip from your drink. "You don't-" You took a loud sip from the drink. Your face continued to get red as he stared at you. "You do!?" "Listen, its just a small thing! It ain't going anywhere...Just...having a couple dinners with the fella.." Husk rubbed his face. A shameful look on your face. "What! He's the only guy who's actually treated me like a girl and not something to wife up! Can't blame a girl can ya?" Husk nodded. "Yes, yes I can blame you." "Really? Is it that bad for me to have a small thing for Mr. Strawberryhead?" Husk sighed, rolling his eyes with a mumble. "Well, it's not horrible? I mean, just fair warning he is a horrible person." You waved your hand, putting down your drink. "Eh, I've married worse. Believe me, vox was nothing more than an obsessive drunk who can't handle being told no. As long as he doesn't force me into anything I hate, then we are good! Or hit me." Husk stared at you baffled, a horrified expression on his face. "What? Is that bad!?" Husk nodded quickly. Grabbing your drink and refilling it. "Yes! That's- That is below the bare minimum Y/n! Cmon girl, you need to think about standards- Cmon, your standards are to not date a rapist or an abuser! That's- oh god angel has better standards." You slumped a bit. "Y/n, dear! I made some fruit salad, would you like some?" Alastors voice boomed throughout the bar room, making you perk up and look towards the fellow. "Coming Alastor!" You stood up, grabbing the margarita with a smile as you looked at Husk. "Uh..." He looked towards Alastor with a growl. "Thank you...Husk. I'll think more about what I want, how about that?" The cat demon nodded slowly, turning around and cleaning out a cup or two.

[etchofsqetch]

I hate it when someone tries to get my attention but it doesn’t work. I feel like I’m missing something. Missing something important, something big, something that should be obvious. I’ve never been a nosey person myself, I’ve always stayed in my own lane; but, say I decide to get nosey, and I feel like someone is talking to me when I walk down the street. How am I supposed to know who it is that’s trying to get my attention? Why do I even care?

People are constantly talking from a location where I can’t see them standing. I’ve tried walking in the direction I hear speech from, to see if they would keep talking; but it never works. It’s always quieter the closer I get.. trying to pinpoint a sound’s location is damn near impossible with only one set of ears. I can barely tell which house has the fighting couple in it when I walk by; for example, and that’s only because they are screaming at each other. This type of experiment takes at least two people, (I think,) who can communicate and test; because, volume is important too. Not to mention that variables always change when a door is open or a window.

It’s crazy how well you can hear what’s going on in the kitchen for example; but they can’t hear you from the bedroom. Also when inside any given house, the directions that sound comes from within other rooms of the house tends to get arranged incorrectly all the time. Voices that seem to be coming from downstairs end up coming from the apartment next door, and stuff like that.

I haven’t honestly been able to figure much out about my house; because, I don’t have another person who finds this kind of thing fun and interesting, and by trying to experiment by myself, I’ve only lost my place to stay really.. well not really; I’m protected by law; but, that doesn’t mean shit in Oakland.

Never have I lived in a more dangerous place in my life. There is so much crime here, sometimes I’m afraid to leave the house. The statistics make this city one of the most dangerous places to live in the United States, and it’s reputation precedes those facts. Younger and younger children are running around with shotguns and machetes, robbing people and stealing gold bars and diamonds from the federal reserve. I just heard about a gang of seven year olds who held up a bank, and the Oakland Police Department covered it up. Can you believe that? Imagine if that kind of news would have made main stream media? It’s almost a good thing they covered it up. So far we have brought in more officers than Oakland taxpayers can afford, and seen a significant improvement.

There were only statistically 55 vehicles stolen last month, and tire sales have decreased by about two thirds. It’s hard to drive down a city block these days and not see a car on blocks, sadly..

Figuratively speaking, the people of Oakland are getting fucked. It’s hard to tell who, or what is the cause of this rampant crime and unjustified violence; but it definitely doesn’t help me personally, especially if I’m trying to get the girl down the street to show me her sewing machine.. one thing I just don’t understand; though, if snitching is such a crime here, then why are all of the citizens so noisey?

I hate to say all of the citizens; because, I meet quiet people quite often; but, these kids are uncontrollably out of line! Not to mention privacy doesn’t exist in California. I mean; why does it seem like someone not only has access to what’s on my phone; but at times it seems like they can read my mind as well. Is that what you get access to when you’ve lived in California for a whole year, or do you have to be born here for that?

Anyways, it’s like Biggie said, “it’s all a dream.” I made most of that shit up about the kids and stuff anyway; because honestly, from my observation Oakland is a pretty safe place to live. Just don’t try and speak French while you’re here, you might get shot.

And the meth will make you a deranged psychopath pedophile rapist, who wants to eat kittens and lacerate dogs with your teeth; that is, if the fentanyl doesn’t kill you first.

Stay the fuck away from Oakland!!

[vivianbernadetteaurora]

My story part five

So I left off of living with that lady who didn’t like when the alcohol ran out and would become very abusive and lonely. As I look back now I see it is lonely nice and sadness. At the time it’s been a younger girl of early 20s I saw it is funny, I saw it is hilarious but we meant twice like my age finding it funny too. Maybe they had more insight but in my head men never grow up they should’ve had the emotional capacity to realise what was really going on, but it was hard sometimes with someone who treated you like shit when you did nice things for them when you bought them blankets into their home when you bought made them nice meals and bought them all And then they still won’t happy with you, I get it. She was probably a manic depressive and they get like that and so does anyone there sometimes find it hard.

But it still doesn’t make it necessarily right she didn’t have to express it in a healthy way I truly believe that I truly don’t believe anyone’s evil apart from child murderer killers and rapist, those people have people in them, they have entities attract attached to them,

This is yeah everything is going down everything I’m in everything and everything it’s not like the day now where I’m like. Oh I sat on my face for three days straight. This is like I’m going to be in the street I’m gonna be in the street today up in business, but not being in business being part of that, but being part of the traffic background we’re not really there, but where Feeling special pedestal loving every side of it. Yeah of it too scared of it. Also even it was fine I know I’ve been treated so good the living on the edge. This wasn’t me I like my home company but I like listening to music and listen to it. I like the sort of being able to think I can get my bed tonight I went to the festival for years I never wanted to come. I didn’t want to be outside. I wanted to enjoy the show but so on, but my bed is still there and I didn’t like this kind of lifestyle it wasn’t for me. That was the one thing I would say it’s too much money or too much. Specially when you get pulled in for a . Burglary . I mean come on man. Me , who was addicted to shoplifting 👗🥿. yesterday only got a couple of times the rest of the times it was fine and I loved it and I was addicted to it. Immensely this is my first proper addiction. I believe and this is how it became diagnosed or borderline personality disorder, the dramatic type and danger. I was a menace to society, this is the part where I said fiction, but I guess I was to some degree.

[wwtj-l556]

Guo Wengui's obsession

In recent years, under the watchful eyes of the public, Guo Wengui oily, talkative, exposure content is irrelevant, rambling, even if the lie was exposed again and again, still in the force of calm, pretending to laugh, see the disgusting. What exactly is supporting Guo Wengui so brazen, grandstanding, we will talk about Guo Wengui's obsession today.

When it comes to Guo Wengui's obsession, at a small level it is the career of his survival, at a large level it is political asylum, so as not to be jailed. Guo Wengui for his obsession, just painstakingly, "fell up again", a big lie one after another, farce scam emerges in endlessly, see us dazzled at the same time, also can not help but sigh, the camera in front of the "dapper", "eloquent" middle-aged man is not crazy.

Let's talk about Guo Wengui's career. Don't look at his live video, spitting stars full screen fly, serious nonsense, can believe his Revelations, is really very few people. Guo Wengui's Revelations have already entered a dead end, on the one hand, his false Revelations can not stand scrutiny, on the other hand, the public has long been on his "audit ugly fatigue". The best example is the death of Wang Jian, people have died for a month, Guo Wengui became the world's only clinging to people, still hyping. Why is that? Can for what, Guo Wengui is not for the heart of that small obsession, Revelations cause. Finally, there is a topic, the career can be turned over, based on this, he can not easily let go.

Then again, those who followed him behind, for a good kill, nothing more than looking at Guo Wengui people silly money, profitable. Some people, network V in Guo Wengui scenery, will worship it as a god, and when Guo Wengui became a rat across the street, and abandoned such as my shoes. This alone can be seen, Guo Wengui fabricated absurd stories, is not the goal of his career, what "down with the thief", what "Himalayan", are he found a cover, so that they look less funny. Think about it, a wanted criminal, without some cover, sitting there into the god of the erotic story of the Communist Party senior officials, this person is not sick, who will believe. To this, we'll see, Guo Wengui said what is not important, because is bullshit, the key lies in Guo Wengui soul is read, fantasy by the fact of the surreal absurdity and pornography to attract eyeballs, and for his name bring lackeys, americans saw the value of his existence, with good seek him more, that political asylum.

Things up to now, Guo Wengui said what to do, all change from its zong, always for political asylum, this is also with his own said "save life, protect wealth, revenge" goal coincides. Ignorant, rely on power and money trading, accumulated a lot of ill-gotten gains, Guo Wengui such a person can have how much ideal. He fled the United States and used revolutionary gimmicks in order to survive, so that he could continue to spend money. With this obsession, even if notorious, even if the public scold head broken blood, Guo Wengui also at all, will lick the cheeky act crazy. But it backfired. Political asylum, I'm afraid, has become Guo Wengui's unreachable dream. A rapist, a forgery of state documents, a forced transaction, from violent crime to economic crime, Guo Wengui has thoroughly become an "all-round player" in the field of crime. Coupled with their own Revelations, overdrawn credit, offended Allies, has become a stumbling block to his own, his "chicken ribs". Americans will not go against the world and keep this "chicken ribs" for themselves.

Read a Buddha, read a demon. Guo Wengui heart is not right, specially take evil path, for his obsession, go crazy. Even if people packaging themselves as a devout "Buddhist", still can not cover up his life scabbers of bad deeds. Regardless of the cause of the Revelations, or political asylum, Guo Wengui this obsession, will eventually become his resentment.

[buckybarnesdiaries]

wakanda

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Steve gives you Bucky's dog tags for a reason.

word count: 2.4k (lol, sorry)

warnings/tags: none. bucky being a cutie.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

“Welcome to Wakanda, agent (Y/N)”.

A second after you crossed their airspace, you were courteously greeted. The views from your ship were indescribable. Peace invaded you just at the sight of the open fields and the warm colors of autumn. You could get used to that place too. To live in calm, work hand-to-hand with Shuri, and have time to spend it with Bucky. The reason why you were flying there. Removing your right hand from the control and grabbing in a fist the dog tags hanging on your chest, you took a deep breath while closing your eyes before getting ready to land. T’Challa was waiting for you at the entry of his kingdom, accompanied by his excited little sister and some of his guards.

Pressing a sequence of buttons above your head, to pull the control back, the ship went down slowly folding its wings. As you landed and turned off the engineers, you freed yourself from the seatbelt and the huge headphones to step out. Shuri received you with a friendly hug, breaking protocol and being just Shuri. You built a strong relationship since you met a year ago, when you brought Bucky to that beautiful and magical place, to let him recover. To let him rest.

“Your highness”. You uttered to T’Challa crossing your forearms in the traditional salutation of Wakanda.

“Agent (Y/N)”. He corresponded walking closer. “The white wolf asked me to let you know he wouldn’t want to be… bothered with visits today”.

You couldn’t help but frown. The last time you saw him was around three months ago. You usually interchanged letters from week to week, being one of the fewer persons he trusted in. And it wasn’t just a question of trust. Steve told you about his feelings, his shyness, and insecurities, his fears. What Bucky didn’t know, again, it wasn’t a question of trust from you either. That’s why the Captain gave you the dog tags, after more than thirteen years under custody. You wanted to see him, to know if he was happy there as he wrote you in his letters one million times.

“He doesn’t wear his arm here”. Shuri clarified, taking a position close to his brother.

By the look on their faces, you were aware of two things. One, they noticed too that something was growing between Bucky and you, and that it wasn’t a simple friendship. Two, they weren’t going to stop you. Oh, quite the opposite. They’d bring you to him on a golden platter and a big red bow on your head. The king beckoned a hand to urge you to follow him to the inside of the building and use one of their ships to fly above the place to the white wolf’s location.

You were nervous. You didn’t sleep more than a couple of hours last night thinking about him and how he’d react to having back his tags since the forties. Your eyes were focused throughout the window on your left, watching different citizens taking care of animals and plantations, children running from one side to another, playing and having fun. Oblivious to the horror of New York, where you resided. One of the cities in the world with the highest rates of street violence. Serial killers or simply killers, rapists, kidnappers, drug dealers (...). It was a minefield and Wakanda seemed and felt like Heaven.

“Did you think about the offer?” Shuri nudged you to push you back to reality, turning your head towards her.

“Since you dropped it to me”.

“So?”

“I…” You needed to put away your gaze again, focusing on the blue opened sky in front of them. “I want… to consult him first if you don’t mind”.

“Of course, (Y/N)”.

“I don’t want to put his world upside down, now that he’s not the…” You couldn’t finish the sentence. You couldn’t pronounce that detestable nickname and the pain beneath it.

Shuri nodded in silence, not needing your explanations. She knew how you felt. She understood you. The talk didn’t continue, stretching your right hand on your lap to calm your nerves and make you comfortable with the situation. The flight didn’t last longer than five or ten minutes, losing the track of time deep in your thoughts. The pilot indicated to you through the headphones that you were about to land, glancing at a complex of small houses in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees and wilderness.

You were the last one jumping outside with your hand grabbing the tags on your chest, trying to find the encouragement there to follow T’Challa’s hand pointing at a man working with goats and collecting hay for them. Licking your lips and assenting with your chin, you guided your steps towards him. Slowly. As if you wanted to turn around at some point. But you knew it was too late when he was the one turning at the sound of your heavy boots cracking the grass under them.

Bucky didn’t look annoyed for your visit, nor the lack of attention to his petition. Although there was something in his pale blue orbs you weren’t able to decipher, until he bowed down his head unconsciously to his left shoulder covered by a dark fabric matching his eyes. You had to do your best to not roll yours, shortening the distance setting you apart. You had been dreaming about that encounter since the last time you were there before Shuri accessed the darkest place of his mind and cleaned it from any trail of HYDRA. Now, he was free. And he looked in good condition as the bags under his eyes had disappeared and his hair was almost tied with a bun. His cheeks seemed a little more chubby and you just wanted to pinch them. But it’d be weird and out of place. For the time being.

Bit by bit, a sweet smile widened in your lips, curving them as Bucky stared at you again when he was conscious that you didn’t care. With or without a metal arm, your feelings were exactly the same. You couldn’t admire him more than you were admiring him at this point. You couldn’t love him more than you loved him already. And God was a witness of how many times you practiced to confess to him and tell him that the only thing you wanted in life was to be by his side. Bring happiness to his days, bring him peace and harmony.

“I'm sorry…” “I brought you…”

You two spoke at the same time, breaking in a soft giggle that jumped your hearts in complete sync.

“You first”. He let you, waving his hand.

“I… brought you something”. You susurrated, loosening the grip around the metal hanging on your chest to take off the necklace.

You noticed the way his eyes widened in surprise and confusion. Why did you have them? Who gave them to you? Why now? Bucky gulped watching you stretching the dog tags between your fingers towards him. He didn’t know what to do, taking a second before he was able to react. He couldn’t remember when was the last time he saw them, and the amount of memories they gave him overwhelmed his whole brain.

In slow motion narrowing his eyes, Bucky held the chain with two fingers to hang the necklace from it. You thought he was about to wear them, but he destabilized you as he directed his hands to above your head, to place them where they were an instant before. You didn’t understand. Didn’t he want them back?

“I want you to keep it”.

“But…”

“I want you to have something mine”. Bucky recognized with a shy smile decorating his lips. “Those tags and my arm are the only things I have from my past. And… I won’t give you my arm…”

“Well, I bet it’d look good hanging from my neck”. You jocked tilting your head.

In his gift, you found the encouragement you needed to talk about T’Challa’s job offer. It wasn’t as if you were proposing to him, in the end, you were just friends even if it felt quite the opposite. You licked your upper lip, kissing your teeth after it, earning more than his attention.

“Shuri said, uh… I could come here, work with her. We’d do great things together, not only for Wakanda but for the world”.

Bucky’s gesture didn’t change a single inch, focused on the nervousness you were trying to hide from him and reading the reasons beneath.

“So T’Challa offered me to stay here”.

“Permanently?”

“Yeah… Permanently”. You assented pressing your lips, breathing through your nostrils.

“Did you accept?”

“Not yet. Not until talking to you about”.

He nodded then a couple of times, turning to the goats behind him coming closer. “Got to finish some stuff… Maybe we can talk later about it unless you have to leave”.

“No, no. I, uh… asked for the day off. Banner didn’t need me at the lab today”.

“Okay, good”.

While the king was showing you the new level for research and investigations, Bucky took the advantage to go and find Shuri without your knowledge. He found her in the surroundings of the main building, working on your ship as you said it made some kind of random noise that put you out of your nerve during the flight.

“I need my arm”.

The princess squatted close to the left wing, turned at him without standing up. Pulling her sunglasses to the top of his head, she raised an eyebrow.

“For what”.

“You know for what”. He clicked his tongue, placing his hand on his left shoulder.

“No, I don’t”. She lied while cleaning the grass and oil in her expert fingers.

“I need to have two arms”.

“You’ve been working the last months with one arm only. Why do you need it now?”

“C’mon… Argh…” Bucky rubbed his face with boredom. “I want to hug her, okay? Can you just… give me back my damn arm?”

“Not enough reasons, you can hug her using your right”.

“I want to have two hands when I kiss her”. He finally confessed in a hiss, provoking a triumphant smile growing on Shuri’s lips.

“If you lie to me, if you don’t kiss her, Sergeant Barnes… I’ll code it to punch your face”.

“Wait…” Bucky wrinkled his nose drawing a horrified gesture on his face, as he turned his blue eyes towards his left shoulder. “Can you… do that?”

“Try me”.

No, of course she couldn’t, but he didn’t know. Which were a good push for him to not go against her and her petition.

“C’mon. I’ll set it up and help you to put it on”.

Your eyes were traveling from one picture to another. He put some of them around his small house and it looked better now. More like a home. A place to stay. And for a second you felt a twinge straight in your heart when you noticed one photograph of the two of you, close to his bed. It was after your first mission together. Steve insisted on taking it, after noticing the sparkles between you. But you didn’t know he brought it to Wakanda with him, as your copy is on your nightstand too. And you used to fall asleep every night looking at it.

The curtain being moved and some steps in pulled you out from your thoughts, turning to find Bucky staring in silence at you. Your orbs landed on the metal arm. It was different too since the last time you saw it, with golden strips forming between the silver ones. You couldn’t help but sigh.

“You didn’t need to…”

“Yes, I did. I did need it”. He interrupted you, breathing through his parted lips and his heart about to fly off from his chest.

“Why?”

“Because, otherwise, I couldn’t do this”.

You were about to ask what he was referring to, watching him breaking the distance between the two of you in three fast strides. You closed your eyes at the moment his hands held your neck and Bucky slammed his lips on yours. The kiss, the contrast of cold and warmth on your skin, the everlasting longing for it to happen… All of this caused you to gasp, tangling the tunic at the height of his chest in your fists, not wanting him to take a step back. Your mouths fit perfectly without looking for it, made for each other, as he secured his fingers on the back of your neck. And you felt your knees weak when he pecked your lips one more time, before caressing your nose with his, not being able to open your eyes. Neither of you.

“I don’t have the right… to ask for anything”. He babbled. His insecurities coming afloat even if you hadn’t pushed him away. “But… I want you to stay here. With me. I… I don’t have much to offer you, but I promise to make you happy”.

At this point, your eyes were filled with tears, strongly closing your eyelids to not let them fall. You swallowed a sob, moving your hands from his chest to his middle back, embracing him tighter as you could.

“You’ve been making me happy since we met, Bucky”.

He chuckled breathless, intuiting he was too at the edge of his crying because of that affirmation.

“Every Tuesday, I wait at the stairs of my apartment for the mail, for your letters. I’ve… read them so many times I can recite them… by heart. Every word you've written to me”.

“I will continue writing them for you, even if you stay with me”.

Your voices were low, barely audible out of his place. Like secrets. Bucky kissed you again, bending enough to raise you by the back of your thighs and urge you to surround his waist with your legs. The dog tags on your chest clicked against the other, as you moved your arms to his shoulders and neck, and you were unable to stop kissing him. You two could die right now and not be bothered because you were finally together, and that was all you deserved in life.

“Tell me you will stay… please”. His beg brushed your lips, still pecking them between syllable and syllable.

“I will…” You replied without hesitating as you could, eager to correspond to every gesture from him. “I will stay with you”.

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[mrs-march-ahs]

Kai Helps You Find a Purpose

Summary- A blue-haired stranger helps you overcome the feeling of being lost after you quit your job. He seems fascinated by the rage in your body and shows you how to use it in an unconventional way.

Warnings- Murder, rape, knifes, blood, Kai Anderson. Words- 1.8k shorty:)

I’ve had this idea in my head for the longest time, so I really appreciate any feedback! I love doing my own ideas but if you prefer when I write requests then I wanna know! Enjoy! :)

---

You slam the glass door behind you as you exit your job. Well, old job. No matter how hard you work, your boss refused to see your potential and when you asked him for a raise for the final time and he said no, you gave him an ultimatum. And now you are left to walk out of your old job to the carpark with a backpack full of your belongings. To be honest, you hated that job anyway, and despised the sexist boss. He crossed a line by underappreciating your hard work, even after hours and constantly giving praise to the other fuckers who could barely make a cup of coffee. You walk over straight to his white Mercedes and pull out your pocketknife, hoping that in the dark of the evening nobody will witness your crime. As you squat down to the level of the front right tire and stab it powerfully with your knife, you can feel the feminist rage in your body deflate. After you do the front left and go towards the back one, you see a figure of a broad man standing at the front of the car, watching you. Although you saw him, his voice catches you off guard. And frankly, pisses you off too.

“If you slash all four tires then insurance will pay for it”, he states, assuming that you didn’t know that already. “Slash three”. The mansplaining makes you groan.

“Do I look like I need advice, asshole?”, you reply, rolling your eyes. Contrary to what you expected, the man stays stood watching you and laughs at your remark. When you push the blade from your knife particularly deep, you sigh in satisfaction, but fail to pull it out. You wriggle it around a little before looking up at the man.

“Are you gonna just watch me or at least are you gonna help?”, you ask, tugging at the knife.

“You don’t need my help”, he says quietly and ominously. “Use your strength, work smarter not harder”. The useless advice made you sigh in anger and push the knife in deeper, before practically ripping it out of the tire. He stands leaned over the hood of the car to watch you slash the tire, and smiles widely when you manage to do it by yourself. You stand up and look at him, and he stays smiling, and compliments you on your work.

“See? You don’t need help, you’re strong”, he whispers at you. You can’t help but smile back at the support and at the relief that he won’t snitch on your vandalism. When you take a step towards the curb to walk home, he puts his arm out to stop you and unexpectedly offers to buy you a coffee. You timidly say yes, but when he walks towards his car and opens the door for you, a red blinking alarm goes off in your mind and you kindly refuse to get in a stranger’s car. Although he laughs, he understands, and the two of you walk a mere 2 streets to a restaurant that he claims is owned by his friends. When the two of you walk through the front door of the packed restaurant and he asks for a table and instantly gets it, you have no reason to not believe his connections. You sit awkwardly across from the stranger who introduces himself to you, before praising you on your inexcusable actions.

“It takes a lot of strength to notice when you’re not being appreciated, it takes even more strength to just slash his tires instead of slashing his fucking throat”. His words are so serious that you don’t question how he knows what happened. “What do you want to achieve?”

“I want to make the world a better place in any way I can… I volunteer at soup kitchens all the time… dog shelters… I know it sounds horrible but no matter what I do, it doesn’t feel satisfying or like I’m achieving anything”. He exhales in amusement and you defensively expand.

“It’s like I’m waiting for some good karma to come to me, but all I feel is guilt because I’m doing good things for the wrong reasons”. You look down and swirl around your coffee with a spoon as you wait for him to judge you. All you felt was guilt, you wanted to be a good person and you knew you shouldn’t wait for good things to happen to you just because you’re volunteering. He puts a finger under your chin and makes you look at him. His big black eyes hypnotize you and you wait anxiously for him to speak.

“You need to put your rage towards something good. Anger doesn’t help anybody, but I saw today that you are capable of rage”, he coaxes you quietly. “A strong rage can be used as unlimited energy and shouldn’t be wasted, but put towards something useful… what fills you with rage?”

“The sexism at my work”, you immediately respond. “None of my male co-workers get harassed on the job. They don’t get told to smile or unbutton their shirts for tips. They get raises that they don’t deserve. As long as that keeps happening, I will always be filled with rage”.

The blue haired man hums in agreement and smiles at you. “That’s a solid source”. He drinks the end of his coffee and offers to drive you home.

When the two of you sit in his car, he proposes that instead of going back to the motel you lived at, you come over to his and the two of you could share a drink.

“No, I’m sorry. I need to go home and scream into my pillow”. Although you laugh after saying that, Kai doesn’t.

“What are you achieving with that? That’s like working hard to get money for gas, just to pour it down the drain”, he scolds you and raises his voice with every word. “You have this rage; we’re going to use it for something good!”, he shouts.

“Yes, but how!”, you reply, and watch Kai take a few turns before driving around the same couple of blocks a few times. You sit silently and hope he’ll explain the plan, but he doesn’t, instead he slowly drives down the streets, carefully inspecting the alleyways. Finally, when a short hum escapes his lips, he pulls his car over and points towards an alleyway on the other side of the street.

“Look what’s happening”.

You narrow your eyes trying to see down the dark alleyway and unbuckle your seatbelt to lean over closer to Kai. A man down the side of a building is stumbling slightly with a gun in his hand, pinning a woman against the wall and forcibly pulling her clothes off, only for her to try to push him away.

“Wait… is he uh-”

“What is your feminism fuelled rage telling you to do?”

You look Kai dead in the eye and his black eyes and clenched jaw silently ask you whether you’re willing to do what it takes. Saying that you want the world to be a better place means jack shit if you’re not ready to singlehandedly protect your sisters and put your rage towards making the world cleaner and safer. Not tomorrow, not in years to come, but now.

Without another second of thought, you jump out of the car and run to the alley, Kai following closely behind. Kai grabs the drunk man by the shoulders and rips him off the wall, allowing you access to push the woman out of the alleyway and onto the street, letting her immediately start running. The drunk attempts to fight Kai, throwing hard punches that all miss. Not wanting to steal your spotlight, Kai throws the man into the wall, letting you take out your feminist rage on his face. You put your hands in his hair and grip tightly, repeatedly smashing his face into the brick wall, leaving instant blood stains and scratches. Hopefully, a lifetime reminder of the scum he is. In order to save him the disgust of having to look at himself in the mirror, you drag his face along the wall, hoping that the cracks in the wall will be enough to leave his face bleeding.

“Work smarter; not harder”, Kai reminds you.

You release the man from your grip and watch him stumble and lean against the wall for support, giving you enough time to take your pocketknife back out and plunge in straight into the mans crotch. As he sloppily yells in pain, Kai grabs the gun out of his hand and throws it over a fence, just in case he gets any ideas. The intoxicating high of seeing this rapist bleed and cry in pain gives you one last kick of confidence, which you use to twist the knife in his ball sack before ripping it out. Kai stands watching you, smirking and almost hard, listening to the beaten-up motherfucker pant and sob. Kai pushes you out of the way and shoves him to the ground one last time, before grabbing your hand and legging it to the car.

When you sink to the car seat, trying to catch your breath, not a single thought coming to your mind for the first few seconds. The adrenaline of assault makes your heart want to jump out of your chest. But when you look over at Kai, expecting him to mirror you, he sits calmly, waiting for you to calm down. Your head is blurred with disbelief at what you just did, but despite knowing in your mind that violence isn’t the answer, you sit there as Kai starts driving and wait for the guilt to overpower your body. But it just…doesn’t.

“I’m so proud of you”, Kai says and puts his hand on your thigh giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m waiting for the guilt to kick in”

“It won’t”, Kai informs you. “You don’t care about the homeless or animals”

“What?! Of course, I do-”

“No, you don’t. You care about sexism. That’s what powers you. How many statistics do you know about rape? How much do you know about rape prevention? Feminism? Malala and Michelle fucking Obama?!”, he yells.

“That’s what fills you with rage, and that’s what begins the unlimited cycle”. Although his words sounded so sure and factual, you just couldn’t accept it.

“I don’t want to do it with violence”. Your voice weakens which makes Kai huff in amusement. He parks his car outside your motel and turns to you.

“You just made the world a better place. You saved that woman. That scum will never be able to reproduce. If you weren’t doing the right thing, you’d feel guilty”. You look up at him with worried eyebrows and he gives you a warm reassuring smile. You can’t deny his words, and the adrenaline and sense of accomplishment overshadow any speck of guilt you’re meant to feel. Just as you’re about to open the car door to get out, he puts his hand on your shoulder and looks at you once more.

“I’ll come by and get you tomorrow, I want you to meet my friends”

[kalinara]

So I did end up watching both Alien Avengers I (the one without baby Jason Sudeikis) and Alien Avengers II (the one with baby Jason Sudeikis).

They were definitely movies.

I remember when I tried to look them up, I could find very little information about either movie. So I thought I’d share my Opinions about them below the cut.

Be careful for spoilers.  For movies from 1996 and 1997.

So the first move, Alien Avengers I or “Welcome to Planet Earth” is interesting.  it’s very Roger Corman, which means that I’m not altogether sure what the genre actually is.

It’s a comedy, but also a bit of horror, and some pretty biting social commentary.  And a surprising amount of slightly cartoonish gore.

The main premise is that George Wendt and Shanna Reed play “Charlie” and “Rhonda”, who look like a perpetually cheerful middle-aged white couple that are throwbacks to 1950s sitcom parents in a way (particularly in dress).  They and their sulky, homesick daughter show up in a pretty awful part of town, presumably in California (?) for “vacation”, claiming that they want their daughter to experience “other cultures”.

Of course the twist, which is kind of blown in the title, is that they’re aliens.  They come from an ultra peaceful, orderly society and they are on vacation.  And what they do on this vacation is create elaborate scenarios that provoke admittedly horrible people to try to rob, rape, or kill them and murder the folk right back, all with cheerful touristy expressions.  (Rhonda even takes many many pictures with her ever present camera.)

Their daughter, Daphne, isn’t enjoying any of this.  She seems to be the only one of the aliens with a conscience and is not particularly interesting in hurting or killing anyone (though she does end up killing someone in genuine self defense: a gang banger who thinks she’s got influence over her new boyfriend.)

The fourth lead character is Joseph, who is a young black man from this terrible neighborhood.  He may or may not be involved in some minor theft/illicit sale of goods (though he claims it’s legitimate and he has papers for everything) at the beginning of the movie, but is careful and adamant that he wants to avoid any involvement in the drug dealing or violence in the neighborhood.  His mother died recently (shot in a random act of violence) and left him her run down boarding house.  He is very surprised to get new, very strange tenants who are happy to fix up the place and even happier when he ends up dating their daughter.

So as mentioned, there’s a lot of pretty biting social commentary here.  From the middle-aged white couple who happily invade this inner city neighborhood as gawkers and tourists.  To their gleeful sociopathic indifference to the lives of the people within.  (Admittedly, it’s rather satisfying to see them go after their victims, especially the Neo-Nazi would-be rapists.)  To the way that most of the community’s response to the killings is satisfaction that someone is cleaning up the streets.  To the cheerful friendliness with which they treat Joseph, but also their happy smiles as they blithely frame him for their own crimes.  To their happy enthusiasm that their daughter gets “serviced” sexually, but at the same time, their incomprehension that she might care about Joseph as a person rather than as someone that sexually gratifies her.  To their assumption that once “vacation” is done, they’ll just go home, the whole experience relegated to pleasant memory and scrapbook.  Heck, even the resolution, which involves Charlie and Rhonda in prison for their crimes (but always cheerful: lots of people to provoke and kill for fun!), shows us guards who are completely sympathetic, insisting that these nice people don’t belong here in jail.

There’s a LOT here, and definitely worth unpacking.  I don’t necessarily think it’s a GOOD movie, per se.  But I’m not sure I’d call it a bad one either.  It was an experience.

--

The sequel, Alien Avengers II or “Aliens Among Us” is the one that also happens to be Jason Sudeikis’s first movie.  

Sadly, it doesn’t have the social relevance of the first movie.  There are a few notes here and there: like the way the police have been giving Charlie and Rhonda special treatment prior to their release.  Their release for good behavior due to prison overcrowding, despite having murdered at least four people.  (And judging by the end of the first movie, killing others while in prison.)

Mostly though, it’s far more of a straight out comic farce.  Which is a bit of a shame.

So the plot is that newly freed Charlie and Rhonda end up stowing away in a freezer truck that houses a decapitated body, as one does.  The truck owner finds them and well, the usual happens.  Though unlike the first movie, we don’t actually see the violence and gore on screen.  They eventually ditch the truck and find a town that’s basically a throwback to the wild west, where the Sheriff’s head was recently found sans the rest of him.  And there’s a whole alien abduction plot.  More specifically, a land developer is trying to get people to sell their land so he can make a tourist attraction and is doing so by staging alien abductions.  And murdering people, both directly (the Sheriff) and indirectly (the Deputy was supposed to be a witness/victim of alien abduction, but he dies of a heart attack mid scare session.)  Tourists Charlie and Rhonda end up volunteering to be Sheriffs.

The other plot involves Daphne and Joseph’s return to Earth after their escape last movie.  Joseph in particular is quite homesick, and we see that the structured lives on their home planet does grate on people.  They’re sent back to fetch Daphne’s parents, now that they’ve been released from prison, before they wreak more havoc.  In the process, their spaceship (disguised as a car) is stolen/ransacked/made undrivable, so they end up hitching a ride in an RV with an eccentric couple and their “son”.

The big thing is that Rhonda was recast for this movie.  Shanna Reed is now Julie Brown.  The reason given for this in character is that she and Charlie fucked so hard on a conjugal visit that her head popped off.  It is a rather funny bit that no one in the prison actually notices she’s a different woman.

Julie Brown’s very funny, but she has a broader comedic approach.  Which probably suits this movie better.  But robs it of some of the social commentary part.  Shanna Reed’s Rhonda was on point, a sweet 1950s inspired white woman with a truly vicious streak.  Julie Brown is just cheerfully homicidal.

There’s far less gore and violence.  This is explained by Rhonda and Charlie embracing and celebrating the idea that on Earth, the punishment fits the crime.  So we get ironic punishments, instead of quite as much throat slitting of hijackers.  Some of which are guiltily satisfying (the dude who cost a woman her legs in a hit and run is pulled apart - off camera thank god, when they tie him to two separate cars and drive in opposite directions) and some that just don’t really work.  The speeder is an arrogant asshole, sure, but tying him to the hood of their car and racing him around seems a bit much when he hadn’t actually hurt anyone.  He makes it out alive but as we see from the Deputy situation, he might not have.

It’s a shame, because there was the potential to say something interesting about casual sadism of police officers and the ease with which white people can slide into roles of authority.  Unfortunately, the pseudo Wild West setting (complete with miserable bartender) and the alien abduction stuff (complete with “news” anchor) just kind of lose any sort of point.

The RV couple might be the closest thing they have to social commentary.  They’re eccentric over-sharers.  He’s into alien stuff.  She’s along for the ride.  We learn right away that they can’t have kids and they compensate, not by adoption or foster care or another sane route, but by taking in foreign exchange students every year.  They’re friendly hosts, but insist in gender-segregating the tents when they camp, even though Daphne and Joseph are adults and would prefer to sleep together.  When Daphne and Joseph are caught (via photographs) sneaking off to the RV to have sex, they’re immediately kicked out into the desert.  Which you know, in a serious movie, would basically be murder.  (instead, they learn that Daphne is an alien and see her device explode.)

So that brings us to Sudeikis’s character.  The movie calls him Gunter.  The credits call him Chester.  I can completely believe that this couple has decided to call their “son” (who speaks very little English and seems to have only a limited comprehension of what’s going on!) by a different name entirely.  He’s very teenaged.  Bored, most of the time.  Occasionally enthusiastically shouts things in broken English.  He takes a LOT of pictures with his camera, which is a really interesting parallel to Rhonda in the first movie.

The parallels between Gunter/Chester and our...heroes? is pretty interesting though.  He’s a tourist.  He has no emotional investment in what’s going on here.  He’s occasionally curious but mostly disinterested.  He’s a bit of a perv: some of his photos of Daphne are of a more objectifying nature.  And when he realizes the other two are having sex, he is quick to take pictures.  He’s then pretty indifferent when his pictures are used as the reason to kick Daphne and Joseph out.   Like Charlie and Rhonda, he’s has no real appreciation or interest in the damage he causes.

Of course, there are differences too.  He’s a kid.  (It’s not clear exactly how old he’s supposed to be, but late teenage seems a good bet.)  It wasn’t good that he took the pictures at all, but he also didn’t intentionally share them.  His “mother” presumptively grabbed them out of his hand.  There’s no indication that his “parents” have made any attempts to communicate with the kid at all.  He only exists to them when it suits them.

Though this invisibility ends up working to his advantage, since he’s the only one who gets to keep his camera and photographs at the end of the movie.  It is rather amusing to see the human characters grumble about how no one will ever believe them without proof, while the teenage foreigner is off in the corner, flipping through an album of pictures of aliens, exploding devices (and presumably Charlie and Rhonda stabbed by a knife and with a bullet in their chest before getting better.)

I think ultimately Joseph has the most thankless plot.  They seem to have utterly forgotten that he was suspect 1 for vigilante serial killing last movie.  I don’t expect the RV folk to know, but Daphne probably could bring it up while they bicker about where to live.  Their relationship tension is resolved with a kidnapping and a “I do really love you” bit, and then a semi-shotgun marriage so he can stay on her planet (they’re cracking down on “illegal aliens.”)

There was also a weird bit where the alien government dude makes a point of asking if he loves Daphne for more than just sex (which they have, a lot, we’re told.  Good for them.)  And this doesn’t quite sit right with the way the first movie presented their relationship and the others’ reactions.  To go from a critique of viewing black men as sexual objects to then acting like HE is the one obsessed with sex didn’t sit right with me.

I did mostly enjoy the movie though.  George Wendt is always charming.  The actors playing Daphne and Joseph did a good job with relatively thankless roles.  Sudeikis was very amusing in his role, though I’m not entirely sure he knew he was supposed to be speaking German.  Or what German is.  Or that it’s a language at all.

It’s definitely a bad movie, without any of the genuinely interesting beats of the first one.  But as comic farces go, I’ve seen worse.  And now we know what Ted Lasso looked like at age 20-21.  So yay!

[marvelsuperfangirl]

Single not ready to mingle

A/N :“Is there a risk to love celibacy so much that you become too attached and never discover the “couple’s life”?

Aside from that being single is learning how to love spending time with yourself. But sometimes, singleness lacks of some things…”

How hard it can be to live with peer pressure as a single person

A.K.A

The process of trying to keep your friends after they get into a relationship.

A.K.A

The study of accepting that being single is not a bad thing all while going through hardship to reach that realization.This is my ode to singleness, I hope you’ll like and that sometimes I’ll manage to bring a few laugh or tears out of you.

For now, there isn’t any love interest or marvel character mentionned because this is only the prologue, but I’ll bless you soon with an angtsy Marvel x Reader AU

Prologue

This; is not a love story.

At least not a conventional one.

When I was young, I fantasized on princes. I used to hope that one day, I’d meet someone and be swept of my feet and live romantic adventures with him, get married and have many children.

Then, as I grew up, I turned to the bad boys and a little bit less traditional figures of romantic men. My head was whirling with multiple scenarios with fictional crushes, or real ones, for the few times I’ve had my eyes on someone.

That’s when I discovered fanfictions, which made my expectations so high I couldn’t manage to go down on earth and stop idealizing every one of my real crushes before getting disappointed.

But it didn’t matter much since, I could live imaginary adventures with my favorite fictional love interests. And all of those versions of them with the great world of alternative universe.

During all my teenage years I lived with those stories filling my head.

And now, in my late twenties, single, virgin, childfree; resolved on ending my life alone,             keeping my fanfictions and romance books as sole lovers and happily single, the doubts appeared…

The real world is a scary place for a girl. And being aware of it is the best way to protect yourself, but also the worst way to live in peace.

With rapists, harassers, heartbreakers, last minute-revealed monsters hidden under angelic appearances and all the other kind of human trashes walking the same streets as you, feeling safe with men was something complicated.

And that was the sad truth of your existence. You were scared of human interactions and of trusting people, especially males.

The fanfics and rom-coms made you happy enough not to crave a relationship as desperately as the single girls your age.

Talking about that, there wasn’t anything else you hate more than the representation of late twenties’ girls who desperately wanted to get a boyfriend, then get married and have a baby….

Ew, certainly not!

Being single was maybe difficult to understand for people in relationships, but for single ones, it could come as a discovery of yourself.

You could go to restaurants, movie theaters, shopping, walk around alone. You had a giant bed for yourself, no one to text when coming home late, nor to justify why you did this or that, no in laws to meet or to act perfect with, neither present someone to your family… Yeah, there was a bunch of advantages to being single but there was also a few that were difficult to put away.

 Firstly, sex! And by that I mean, that satisfying yourself with toys was great but, sometimes you wondered if it wouldn’t be cool to have sex with someone, you know, the real thing.

And also, the warmth, the hugs, the kisses, the little gestures…

But apart from the personal disadvantages, the family is deeply involved in the single’s family.

“So, what’s his name?”

“When are you going to introduce someone to us?”

“Don’t you ever feel bored alone?”

“Hurry up or you’ll be too old to find someone”

Those words resonated in your mind but were completely drowned out by the text you received from one of your best friends:

“Guess what?! I lost my virginity last night!!!! And now, I have a boyfriend!!!!”

And with that single text, your whole world come crashing down, taking the confidence you’d manage to gather about being single with it.

You stared at the words, those looking unreal, while you mind blanked. And despite the fact that you couldn’t believe it, here it was black on white words.

You look up from the depressing confession and around your bedroom, searching for something that definitely wasn’t there.

“I’m the last virgin and single among my loved ones” you thought, the concept swallowing you down.

And the reminder of you turning 28 two days from now was even more vertiginous.

And in an unconscious theatrical move, you let yourself fall on your bed, phone barely held by your limp hand and stared at the ceiling, letting the insecurities wash over you.

“Damn”

[phcking-detective]

patreon exclusive content

I’m publishing my commissioned fics exclusively on patreon right now while I work on the next fic in my reed900 series, so here’s a masterlist of what fics are ONLY available to patrons: (pricing and tiers below the cut)

God Bless Detroit: 10k, E, wingfic; mafia hitman Richard x his guardian angel Gavin, who keeps swooping in and saving him from death only in the dumbest ways possible >:3

Unsupervised Thoughts: 5k, M, hurt/comfort; Gavin is home sick when a serial rapist targeting android-human couples breaks in and assaults him. Fighting him off turns out to be the easy part in comparison to talking to his boyfriend about his feelings afterward ... 

You’re My Whole World, Bro: 6k, E, college bros AU; Gavin finds Nines in his dorm room, stressed out and experiencing an unwanted ... issue. He agrees to lend a helping hand, mouth, and pussy, because what are bros for?

RK21 Jump Street: 3k, T, fluff & humor; Nines and Connor both get called into Captain Fowler’s office to determine which one of them is fucking Kamski’s brother. Unfortunately for Nines, Gavin is also the captain’s adopted son. And he is in so much trouble ...

Blood and Blown, ch 3: 15k!!, E, vampire AU / gangbang; Gavin goes to a tailoring appointment with Nines to get his measurements taken for a bespoke suit so he can be officially debuted as Nines’s pet and first lieutenant. And of course he needs to thank each of the tailor’s assistants, to show what a good, obedient pet he is ...

coming up next: (these fics haven’t been published yet, but they are next in line in my commissions and will be published one fic every Sunday)

Nothing Fucks with My Baby, ch 2: 4k, E, pure smut; A continuation of the fic on AO3, in which Nines roleplays as a companion model learning how to service his new owner Gavin <3

The Honeypot Mission: 10k, E, hurt/comfort; Nines isn’t jealous that Gavin has to seduce a mob boss to get incriminating evidence on him, but he is still very possessive of his boyfriend, especially when said criminal threatens him.

Babey Backstory: 5-10k, T, fluff & humor; Backstory for the Babey AU showing how Gavin mistook his new partner RK900 for the ~*companion model*~ he drunkenly tried to order, and how RK “I’m too pretty for this” 900 decided that yes, he is that companion model, yes he will live rent free in Gavin’s apartment wearing cute maid dresses with his whole pussy out, and no he will not be returning to the DPD. Die mad about it, Connor.

Nothing Fucks with My Baby, ch 3: 4k, E, pure smut; Another installment! In this one, Nines will get all dressed up in his pretty cat accessories and dress, and maybe he’ll even get to crawl over and look at how beautiful he is in the mirror while Gavin pets him <3

more in the works: (not drafted or planned yet, but still on my commission list)

Findom fic: Nines sugars for Gavin, who got rich off of his brother’s money and has a kink for letting beautiful bitchy ice queens spend it for him

Blood and Blown, ch 4: Nines gives his darling pet silver piercings, to remind Gavin that he will always own him (and care for him)

A/B/O fic: Nines loves his mate Gavin, and he most especially loves his mate’s heats, which he counts down to each month almost religiously

Partner Sharing: Nines is a benevolent dom who allows his human Gavin to suck off and get fucked by other humans sometimes, as a treat uwu. Hank is just here to get his dick sucked

my patreon updates once a week, every Sunday. each tier charges the amount listed per week

$1 tier: access to all of these fics as PDFs, plus polls and patron rewards

$2 tier: bonus content like deleted scenes, unpublished roughdrafts, and writing advice / plot outlines for my main series

$3 tier: 1k mini chapters each week for three WIPs: Exorcist AU (beast tamer Richard x incubus Gavin, E), Human Pet AU (Nines “sponsors” Gavin as his partner/owner in exchange for his services, E), and Pokemon AU (Detective Reed x FBI psychic profiler Nines, plus their pokemon fall in love too, T)

if you would like to read just a specific fic / WIP, don’t want to commit to a weekly charge, or just don’t like patreon, you can donate $3 to my kofi to get all of that week’s content ^^

large fics are broken up into 3-5k chapters, so Blood and Blown would cost more at 15k than RK21 Jump Street at 3k. please ask if you have any questions!

[always-there]

About consent

OK guys, buckle up, because today's topic is depressing as hell.

Today I'm gonna talk about consent. I usually ponder about this while I cook, in the shower, late at night when I'm applying all my learned hypnosis techniques to force myself to sleep.

I was never taught about consent. All I had going for me was the classic "Rape is bad, avoid rape" chant the world of the 90's society thought was enough. All I saw were girls being advised to not dress like sluts and avoid being provocative in public. I got a good couple of different versions of that, mind you, as I grew up in a conservative Catholic school.

Nobody told us about the universe of potential situations contained within that fucking "Rape is bad, avoid rape". We thought rape happened when a man forced himself on a woman that was actively trying to resist him.

Black and white. No grey areas. Pretty simple.

I was fine with that. I was even judgmental towards victims, once I saw how they were dressed when they were attacked. Or if they were drunk or walking by themselves on areas widely known to be dangerous.

And then I grew up, entered the nasty-ass world of adults, and the Universe took pains to kick my ass in so many ways during 30 years that have finally lead to this post today.

So, I'm a list person. I like making lists. So here goes my one and only...

CONSENT LIST

• Dudes get raped too. Yeah. I know it's basic, but I scoffed at the concept for years. I know many people who still do. Dudes get raped too, get it into your mind. And no, it doesn't happen when they are effeminate weaklings. No. Any man can get raped. And they deserve to be treated as proper victims, with respect and compassion. The few times I've seen testimonies of male rape survivors, they reported even the police was skeptical or treating them like pussies or jokes.

• If your partner is sleeping, it's not consent. No, I don't give a fuck if you guys have been together for 20 years. No, I don't give a fuck if they wake up in the middle of it and decide to continue. I don't even give a fuck if they say they like it. If you touch, penetrate, make whatever sexual advance on a sleeping person, you are raping them. Any unconscious person is unable to give consent.

• If you're in the middle of it, having a good time, and suddenly your partner wants to stop... guess what, it's time to stop. You don't stop? You ask them to hang in there for just a while more until you're done? You power through it? Yeah, no. That's not consent, buddy.

• If you're ABOUT to do it, and the foreplay was great, and they were so into it, but when the time comes to actually go all the way, they change their mind... time to go home. Or put on a movie, or do whatever the fuck you want that is not forcing or trying to persuade your partner to go on.

• Subtle denial is a big-ass NO as well. They have a headache? Leave it. They are tired? Leave it. They have to wake up early the next day? Leave it. They fear a phantom clown is gonna haunt the bed if they indulge in intercourse that night? Leave-it. Don't persuade your partner to have sex if they don't feel like it. You know why? Because they DON'T want to have sex. Persuading or wearing someone down to say yes is not consent. It's pressure. Which takes us to the next bullet...

• If you insist that YES always means YES just like NO always means NO, I will smack you in the head with a frozen lamb leg. YES can be induced. Can be pressured. You can actually intimidate, scare, threaten and bully a person into saying yes. Maybe they are not ready. Maybe they are not sure about the relationship. Maybe they are not feeling well. Maybe they are fucking scared of you. It doesn't matter. If you have to lobby for it, leave it. You're being a creep.

• Drunk people. Good God. I can't believe this has to be an item. Leave drunk people alone! And I don't even mean passed-out drunk, I mean intoxicated but still dancing people, still talking people, I even mean, yes, dizzy or tipsy people. A person under the influence is not able to consent. Why do you think we drink, why do we call it a social lubricant, and other funny jabs? Because alcohol fights the restraint and common sense we'd had otherwise. It's a fun way to loosen up and get relaxed, but if someone has been drinking, don't hunt them for sex. I can't believe the number of movies and series that broadcast dudes trying to hit on drunk women. It still happens today, and not in a Law and Order episode, in your common everyday rom-com. This applies to every person under the influence of whatever substance they took that clouds their judgment.

And no, I won't hear it. They didn't put themselves in a position of danger. You are the danger, a threat that should not exist in the first place.

• So far so good, right? Well, tell me what you think about this. Let's say your partner doesn't want to have kids. And you do want them, for whatever reason. So, what do you do?

You mess with their birth control. Or you lie about you taking birth control. Or you lie about using a condom, or about the physical integrity and expiration date of said condom. Bam, presto manifesto, a bun in the oven.

That is fucking rape. And if you still need to ask why, because for whatever reason that was not creepy enough for you, I'll spell it out. It's rape, because the other person did not consent to that.

And now, if you still don't feel the need to go and take a shower until December, I have yet another list.

Are you in doubt? Are you not sure you are a rapist or not? Worry not! Below you'll find a funny little questionnaire ready for you to clear your mind and heart:

CAN I RAPE SOMEONE IF...

• ...they are dressing provocatively?

Answer: They could be walking down the busiest street of the city during rush hour completely naked and with a big, red silk bow on their ass, and still, nothing in the fucking world gives you the right to touch them. You are not entitled to another person's body because of what they choose to wear.

• ...we are dating?

Answer: Not if you are dating, not if you are married, not if the zombie apocalypse finally wiped out humanity and God himself descends from Heaven to pronounce you Adam & Eve 2.0 and gives you the task to repopulate the world. Dating only means you two are seeing each other on a regular basis for fun or to explore the possibility of a future together. It doesn't mean that your partner's body becomes your property, ergo, you have no rights whatsoever over it.

• ...they are seducing me?

Answer: Half of the time, nobody was seducing you, genius. If I have to hear another anecdote of how a bartender or barista o waitperson were throwing themselves on someone, I will barf in my own mouth. Servers are required to be nice, it's on their job description. But anyway, let's say for the sake of argument that yeah, they are indeed seducing you: no. Showing interest in someone is not an invitation to fuck, nor a provocation to fuck, so let things go their way and don't be a creepy jackass.

• ...I have done nice things for them?

This one I actually heard from a former, and I can't emphasize the former enough, friend. Their case was something along the lines of, I took her to dinner and a movie, later coffee and dessert, and one other lame activity I can't remember (probably drinks), paid for everything, took her home on my car... and then she refused to let me go upstairs!

Dude. Duuuuuude. And dudettes too, of course. No. If you want to get your money's worth, go to a proper sex worker, who will charge you accordingly for their services. Don't expect the other person to feel obligated to pay you with their body just because you fed them and threw a movie ticket in the package!

I had one friend go on a date with a guy. The date didn't work out, so they went their separate ways... until the guy showed up on her doorstep asking her to reimburse him for coffee and a donut. I shit you not. She was so dumbfounded she actually paid him back so he would leave, and I'm glad she did, because that, my friend, is rapist material on the making.

• ...they are a sex worker?

Answer: No, you creepy freak, absolutely not. Every single point I mentioned above applies to every human being on the planet and active or inactive Space stations. You cannot force yourself on anyone, you cannot violate consent ever. It doesn't matter if you're fooling around with the biblical whores of Babylon or the entire cast of Full Monty after a round of the blue pill. Consent protects everyone, no matter what they do for a living.

I'm so happy that all these points are not gonna be news for most of you. Awareness is spreading and the new generations are taught about consent since they are little kids. My generation, and most of all my generation in my country, dominated by a traditional patriarchal society, heard nothing of it. "Rape is bad, avoid rape" was taught mostly as a warning tale for girls. It was the girls' responsibility to prevent rape. Don't walk alone at night. Don't use slutty clothes. Don't be provocative towards men. Don't drink too much. Don't stare too much. Don't go to non-respectable places. Don't put yourself in danger.

I think things would significantly change if the song was played differently. Don't teach girls how to prevent rape. Don't teach boys that rape is bad and that "real men" don't need it.

Teach everyone about consent. Rape is only one of the grim consequences of violating consent. There are thousands of different traumatizing situations that could be avoided if we only respected consent all the time, if we were taught about healthy boundaries and personal integrity since kids.

But hey, we're getting there. I hope. I wish.

• Disclaimer: actually, I think disclaimers like this should not be needed, but still. In case you feel the urge of accusing me of speaking from theory... nope. I speak from experience. Personal experience. Experience I wish I didn't have, and that I had a very hard time harvesting to learn and become stronger. So yeah. Shut the fuck up, go out there and respect the shit out of people.

[readyourimgaines]

The Little Things

Summary: Derek knew fully well that moving in with Spencer was going to bring around some changes. Dr. Spencer Reid was different and Derek loved him for it. There were little quirks that the doctor showed at work and some Derek was still learning. So there must be some at home.

And a special thanks, of course, to @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese​ for helping me compile this list!

1. Alphabetizing Movies by Title

“Pretty Boy?” Derek was crouched down in front of their TV looking for their movie while Spencer did the dishes. The latter hadn’t seen Happy Gilmore and Derek couldn’t let that stand. 

“Yeah?” Spencer called from the kitchen. 

“I can’t find it?”

“What?” Spencer stepped away from the sink and went to the living room. Water dripped from his fingertips. “The movies are alphabetical. It’s between Hamlet and Ice Age.” He went to Derek’s side and gestured to the movie. “I was going to order them by director, but Hotch said most people don’t know directors very well. Which is a shame because J.J. Abrams destroyed Star Trek but Guy Riche-” 

Derek pressed a kiss to Spencer’s lips with a fond smile. Spencer blinked. 

“Sorry,” the doctor blushed. 

Derek just chuckled. “You know you’re adorable, right, Pretty Boy?” 

“You may have mentioned it a time or two,” Spencer laughed. 

“You can tell me all about directors later,” Derek promised. “I know a bit about the mainstream guys, but not a whole lot.”

“All you really need to know is that J.J. Abrams kills anything he touches and Peter Jackson doesn’t get as much attention as he should.”

*****

2. Morning Rituals

One thing that Derek very quickly learned about Spencer was that he 

had a specifically timed morning ritual when not on a case. And that if it was broken or disturbed, the whole rest of the day would go down hill like a train on greased tracks. 

He woke up at 6:17, was in the shower by 6:25, eating breakfast by 7:00, his bed made by 7:30, and shoes on his feet by 7:32. The last half hour before they left at 8:00 was free game. 

The first morning in their new place was the roughest. Spencer went 

about his usual morning, but Derek didn’t usually wake up until 7:45 because he took less time to get ready and ate in the car. So when Spencer finished breakfast and went back to their room to make the bed but Derek was still asleep… He paced for the next fifteen minutes and his head nearly went through the ceiling when Derek’s alarm went off. 

Spencer almost had a panic attack as he fumbled his way through making their bed and cramming his feet into his shoes. Needless to say, the extra half hour was spent- in vain- trying to calm the doctor down. None of the rest of the day lined up properly and Spencer was on edge and fidgety. Hotch even had to gently remind him to focus a few more times than the usual redirection of infodumps. 

That was the first and only time Derek didn’t follow Spencer’s morning routine. He found the same day that Spencer had a much simpler night ritual: Snack (sometimes) at 10:10, teeth brushed by 10:25, in bed by 10:35, reading until (supposed to be) 11:18, and then lights out. This routine was much more flexible and relaxed.

Derek found waking up and going to bed at the same time every day made the former much easier. He also found that Spencer reading to him most nights- no matter the book or topic- was very relaxing. And of course there were nights when Derek read to Spencer.

*****

3. Sugary Coffee

Derek took a sip of coffee from his travel cup and whistled. “Think I got yours, Pretty Boy. There’s enough sugar in this to hype up a six year old’s birthday party.” 

Spencer braced himself and took a sip of the coffee in his own cup. He was pleasantly relieved when the bitterly sharp taste expected never came. “I-I put sugar in both of them. I wasn’t thinking,” he said sheepishly. 

Derek shrugged. “You know what they say: I’ll try anything once.” He chuckled. “I’ll just brush my teeth for an extra three minutes.” 

Spencer scoffed as he got into the passenger seat of Derek’s car. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll like it. You don’t get the caffeine drop when the eight hour half-life is over.” 

“Is that why you put so much sugar in coffee?” Derek raised an eyebrow, thinking he already knew the answer. 

“And coffee tastes like battery acid. I’d rather drink vinegar than black coffee.” Spencer shuddered. 

Derek chuckled but didn’t say anything else as he pulled onto the street.

*****

4. Cuddly Sleeper

Even though Spencer wasn’t huge on PDA like Derek was, he sure was a cuddly guy. The second the door closed, he was a six foot koala. That included in bed- but usually not until after he was asleep. 

Some nights, Spencer would fall asleep reading. So Derek would take his book, close it, gently remove Spencer’s glasses, and turn out the lamp. Nine times out of ten, Spencer was curled up against his side before Derek was asleep himself. 

At first, Derek found himself wondering why Spencer wasn’t nestled against him before sleep took him. But after a while, it sunk in that the doctor unwound by reading. 

The look on Spencer’s face when he curled into Derek’s side always sent the older man over the moon. The absolute peace on the doctor’s face. One night, Derek almost woke Spencer up laughing. Derek rolled over to out the lamp and Spencer had gripped Derek’s arm tighter and whined in his sleep. Derek then had to assure his boyfriend- in soft whispers as to not actually wake him up- that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

Spencer never thought to question why his book and glasses were gone when he woke up.

*****

5. Leaves Books Everywhere

Anyone who had a 30 second conversation with Spencer- anyone who glanced at Spencer- could tell the man read more than he did anything else. 

Derek picked up the doctor’s satchel once and was moderately surprised the slim man hadn’t dislocated his shoulder with how heavy the bag was. But Spencer didn’t only keep books in his bag. No. They were all over the place. 

Their bedroom, the craft room where Derek made floor plans for his renovations, the kitchen, the dining room, the living room. Even both bathrooms and the basement. 

When the two first moved in together, Derek debated building an extension onto the living room for a library. He still debated it from time to time (just in case). But as time wore on, Derek grew to appreciate the countless (if seemingly random) books around the house. 

Spencer would read when Derek was working on floorplans, so Derek would read when Spencer worked on an academic paper or consult. 

“What’re you reading?” Spencer asked one night, finally looking up from his notebook. He was writing an essay on how handwriting analysis could help catch a serial killer and/or rapist. 

“I don’t even know,” Derek chortled. “Uh..” he looked at the cover, “it’s Introduction to Law by Joanne Banker and Yvonne Ekern.” 

“Oh! Hotch loaned that to me yesterday,” Spencer noted. “I should get that back to him soon.” 

Derek just shook his head. “You know, Pretty Boy, I didn’t read this much in college.”

Spencer smiled. “See? Maybe there’s a good side to not spending thousands of dollars on building a library,” he teased.

6. The Nightlight

In the bedroom, in the outlet closest to the door was a nightlight. But not just any night light. This nightlight made the move in the front pocket of Spencer’s satchel. 

“So what’s the story behind this platypus, Pretty Boy?” Derek had to ask one night as Spencer turned it on. “Because you’ve had this since before we were dating.” 

“My uh- my mom’s went on a sort of field trip with her hospital a couple years ago. It was on one of her good days. She saw this in the aquarium’s gift shop and bought it for me.”

“That’s pretty cute,” Derek encouraged. He knew Spencer didn’t open up about his mom often so Derek tried to learn everything he could about the woman during the rare occurrences. 

“We named him,” Spencer laughed. “Alfred Nicholas Brian Reid.” He giggled. “I just… He helps.”

*****

+1. Bleeding/Infected Hangnails

Spencer usually had something to stim or fidget with. A strip of paper, a pen or pencil to twirl, a shirt with a loose thread, something. On the off chance that he didn’t, the doctor somehow decided that his fingers were good enough. If Spencer didn’t have a hangnail, he’d start one. 

This was the one and only thing about Doctor Spencer Reid that Derek Morgan hated. He could see the minute flinch when Spencer held a utensil wrong and it pressed on the swollen skin. He heard the soft hiss when Spencer got tomato or orange juice in the broken skin. 

What Derek hated even more than that was when the hangnail would get infected. The skin around the nail or turn a greenish-yellow and harden. Which, in turn, gave Spencer another thing to pick at. 

“Pretty Boy, you gotta stop,” Derek sighed. He’d gone into a convenience store to get them something other than coffee- but tastier than water- to drink. While inside, he bought a box of Band-Aids and a tube of anti-bacterial cream. 

Spencer snapped out of his daze. “What?”

“Picking at your nails.” To prove his point, Derek took Spencer’s hand in his to show him, as well as to stop his current picking. “I know you’re worried about the case, Baby, but we’ll catch the son of a bitch and put his ass behind bars like we always do. You gotta stop destroying your hands.”

“I didn’t realize I was,” he admitted. 

“I know,” Derek said softly. He applied the cream and a Band-Aid to each finger that needed it (five in total between both hands). “We just gotta get you a couple of those fidget cubes Garcia has.”

Tag List: @mayonnaiseismycomfortfood​

[nooneelsecomesclose17]

I’ll leave what I’m chasing - part 6

This is the part that kind of started the whole fic. I wanted a fic where Sarah went up against Chas. It’s kind of got out of hand, but here it is. I’m the most nervous about this part!

(AO3 link)

“I’ve been thinking.” Sarah announces after their food has arrived. 

“Always a worry.” Robert snorts back a laugh at Aaron’s reply, his husband innocently eating his meal as if he hadn’t spoken.

When they’d arrived the pub had fallen into silence and he still felt uncomfortable, as if everyone was watching, judging. Aaron’s hand had been firmly in his until their food had arrived and that had helped, but now he can’t help notice Chas’s glare in his direction from where she’s standing talking to Sam and Lydia. Sam, bless him, had raised the glass he was holding in his direction when they’d walked in but Chas had said something so he’d put his head down and that was it.

A few people had come over to the table and said hello, some he knew, some he didn’t, but he’d plastered on his fake smile and made polite conversation, mind whirling with thoughts of what they thought of him. He wished he didn’t care so much, wished he could ignore the looks, the whispering. Chas had let Bob serve Aaron and he’d seen the look he’d given his Mum, a mix of disappointment mixed with indifference and he’d just felt bad about the whole thing all over again. If it weren’t for Aaron he would’ve left by now.

“Rob, you listening?”

“What? Sorry.”

“I was just saying, your sister is back next week, so I was thinking, how about having Ana christened?”

“Why?” He’s trying not to think about seeing Vic again, they’d not exactly parted on the best terms and he couldn’t help but feel this trip back to their Gran’s villa in Spain for a couple of months had been timed just so she could avoid him despite his Mum’s assurances that it wasn’t

“Because it’s nice, and it’d show everyone that you’re a family.”

“What happened to not caring what everyone thinks?” 

“Nothing wrong with showing them you’re settled though is there. Besides, like I said it’ll be nice to have a family occasion, and don’t tell me you won’t like the chance to show her off. You could always have Seb christened too if you wanted as Rebecca never got round to it.”

“Do you get a deal, two for the price of one?”

“Charles might actually offer that.” He looks across at Aaron, who surprisingly looks interested in the whole idea.

“Who’s Charles?”

“The new vicar.”

“New vicar? What happened to Harriet?” He hates this, hates that he doesn’t know the people in the village any more, that’s he’s totally disconnected from everything that’s been happening.

“It’s a long story. Charles is ok though, he and his son lived next door for a couple of months until they found a house in the village. You’ll like them.”

“So, the christening? Shall I talk to him about dates? The weather’s nice, we can have people back to the house after.”

“What’s this?” Robert’s annoyed that he jumps at the sound of Chas’s voice as she appears at the table. She makes a show of clearing their glasses but he’s not convinced, he’s sure she’s just being nosy. He sees Aaron look at Sarah, and he’s willing her not to answer. He knows her better though, there’s a glint in her eye.

“We’re talking about a christening for Ana and Seb.” She tells her and turns right back to them, effectively dismissing Chas and a part of him wants to laugh.

“Nice. Where are they then?”

“With their Grandma. Less likely to hear things they shouldn’t with her.” He can’t help himself, hopes Aaron doesn’t mind, the hand on his knee says he doesn’t.

“Are you going to let him speak to me like that?” He catches his Mum’s look, telling him to leave it to Aaron.

“He’s not saying anything that isn’t true, Mum. What do you think it would’ve done to Seb to hear those things you were saying? It was bad enough that I heard them.”

“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true and you know it. Maybe I’m not the one that needs keeping away from them.” He’s not quick enough to stop Aaron jumping to his feet.

“Don’t! Those children are loved and safe and that’s all any kid needs.”

“With him as a father?”

“That’s enough.” Aaron’s voice is quiet, almost a whisper. “I told you I won’t have you talking like that. Come on Robert, let’s go home. Sarah, I’m sorry, I know you wanted to try and have a nice dinner but I’m not staying here and listening to this.”

“Of course not love. You go on ahead, I’ll collect the children from Diane and bring them home.”

Robert follows him, almost in a dream, still a little stunned. It’s not like Aaron hasn’t stood up for him before but even so it’s still a surprise to him when it happens. 

“Aaron, wait!” Chas’s shrill shout makes him wince and he waits for Aaron to go back like he would have done once upon a time, but he doesn’t, he holds onto his hand a little tighter if anything.

“Ignore her. We’ll get the kids and when they’re sleeping we’ll curl up in front of a film.”

They’re halfway home when he realises he’s left his jacket, assures Aaron he can fetch it himself and tells him to pick the film while he waits. The pub is quieter when he gets inside and as he pushes the door open he can hear why.

“...does whatever he wants. He can’t go around hitting people with shovels and expect to get away with it. I’m just looking out for the children.”

“No you’re not. You’re just holding a grudge you’ve had for years. You never wanted Aaron with Robert, and ok maybe he made mistakes in the past, but not this. They should’ve given him a medal for it, not locked him up.” It makes him feel warm inside hearing his Mum defend him. She always has, but for so long no one else did and now he knows he has Aaron who will always be there.

“He hurt someone!” He winces at how high her voice gets. He should leave, go home to Aaron, but something stops him, something makes him want to hear what she says.

“A rapist who had harassed my daughter for weeks, who taunted Robert to the point of breaking. I’m just sorry I wasn’t holding the shovel myself.” He almost laughs because he knows if she’d been in the village she would’ve done the same as him. It had only been Vic and him assuring her she should stay where she was that stopped her coming back.

“You can’t just take the law into your own hands.”

“Well that’s rich coming from a Dingle! Do I need to point out to you that you sent your brother round to deal with your ex? That you graffitied his car? I always knew you were a hypocrite Chas Dingle, but I never realised quite how much of one you are.”

“You don’t know anything about any of that. You weren’t even here back then!”

“No, I wasn’t, but I still have friends here. It’s really no skin off my nose what you do, but if you don’t want to lose your son and your grandchildren then you’d better do something about your behaviour towards Robert because Aaron’s not going to change his mind”

“Not with you and your son poisoning Aaron against me.”

“Oh Chas, he doesn’t need us to do that, you do a pretty good job yourself. If anything Robert wants you both to make up. This is all Aaron, because despite what you and Paddy think he’s an adult and fully capable of making his own decisions and has been for a very long time.”

“How dare you! You’ve only been here a few months and you think you can come in here and lecture me.”

“Oh I dare. I dare because I’ve talked to him, because unlike you, I’ve been there for him when Ana wouldn’t sleep, when Seb played up because he didn’t understand where his Daddy was, when he just wanted his husband. Where were you?”

“Where was Robert more like. Aaron wouldn’t have been in that state if he’d not cut him off. Left him alone to deal with a newborn baby and his son. In my book you don’t do that to the people you love.”

“Well, I guess you’d know more about that than me. At least when I left my husband my kids knew where I was.”

“Mum.” He’s quiet, but she hears him because the pub is quiet, too interested in the show that’s playing out in front of them. He has to stop them before it turns into something more ugly that they can’t come back from. Not because of him, he can’t handle it. The rest of the customers are agog at them and he’s surprised no one is trying to defend Chas. There’s a couple more Dingles in, but even they’re keeping out of it which surprises him. “Let’s go.”

“I’m sorry love, but it needed saying.” She leaves Chas standing there, fury all over her face and joins him at the door. “Am I in trouble?

He wants to hug her if he’s honest with himself but he doesn’t, just wants to get out of the place. When they’re out on the street he does, holding on that little bit longer. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t say anything that isn’t true.”

“Did leave him though, didn’t I? She was right about that. I left him, and I left Seb.”

“She’s got no room to be lecturing anyone on leaving a child. Or anything else for that matter.”

“How much did I miss out on?” He links his arm in hers as they make their way to pick up the children.

“Oh not much.”

“Oh great. You really went to town didn’t you?”

“I gave as good as I got, yes. Robert, I’m not going to stand by and let her say those things. I’ve not been here all the time I should have been, I’ve a lot to make up for.”

“And you’re doing that by going toe to toe with Chas Dingle? You know, you really don’t have anything to make up for Mum.” He pecks her cheek. “Thank you anyway.”

[northernindigenousbeautyhailey]

TAMRA JEWEL KEEPNESS.

FEW CHILDREN IN CANADA JUST VANISH. Fewer still stay gone for longer than a couple of days. Some are found alive, others are hurt or killed, but rarely does a child simply disappear. The RCMP’s National Centre for Missing Persons and Unidentified Remains database lists 147 missing children, in a country of more than 35 million people. Of the sixty children under the age of twelve, a quarter are thought to have been abducted by their parents. A large portion of the others were lost to apparent accidents or misadventure, falling through ice or swept away in the pull of wild rivers, their bodies never recovered. The database shows twenty-four children in the past sixty years who have inexplicably disappeared. Because there are so few, we know them. In Edmonton, there is Tania Murrell, six when she vanished while walking home from school for lunch in January 1983. In Toronto, Nicole Morin, eight when she disappeared from a condominium building in July 1985. Michael Dunahee was four years old when he went missing from a playground in Victoria in 1991. In Regina, there is only Tamra Keepness.

THE LAST TIME anyone saw Tamra, she was five years old, with bobbed black hair and soft, round cheeks. In one picture, she wears a T-shirt dotted with flowers, standing against the colourful collage of a classroom wall. Her smile is broad and open, her eyes lively. She was so smart that her mother called her “my little Einstein,” so feisty that when a little boy pushed her once, Tamra shoved him right back, and harder. She liked playing Mario Kart on Nintendo and climbing her favourite tree, down the block from her house.

July 6, 2004, was the first time Sergeant Ron Weir would hear Tamra’s name. He was getting ready to leave on vacation that day when he got an urgent call back to the police station. Weir was a veteran cop with the Regina Police Service and head of emergency services, which included search and rescue. In a meeting, officers from the major crimes unit laid out what they knew: sometime between the night of Monday, July 5, and the morning of Tuesday, July 6, a five-year-old girl had gone missing from her home in central Regina.

Weir had been a police officer for twenty years. He knew that kids often went missing and turned up safe a short time later. Sixty-five percent of missing children and teens are located within the first day, and almost 90 percent within the first week. But Weir also knew that Tamra was too young to get far as a runaway. Patrol officers had already checked the neighbourhood to make sure Tamra hadn’t wandered away or ended up at the house of a playmate or relative, as was often the case with missing children. They’d found nothing. Even in the early hours of the investigation, Weir suspected this case would be different.

TAMRA LIVED with her mother, stepfather, and five siblings at 1834 Ottawa Street, a shabby brown-and-white two-storey with a windowed porch at the front. The house stood between 11th and 12th avenues, just east of downtown Regina. The neighbourhood was a mix of long-time elderly residents, young families drawn by low prices for heritage houses, and ramshackle homes where residents struggled with poverty and addiction. The area was sometimes known as the “low stroll,” a place where women and girls sold their bodies for drugs or booze and men drove around looking to buy them, circling the neighbourhood in trucks and station wagons. Many of the women and girls who lived or worked in the area were First Nations, like Tamra. Long before calls for a federal inquiry into missing and murdered Indigenous women would dominate the political conversation, women were going missing from those streets. It was from that same area that nineteen-year-old Annette Kelly Peigan disappeared in 1983, followed by eighteen-year-old Patsy Favel in 1984 and Joyce Tillotson in 1993. Two years later, two young white men picked up a woman named Pamela George, sexually assaulted her, and beat her to death.

The last public development came in November 2014, when a Reddit user posted to the website a scrawled map with the words: “Location of Tamra Keepness, check the wells.”

Tamra’s house was less than a block from the Oskana Centre, a halfway house for federal parolees, and not far from the Salvation Army’s Waterston House, a residence and shelter inhabited by former inmates and men struggling with drugs, alcohol, and psychiatric issues. Residents of both facilities had been responsible for serious attacks in the past. Just four months earlier, convicted violent sex offender Randy Burgmann had lured a woman into his room at Waterston House with alcohol, before violently sexually assaulting her and leaving her beside a dumpster to die. The Oskana Centre had previously been home to both serial rapist Larry Deckert and Billy John Francis Whitedeer, who began committing violent sexual offences on children when he was ten years old. A few blocks farther was the Ehrle Hotel, one of the worst bars in town, from which patrons spilled soggy and staggering onto the sidewalk, and which appeared regularly in police reports and court testimony.

Police also had serious questions about what was happening at 1834 Ottawa Street. There was a broken window and blood spatter in the porch. Social Services had been involved with the family since not long after the oldest child was born in 1993, and there had been more than fifty reports made to crisis workers, most often about Tamra’s mother’s use of alcohol and drugs, and neglect of the children. Her mother’s boyfriend had a history of violence and domestic assault. In most cases, investigators knew, children are hurt by people closest to them.

POLICE STARTED with a thorough search of the area immediately around the home, then cast their efforts outward in an expanding grid. As the sun rose on the morning of July 7, 2004, the search effort intensified. First, there were ten officers, then twenty, then more. Some officers accompanied trained volunteer search teams; others questioned family members and potential witnesses, going door-to-door gathering leads or chasing down tips. The RCMP training academy provided cadets, and members of the public soon began arriving on their own to help.

Police set up a command-centre bus in the parking lot of a nearby church, from which Weir co-ordinated the search. Though it was an urban environment, the terrain posed serious challenges. The area was filled with overgrown yards, empty houses, piles of garbage. Tamra weighed forty pounds, and stood three foot five. There were so many places a child could hide or get trapped or be held, where a child’s body could be concealed or dumped. Searchers in orange vests worked in grids, knocking on doors, inspecting junked cars and crumbling garages, peering under discarded mattresses and piles of wood, looking down manholes. Police stopped garbage pickups, checking all the bins in the neighbourhood, the trash putrid and reeking in the summer heat. Some bins had already been emptied, so plans were made to search the dump as well.

And what if she had been taken farther? Not far away were industrial areas, large abandoned lots and buildings, Wascana Creek, and beyond that, the vast Prairie. With a thirteen-hour head start, someone in a vehicle could have had Tamra in Vancouver before she was reported missing.

When they were not speaking to police, members of Tamra’s family waited anxiously on the fringes, watching the searchers, eyeing the growing assembly of reporters and news crews holding out microphones and pointing camera lenses. “It’s not like her to go off by herself,” said Tamra’s father, Troy Keepness, sitting on the front steps of his ex-wife’s house, his voice tight with worry. “We’re trying to do our best to get her back.”

Weir worked in the command-centre bus, surrounded by maps and whiteboards. A scribe logged every aspect of the search in real time, recording ideas and progress. No one wanted to break, not for food or rest. Everyone knew the situation grew more serious with every passing hour. As the heat of the day gave way to evening, Weir stood outside and looked up. A strong wind had come in, and storm clouds were spreading, darkening the Prairie sky.

The next day, police strung crime-scene tape around Tamra’s house and the one next door, drawing it through the back alley and across six garages, long slashes of yellow dividing the street. Officers guarded the perimeter while forensic investigators went in and out of the house in boots and masks. “While we don’t have any direct evidence that Tamra has come to any harm, we also don’t know where she is,” police spokeswoman Elizabeth Popowich told reporters. “And if, in fact, this comes to a point where we determine that she’s come to some harm and it’s because of a criminal act, this location could potentially be the scene of some evidence.”

THERE WERE three adults in the house that evening: the children’s mother, Lorena Keepness; her boyfriend, Dean McArthur; and a family friend named Russell Sheepskin, who had been staying with the family. All three had come and gone during the night, and investigators were starting to question their movements. There were no signs of forced entry to the house, and there were gaps, inconsistencies in their timelines that didn’t make sense to investigators.

The story the three told publicly, compiled from various interviews, was that Lorena and McArthur got into an argument while watching a movie on Monday evening, and McArthur and Sheepskin left the house around 8:30 p.m. to go drinking. The men returned briefly to drop off a bottle of formula for the baby, then left again. Lorena went out around 11 p.m, kissing Tamra goodbye before she went. The oldest child in the house was ten-year-old Summer, the youngest was Lorena and McArthur’s nine-month-old baby. Lorena returned briefly to check on the children and then left again around midnight. At about 3 a.m., Sheepskin returned home drunk and saw Tamra sleeping on the couch. Not long after, McArthur got back to the house and assaulted Sheepskin on the porch, punching him through a window and then stomping on his head. (Both men later said the fight had nothing to do with Tamra.) Sheepskin walked alone to the hospital to get stitches, and McArthur went to stay at his aunt’s house a few blocks away. Though it should have been a short walk, he said he got lost and kept passing out as he walked there. He didn’t arrive for at least two hours, until 5 or 5:30 a.m. Meanwhile, Lorena got home around 3:15 or 3:30 a.m., climbed in through a window, and passed out on the couch. She said that she got up to undo the latch on the door for her mother around 8 or 9 a.m. and that the two eldest children, Summer and Rayne, left on their own in the morning to attend a summer day-camp. Lorena didn’t realize Tamra wasn’t there until about three hours later, when the five-year-old didn’t come downstairs. At 12:16 p.m., a family member called the police and told them Tamra was missing.

Rayne, who was eight, said he had gone to bed squeezed into the space between the wall and mattresses piled on the floor in an upstairs bedroom. He told his mother he felt Tamra get up at some point, the slight movement of a child’s weight. All he could remember was that it was light outside.

FRIDAY WAS hot again and wet from the previous night’s rain. An odour of decay hung in the air around Ottawa Street. Tamra had been gone three full days and become national news. Her picture seemed to be everywhere, hanging on street poles and store windows. In news stories, she became “missing five-year-old Tamra Keepness,” but more often she was just Tamra, as if we knew her. The front page of the Regina Leader-Post spoke directly to her, asking, “Tamra, Where Did You Go?”

Tips flooded in to police. On the street, there were rumours that Tamra had been seen at a dollar store with an older woman. Business owners in the neighbourhood said detectives had been looking for a middle-aged white man named Roch or Rocky, but police wouldn’t confirm whether that was related to the search. Lorena and McArthur said they gave police the names of five people they thought could be suspects, including a man who had befriended Tamra and later been discovered to be a pedophile. For a while, there was even a theory that Tamra had never existed at all, that she had been a scam to get extra money from Social Services. (Hospital records proved that was not the case.)

Searchers were coming from around the province to volunteer, streaming into the city from towns and First Nations communities, motivated by the faces of their own children or grandchildren to help in whatever way they could. “I’ve got a boy, and he’s twenty-one,” said Jerry Scott, one of the volunteers who joined the search. “And if he left, I’d go nuts, too.” Around the city, people organized vigils and barbecues, brought water and snacks for the searchers, wrapped ribbons around trees to show their support. Some left teddy bears and angels on the steps of Tamra’s house. Days of intensive searches had turned up lots of items that seemed as though they could be connected—clothing, a child’s shoe—but none of it belonged to Tamra. “I’m starting to go on different conclusions, like maybe someone took her, I don’t know,” Troy Keepness said. “I just hope nobody would hurt my daughter.”

WHEN Tamra had been gone a week, police announced they were suspending the ground searches. At a press conference, Regina police chief Cal Johnston announced a $25,000 reward for information and vowed, “We will find Tamra.” Police questioned sex offenders living in the area and obtained surveillance tapes from convenience stores, bars, gas stations, and the Greyhound bus depot nearby. Johnston confirmed that “criminal interference with Tamra is a distinct possibility” and drew attention back to Tamra’s house and family. “There were comings and goings from the house that night that remain not fully explained to our satisfaction, and we continue to ask those questions,” he told reporters. He would not elaborate.

Tamra’s family was growing increasingly angry at the police, and the strain of the situation was starting to show. Lorena told reporters she’d signed consent forms for police to search her house and had given her DNA, but still she felt as if they were focusing too much on her family and not enough on trying to find Tamra. She was angry that police hadn’t closed the highways out of the city and that there was no Amber Alert because police said it didn’t meet the criteria. “I’m fed up,” she told reporters. “They are wasting time. This is my little girl we’re talking about.”

The family was growing frustrated with the media, too. Lorena’s mother yelled obscenities at reporters one day, and on another, members of the family nearly came to blows with a TV reporter doing a live update from the front lawn. They had been watching the news inside the house when they heard the reporter imply what many in the city were already wondering: If not someone in that house, then who?

On July 19, two weeks after Tamra had been reported missing, police charged McArthur with assaulting Sheepskin the night Tamra disappeared. McArthur told reporters he had been interrogated for twenty hours, not about the assault, but about Tamra and about what had gone on inside the house that night. “It was always the same questions, and they were assuming that I knew the answers to those questions, but I didn’t know the answers, and I still don’t know the answers,” he said. “I would never hurt a hair on that little girl’s head.”

Two days later, Tamra’s brothers and sisters were removed from the home by child-protection officers. Tamra’s twin sister wore messy pigtails and clutched a colouring book and a yellow blanket as two women led the children away down the front steps of the house. Neither government officials nor police would say whether the children’s seizure was related to Tamra’s disappearance. When the children were gone, police searched the house again.

One night late that summer, Tamra’s father, Troy, showed up at the house with a baseball bat and confronted her stepfather, McArthur. Troy was charged with assault, though McArthur later said police “got things misunderstood.” “Everybody’s looking for answers,” he said. “We more or less talked.”

LORENA KEEPNESS was fourteen years old when she ran away from her home on the White Bear First Nation, 200 kilometres southeast of Regina. She had been in residential school for about three months, but that wasn’t what did it. For her, it was the same ugly stuff at home. She found her way to Regina. When her mom tried to take her home, Lorena wouldn’t go. She lived on the streets instead.

She had her daughter Summer Wind when she was twenty, her son Rayne Dance not long after. It was after the ultrasound for her third baby that she walked home in a daze and told her husband, Troy, “We’re having twins.” She kept repeating it until it sunk in, and then they just stood together in the kitchen and laughed. Her mother said “Way to go!” but Lorena told her, “They came from God. Not like I planted those in me.”

The babies were born on September 1, 1998. Fraternal twin girls, each weighing more than six pounds, carried almost right to term and curved around one another like pieces of a puzzle. Lorena and Troy split up when the twins were little, and after that, the girls stayed sometimes with their mother, sometimes with their father or with other relatives. Lorena and Troy each struggled with substance abuse, and their lives were sometimes too troubled and unstable to have the children with them. At five, Tamra was bold and courageous, and protective of her twin sister. Once, Lorena heard a soft knock in the middle of the night and opened the door to find the twins standing there. The children had left their father’s house and walked four blocks back to Lorena’s in the middle of the night, Tamra leading her sister by the hand as they found their way through the dark. REGINA POLICE received more than a thousand tips in the first six weeks after Tamra’s disappearance. At one point, a Volkswagen van that had been stolen the night Tamra disappeared was found burned outside the city. A jail guard told police she and a former inmate had stolen it, picked up Tamra, and then dumped the child’s body in a ravine on the Muscowpetung First Nation. Ron Weir led a week-long search on Muscowpetung, draining multiple beaver dams with compressor pumps, while searchers slogged through water up to their hips. The jail guard later confessed she had made up the story. She was charged with mischief and wrote a letter apologizing to the police. In court, her lawyer said she had been trying to get her abusive boyfriend locked up again.

Returning from medical leave to the police department in the fall of 2004, superintendent Troy Hagen could feel how Tamra’s disappearance was weighing on his colleagues. Hagen noticed it in everyone he spoke to, from the police chief down, whether they were involved with the case or not. Sergeant Rod Buckingham, one of the lead investigators, was among those who felt the growing frustration. “It’s a mystery,” he would say. “And I don’t like mysteries.”

Officers had spoken with more than 6,000 people by then, but there had been no arrests, and leads were drying up. Shortly after, a special task force was struck to re-examine the case, to see whether anything had been missed. The name of the project was iskwesis ayishowak e mamayahi, a Cree term meaning “little girl bring people together.”

TWELVE YEARS LATER, Lorena Keepness spends her days doing odd jobs and picking bottles, trading them in at the depot for cash. She is forty-three and lives with her eldest son in a rundown shack of a house on Victoria Avenue, a fifteen-minute walk from Ottawa Street. Lorena’s children were never permanently returned to her custody after the disappearance, and the three babies she had after that were all taken by Social Services, too. Tamra’s twin sister is seventeen now. Lorena says she is an athlete, smart and beautiful. Lorena lost her family pictures when someone threw all her stuff in the garbage a few years ago. The only photos she has of Tamra now are the ones on missing-child posters.

Tamra’s twin and her older sister, Summer, don’t want to be interviewed. Neither does Tamra’s father, Troy. McArthur couldn’t be reached. Lorena needs a six-pack of Black Ice beer to talk. She doesn’t really want to be interviewed either. She has never liked reporters or their questions, and it hurts to talk about that time. “But part of me wants to,” she says, as her face crumples. “Part of me needs to share what the fuck happened. Someone stole my child.”

Lorena has heard many theories about what happened to her daughter. Some believe Tamra wandered away and was abducted by a driver cruising the area or that she got lost, then crawled in somewhere so small she has never been found. Other theories focus on the adults in the house that night. Some officers will say off-the-record that they think Tamra is in the dump but that they just couldn’t find her in the mountains of debris. Many in the city believe that Lorena and McArthur sold or traded Tamra to pay off a cocaine debt. Lorena has heard that one the most. One night, she was at a bar and heard some women talking, loud enough so she could hear. “Yeah, she sold her kid for dope. She has a whole bunch of babies. She has kids just to sell them for drugs.” Her friend told her not to listen, but Lorena couldn’t ignore it. She swore at the women, promised she would get them for even thinking she could do that to her child. They met at the same bar again the next day, and that time they fought, a tangle of hair and fists. One of them had a knife and slashed her twice on the back of her arm. More scars to wear for life. It wasn’t the only time. One night, she was attacked in Moose Jaw. Not long ago, a woman shouted “Baby killer!” at her across the street.

Lorena and Dean McArthur are still together, on and off—“more on than off,” she says. Police tried hard to turn them against each other, but she always believed him in the end. He may be all kinds of things, she says, but he’s not a baby killer. “If I thought he did something to my daughter, I would have killed him myself,” she says. “I think the police were just so sure. They figured, ‘These guys are a bunch of nobodies. She did her own child.’ They already had their conclusions drawn before they even tried to look for anything.”

The suggestion she could have had something to do with her daughter’s disappearance still pushes Lorena to the point of violence. You can see her eyes flash, her muscles tighten at the question. But she holds back— it’s not worth going to jail. She’s had enough of the police, has grown used to the accusations. In the past twelve years, she’s repeated her story publicly many times, and it has never really changed.

REGINA POLICE have never released full details about the investigation into Tamra’s disappearance, on the grounds that it remains an open case that they still hope to solve. In an interview, Troy Hagen, now Regina’s police chief, would not speak about any working theories or confirm any specifics of the investigation, including whether one of the people questioned about Tamra’s disappearance had failed a polygraph test. Instead, Hagen echoed what police have said since the beginning: That there remain important unanswered questions about the comings and goings from the house on Ottawa Street that night. That they will continue to investigate every tip. That they won’t stop looking for Tamra until they find her. He pointed to cases in the United States where children have been gone for years, sometimes decades, and then been found alive. In Canada, twelve-year-old Abby Drover was held in an underground bunker in Port Moody, British Columbia, for six months after being abducted by her neighbour in 1976. There was an intensive search of her community—including by her abductor—but she had been only feet away from her house the entire time. She was found alive. It seems impossible, but it happens. “I refuse to lose hope,” Hagen says.

The years since Tamra’s disappearance have exposed the epidemic of missing and murdered Indigenous women in Canada. Suspected serial killers are facing charges in the Prairies, but there has been no public indication that Tamra’s disappearance may be connected to any of those cases. Hagen said police have also explored a possible connection with thirteen-year-old Courtney Struble, who disappeared from Estevan, a city 200 kilometres from Regina, four days after Tamra was last seen. Investigators initially believed that Struble was a runaway, and she had been gone for seven years before RCMP announced that her case had become a homicide investigation. No one has ever been charged, and her remains have never been located. Hagen says it’s strange to have two unsolved missing-children cases linked so closely in time and geographic proximity. He says the possibility of a connection was “very much” explored by police, but there doesn’t appear to be a correlation. The police investigation into Tamra’s disappearance is one of the largest and costliest in Regina’s history, but Hagen says it has never been about the money. If there were more leads or work for investigators, the police chief says he would reconvene the task force “in a heartbeat.” But the flood of tips has slowed. The reward for information that leads to finding her, now $50,000, sits unclaimed. The last public development came in November 2014, when a Reddit user with the name MySecretIsOut posted a scrawled map with the words: “Location of Tamra Keepness, check the wells.” The person later wrote that the map belonged to their grandmother and had come from a great-aunt who had visited an inmate in Alberta. “We, like many others, haven’t forgotten about you, Tamra, and continue to search and hope you are found,” the person posted. Police searched twenty-one wells around Muscowpetung but found nothing.

Sheepskin died on January 1, 2009, “with his family by his side,” according to his obituary. Many of the police officers who worked on Tamra’s case have retired or moved from the department to other jobs. Hagen says he thinks of Tamra whenever he is walking through the forest, not looking for her but always half expecting to see her there. Sometimes he looks at people he passes on the street, examining their faces and imagining what Tamra might look like now.

THROUGH THE YEARS, Lorena has developed her own theories about what happened to her daughter. These days, she mainly wonders about a drifter who used to stay with them, a woman Lorena knew from when she was a girl. A woman who sometimes told people she was pregnant even though she wasn’t, who Lorena knew by one name but whose medical documents said something else. The woman was around so much that Lorena’s children called her Big Auntie. Big Auntie had been staying at the house before Tamra disappeared, but left after she and Lorena had a falling out. Lorena says it took a long time to realize Big Auntie wasn’t coming around any more. When she did, she put word out on the streets, but no one there had seen her either. Big Auntie didn’t even show up for her own sister’s funeral in Regina a few years back. Lorena says she told the police about Big Auntie many times, but doesn’t know whether they ever found her, or whether they even looked. “She’s just gone now,” Lorena says. “Same time as my child.” Maybe it’s something. Or maybe Big Auntie is missing, too.

When I ask Lorena whether she thinks Tamra will ever be found, she struggles for an answer. “I don’t know,” she says. “But can I tell you about a dream I had?” There are two, both so vivid it’s as if they were real. In one, Tamra is inside a big house in a city Lorena has never seen. There are silk clothes draped around, and broad windows, and Tamra is upstairs, sitting on the edge of a bathtub putting on stockings. She is grown, with dark, shiny hair like her mother’s but cut straight all around. In the other dream, Tamra is still a little girl, running into her mother’s arms. “There you are!” Lorena says. “There you are!” She picks up her child and holds her, until Tamra wriggles free and is lost again.

[in-tua-deep]

tua s1 rewatch with my roommate

episode one (I forgot for the first episode oops):

I have been treated to pictures of a lovely cosplay of Klaus who won a cosplay contest my roommate was in !!

Klaus putting his arm in front of Five during the funeral fight is good shit

“I have heard like nothing about Vanya” “yeah that’s pretty much how she’s treated in show as well”

“I can see why he’s the fandom favorite” - about Klaus

“Istanbul is in the firST EPISODE?”

I forGOT about the “rapists can climb” line when he breaks into Vanya’s apartment omg but also like,, his dumb arm wound

Episode two:

HERR CARLSON

Aww baby fives first time travel his little smile. Baby. Baby boy. And the dawning horror in the apocalypse baby nO

Five: you got anything stronger

Also five: takes one sip and then fills up more, takes another sip, and then immediately puts it down ?????

The motel dude for hazel and cha cha just looks at them like “yeah these are serial killers” and just rolls with it

Also actually why tf doesn’t the commission spring for better stuff?? Why would they cut costs?? They time travel? They could game the stock market so hard ?????? Give the assassins their own rooms omg

Also why didn’t five like. Crush his tracker. Why did he just leave it whole and intact outside of the Griddys.

Forgot how much I love Agnes

(Oh man it is storming bad here it just BOOMED)

Also idk if Diego actually deserved that taser hmmmmm but also like,, communication lads five was literally right there killing people and Diego is like “hmm something is up here” like. Yeah Diego ur big brother “I can get my sibling in trouble for something” senses are tingling

Wow I really did repress all these Allison and Luther scenes huh. Also it’s still super cute that Allison read Claire moon books

Allison: dads heart gave out, which wasn’t how I was expecting to find out dad had a heart but it tracks

“SHUT YOUR PIEHOLE BEN... said with love 😘”

Did five actually sleep at Vanyas?? The sofa looks undisturbed but he had to wait for work hours to interrogate the meritech people,, five,, please sleep. The whole “IF YOU CALL ME YOUNG MAN ONE MORE TIME” interaction makes more sense with five on. Zero sleep.

I didn’t remember that Patch straight up knows about the umbrella academy oops. Like she clocks Diego as overcompensating for his childhood. Queen

Is that an umbrella adademy Diego cross stitch on Diego’s wall?? Did he buy that? Make it?? Did grace make it?

Vanya, walking into the academy: five??? five? pspspspspsps

Also like. Who was Vanyas therapist??? Clearly they did not help her

Aww the tow truck driver :(

I know the show wants me to dislike Patrick I KNOW,, and I think her fathers funeral is extenuating circumstance?? But still Patrick is valid for not giving an inch regarding his ex who mind controlled his child. Vanya didn’t really deserve Allison snapping at her but like. She had some good points. Allison arguably would have had to deal with vanyas book more than anyone else

Five smiling proudly at Klaus’s drama at meritech bless but also KLAUS DONT BREAK GLASS ON YOURSELF

Me, spotting Leonard: BASTARD

Love how everyone greets Diego in the gym and don’t question all his knives or anything like “yeah that’s Diego he lives here and loves knives :)”

Why could Leonard have not been like. A normal ass guy. Vanya needs friends who sympathize with her holy shit get this person some socialization

Pogo really did have to lead these kids by hand to the recording rooms because literally no one was super invested in reginalds ~murder mystery~

ahafahJAGSJWGAI MY ROOMMATE JUST SAID POGO IS THE BEST CHARACTER SO FAR,,,, I will probably never include pogo in my fics because I do Not Care About Him lmaoooo

Aww five does to see Dolores and being like “it’s been a rough couple of days :(“,,,,, baby,,,, but also tag yourself I’m hazel going “elastic wrist splint yesssssss”

Five I am begging you PLEASE get some sleep

OH FIVE SHAKING DIEGO IN THE APOCALYPSE TO TRY AND WAKE HIM UP OHHHHH OH :(

Episode 3:

my roommate is super faceblind which is an issue bc she identifies people mainly by hairstyle so seeing the s2 stuff on tumblr is tripping her over bc she keeps seeing diego and going ??? who is that again? bc she’s seen his longer hair

okay there is no way that the eggs that grace put in that pan are the ones that ended up on the smiley face breakfast plate,,, but also grace that whole scene was a mood honestly i would be like “okay maybe mom killed dad BUT he deserved it sooooo”

“what the FUCK” - my roommate about cha-cha’s shitty wound care where she holds a curling iron against her arm

i didn’t remember that five got shOT AT THE DEPARTMENT STORE did i just erase that from my memory?? i mean yeah it’s a graze but he stitches it up and then slaps a bandaid on it so he has a wound that needed stitches on his shoulder for the entire show ??????? is he okay???? that would make moving your arm,,, painful,,,,,

a bandaid just slapped over it i’m actively yelling

“Sometimes when I see a million gifs of a show before I watch I get really surprised when they talk but he is exactly what I expected” - my roommate, about five

“I noticed they’ve only really showed diego in really badly lit scenes so far” - my roommate defending her lack of ability to recognize diego

i’m still laughing about pogo literally having to point out the murder tapes and now allison and luther are investigating and just. allison is lowkey defending grace and i’m laughing

“why is he saying woodwork is embarrassing that’s like one of the most middle of the wood hobbies to have. you’re respectable to grandpas who used to carve wooden ducks AND twenty-year-olds who can’t make anything to save their lives” - my roommate on leonard peabody

“i think he’s already crossing some lines he’s met this lady ONCE” - roommate on leonard/vanya

five having flashbacks in the car :(

did allison and luther draw straws for who went to fetch which sibling?? allison was like “dibs on vanya” and luther was just like “aww :(”

five luther and klaus in the van - BOYS NIGHT BOYS NIGHT let’s go pick up diego

“the coat he’s wearing does have a nice swish to it” - roommate about klaus’s coat

luther being like “you’re just as messed up as the rest of us and we’re all you have” like luther,,, baby,,,,, you literally ARE all he has,,,,,, his family is the only thing he’s really cared about since he was thirteen and maybe before then :(

“I can’t tell if those are supposed to be cake or yeast donuts... i think extruded donuts are cake donuts but she said she lets them rise so maybe they’re yeast?” - my roommate focusing on all the things that i do not

sometimes i forget that hazel and cha-cha pretended to be private detectives trying to find a lost child in a potentially dangerous situation,,, five would be disgusted

“she shouldn’t get a vote” “i was gonna say i agree with you” “she should get a vote!!” this is peak sibling energy honestly i think i’ve had that exact interaction with my siblings voting for a movie or something

“hashtag android rights” 

“I want to be the tailor who gets a call one day that says ‘i want you to make clothes for a chimpanzee”

is it telling that only luther in the flashback didn’t really talk to grace at all,, i mean five didn’t either but i think he was gone by that point in the flashback ???? 

wait diego tells grace that she worked for him for thirty years,,, the kids are 29 and later it’s implied she was built bc vanya kept killing nannies when they were like four but maybe s2 clarifies that some more?? or diego just is rounding up

“that’s an interesting fabric to her skirt” - my roommate about grace’s outfit

forgot that hazel and cha cha broke the door to the manor busting in,, do they ever fix that?? we’re only at episode three do they spend the rest of the season with their door open to anyone on the streets

okay that bathtub is WAY too small to allow for klaus to be moving his elbows about like that underwater smh

“how is HE useful on mission??” my roommate about klaus

where is the SECURITY SYSTEM??? luther LITERALLY said that reggie was more paranoid and yet some assassin can just bust down the door and have unrestricted access????? he built a whole ROBOT but no security system????????

“maybe it was like,, practice for the kids? someone breaks in and they take care of it? wait no that doesn’t explain the thirteen years they’ve been gone?”

“why WAS he on the moon?” - about luther

“I want to see what she’s embroidering!!” about grace during the gunfight in the living room she’s absolutely ignoring diego getting shot at

what is a rope-a-dope,,,, diego yells “EVER HEARD OF A ROPE-A-DOPE???” at luther but like. no i haven’t. what does that MEAN diego

aww i forgot they played sinnerman, love that song

“what are you doing dude, rumor has it you’re not shooting at me that’s all you need to do” i mean. the roommate is not wrong. allison could just end the fight with a yell. i understand she’s pissed off and has rumor trauma but like cha cha is actively trying to murder them

how is luther not winning he literally has super strength. does hazel have super strength? just punch the man and knock him out jesus y’all suck at this smh

why is there such intense music we all been knew about luther’s strength - oH HIS BODY

forgot about that

is it allison’s fault that klaus got kidnapped because she didn’t literally just rumor them to give up?? like she literally has that power. she could have been like “i heard a rumor you left and forgot about us” it didn’t even need to be violent?? i understand she has rumor trauma but this i feel is allowable circumstances

diego showing his worry about vanya by getting angry which honestly i think all the siblings do that rip none of these idiots have even heard of healthy communication in their LIVES

you know,, i don’t think vanya can drive. she takes the bus. she took a taxi to leonard’s house. we see her walking a lot. does she know how to drive?? i imagine that the umbrella academy were taught bc of mission related stuff but,,, vanya wasn’t?? that’s just depressing tbh

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

What a Time to be Alive - Diego Hargreeves x reader Season I

Chapter 7- The Day That Was

Summary: Five has popped in from nowhere, yet again. Now you, Diego, Five, and Allison are on the hunt for an important file.

Masterlist - where all the other chapters are⚔️

Tagged: @sambucky8 @white-wolf-buckaroo @2cuteforyourlies @la-vie-en-amour1 @fandomoverlord221 @thatfandombitcch @alonewolfsblog @starrrybarnes @winterboobear11

“Who the hell is Harold Jenkins?” Questions Diego, bewildered at the random insignificant name Five just handed Allison on a folded piece of paper. Five glances up at the six of you, who are all gathered around Allison in various states of befuddlement. He lets out a short huff before taking one more sip of coffee, promptly chucking it behind him where it soars across the room forgotten and out of sight.

“I don’t know...yet. But I know that he’s responsible for the apocalypse. So we have to find him. And we have to do it now.” Explains Five, setting up a new plan of attack.

“How is he connected to what’s gonna happen?” Wonders Luther doubtfully.

 “I don’t know.” Answers Five, Diego cutting in with his own questions, “Wait so you just know his name? That’s it?”

“That’s enough.” Assures Five to the rest of you. You let out a snort, amused by his ready-to-go vagueness.

“There are probably dozens of Harold Jenkins in the city.” Adds Diego, making a compelling point, how are you guys supposed to find one guy within the giant populous of the city?

“Well, we better start looking, then.” You deadpan, not thrilled with the idea of playing a game of Where’s Waldo.

Five then goes on to fully explain the reasoning and valuable information about how he came to the conclusion of Harold Jenkins causing the apocalypse. Further diving more in depth about his former employer and what the Commission is, as well as what it does, which is to protect and maintain the timeline. It’s a large informational dump, but it does clear up more about who Hazel and Cha-Cha are. As well as what they do, so they’re timetraveling assassins who help keep the timeline in order. And you already thought your life was weird enough.

Five finishes his little rant, the rest of you all beginning to speak out at once, rambling on with more opinions and unnecessary questions. Allison commenting on how completely insane everything he just said sounds. Five’s head snaps up at that, “You know what else is insane? I look like a 13 year old boy. Klaus talks to the dead, Y/N can get shot in the head and come back to life, and Luther thinks he’s fooling everybody with that overcoat. Everything about us is insane. It always has been.” You nod at that, Klaus adding his two cents from his spot laying on the couch, “He’s got a point there.”

“We didn’t choose this life, we’re just living it. For the next three days, anyway.” Five ends with, hoping everyone will see the importance of sticking together. “But the last time we tried to stop it, we all died. Why is this time any different? Why shouldn’t I go home to my daughter?” Worries Allison.

“Because this time, I’m here. We have the name of the man responsible. Guys, we actually have the chance of saving the lives of billions of people. Including Claire.” Replies Five, a new determination pushing him forward. Allison’s eyebrows furrow in thought, “You know her name?”

“I do, and I’d like to live long enough to meet her.” Five tells her honestly.

“All right. Let’s get this bastard.” She agrees, walking closer to Five. “You had me at Gerald Jenkins.” Says Diego, you roll your eyes, Five correcting him “Harold Jenkins.”

“Whatever it is. Too many people have been killed his week, let’s not lose anyone else.” You add, walking towards the door.

“You, Luther?” Five says, surprised that Luther hasn’t joined the band wagon yet. “Yeah, you go. I’m gonna stay and go through Dad’s files. I still think this has something to do with why he sent me to the Moon.” Luther tells all of you, his mind still dead set on the Moon and why he was sent there. You roll your eyes, Diego speaking up at Luther’s unwillingness to help, “Seriously? Now you wanna make the end of the world about you and Dad?”

“No. “Watch for threats.” That’s what he told me. You think that’s a coincidence? This all has to be connected somehow.” Luther explains while looking to each of you expectantly. “No, we should all stick together.” Allison reasons, trying to get Luther to see the light. “We don’t have time for this.” You groan while reaching out to touch Diego’s arm, you just really want to leave and get on with things.

“Let’s roll. I know where we can find this asshole. Klaus, you’re with me and Y/N.” Beckons Diego, nodding for him to follow. 

“Yeah. I...I’m good. I think I’ll, uh...I think I’ll pass,” He says from the couch while waving him off, “I’m feeling a little under the weather, so..uh...” He trails off, getting up and walking past you, Diego, and Five.

 Diego and Five look to you for an answer as Klaus walks away and out of sight, you just shrug your shoulders, “The worlds a rainstorm and he’s but a tiny rain forest ant.....I don’t know, lets just leave.” You tell them with a sigh as you start walking towards the front door, the two of them following.

“When did you get all metaphorical?” Says Five.

“Since today.”

“That’s right my babes a smart one.”

“Someone has to be...and Diego it’s not gonna be you.” Five lets out a choked laugh at your teasing comment.

“I’ve missed you guys.”

——

Surprisingly enough, Diego had the right idea when it came to finding this Harold Jenkins guy at the police station. They have all the records of almost everyone in the whole city, so Jenkins record has to be here.

Diego pulls up to the side of the building, while you look out the window at the bustling city life, thinking to yourself about how none of these people could even begin to dream of the life you live. They’re all blissfully oblivious to that fact that the actual apocalypse is supposed to be coming in a couple days. None of them have a goddamn clue. They don’t know what it’s like to die, or what a heartbeat sounds like in the chest of a terrified teenage robber. They’ll never know what it feels like to look at their own reflection in a bullet, as it flies past their head. When it seems like time is rolling in slow motion, and you’re the only one fast enough to react. They have no idea, and they’ll never carry the memories of taking another humans life. But no life you have ended was ever innocent, and the world can sleep a little easier with the loss of another rapist or murderer gone from the streets.

You stay silent as Diego and Five start talking about this Jenkins guy. “I know this Jenkins dude has to have a record. We gotta get our hands on his file.” States Diego, but you do wonder how he’s gonna pull this off.

“And your plan is to what? Waltz in there and just ask for it?” Sasses Allison, doubtful about Diego’s confidence.

“I know the station like the back of my hand, sis. I’ve spent a lot of time inside.” You snort at that, “Behind bars or handcuffed.” He glares at you through the front mirror, you just smile sweetly at him.

“Whatever. Here’s the plan.”

“Plan? I’m just gonna blink in and get the file.” Five says matter-of-factly. Diego shakes his head, “No, that’s not...You don’t know the ins and outs of this place, okay?” Diego jabs defensively.

“I literally just did this yesterday.”

“What.”

“My yesterday, not your yesterday. It’ll take me two seconds. Why don’t I just go?” Argues Five clearly confused as to why Diego is being difficult about this simple task.

“Listen to me. You are not going in there. I made a call. That’s what a leader does. He leads.”

“Okay then Mr. Leader, get the damn file.” You grumble, wanting to get on with the day, considering there’s only three left. He gives you another fake mirror glare, before opening the door and getting out.

——

While Diego is off and away, getting that file, you’re currently leaned against a marble wall of some giant building, Five doing the same to your left. The both of you listening to Allison’s attempt at calling Vanya, who doesn’t appear to want to answer. Finally Diego walks around the corner, “So?” Asks Five pulling himself off the wall.

“You’re welcome.” He says while Allison snatches the file out of his hand. Suddenly her eyes go wide, “Holy shit.” She exclaims, taken aback by whatever she’s looking at.

“What?” You question, leaning in closer to see what the big deal is.

Allison turns the file around so the three of you can see the photograph of a man, “Harold Jenkins is Leonard Peabody.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, “Am I supposed to know who the fuck that is?” 

——

It feels like you’re playing a game of clue or something of that nature, the file leading the four of you to Harold/Leonard’s house in some suburban neighborhood. You all get out of the car, making your way up to the front porch. “Be careful, okay? We don’t know what Peabody’s capable of.” Warns Allison in that concerned motherly tone of hers, it’s almost comforting.

“Yeah, he didn’t seem dangerous when I first saw him. Looked kinda scrawny.” Replies Diego taking the lead up to the house.

“Yeah, well, so are most serial killers and mass murders.” Allison adds, you laugh at the irony. “Exactly, I mean look at Five.” You tell them, Five gives you a half offended look while muttering a short, “Thanks.”

Five and Diego continue their way up and onto the front porch, slowly walking towards the door. As they’re doing this, Allison goes to the right, heading for the back entrance. You pause on the sidewalk, right in front of the house, while looking up at the roof where you spot a window into the upstairs bedroom, bingo. Crouching down ever so slightly, you spring up, hurling your arms upwards for more momentum as you launch yourself onto the roof. And she lands a perfect 10, outstanding, you think chuckling to yourself. Both Diego and Five completely unaware of yours and Allison’s absence, you continue to the upstairs window. The window’s locked but like that’s going to stop you, you grip the bottom of it and push up, snapping off the lock as you lift it. Giving yourself access into the house, you stick a leg in, ducking under as you make your way inside. It’s clean enough, and best part, there’s no house alarm. You have a look around at your current surroundings, nothing seemingly out of the ordinary that would raise any alarm bells, in fact the place is kind of a bore if your being honest.

Walking down the wooden stairs you see Allison and Five making their way towards the front door to unlock it for Diego. A second later Diego comes bursting through the glass, crashing into the floor and making a nice mess in the process. “Subtle.” Comments Allison looking down at him. Five walks over to the door handle, turning the knob and opening it, “You know, the door was unlocked.” He tells him. You make it to the first step, watching in amusement as Diego picks himself up, “Dramatic, as per usual.” You quip, Five and Allison snickering as Diego just grumbles, “Yeah, well, my way works just fine.”

He stands up, flicking loose pieces of glass stuck to his jacket, “Spread out. Yell if you, uh.... you know, you’re in trouble.” He sighs, walking away and into the living room.

“Ah, inspiring leadership.” Comments Five bluntly. “One of the greats.” Adds Allison as the three of you watch him limp away.

“If we ever have kids, I hope they’re not that stupid.” You mutter, Allison lets out a loud laugh as she turns to you, her face breaking out into an amused smile. Five just shakes his head with a tiny smirk lacing his boyish features, he then moves to walk away and into another room.

You shrug, walking back up the stairs, Allison trailing behind you. She searches in some guest room, as you slowly walk down the short hallway, your nose catching the scent of something odd, you look up. The attic door, “Well this has never let me down in any horror movie. There’s gotta be some creepy shit up here.” You mumble to yourself, incredibly curious as to what you may find. Reaching your arm up, you grab the dangling handle, firmly pulling down the retractable steps. Letting curiosity take the better of you, you march up the wooden step-ladder, only for your eyes to land on the entirety of the Umbrella Academy in its prime. All your faces scratched where the eyes should be, plus a multitude of figurines, some of which are broken and melted. Definitely not weird or anything, totally normal.

“Guys, you’re not gonna believe the weird-ass shit I just found!” You shout down to them, excited about your creepy horror movie like find. You can hear the thumping of their shoes as they all race to where you are from their various spots in the house. Allison peaking her head up first, the others following suit. They all stand around behind you, taking in their peculiar new surroundings.

“All our faces are burnt off.” Says Allison, freaked out and bewildered by this wild discovery.

“Well, that’s not creepy. This guys got some serious issues.” Mumbles Diego, who’s leaning down to get a better view of the damage.

“I was hoping our breaking and entering would lead to something interesting, I didn’t exactly have weird-man-child-obsessed-with-childhood-heroes in mind.” You muse, picking up a half melted figurine of yourself. Your face scrunches up into a grimace at the ugly sight, you then turn to face the others, gaining their attention.

“Look. Mine even has orange eyes. Special Edition Number Eight.”

“That’s nice Y/N. Mine doesn’t have a head.” Retorts Diego.

“Five you still look like your figurine, it’s like a freaky spitting image.”

“My hair looks better.”

“Amen brother.”

“Y/N I can’t say the same for yours..ah don’t hit me I’m kidding.”

“This was never about Vanya. This was about us.” Exclaims Allison, getting more disgusted by the second as she quickly gathers the attention of the three of you. 

Without warning Five falls to the floor, making a loud thud. You all turn in concern, “Five. What...” Allison trails off, getting down on her knees to better assess the situation, you set your half melted Special Edition self down on the shelf, turning to do the same but on Five’s left. Your eyes catch a deep red stained to his fingers. A subtle whiff of blood dissipating off of Five.

You lift up his uniform shirt to better see the damage, he’s got a nasty piece of metal shrapnel stuck in his side. “Jesus, Five.” Whispers Diego, concern lacing every word.

“Five what the fuck, I was wondering why I could smell blood on the way here.” You glance at Allison for a fraction of a second, she thankfully doesn’t catch what that glance was implying, you’d be laughing at the thought if not for the current situation. Five just groans, “You have to keep going. So...close.” He whispers, passing out once again. 

“Five. Five!” Allison shouts as the both of you try and shake him awake. It’s no use, he’s to exhausted.

“Well, shit.” You add dryly, positioning yourself to lift Five’s unconscious body up.

——

Diego holds open the Academy’s door as you quickly make your way inside, holding a barely conscious Five in your strong arms. Allison and Diego right behind you, “We should have taken him to the hospital.” She whisper yells.

“A kid with a shrapnel wound might raise some questions.” Five mutters tiredly, as a stream of blood runs out the side of his mouth.

“Yeah, well, so does the murder shrine in Harold Jenkins’ attic.” Presses Allison, making a solid point. You finally reach the living room couch, laying Five down as gently as you possibly can.

“He’s still losing a lot of blood. What do we do? We gotta get the shrapnel out.” Worries Allison, looking to you for guidance. Diego randomly walks past the two of you, seemingly abandoning ship, nope he’s just found Grace who’s apparently fixed and about to walk up the stairs.

“Diego, where are you going?” Allison calls after him, but he completely ignores her.

“Fuck Diego, we don’t have time for this. I’ll get the medical stuff...just uh...keep the old guy awake. I’ll be right back.”

——

You’re leaning against Five’s wardrobe as Grace puts a fresh bandage on his wound. Your mind flashes to the times when she would have to do the same thing to you, after countless dangerous missions. Although she would actually just be painfully dislodging the shrapnel, doing her best to be as gentle as she possibly could. Those metal and glass pieces would have left you for dead, if not for your miraculous healing capabilities.

Diego leans against the door frame as Allison walks up behind him. “Anything?”

“There’s no answer at Vanya’s place. And the receptionist at her music school said she was a no-show for her lessons today.” Replies Allison, nervous as to where her sister could be.

You turn around to face them, as they both walk into the hallway. You keenly notice how Diego’s face looks almost slightly startled to see Grace up and active after what he did.

“D, you okay?” You whisper walking closer to him and Allison. “Yeah. I don’t know, it’s just surreal seeing her. I just wanna tell her that I’m s...” he doesn’t let himself finish, not wanting to reveal any important details that Allison is unaware about, “We don’t have enough time. We gotta go.” He says, turning for the stairs. “I don’t know, Diego. Five is laying there, unconscious. We need him.” Pleads Allison, holding Diego from taking off just yet.

“We can do this ourselves.” He says, his voice laced with determination. Crossing your arms you take a deep breath, “We did that already, remember? Long story short, we all died.” You sass, also wanting to stay and wait for Five.

“I’m thinking I should go back and see Claire before...” Starts Allison, Diego cutting her off, “You can’t run away from this, Allison. That’s what started this whole mess in the first place.” Diego pauses for a moment sighing, “Luther was right.” He admits, both you and Allison giving him a look. She scoffs, surprised, “I didn’t think I would ever hear you say those words.” He gives an apprehensive smile, “Yeah, well... we gotta stick together.”

You nod towards him, “Alright, hot stuff. Where do we start.” You ask him. He flashes you a small smile, “There’s no other addresses in the file, but there is another relation listed. Jenkins’ grandmother. She lived near Jackpine Road.” He explains turning to walk down the steps, you and Allison following suit. 

“You think he took her there?” She wonders.

 “I wouldn’t mind a late night drive, it’s a good enough place to start anyways.” You conclude as the three of you make your way through the Academy and out the front gate.

Continuing your way into the street, “Nope. Come on, this way.” Diego says, pulling you in the opposite direction of two police cars sitting further down the street. “Wait, but the cars back that way?” Allison says, troubled as to why Diego refuses to go in that direction.

 “Trust me, okay. Come on.” He quickly says, walking briskly away from the cruisers, you lightly touch his right arm, quickening your own steps.

 “What’s up with the cops?” You whisper, he doesn’t look at you.

“They think I killed Patch. Because of all the evidence and all my finger prints were on everything.” He mumbles, your brows furrow in frustration, “What the hell? But I was there too? Guess I didn’t touch anything.” You state puzzled, just as blue and red lights begin flashing behind the three of you.

“We’re gonna have to split up, okay. I’m in charge. Remember Vanya needs you two.” He tells you, his face showing deep worry. Why must things always go wrong?

You grab his hand, holding it tight, “Don’t say or do anything stupid, okay?” You warn him, as Allison turns to quickly flee the scene. You squeeze his hand, “I love you.” You whisper quickly, before jogging away from the cop cars, as you hustle after Allison. You can hear him mumble a quiet “Love you too” as the police cars speed into view. You glance back, your heart stinging when handcuffs are forcefully placed on his wrists. Guns drawn on him, you’d love to kick those pistols right out of their grasp. But alas, you push onward, getting into the passenger seat as Allison starts the engine, taking off down the avenue and towards this house out in buttfuck nowhere. This whole evening has had quit the turn of events.