#and the fact that they're both in law enforcement just makes it so much better

[str8up-vanilla]

Bandit: I have kidnapped your daughter Captain Hook! And if you don't pay me the ransom by sunset she'll-

Killian: Wait which Hook's daughter did you kidnap?

Bandit: Doesn't matter! I want-

Killian: Rogers have you seen Alice?

Rogers: Yeah I just saw her heading to Granny's. Have you seen Hope?

Killian: Aye I just put her in her crib a little bit ago...

Rogers:

Killian:

Rogers & Killian: Who's daughter do you have???

[lemonhemlock]

My favorite thing is TB stans calling you a sexist when you say Rhaenyra having bastards she passes off as legitimate (to the point of threatening his 11 year old brother with torture when he tells the truth) and plans to put on the throne is in fact, not the exact same thing as Aegon having bastards with whores in fleabottom.

speaking of myself specifically, TB hate it when i use the bastardposting tag. it gets them riled up like you wouldn't believe. it's always much easier to conserve brain power and chalk the whole discussion to misogyny and bastardphobia (LOL) instead of considering that the very material conditions of feudalism and manorialism, the lack of a diversified economy, the only way of obtaining wealth being via land ownership etc made inheritance laws the way they were. marriage between wealthy people being a literal financial contract that ensured the passing of goods and land and titles to a very specific person and not a rando child who is not related to both families. blood relation being considered the ultimate bond & deterrent from harm in the conceptualization of said culture (hello kinslaying).

they have a mental block in understanding that the reason (in western societies) today we have a much fairer distribution of wealth between living descendants, regardless of parental marital status, is because we are not so dependent on land in the accumulation of said wealth in the first place. generally-speaking, back then, the more you divided up a plot of land, the more power centres would appear - mini feudal lords who were much poorer than the previous generation and would engage in violent conflict with each other in order to acquire more land and wealth. on the other hand, when wealth is consolidated and a clear hegemon arises, the possibility of contestation diminishes bc it becomes much more difficult to displace that specific ruler.

does that make it fair? no, ofc not. there are many unjust aspects about that particular layering of society or about hegemonic stability theory. for instance, i stumbled upon an article that argues that feudal fragmentation sometimes generated technological advancements as a result of the reduced regulation capacity of landlords, which, in turn, stimulated competition between economic actors. however, as the author herself points out, "In the feudal period under investigation, the absence of a strong ruler who could abuse property rights may have made it possible to commit to investment in fixed capital, but the absence of contract enforcement may have thwarted those incentives". in addition, the historical period in question was characterized by great political instability, i.e. "warfare, the breakdown of authority, and a lack of central protection of property rights".

so, the topic is obviously much more nuanced and we should definitely leave some space for the discussion of actual avenues for lasting change, be they incremental or more ample in scope, but i'm not about to be having those conversations with TB any time soon, as they're too busy pretending that the laws and customs of a specific time had nothing to do with the technological advancements, the economic landscape and the interactions between different social spheres. that you could just click your fingers and change the world for the better, instead of considering for a moment that certain changes would require massive systemic upheavals that no one was interested in undertaking (or even had the resources or knowledge on how to initiate such an operation in the first place)

[clairelsonao3]

Since I've been on Tumblr for about a month now, I've decided it was time to compile a list — for anyone who's curious — of things you'll find in my writing, and things I look for in others' writing. And here it is, subject to change, of course.

My things:

Types of whump:

I'll give just about anything a try once, but I largely gravitate toward:

Prison/captivity whump

Slavery

Pet whump (BBU not so much, though)

Historical whump, with or without fantasy elements

Modern/contemporary whump

Any corollaries of the above.

Alongside the whump:

All the hurt followed by all the comfort. A short whump story doesn’t necessarily have to contain comfort for me to read it, but if I’m going to get invested in something longer, it usually does. 

NSFW, including sexy/spicy scenes, sexual references, and sexually suggestive dialogue (always earned and plot- and character-appropriate, never porn without plot).

Romance. The more forbidden and/or seemingly impossible the better. I'll read any type of pairing, but I write M/F almost exclusively. Romance-related tropes I like include enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, medium and slow burn, mutual pining, forced proximity, (un)resolved sexual tension, flirtatious banter, etc. etc.

Mystery/thriller elements. Probably my favorite genre other than romance. In fact, I would say if I were to describe my ideal fictional story, it would have whump, romance, and mystery in almost equal measure.

Implements and techniques:

Shackles and restraints of pretty much every type, size, and description. This includes both old-timey, rusty shackles/manacles or newfangled law enforcement-style handcuffs/chains, etc.

Collars and leashes, although I usually don't write about them because I just find them too complicated to figure out (not literally, but you know what I mean). I tend to like collars as accessories/symbols of subjugation rather than performing a function, such as shocking the whumpee or controlling their behavior somehow. 

In general, whumpees forced to wear accessories, clothing, or other outward symbols of their subjugation/servitude/inferiority.

Chains of every size and kind, attaching whumpees to walls, ceilings, floors, each other, etc.

Physical and emotional torture of all kinds; really, I'm not particular, but it's preferably done while fucking with the whumpee psychologically and preying upon their deepest fears, traumas, and insecurities.

Hands and especially injuries to the hands. Hands are my favorite body parts, so it totally makes sense that I enjoy seeing them maimed and disfigured, right?

Cages and cells, preferably with actual bars and solid steel everything, the harder, more brutal, utilitarian, and uncomfortable the better. 

Some types of involuntary body modification.

Tropes and motifs:

Humiliation and degradation of most kinds, whether it's physical, verbal, or emotional (but see the exception below under squicks).

Dehumanization, and even better, REhumanization. Breaking down is good, but building back up is better. Someone who has been thoroughly and consistently dehumanized suddenly or gradually coming to be viewed as a person by others (or by themselves) 

Whumpees who compliantly allow themselves to be placed in cuffs or shackles, either because they're just too tired and/or broken or if it's part of a grand master plan to fight back later.

Whumpee being forced to watch another whumpee being tortured.

Whumpee being forced to do menial/humiliating chores and/or hard physical labor (bonus if they're in chains at the same time). This is such an underused trope and I don't understand why because it's a fantastic one! If anyone were to write a story heavily featuring this and tag me in it I would love you forever.

Interesting power dynamics, even ones that shift back and forth within the course of a scene.

Struggles and differences related to social class, money, and wealth.

Character traits:

Male and female whumpees. I'll read and write both, but the way I handle them is sometimes different.

Defiant whumpees. Whumpees can break down as far as it's possible to break, but if there isn't that spark of life or defiance left in there (or even a chance of it coming back) I won’t be particularly interested.

Male and female whumpers.

Creepy/intimate whumpers, whumpers who are just plain assholes, or whumpers who are sympathetic/morally gray/have interesting motivations/backstories. I'm pretty open when it comes to whumpers, actually. 

Caretakers who are or become romantic partners.

Carewhumpers and bad caretakers, to a certain extent. This is a new thing for me that I'm exploring and I'm still puzzling out how I feel and how I handle it. Stay tuned.

Other random things:

Humor, wit, and banter, even in extremely dark situations.

Nerdy, oblique references to things I'm passionate about, especially music, theatre, and literature.

Not (really) my things:

These are things I'll generally shy away from, but aren't enough to make me stop reading something I otherwise like:

Hard BDSM. I have and do feature some light bondage and d/s in some of my work, but it's rarely the focus.

Excessive focus on rape/noncon and/or recovery from it. I'll definitely read about rape/noncon as long as it's not portrayed as romantic or positive in any way, but I find myself generally reluctant to portray onscreen noncon, especially of female characters. Noncon in backstories, though, absolutely.

Gags, blindfolds, hoods, and anything that covers most of the face. I do have a thing for muzzles, however, especially when you can see the whumpee's entire face through it. (My characters are pretty, I want to see them!)

Whumpees gagged and bound head to toe with rope, and other heavy bondage-type stuff.

The more ridiculous aspects of the BBU (drugging, memory erasure, sex slaves called "romantics," boys literally shipped in boxes, etc.).

Excessive gore/body horror, especially evisceration and similar.

Vampires/werewolves/angels/fairies/monsters/nonhumans, including superheroes/villains (I'll never say never, but in general, I prefer good old humans)

Pure sexual slavery, when that's the slave's one and only function. (See above).

Totally passive whumpees who are just swept along by the narrative and/or are completely dependent on others for help/rescue.

Conditioned whumpees who never become unconditioned, or slaves portrayed as happy or content that way (again, see above).

Whumpees who stutter, speak robotically and/or in the third person, or behave as if they have the mental age of a preschooler.

Unhappy endings to longer works, although I'm fine with short pieces with ambiguous/unresolved endings or no endings.

Squicks:

Honestly, not many.

Noncon, abuse, and/or toxicity portrayed as romantic. (In general, this stuff is fine). It's the big one because it shows up in a LOT of slavefic, which is my preferred genre of whump. I think many people have the idea that all slavefic glorifies and/or romanticizes abusive master/slave relationships, and that's simply not the case. And harassment and censorship aren't cool, especially when you haven't read the story in question. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

A/B/O dynamics and/or mpreg.

Forced cross-dressing, feminization, or any similar humiliation tactic related to gender.

Humiliation tactics involving exchange of bodily fluids (see above). (Not including NSFW).

Anything foot-related. As much as I love hands and doing things to hands, feet are the opposite. (But ankles are okay, otherwise, we couldn't have shackles!)

Some of the more out-there sexual kinks, which I'll spare you from having to see described here. You can probably guess what they are.

Onscreen harm to very young children and/or animals (threatened harm or as backstory is ok)

If something doesn't appear on this list anywhere (or even if it does), you can probably assume I'm at least open to it!

And of course, obligatory promo for my current WIP, Good Slaves Never Break the Rules, where — if you happen to share any of my things — you can find most if not all of them.

[thirtiethelement]

asking you about your in-depth trans ranni theory

Oh, THANK you, I'm always happy to infodump about that blue nerd.

Okay, so, before getting into the core of why I think trans Ranni is textually supported, let's go over some of the in-universe history with her:

In the setting, there's a force called Destined Death. It is the natural law of mortality, dictating that everything must eventually come to an end. However, when Queen Marika and her Golden Order came into power, she managed to somehow pluck that law out of the Elden Ring (a massive rune outlining how the world functions at a basic level), hiding it away and effectively banishing death. This allowed for people to live indefinitely by being reborn from the Erdtree when they otherwise would have died.

Marika, along with three of the demigod children of her Golden Lineage (Miquella, Malenia, and Ranni) was an Empyrean - an individual with the potential to channel the power of an Outer God, like Marika and the Greater Will. When Ranni was young, her mother, Rennala, took her to a cloistered spot in Liurnia where she had some sort of communion with another Outer God: the Dark Moon. And she was vibing with it! Whatever ideology it expressed to her, and whatever power it provided, she ended up wanting to work with it. Only one issue: The Outer Will had a vested interest in not being displaced from its position of power.

The Outer Will made its power known not only through deifying Marika and maintaining the Golden Order, but also by sending a number of creatures in service to act as its enforcers: The Two Fingers. Despite how ridiculous they look, they're apparently incredibly dangerous and just about immortal, which makes the fact that each Empyrean is shackled to one to force them to toe the line all the more difficult. Somehow, the presence of one of these linked Two Fingers influences the destiny of an Empyrean, preventing them from supplanting the Golden Order. But Ranni, being clever, figured out a loophole.

Ranni, through some means, found out that the Two Fingers' power over her actions was somehow bound to her body. To sever that link, she chose to do the unthinkable: Working with a group of co-conspirators that included at least her brother Rykard, Ranni arranged for the thievery of Destined Death, and committed ritual suicide in a fashion that managed to kill her body without killing her soul - which, incidentally, did kick off the entire horrific state the world of Elden Ring is currently in, but she was being a girlboss, so it's okay.

The evidence I can point to for her being transgender starts here. To still interact with the world after killing her own body, Ranni chose to let her soul inhabit a finely-made doll instead. It seems as though this may be why she kept Preceptor Seluvis around despite how utterly untrustworthy he is; for better or worse, he's a brilliant magician when it comes to the magic and maintenance behind the doll constructs Liurnia is known for. However, Ranni DIDN'T choose to have the doll made in her own former image, which was presumably well within her capabilities given the in-depth planning that went into her stealing and using Destined Death in the first place. Instead, she had it made to resemble a witch, Renna, who had taught her at some point in the past. In fact, during her first meeting with the player, she outright INTRODUCES herself as Renna, keeping her true identity close to her chest in the face of an unknown variable.

So, that explains it, right? She chose not to look like her old body because she wished to live in hiding, open and shut. But this is where small details start to get interesting. Ranni the Witch is called out by name by Morgott during his pre-fight cutscene, in which he looks across the various thrones in Leyndell abandoned by the other demigods. Radahn and Rykard's thrones are both much, much smaller than the forms we find them in during the course of the game - but oddly enough, RANNI'S is sized for the Renna doll she inhabits, a body that's outright shorter than the player character. We can find her original corpse at the top of Liurnia's divine tower, and she's just as huge as one might expect of a demigod.

This implies that, between the Night of the Black Knives when she performed her ritual and the Shattering, when the demigods went to war with one another over who got to take control of the Elden Ring, Ranni showed up to court with her fellow demigods in her doll body. This would completely defeat the purpose of trying to hide her identity from those who could pose a threat to her. In addition, Ranni shows that she can either extend her consciousness to other bodies, or inhabit other dolls entirely; during the latter part of her questline, you find her inhabiting a miniature version of her doll body, suggesting that she may be fully capable of switching to a different form if she was so inclined.

As a result, my suggestion is that Ranni wasn't just abandoning her original flesh because it was linked to the Two Fingers. If that was the case, she likely would have just stuck to that original body's form when choosing a replacement body to inhabit. It's not like there's some sort of overriding tactical, strategic, or even just physical benefit to the Renna doll, either; Ranni clearly LIKES to feel tall, judging by the stack of books she sits on in her tower to stay above eye level with the player character when they visit. In addition, while there's plenty of portraits and statues of the other demigods how they appeared pre-Shattering (save for the Omen brothers, for obvious reasons), Ranni's image is conspicuous for its absence throughout the entire game.

Ranni has enough incidental bits and pieces scattered around the game to suggest that she had deep personal reasons to inhabit her current form, reasons which go well beyond practicality. And honestly, the fact that signs point to the rest of her family being outright supportive of her (Rykard, who has portraits of the rest of his family, conspicuously leaving her out despite the implication that they were close, the fact that her throne is sized for the doll, etc.) is really heartwarming in an otherwise bleak setting if you choose to make this sort of reading.

Anyway thank you for allowing me to infodump about my blue nerdy-ass wife

[samasmith23]

The best G. Willow Wilson Ms. Marvel scene

Easily my personal favorite scene from the entirety of G. Willow Wilson’s original run on Ms. Marvel was during the phenomenal Mecca arc wherein HYDRA seizes control of Jersey City’s mayor’s office to begin enacting discriminatory policies against Inhumans & Mutants (which heavily mirror the real-life Islamophobic presidential policies of Donald Trump...), and Kamala discovers that underneath the mask of one of the HYDRA regime’s lead enforcers, Discord, is the face of her old classmate Josh Richardson.

This revelation heavily affects Kamala on an emotional level as it forces her to come to terms with the fact that the things people might perceive to be familiar or safe are not always what they seem to be. She learns how specific circumstances can reveal that individuals who once appeared to be rational and reasonable on the surface may actually believe in ideologies that are controversial or dangerous. Therefore, Kamala is forced to ponder whether or not bigoted & fascistic ideologies have always existed within the hearts of people like Discord and if they're truly representative of who they are, which in turn causes her to doubt both her own place in the world and her mission as a superhero. While Kamala is inflicted with feelings of self-doubt in light of these revelations, she understands that she still has a moral obligation as Ms. Marvel to protect the people of her city. She realizes that the so-called “silent majority's” animosity towards her & super-powered peoples does not give them the right to place their own grievances above the law, and that there are still people who believe and are depending on her. And because Josh revealed his true self underneath the mask of Discord, Ms. Marvel responds in kind by taking off her own mask to reveal the face of his former friend Kamala Khan, and all of the pain and suffering that his actions have inflicted upon herself and others like her…

But while Kamala does convey feelings of sadness and remorse towards Josh, she simultaneously understands that she cannot excuse his actions since he's still an individual who wrongfully succumbed to the temptations of far-right extremism and fascism. Essentially, even though Kamala desperately wants to believe that Josh is an inherently better person underneath, she recognizes that he was the one who ultimately made the choice to join HYDRA and help them oppress superhuman minorities. Therefore, Kamala acknowledges that Discord is still her enemy regardless of his reasons or whatever sympathy she might feel.

Kamala decision to NOT condone or excuse Discord’s actions reflects an astonishing level of maturity on her part, and is further indicative of her overall character arc in Mecca. In large measure, Kamala’s character arc is the reason why the storyline is titled “Mecca” in the first place. Although she does not go on a physical pilgrimage to the actual Holy Islamic city, she does experience a spiritual pilgrimage as the HYDRA takeover of Jersey City forces her to realize that not everything is what it seems, that some evils cannot be fought, and that although she’ll endure hardship and failure in her mission she must stay true to herself and others even if there are some people who will never agree with her actions or who she is. It's these revelations that further develop Kamala into "the most human superhero of them all" in my opinion, as it's not just her kindness and willingness to do good that makes her a hero, but also her ability to continue to do good even when confronted with external and internal doubt. And since the entire story takes place over the two-day period of Eid al-Adha, the holiday in which millions of Muslims embark on the pilgrimage to Mecca, Kamala’s psychological journey of self-discovery resonates with the reader on a much deeper level.

And that is why this scene remains my personal favorite Ms. Marvel moment in the entirety of Kamala’s comic book history!

From Ms. Marvel (2015) #21 & #22 by G. Willow Wilson & Marco Failla.

[nicollekidman]

i keep going back to episode 4 and the way daemon seem to be uncaring of the fact that rhaenyra is positively stoked about being called a boy, uses male pronouns for her throughout the night and then even compares his escapades with viserys with hers. now i’m in no way saying that daemon is a good person or that he’s a gender liberator, but i truly believe the whole gender thing rhaenyra has is something that he gets because he sees their gender as dragons not human?

i think we can discuss this without giving daemon Credit(tm) for it! it's not an unbiased #feminist stance, you're right, it's because above anything else, he sees himself and rhaenyra as Targaryens - blood of the dragon and of Old Valyria - and thus exempt from silly constraints like gender or divisions between family/love or like...... law and morality and decency. i think he finds pleasure in her wildness and distaste for enforced femininity too because of the whole ~mirrors~ thing.... if he is targaryen and she is targaryen and they're both striving to become more dragon than human and she is him as he is her..... she has no need for gender (there's an interesting conversation to be had with someone who knows more, about how valyrian as a language does not contain gendered titles and how dragons more than likely can shift gender but). ALSO this is why their position as heirs (not crown prince and princess) or any other title is interesting.... not only once again is that equating their personal identities with power/investiture but it blurs the gendered lines further. it's honestly just like. if we're so much better than other people because we've spent centuries hoarding our magical blood and ravaging the land for power then why would a silly thing like gender make a difference. for rhaenyra that's a path to freedom and for daemon it's a given as it relates to his view of them being pure and magnificent..... and yeah if we were to boil it down consisely instead of rambling incoherently it would basically be dragon over gender

[opinated-user]

"Her father is a Dusknoir", a sincerly interesting detail that could give us a better idea of Marah's other relationships, as well as better diversifying the cast with another new character... and I can't help but feel like we'll either have to wait far too long for or never get anything beyond that single mention.

That detective lady hasn't been remotely important ever again since her only appearance as I'm typing this, so maybe I'm asking for the sun and the moon.

if LO only wants her pokemon slice of life comic being about the domestic life that her self insert has with her imaginery pokemon then that should be totally within her right to do... but then again, i don't understand why does she feel the need to write all this facts that she'll never integrate on the story and will never have any weight on it either. speaking of questionable things to add into a slice of life comic or things LO will never bother to develop, i heard some time ago that the reason why Marah had to move to CLO's house was because she was being sexually harassed by CMO's father and went to the wiki (that has been deleted from the main blog) hoping that i was wrong but...

this is incredibly disgusting and sick on two fronts. 1. why is MO illustrating a comic whose story includes her own father sexually harassing a pokemon? why is LO asking her to illustrate a comic where it was decided that her father's representation harasses a pokemon so much that there's no other option than to have that pokemon leave the house, pressumably because the pokemon felt threatened? you could have written a thousand other better options to justify Marah leaving. examples: she was being too annoying and CMO's parents were too old to deal with that. they heard that CLO was a good pokemon trainer (as an ex-enforcer she was) so they assumed she'd take good care of her. Marah always liked CMO more than her folks anyway and she missed her too much. the health of any of her parents was delicate and they couldn't afford taking care of a pokemon, or maybe Marah offered herself to go away just so it was mouth less to feed, showing off her kind nature (since she has "too much love to give", right? unless that only applies to make her own harassing tendencies quirky and adorable instead of gross and harmful). CMO's parents moved to a smaller place and it was decided Marah would be happier on a bigger place with CMO. the stars decided that Marah had to go and she likes astrology so she went. that last one would have actually been fun at least. you could have literally gone with anything. instead LO decided to make CMO's father into a harasser and MO is okay illustrating that. 2. that's a real person, unless told otherwise. CLO is meant to represent the real LO and some events are heavily inspired by her own real life (according to her at least). likewise CMO is pressumably the representation of the real MO. it's anyone's guess how much of the comic is meant to be taken as a version of reality or is pure fiction, outside of the more obvious. the fact that LO wrote that on the wiki and didn't specified anywhere that it's just the fictional father they decided to wrote, and not a real representation of the real father of MO, concerns me greatly because either there's some kind of truth there (in which case why they're both deciding to bring it up like this)... or there isn't at all but LO just felt too lazy to clarify so she doesn't mind slandering someone that might as well have done nothing wrong at all. she's representing her own father-in-law as someone that would sexually harass a sentient being into leaving the house where she has lived all her life and apparently didn't thought important to make any distinction between fiction or reality.

[cycat4077]

3, 4, 13 for both Sonny and Joe for the birthday HC list?

Thank you again, Julie! ♥♥♥

Velasco

3. Scars or painful spots

Joe has a lot of small scars from leading a shady life prior to law enforcement, but those marks aren't the ones that bother him. Instead, it's the slightly longer marks, though more faded, that unsettle him most. They appear on his shins, his thighs, his forearms and his back. They're the ones that were inflicted by the belt he now wears around his own waist. He's very self conscious about them and doesn't like to talk about it if he doesn't fully trust the person who asks.

4. Best places to kiss on their body

Like that one scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark, if Joe is with a partner who he fully and completely trusts, he will open up and elaborate on the stories behind his scars. It makes him feel loved and that much closer to his SO if they take the time to soothingly kiss those scars.

Otherwise, he loves to be kissed down his chest. It's something about how his partner will look up through their eyelashes as they make their way further and further down his chest and abdomen that makes his heart thunder.

13. What gets them flustered

I kinda already touched upon his turn-ons in the NSFW alphabet ;) I'll say what flusters him in a general sense. Joe can be a little impatient. If he's out with someone or behind someone in a line and they take their sweet time making a decision, his firey Latino side comes out. His brow furrows and he grumbles some Spanish cusses under his breath. It's not so much against the person themselves, but rather a sense that he doesn't like to keep people waiting. So, whenever other people do it, his patience wears thin.

Sonny

3. Scars or painful spots

One day while lying on his chest in bed, you notice a tiny scar under Sonny's chin. When you ask him about it, he simply says it's nothing. To you, however, you want to know. Knowing the origin of such a simple little blemish would somehow give you that much deeper of a connection. So, Sonny tells you that it happened when he was a kid. He describes how he was a scrawny boy and a group of boys decided to shove him through a window one day. "Most of the cuts healed without leaving a mark, but this one," he tilts his chin upwards, "it serves as my reminder." Your heart goes out to him and how traumatizing that must have been for a young boy. But Sonny reassures you that he found his way past it and proceeds to hug you closer to his chest.

4. Best places to kiss on their body

Sonny adores kisses to wherever you decide to plant them, but what really drives him wild is that spot below his ear where his jawline starts. It makes him completely melt and even more so if the kisses are trailed the rest of the way under his jaw and down his neck.

13. What gets them flustered

In an everyday sense, Sonny hates bullies. He can get short tempered with people who use others, who intentionally harm or manipulate others and especially when he recognizes it as mental (or physical) abuse. Working at SVU, he gradually got better at controlling those outbursts of disgust, but it still boils his blood on the inside.

In the NSFW sense, Sonny gets flustered by naughty talk and whenever you talk about wanting children with him. Naughty talk has to be private, i.e. whispered or texted so no one hears. Suggesting the various things you'd like to do to him or have him do to you, sets his imagination on fire. It riles him up to the point that he just can't wait to act out those naughty suggestions when he gets you alone and in bed.

Talk of kids also gets him flustered in a romantic sense. The fact that you want him out of all the other people on the planet still baffles him sometimes, then add in how you want him to be a dad and that Italian heart is all a flutter. Sometimes it can lead to "practice makes perfect for when the time is right" or "let's start right now" which ultimately ends up as very passionate yet affectionate sexy times.

[anendoandfriendo]

Okay so like: seclusion rooms. Social isolation rooms. "SI" rooms. Whatever. Uhm. Right, yeah. Things as they are now are the epitome of "simplicity" for us and people who haven't been McFuckedUp don't necessarily get what that actually means.

So, things we were taught between second and fifth grade because if how fucked up the US education, psychiatric, and prison systems are, using only our time at Hillcrest Family Servcies and not including the stepmother, the mother (minus one example where it is about Hillcrest but took place at the home we were in at the time), our time at Unified Therapy, or the number of times we confronted the family once we got to university and/or moved out of [REDACTED]:

A Haitian kid schooled us about the fact not all Black people are African, actually. This was while we both sat amongst the walls of the very same place that traumatized our system as it existed at that time. And we like, didn't see her very often since, so while we didn't have the words for it, we definitely saw racism at work. Like. We hope she is doing okay now but we have our doubts/worries, especially since this was before 2015 at the most. Great thing to learn when you're an elementary/middle schooler, not a great context/situation to be learning the thing. She like, really didn't have an obligation to do that in any way yk? so we owe her a lot.

They. Really don't actually care about Disabled or Neurodivergent people, they're state-sanctioned abusers who will hide their abuse from the touring parents even for their day schools. And then on top of gaslighting the students, they'll gaslight the parents too! If our "bahaviors" like saying crap, interrupting the teacher, or even just having an opinion are not allowed, then everyone in these normal public schools should also be in these "day schools" because they're even worse than we were. We were like. Literal angels compared to some of these children, how about you start beating them up psychologically as well?

Speaking of angels, this place was pretty christian, which we cannot be surprised about. Arson would probably be a good answer to this problem (systemic abuse perpetuated by smiling, religious faces) but society somehow sees nothing wrong with the double standards. Please, lord, we need other people who agree with us that child abuse is not okay even if it is a Disabled or Neurodivergent child.

As it is related to Hillcrest and around the same time period: the cops took a visit to our house for a different reason, but there was A Discussion where we suggested calling Child Protection Services on them, too. They, supposedly, did not like Hillcrest Family Servcies either. So we asked them one word: why? They simply. Did not respond. One of them looked quite heartbroken but that really seems more like lipservice lol. "It's their job to respond to calls and enforce the law!!" you say — and we say that's bullshit. Anyone who holds significantly more power than the average human being, including the cops, is much more obligated to stand up to literal oppressors. They could simply walk away. If every single cop walked away and never helped Hillcrest Family Servcies perpetuate their abuse of children, even if the abuse was legal, then it would all be good! We care much less about the very miniscule possibility that things would turn into lawless chaos (as opposed to lawless order — ffs please use the word anarchy correctly if you're gonna use it) and much more about the fact you could actually be making the world a better place. In fact, protests generally depend on making things less convenient to promote a change. If the cops' job was to actually protect its citizens they would have walked out and never helped Hillcrest Family Servcies, ever, and reported them to CPS. Instead, they did the opposite of their supposed jobs, which reveals their true nature, we guess.

Fuck them and the eugenicist hate group they keep supporting. Autism Speaks is a hate group. If the abusers are supporting the eugenicists (or is anyone is supporting the eugenicists, even if they are not abusers) you should be taking a closer look at those people.

They never called it ABA, but it was ABA.

They never called it ABA, but it was ABA.

They never called it ABA, but it was ABA.

Abusing the identity out of Autistic children is applied behavioral analysis (ABA), also known as conversion therapy. Conversion therapy is not just for queer children, it is any abuse-based practice that is meant to abuse the identity out of someone.

[bllsbailey]

The Morning Briefing: Dems Bring a Schiff to a Truth Fight and Robert Hur Breaks Them

Top O' the Briefing

Happy Wednesday, dear Kruiser Morning Briefing friends. Yermigan's "alternative uses" for his immersion blender were catching the eyes of both local artists and local law enforcement. 

Congressional Democrats and their enablers in the Executive Branch haven't quite figured out that their totalitarian fantasies haven't yet come to reality. They are under the impression that they and their agitprop minions in the mainstream media can sell any manner of fiction to the American public. They've had a lot of success, to be sure, but they are still at least eight months away from getting their Soviet jollies. 

It was this lack of a grasp on reality that led them to believe that they might be able to turn Special Counsel Robert Hur's Tuesday appearance on Capitol Hill to their advantage. 

Yeah, about that. 

This is from Matt's post about the hearing:

Democrats had basically two objectives on Tuesday: create the impression that the Hur report exonerated Joe Biden, and repair the damage done by his assessment of Joe Biden’s poor memory. Well, they failed at both objectives. Special Counsel Hur explicitly said that his report was not an exoneration of Joe Biden. As for the issue of Joe Biden’s memory... they didn’t do any better. In fact, anyone who reads the transcript will see just how bad Biden’s memory was while he was answering questions. Is the average American going to read the transcript of Joe Biden’s interview with Special Counsel Robert Hur? Not a chance. So, what are the Democrats and their allies in the media going to do? Just make stuff up about what the transcript actually says.

It's true, they did make up a lot of stuff, but Hur was too good to let any of it stick. 

They wanted to be crafty about creating a false narrative, but they had Adam Schiff running point for the effort. Any time that Schiff isn't talking to a friendly, he embarrasses himself. He's too stupid to know that he's embarrassing himself, of course, so he never stops doing it. 

Over at Townhall, my colleague Madeline Leesman chronicles the exchange between Schiff and Hur. The gist of it is that Schiff takes extreme umbrage with the fact that Hur accurately described the Joe Biden that we all see every time he's on camera. Schiff rails against the "political" nature of Hur's conclusions, which is the mother of all projections. Throughout it all, Hur remains unflappable, while Schiff flails and gets increasingly condescending. 

From Madeline's post:

“You were not born yesterday; you understood exactly what you were doing,” Schiff continued. “What you are suggesting is I shape, sanitize, omit portions of my reasoning and explanation to the attorney general for political reasons,” Hur responded before Schiff's time ran out.

The Democrats were under the impression that everyone in the Department of Justice was a political tool to be used as they needed. Hur killed that vibe for them. That's the true source of the anger of Schiff and his colleagues. Oh, they're plenty mad about Hur's forthright description of the greatly diminished state of Biden's memory too. They need all the help that they can get selling him as fully functional to the electorate, after all. 

The Democrats wanted Hur to be a good little DOJ soldier and declare Biden innocent of any wrongdoing in his handling of classified documents. They really needed that after all of their grandstanding about Trump and his document situation. His conclusion that Biden is too much of a doddering, demented trainwreck to be held accountable for his actions really threw a wrench into the Democratic narrative machinery. 

Given the current state of the Department of Justice, Hur's honesty definitely made him a rogue operative. He resigned from the DOJ on Monday, most likely as persona non grata. Heck, he's probably on a goon squad watch list by now. 

The Democrats' foot-stomping and spinning (Sister Toldjah has more on that at RedState) don't change the fact that, with every public appearance, Joe Biden makes it plain to see that Hur's assessment of him was correct. 

As the old saying goes, the truth hurts. Especially if you're a Democrat. 

Click the button below to get the Morning Briefing emailed to you every weekday. Have your coffee with me, people. It's free and it supports conservative media!  

The Mailbag of Magnificence contributions can be sent to morningbriefing@pjmedia.com.

[shirophantomvox]

How Illumi, Hisoka, and Chrollo would react to their S/O in the hospital

Hi, anon! You are welcome to join my Discord Server if you are a fan of Hxh, Voltron, or both! I promise this is a safe environment! This is an interesting topic for sure! To the other anon(s), I am working on your request! This will contain both fluff and angst. I forgot to include Leorio in this, so I’ll include him in the next HxH post. You’ll have to forgive me, I have 2 more requests in my inbox and I am not feeling the best. I just got my second Covid shot and it is hurting like hell. Nevertheless, I encourage you all to get your shot if you can. I will be on this site one and off and I should be on it for real next week. I have run out of ideas to write and I began to think I was annoying people with my HxH content (no one said this I just assumed). This post has 1974 words. After these requests are finished, I plan on doing a character analysis for Leorio.

Anyway, let’s get into the post!

We’ll start with Hisoka this time.

Hisoka

In all honesty, this man has heard of a hospital (since he sends a lot of people to it after fights) but has never been in one.

The signs, floors, staircase numbers, and elevators all confuse him. He has only been in one once when he was a kid and has never been again.

He isn’t a social butterfly in this setting because this is a professional establishment and not a college party. Asking for directions takes quite a toll on him because of his established pride. You know guys act when they want to find a destination on their own and will go miles out of the way instead of just asking for direction.

He doesn’t talk to anyone; all he wants to do is find you and make sure you are alright.

He is the tallest person in the freight elevator. So tall that everyone at turns to look at him at once for at least 10 seconds and turn back around surprised.

“How tall is he,” one of the nurses ask.

“Tall enough to be my house!”

This annoys him. He takes out the Joker card and lays it against his thigh but realizes he cannot make any hasty decisions. His bloodlust was activated merely out of irritation and not by threat. You were on his mind and destroying these worthless humans wasn’t an option for today.

He approached the guest desk and waited for about 2 minutes before he was acknowledged.

“May I help you,” a smug receptionist asked. Wow, these people do not know who they’re talking to.

“I’m here to see y/n.”

“Y/n is in room 345. Go down the hall and to the right all the way down.”

This man nearly ran with a quickness! His jester shoes somehow made the floor shake as he ran.

You were awake, eating the horrible food the hospital provided and watching TV. It seemed like you were doing ok, but you had just been in a car accident. Your arms and right leg were still sore. It was so bad that you’d be fine with Hisoka carrying you everywhere.

When you two are alone in serious public places, he doesn’t play games or tricks. He is often portrayed as a ruthless man, but in settings like this, he places the jokes and games aside for later. When he enters your room, he is silent for 30 seconds. Much too long. He was shocked; he walked around your hospital bed, pulled up a chair, and stared at your cast. It had many names written on it.

“Yes, I am ok.”

“I apologize for not being there for you,” he began to say.

“Shh… it’s ok. This is life. It hurts like hell, but I’m a trooper!”

Admiring your cast and its multiple fonts of handwriting and messages, he grabbed a sharpie marker, wrote his name, with a heart and spade next to it. Surprisingly, his cursive was very neat and legible.

“I didn’t know you knew how to write in cursive! Why don’t you write me letters?”

“I see you every day and it hurts my hand.”

The doctor wouldn’t be in for another 1 ½ hours, so Hisoka used your thigh as a pillow as he took a nap. He had been up for countless nights thinking about you. He was screwing up so bad, Chrollo let him leave early.

“As soon as your better, we will fight again. I won’t go easy on you. You won’t be in the hospital but you get the jest.”

Illumi

Illumi isn’t the type of man to overreact in these types of situations. When you both agreed to date each other, you knew you all were tough cookies. You were aware of the dangers of dating an assassin and he knew about the dangers of dating a bounty hunter. People hated you both and you targeted.

One night you both were caught in a vulnerable state. While you both enjoyed chocolate milkshakes at a laid-back 1950’s styled diner, two men were previously thrown out for fighting. While your back was turned one of those men shot your arm, causing you to carelessly throw your body to the ground due to impact.

While everyone else was screaming, Illumi jumped to the ground and tied his hair tie around your arm to temporarily stop the bleeding.

“Illu, why does it feel cold in here,” you managed to breathe out.

His heart dropped to his stomach for the first time in history.

“Don’t say things like that!”

Illumi is already horrible at displaying emotions, but all he could do is frown in fear. Once the EMS came barling in, he demanded that he ride with you.

Illumi hadn’t experienced anything like this since Killua had been injured when he fell from a tree.

You and he were separated when you were rushed into surgery leaving him alone in the waiting room.

When Illumi is stressed and cannot properly display how he feels, he tends to act in “odd” ways.

He begins to furiously turn pages in magazines or bother the receptions every 2 minutes about the status of your surgery. When the woman finally says that you’re still alive, he tones it down a little.

Illumi is open to conforming advice from strangers; he has been receiving it secretly from strangers. Since Silva was busy abusing him, he often found comfort from “the streets”.

He has a bad habit of pacing back and forth and fidgeting in his seat while horrific images fill his mind. All he has seen is pain and even though he was used to it, he didn’t want you to go through it as well.

While sitting in his seat (finally!) and head in his lap, doubled over indescribable sorrow, a little girl walks up to him with her hands folded and a doll under her arms. Illumi feels her presence and looks up. The girl’s curly hair covered her endearing eyes and her smile is wide.

“They’ll be alright. I just know they will,” turning around returning to her mother, the girl said with confidence.

On cue, Illumi placed his hand over his heart, smiling just a little.

He walked quickly to your room once you were out of surgery.

His speed walk mimics one of a soldier; his left arm in since with his right leg. His shoes echoed throughout the hall.

As soon as he enters the room, he shuts the door harder than usual and gives you a tight embrace. This surprises you! You’re lucky if he lays his head on your shoulder!

Illumi had been working out lately. He wanted to beat you in the “squish the melon” contest. He is very competitive and even if he lost, that doesn’t hurt his ego. Not in the slightest. Since it was just the both of you alone, he bends down to hug you tight, so tight that your face is squished against his.

This behavior is only surprising because he usually doesn’t coddle you even when you get hurt, but this time he realized that you could have died from the gunshot wound.

After that he kissed your forehead and almost simultaneously the doctor barreled in just missing the sweet moment between you and your beau.

Chrollo

When Chrollo is holding meetings with the Phantom Troupe, he always appears to be neutral. That is very important. A leader has to show strength even through the worst/hurtful times of their lives.

Chrollo had gotten a call from Nobunaga that you had gotten hurt on a mission and had actually gotten captured by the enemy. Phinks was able to get you back but you suffered horrible injuries.

This is protocol; they do this for any of the members. The troupe was oblivious to the fact that you and Chrollo were dating. They thought you were here to replace Uvo.

In situations like this, he is calm on the outside but screaming on the inside. Common sense will tell you if you are startled by the news you’ve just received and you begin to drive, you could cause more harm on the way to your destination.

Chrollo is very silent; he doesn’t call to check on your status or anything; he would rather see it for himself.

You were a trooper! After all, you are dating a dangerous robber.

Chrollo already knew what room you were in so he just went.

“I knew I should have kept y/n by my side. Y/n insisted on doing my dirty work that they almost died! How foolish could I have been?” He constantly cursed himself for letting his guard down with you.

He always gave you room to think and complete your own tasks but he can’t help his protective nature; one he has for the troupe but times 10.

His childhood friends had been shot by law enforcers, his home was horrific, and the last thing he needed was for you to be gone. You were keeping him afloat in society.

When he opened the door, Phinks was sitting in a chair, one leg over the other, laughing at a TikTok video.

Nobunaga on the other hand was watching the world news and seemed invested that he didn’t hear Chrollo enter the room. Once they both saw, they stood to their feet.

“Y/n is ok boss. They suffered a few cuts and burns, but they're breathing.”

Chrollo’s straight face remained as he stared at you.

Chrollo’s silence is something the troupe has internalized as a sign of anger, rage, or both. When he didn’t speak and just stared, everyone knew that their next mission was going to be a brutal one.

Chrollo is a man that isn’t afraid to express how he feels. He could cry right now if he wanted to and no one would dare laugh at him or insult him. After all, Nobunaga cried when he realized Uvo was dead.

Nobunaga and Phinks excused themselves as they saw him place his hand over his mouth.

Once the door closed, He pulled up the chair, grabbed your hand, and gently squeezed it. His warmth woke you up instantly and you turned your head. You winced in pain causing Chrollo to jump from his seat, moving to your right side so you wouldn’t turn your head too much.

“I’m glad you're alive, darling. What were you doing putting yourself in danger? Feitan could have handled the beast!”

He isn’t trying to doubt your ability to fight, he’s just concerned for your safety. Even so, why would he insist that you join the spiders?

A tear dropped from his face as he silently kissed your hand three times. You smiled warmly and placed your right left hand on top of his.

“I am fine, boss. You need not worry. I’m a trooper, remember?”

He placed your hand against his dry cheek and continued to kiss it. You were his lifeline and he wanted to spend every moment with you.

[hermannsthumb]

Town council Hermann vs Alien Conspiracy Newt please!!!

THIS WAS FUN!!! inspired both by this tweet and conversations abt a newt/herm AU of that tweet with @k-sci-janitor (who also thought of the funniest sign newt made in this fic, aka the cheekbones one, and what his tats should look like). this is long sorry :/ gets a little spicy towards the end but nothing worse than a high pg13/light M

----------------------------------------

The evening of the weekly town council meeting, it pours like nothing else. Which Hermann figures is really quite appropriate. Loathe as he is to soak his trouser legs, trudge through the mud that used to be his front walk, and hold his umbrella for so long his arm aches (for the community center is a mere half-mile walk away that Hermann can't justify substituting with a bus), he can't imagine council meetings happening in any other sort of weather. In fact, they rarely tend to; their dreariness seems to be a necessity, part of the preparation, as if to put everyone in as miserable a mood as possible.

Hermann hates council meetings. He supposes he'd be more sympathetic towards the plights of his constituents—if one can call one's neighbors constituents—if he'd wanted the damned job in the first place. As it is, he feels a bit like he was conned into it. Hermann had been a lowly physics professor at the local community college, passionate about public education and funding for public education and all those proper sorts of things an educator ought to be concerned about, when he suddenly found himself seized with the idea of making a difference. So he ran for a head position on the council. And he won it. Only no one told him that the council deals a lot less with public education and a lot more with noise complaints, cul-de-sac bake sales, and raccoons in dustbins, which makes why he ran completely unopposed all the more obvious.

A fat raindrop explodes against the edge of Hermann's umbrella and splashes his glasses. Hermann grits his teeth and wipes them dry with the cuff of his sweater. Bloody meeting; bloody rain; Hermann just wants to go back home, and fix up a nice pot of herbal tea, and set a blanket in the dryer for ten minutes, and...

"Dr. Gottlieb! Hey, Dr. Gottlieb, wait—!"

A blur in an oversized yellow raincoat hurdles itself at Hermann from the stairs of the community center. Hermann considers pretending he is a different Dr. Gottlieb, one who certainly has no reason to know maniacs in raincoats, or maybe high-tailing it in the other direction. This is the other reason why Hermann loathes council meetings: Newton Geiszler.

The unfortunate thing is that Newton Geiszler was, at one point, a respectable academic type, and in fact one of Hermann's own colleagues at the community college. (Hermann only found this out after the fact—he does not make a habit of intermingling much with the biology department.) And Hermann does mean was. Around a year ago, Geiszler was asked to temporarily step down from his position after he suddenly and unexpectedly went off the deep end. He has not been asked to come back yet. And not without reason. "Dr. Geiszler," Hermann sighs. "I've asked you not to lurk about here like that. It's...unsettling."

"Sorry, man, sorry," Geiszler shouts. He stomps over and makes himself at home under Hermann's umbrella. Hermann's not sure how he's been managing to see anything, let alone Hermann approaching down the sidewalk: his glasses are completely fogged-up and rain-splattered. "Do you mind if—thanks, dude."

Geiszler flips his hood down. He’s short, only coming up to Hermann's nose, with stubble nearly overgrown to a full beard and a mess of wet brown hair. He shakes that hair now, like a dog, soaking Hermann in the process. Hermann growls. "I beg your pardon,” he says.

"Oops,” Geiszler says. “Sorry. Anyway, Dr. Gottlieb, I'm really glad I caught you, there are—there are some things I wanted to tell you about. Before the meeting. They're—hold on." He rummages around in the deep pockets of his raincoat and produces a damp notebook, which he begins to flip through frantically. "It's about—"

"I know what it's about," Hermann says. Geiszler fumbles to push his glasses back up his nose. "In fact, there are some things I need to speak with you about as well."

"You've seen them?" Geiszler says in a hushed tone.

Hermann scowls. "I certainly have.”

They first started cropping up in the forest around the little cabin Geiszler calls home. Then, like dandelions or bamboo, they spread fast and far—to the town commons, in the front lawn of the coffee shop Hermann frequents, in front of his house. Whenever Hermann dashes one down with his cane or hauls one off to a rubbish bin, two more only crop up in its place. It's annoying, frankly. As if Hermann doesn't have to deal with enough already.

3 ALIEN ABDUCTIONS IN ONE WEEK - WHEN IS THE COUNCIL GOING TO DO SOMETHING?, the new one sitting in front of the community center says.

It's better than last week's sign, Hermann supposes. THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE - AND HERMANN GOTTLIEB IS BLIND TO IT.

"You know you need a permit for those, Dr. Geiszler," Hermann says. "Or, at the very least, the council's permission. They're a public nuisance."

"My signs are a public nuisance?" Geiszler shouts. Hermann flinches back. Geiszler may be compact, but if he doesn't have the shrillest voice on the whole damned planet. "Open your eyes, dude! A dozen people went missing last month! The only public nuisance is whatever's coming from—" He bites his lip and jabs his finger at the sky, as if saying anything remotely akin to outer space would suddenly send fleets of UFOs pouring down from above. "And you're just letting them walk right fucking in."

“I thought they were flying in?" Hermann says. He raps Geiszler’s shin with the end of his cane. "Do get out of my way, Dr. Geiszler. The meeting starts in ten minutes, and you're welcome to air all of your grievances then."

Geiszler is silent as Hermann ducks around him and ascends the community center ramp. For a moment, Hermann thinks he may have won this small victory, and then he hears the wet slaps of Geiszler's rain boots against the pavement behind him. "Really funny," Newton says. "Real fucking funny, dude. I bet it'll be just as funny when they come for you next!"

Hermann unlocks the door. Geiszler waves a stack of black-and-white polaroids beneath his nose. "I took these last week," Geiszler says, and begins flipping through them as frantically as he had his notepad. Each one is blurry and indistinct, like Geiszler snapped them through a gauzy curtain with shaking hands. Hermann's not sure what he's meant to be looking at. "The day that waitress went missing from the bus stop. And two nights after that—your neighbor, the one who went outside to let his cat in and never came b—"

"Enough," Hermann says. He pushes the polaroids away, knocking two to the ground, and Geiszler scrambles to pick them up before they're ruined. "Dr. Geiszler, it is undoubtedly tragic that these people have—er—vanished, as they have, but continuously insisting extraterrestrials had something to do with it, and furthermore—" Geiszler opens his mouth as if to argue, but Hermann raises his voice and pushes on. "—furthermore, that I'm meant to do something about it, is completely—well, it's unhinged, frankly. I'm not law enforcement. Or the mayor. Or bloody—NASA. What do you want from me?"

Geiszler stares at him for a long time. He pockets his photographs. "They're gonna come for you," he says, ominously. "Just like they did for me."

The meeting goes off as expected, which is to say, badly. Hermann gets shouted at by nearly everyone in town, many of whom blame Hermann and his presumed negligence for the disappearances over the past year as well (blessedly, they don't also blame aliens), though many more of them blame him for more trivial things such as the broken water fountain in the commons or the library's slow wireless internet. Hermann can't decide which is worse.

As it is, when the clock strikes eight, he's more than ready to go home. "Right," he announces, standing up and making a show of tidying his meeting notes. They're already tidy: Hermann's notes are always meticulous. He continues—rather quickly, in case someone gets bold and attempts to interrupt him, "Thank you all very much for such a, er, productive meeting. I'll make sure to pass along everything you've said to the appropriate people. If there's nothing else..."

Geiszler jumps to his feet. A few people groan; Hermann has a feeling they're just about as sick of him as Hermann is. "Um, yeah, actually, I want to add something."

"No," Hermann says. “Dr. Geiszler, please, we can talk—”

"When we were outside," Geiszler continues anyway, raising his voice, "you asked me what I wanted you to do. Well, I just want you to listen to me! That's all! I have so much proof—so much I can show you—and you won't even—!"

"Proof?" Hermann says. "Your rubbish photographs?”

"It's not just the photographs! It's other stuff, too! Like—" Geiszler lets out a long, angry huff of air, and actually balls his fists up at his sides. Hermann has never seen him so incensed, not even when he accused Hermann of being an alien himself during a council meeting last summer. "Look, just come to my house and I'll fuckin' show you. Or are you that afraid of being—I don’t know, proven wrong?"

Part of Hermann is convinced that if he follows Geiszler out to his isolated cabin in the middle of the woods, it'll be the last thing he ever does. At the very least, he certainly has no desire to spend more time with Geiszler than he's already forced to. Yet—on the other hand—Hermann does not appreciate the challenge, nor does he appreciate being made to look like a fool by the man who chairs the local paranormal society. "Fine," he snaps, and Geiszler startles in obvious surprise. "Fine, you wretched little man. I’ll let you show me whatever proof you think you may have, so long as you take every single one of those signs down."

"Um," Geiszler squeaks. He clears his throat. "D—deal?"

Hermann seizes his cane and thrusts his chair back under his table roughly. "Well?" he says to the rest of the hall, none of whom have budged since Geiszler began shouting his head off. He scowls at the lot of them. "The meeting is over. You can leave."

It's Hermann's job to shut down the building each week, so he waits for the very last stragglers to toss out their paper water cups, shrug on their raincoats, and file outside before switching off the lights and locking up. He finds Geiszler lurking by a rather worse-for-wear green VW Beetle at the curb, the hood of his raincoat flipped back up over his hair. Hermann desperately hopes that the car isn't Geiszler’s. He is Hermann’s ride home tonight, after all. "I took the signs down," Geiszler says in a rush. "All of the ones around here, anyway. I'll have to do the rest tomorrow." He jerks his thumb at the backseat of the Beetle, where Hermann sees a haphazard pile of some of the 3 ALIEN ABDUCTIONS signs. His heart sinks. The X-Files bumper stickers should've been a dead giveaway, really.

"Thank you," Hermann sighs. "Well, let's get this over with."

"The heat is busted, so you might wanna leave your coat on," Geiszler says apologetically when Hermann manages to squish himself into the passenger's seat. The floor is a sea of empty Dunkin' Donuts cups, stacks of pulp science (or, if Hermann were to be less kind, pseudoscientific) magazines spanning back at least half a decade, and a pin-littered linen tote bag filled to the brim with boxed Annie's macaroni and cheese.

"Uh, sorry," Geiszler says. "I had to run some errands earlier. You can just—toss that in the back. Yeah."

The ride is short but bumpy, and though the removal of Geiszler's shopping bag offers Hermann more leg room, there is nothing that can make up for his tragically awful driving and his tragically awful CD collection. Hermann almost bolts from the car when they finally pull up at Geiszler's ivy-shrouded cabin, so relieved to have made it there in one piece that he's all but forgotten that he must now spend the rest of the evening with Geiszler, too. He remembers soon enough: another duo of aggressive signs have been pounded into Geiszler's mossy front path, TURN BACK NOW - ALIEN ABDUCTION ZONE, and a rather good sketch of Hermann beneath WHAT ARE THOSE CHEEKBONES HIDING? "That one's from the summer," Geiszler says sheepishly, kicking down the latter with the toe of his boot. "I keep forgetting to take it down. I don't still think you're an alien, by the way."

"Er, thank you," Hermann says. "I suppose?"

"They wouldn't be that obvious," Geiszler says, emphasizing the they with a meaningful glance up at the night sky.

"Of course not," Hermann says.

He's not quite sure what he expected Geiszler's house to look like. Some sort of—conspiracy nutter's den, perhaps, with aluminum foil hats and deconstructed radios and elaborate photoboards full of thumbtacks and red string. Or the interior of his car on a larger scale, with empty takeout containers and crumpled up papers on every surface. He's...sort of right. There's a noticeable lack of tinhats, but there are plenty of (modestly-sized) corkboards on the walls and multiple coffee cups peeking out of a recycling bin. The rest is merely precisely what Hermann would expect from an academic in his 30s: books, and mis-matching furniture, and a sink of dishes begging to be washed. It's...a bit disappointing, frankly. Though Hermann is rather impressed with the sleek telescope angled in front of the back slider door. Impressed, and envious. It's a very nice model.

"Make yourself at home," Geiszler says, unzipping his voluminous raincoat and tossing it, along with Hermann's, over the back of a worn armchair. He's wearing a pair of torn skinny jeans and a band t-shirt that reveals his heavily tattooed, and deceptively shapely, arms. Hermann tears his eyes away and forces himself to sit down at one end of Geiszler's couch. "I'm gonna make us some coffee. Do you want any sugar or non-dairy creamer?"

"No, thank you," Hermann says. "I don't drink coffee this late. It'll keep me up all night."

"Well, I hope so, that's kinda the plan,” Geiszler says. He rolls his eyes. “The aliens never come before at least midnight. Soy milk or almond milk?"

Hermann thinks, briefly and longingly, of his nice warm bed, the blanket he intended to toss in the dryer, and the herbal tea he won't be having after all. "Almond milk?" he hazards.

Geiszler stares at him in evident disgust. "Dude, I was kidding. You know how bad that shit is for the environment? It takes, like, a fuckin' thousand gallons of water or something like that for one carton of almond milk. It's insane. I mean, I guess it's still less water than what dairy needs, but there are plenty of better options."

"Oh," Hermann says. Hermann drinks skim milk. "I'm sorry. Er. Soy milk?"

As Geiszler fixes them mugs, Hermann begins to poke around some papers scattered across the coffee table. One is a list of names and dates, seemingly random, Hermann thinks, until he recognizes (scrawled in purple ink at the very bottom of the page) that of the gentleman who disappeared from his back porch just down Hermann's street. When he recognizes another—a teenager who worked as a barista at Hermann’s favorite coffee shop—he realizes it must be everyone who's vanished from town in the past year. Another paper has the same dates repeated, though not alongside any names—rather, bizarre little phrases like circling lights and that sound again. "You found my notes," Geiszler says cryptically, and then thrusts a mug out to Hermann.

Hermann takes the mug. A logo on the side tells Hermann it was from some academic conference in California ten years ago. "What are they supposed to mean?" he says.

Geiszler snorts. "Uh, I thought it was kind of obvious. Look—" He sits next to Hermann, far too close, and points at the column of numbers on the first page. "These are the dates when people have been reported missing," he says, and then scans his finger over to the second page, "and these are the dates when I've observed extraterrestrial—or at least, unexplainable—activity overhead. See how they match up almost perfectly?

"Mm," Hermann says. He does not. "So—if I am to understand you correctly—you believe that a, ah," he takes the page back from Geiszler, "a 'weird swoopy sound' from overhead had something to do with that poor young woman disappearing from a bus stop last week?”

"It wasn't just a weird noise!" Geiszler exclaims. "I showed you the pictures. I ran outside when I heard it, and thank fuck I had my camera, because I caught those lights just as they were leaving. And then what do I find out the next morning? There was another abduction, at almost the exact same time I saw the lights!"

"Ten miles from here," Hermann reminds him. "It would've had to have been a bloody fast ship."

"Yeah, no shit, Hermann," Geiszler says. "They're, like, fucking—mega-advanced lifeforms. They probably have the tech to vaporize the entire Earth if they wanted. Of course it was a fast ship.”

Geiszler is still sitting awfully close to Hermann. He runs very warm, unlike Hermann, warm enough to make Hermann warm too—like a scruffy, tattooed, freckled furnace. Yes, freckled, for Geiszler has the lightest dusting of freckles across his round chipmunk-like cheeks that Hermann finds inexplicably charming. He wonders if Geiszler would notice him loosen his collar a bit, perhaps take off his sweater. He really is getting quite warm. "So, I was saying," Geiszler continues, and though he speaks almost directly into Hermann's ear, he sounds as if he's a mile away from him. "Waitress at bus stop—weird lights over my cabin—waitress gone from bus stop. The proof is, like, undeniable!"

"Indeed," Hermann says.

He undoes the top button of his collar. He hasn't touched his coffee yet—he wonders if Geiszler even cares. The tattoo on Geiszler’s bicep, some sort of space tentacle monster, stares back at Hermann. "I'm telling you, man," Geiszler says, "this is no joke. They're taking people, maybe even for good."

They're gonna come for you, just like they did for me. When Geiszler began spouting nonsense about aliens last year, he was not booted from the biology department right away. Mostly everyone at the college, Hermann knows, tolerated his eccentricities on account of his admittedly brilliant mind and popularity among the students. The final straw came when Geiszler's extraterrestrial delusions (for what else could they be?) reached a new level: he showed up to campus in his pajamas one morning, raving that the aliens were not only zooming about over his house, but had actually abducted him the previous evening. "You seemed to fare alright, though, didn't you?" Hermann says. "When you were—ah—taken? They even dropped you back off in time for work. Quite courteous, I should think."

"That's—" Geiszler begins to shake his leg up and down, nervous energy radiating up his body and through Hermann's. He spills some of his coffee on the carpet. "That was—that was dumb. I got lucky. I think I was one of the first ones, you know? Because the disappearances didn't really get bad until, like, a month after that? I was in bed—and, and it wasn't like how it is in movies, I wasn't sucked up in a giant beam of light or anything like that, one minute I was there and then the next I wasn't, I was somewhere...else. And—uh. I don't really remember what they looked like. I tried to—sketch them out, but it was like trying to remember a dream, all the specific details about them just faded once it was over. But, um." He rubs the back of his neck, and Hermann is surprised to see him blushing. "Well, if I'm being honest, I think I kinda freaked them out."

Hermann can't help but snort. "You what?"

"I'm serious!" Geiszler shrieks. "I freaked them out. I was just really excited about it all. Like, dude, come on, I was abducted by aliens. How fucking cool is that? I just kept asking a bunch of questions, like, are you gonna probe me? are you gonna take me back to Mars or Jupiter or, like, I don't know, fucking Gallifrey? do you even understand what I'm saying, how do you communicate? and then the next thing I knew, I was landing on my ass in the school parking lot. They must've been observing me like I was observing them, like, they maybe knew I worked there? Anyway—" He shakes his head. "I tell you what, I'm real glad I decided to not just wear boxers like usual to bed that night. That would've been really embarrassing."

Bombarded with the sudden mental image of what Geiszler usually looks like in bed, Hermann (feeling rather warm again) tugs at his collar and clears his throat. He has certainly seen more than enough for the night, and if his mind is straying to something as prosaic as what does Dr. Geiszler look like half-naked?, it likely means it’s time for bed. "Er, right. Dr. Geiszler—"

"Just call me Newt, man," Geiszler says.

"Newton," Hermann concedes. It gives him a private little thrill. No one calls Newton Newton; it’s always either Newt or Dr. Geiszler. "Newton,” he says again, “this has been a very—illuminating—evening, but it's getting rather late, and I think you ought to drive me home before—"

And then Newton begins to take off his shirt.

Yes, a small part of Hermann's brain whispers traitorously, yes, yes, yes, even as Hermann recoils and stammers out, "Newton, what—?!"

"Oh, calm down, I'm not coming onto you," Newton says. He drops his t-shirt on the floor and jabs a thumb at his chest. His bare chest. "See, look. Proof."

Hermann's not sure what he's meant to be looking at. The giant Godzilla tattooed over Newton's pectorals? The flying saucer tattooed above Newton’s belly button? Newton’s nipple piercings? Hermann thinks he understands what an overheating computer feels like, an influx of too much information with processors unequipped to handle it. "I," he says. Newton’s belly button is not pierced. Hermann’s not sure why he thought it would be.

"Look at my chest, dude!" Newton says, tapping his skin insistently.

It takes Hermann a great deal of effort to pull his eyes away from the nipple piercings. In the dead center of Newton's chest, spaced perfectly between his pectorals and right over the nostrils of Godzilla, is a strange, almost luminescent glyph of a language Hermann can't begin to recognize. It's raised from Newton's skin, more like a brand than a tattoo. And...well, when Hermann says luminescent, he really means it. The squiggle seems to glow blue. "This was on me the next morning," Newton says. "I think they marked me. Like you'd tag a lab rat?”

Hermann can't help himself: he reaches out and touches the mark. "Strange," he murmurs. Compared to the heat of Newton’s body, the glyph is quite cool. Frigid, in fact, like metal, and yet as soft as the rest of his skin.

He's close enough to Newton to hear the hitch in his breath when they make contact, and as he traces his fingertips over the glyph, he can feel Newton's heart pounding beneath them. Strange, indeed; Newton has been such a thorn in his side for so many months, and yet all Hermann wants to do now is touch even more of him. He trails his hand lower, down to the flying saucer on Newton's soft abdomen. Newton inhales sharply. "Um," he says. "Should—should I put my shirt back on?"

"Do you want to?" Hermann says.

"Not really," Newton says.

He stares at Hermann, eyebrows knit together behind his glasses, like he can't seem to make sense of him. His confusion is very much warranted; Hermann can’t seem to make sense of himself right now, either. Then, to Hermann's supreme annoyance, the pieces seem to click into place in Newton's mind, and he grins. "Oh, duh," he says. "No wonder. You wanna fuck me, don't you? That’s why you’re so obsessed with me.”

That would certainly explain the strange warm feeling that comes over Hermann sometimes when he thinks about Newton in the dead of night that he has, up until this very moment, attributed to bouts of temporary insanity and/or a latent murderous desire. Nothing so dramatic as all that, then—just regular human biology. Urgh. How disgusting. And for Newton, of all people. “Obsessed with you?” Hermann sniffs, desperate to retain some element of propriety even while he begins to tug at Newton’s button fly. “Newton, you have spent thousands of dollars on yard signs just to invite me over for a coffee.”

“Uh, yeah, and it worked,” Newton says.

He curls his fingers in the front of Hermann's sweater, thumbing over one of the buttons.

“Even when I thought you were an alien,” Newton says, “I still kiiiiinda wanted to fuck you.”

Delusional or not, Newton looks terrifically good with a beard.

"Wait," Hermann gasps some time later. "Newton, stop a moment—"

Newton pulls away from him, frowning. He pushes his glasses back up on his nose. "What is it?" he says. "Did I hurt—?"

But Hermann pats at his shoulder frantically, pointing beyond him at the back slider and the dark of the forest beyond that. Newton cranes his neck around. "Only I'm sure I saw something. Lights, or…” Hermann feels a small twinge of embarrassment. The night is dead silent, and dead still. “Well, now I'm not sure."

“You probably imagined it," Newton says. He slips back down to press a kiss at Hermann's jaw. “It’s too early to be them.”

Not even ten yet. Newton kisses behind Hermann’s ear. It feels very nice. "Yes," Hermann agrees slowly, his eyelids flickering shut. He smooths his hand up and down Newton’s back. "Yes, I suppose you're right." Newton’s stories must have left him on edge. Which is of course ridiculous, because they’re all a load of rubbish—there may be extraterrestrials somewhere out there in the great wide universe, but they’re certainly not swooping down and plucking up hapless test subjects from Earth, let alone their small town, every other day. Hermann has much more important things to concern himself with right now, like how it feels when he threads his fingers in the soft strands of Newton’s hair, or the sound Newton makes when Hermann digs his nails into his skin, or how wonderful kissing Newton is...

And, unobserved by both of them, the three lights hovering above Newton's cabin blink away as quickly as they'd come.

[embershroud108]

Hi! My apologies for being asking you so many times and thank you so much for always responding me 😭🙏

So what your prediction for Cait's story in season 2, yes definitely more Caitvi but I wish Cait have a story alone without involved Vi (like Mel's struggle with her family) and what kind messed up mistake will be made by Cait?

I mean in season 1 Cait barely do anything wrong in our eyes except she broken a lot of laws for Vi and much naive for still trusted Marcus when Ekko spoke angrily to Cait that Silco paids enforcers to hunt fireflight like animal

Oh man I wouldn't be surprised if Ekko still mad or mistrust Cait bcs he was shot by Marcus👀 (wearing vest anti bullet may save your life but it'll hurt like hell) 😆

No worries, I appreciate your questions! :) Well, I mean season 2 is definitely set up and been heavily teased as primarily Vi + Caitlyn vs Jinx. And that I'm sure will be the centerpiece, but I could definitely, potentially see Vi and Caitlyn splitting apart for a portion of the season (in fact I'll stick my neck out and say it's likely at some point). After all in the season 2 voice lines they both sound prepared, in different ways, to go it alone and while I think they ultimately work better as a team (and the show will make it clear they work better as a team) it would benefit both of them to have some individual character development. That's especially true for Caitlyn. As I've mentioned before, it would be cool to see more opportunities for her to flex both her marksmanship and detective skills, which I'm sure there will be. Also there are of course going to be a number of other plotlines going besides the Jinx problem. If for example Camille is introduced in season 2 and I'm thinking that's fairly likely (in fact I could see her as ending up being actually the backdoor primary antagonist of the season while Jinx is causing a ruckus and getting all the attention), I figure she'll be primarily a foil and an antagonist for Caitlyn specifically (as I understand it Camille is sort of a nemesis for Caitlyn in the game lore). And just conceptually they foil each other so well as genuine moral authority vs. corrupt/exploitative/selfish authority figures. And we've seen from season 1 how naive and bad at politics Caitlyn can be so I would predict someone like Camille being able to, initially at least, easily manipulate her into inadvertently doing her nefarious bidding. Also, while I think it's more likely Vi would make the mistake of trying to confront Jinx alone, it's possible Caitlyn could do it instead/also or be forced into a position where she has to do it. I'm kind of in love with the idea of a shootout scene between Caitlyn and Jinx (I mean there has to be right, they're both skilled markswomen and the only two characters who use guns like come on) where neither of them can quite bring themselves to kill the other for Vi's sake. But yeah I also think Caitlyn will be fairly seriously wounded by Jinx or somebody to parallel Vi's serious injury in the first season. Lastly, I've mentioned before my thoughts that Vi and Caitlyn as enforcers beholden to Piltover's corrupt government may be forced into the position where they have to fight and/or rat out the firelights (they both notably know the location of the firelights' hideout). Also yeahhh the incident on the bridge is certainly not going to give Ekko any better of an opinion on enforcers lmao and that could definitely be a lingering point of tension between him and Caitlyn.

[piccolina-mina]

The entire One Chicago franchise is a mess when it comes to the romantic components of the series. But Chicago PD continues to be the most uninspired, boring, and redundant mess when it comes to their romantic ships and how they display them.

It's as if someone holds a gun to their head and says "let's choose the most basic, young, white heteronormative relationships and smack a cutesy name on them. Fandom will eat it up!" And without fail, fandom always does.

It's bad enough that half the Intelligence Unit thinks they can only date or sleep with each other. It's also bad enough that it further contributes to Chicago PD's ongoing issue with rarely knowing what to do with its female characters beyond specific plots I've come to call the "traditionally feminine womanly plots" and tying them in with a male character where everything about them hinges on their connection to a male. And also that "there can only be one" issue where only one of the female characters can serve as the primary one while the others duke it out for screentime, plot, and relevancy (congrats on always winning Lindsay and Hailey).

But they recycle the same things ad nauseum. For eight seasons, they would rather devote all of their time cooking up romantic subplots that exclusively feature a constant rotation of Ruzek and Halstead. I get it, they're attractive, hell, I'm no stranger to thirsting over Ruz myself, but they're the lotharios of the unit as if only they can be desirable, and it's gotten so old. My God.

They would rather give us these two involved with mostly young and white women, especially their squad mates, then devote screentime to literally any alternative couple.

I mean they have SHARED a love interest. Why? The only ships they have ever devoted significant screentime or development to: Halstead and Erin, Halstead and Upton, Ruzek and Burgess, Ruzek and Upton, Burgess and Roman. Qwhite shocking, I know.

Trudy and Mouch have one of the sweetest crossover romances from the franchise, and it's so refreshing to see a middle-aged couple find love, and yet, they've all but cooled off showing them, rarely give that ship screentime, and it tends to stay in the peripheral compared to the big ships.

Dawson had a romance with Brett from Chicago Fire (another character who gets passed around to the point of absurdity), but they did very little with it, and most of THAT even took place on CF.

They gave Dawson something troubling with another law enforcement officer or whatever for like a single episode, but hell, they still devoted more time and actual arcs to the two or three times where they put Halsted in similar relationships because of course they did.

Never forget that the first relationship that dates pre-series was Chicago Fire's Gabby with *spins wheel* you guessed it, Jay Halstead.

And of course there was Erin and Severide. So pretty. So ... basic.

Yet they never attempted to give us more of Dawson and his wife or Olinsky and his. The women were barely characters on the series. It would've been something.

I don't mind Burzek. Out of all the ships, I enjoy them most more often than not, but it has been eight seasons of will they/won't they bullcrap that they've drawn out. All of these ups and downs. The one non-cop related romance Burgess had lasted all of a second and ended in tragedy because heaven forbid they DON'T put that woman through endless pain.

But they've always remained the second place ship of the series, and it's just... enough. Meanwhile, we started the series with Erin and Halstead monopolizing screentime with their romantic situationship drama, and instead of giving it a rest and changing things up when she left, they switched it out with the Halstead and Hailey will they/won't they. Why?

Heaven forbid Halstead or Ruzek don't have a piece of ass.

Ruzek was even Trudy's choice for a relationship ruse to dupe her father.

In the meantime, one of the most outlandish and unrealistic parts of this series is that Kevin Atwater-- young, smart, just as hot as Chicago PD's golden, pretty, white boys hasn't had a real, significant romantic storyline in the eight years this series has been on air.

In what universe does that make sense? Single, eligible, employed, decent black man? Da faq?

Pardon my bluntness but Kevin Atwater should be seeing more ass than a toilet seat. The fact that he isn't batting folks off with a stick is ludicrous.

He had ONE fkd up romantic storyline in his one "very special black Kevin" episode in season SIX and that's it. Pardon me? Do you know how many of those Jay has had? Twice or more than Kevin.

On a series that pairs up colleagues like it's their mission, they never once even considered taking the Burgess and Atwater relationship in any other direction beyond platonic (and even that is underused these days). I'm not even saying I would've wanted that. I'm just pointing out that it made no sense given their track record to not even tease it. But Kevin is only good for platonic purposes, I suppose.

The fact that they put all their eggs in a potential Atwater and Rojas ship, that never even came to fruition, in season SEVEN of a series Atwater has been in since the beginning when characters like Adam and Jay have already had two relationships or more under their belts by then is ridiculous.

And then there's Voight. He's the lead character and never once had a romantic storyline. If he were younger, you already know they would've went there a few times over.

Yet the closest Hank has come to one is an ambiguous scene with him talking to a sex worker in a hotel room back in, like, season two. Are we to believe that he has never once developed feelings for or even had sex with anyone else since his wife died? He's never moved on after that?

They could easily allude to him being on an ace or demi spectrum if they want, even if I would side eye them for choosing the older character to do it, but if that's the case, they should do something with that.

Even a storyline with a widowed, middle- aged hardass finding love or getting some would be infinitely more interesting and at the very least something different than the same old same old Ruzek & Halstead merry-go-round. Damn, the 50 and over crowd need love too.

And yet Chicago PD keeps feeding us the same bland diet repackaged.

Fine. Burzek has been a thing from the beginning. But after Jay and Erin WHY did they need Hailey and Jay? And if they were going to do Jay and Hailey, why in the mother loving fk did we need Hailey and Adam?

The good sis bagged not one but both of the coveted white boys.

I mean, just for variety, Dawson was right there. Kevin was right there. I wouldn't have been a fan, but hell, it would at least be something different. Much better than acting as if Halstead and Ruzek are the only viable romantic options.

Why subject her to that?

Isn't it bad enough that she's more often than not reduced to being Lindsay Lite anyway? They struggle to give her a presence that deviates and distinguishes her from Erin as is. From her troubled past, and her stage of being mini- Voight and challenging his authority, to this thing with Jay.

Hell, they even repeated a whole job offer thing.

Mind you, don't get me started on how they missed what should've been the obvious chance to make Hailey queer. If I'm stepping on toes, my bad, but everything about Hailey screamed bi or lesbian. She radiated queer energy, but INSTEAD they chose to pair her with not one but both of CPD's romantic male leads.

Why beat this well-tread path yet again?

Of all the possibilities, and all the different avenues they can explore, they just keep dipping into that same well, and it's so tiresome. It's so unoriginal and uninspired. Yes, it's just so basic. I'm talking 20th century shipping... CPD is so outdated with this and it makes it hard to invest or care about any of them, especially if you already aren't inclined to ship within the series as is.

Shock me. Thrill me. Intrigue me. Bloody hell.

[carewyncromwell]

where would you put corey & victor? i don’t think they’re available on that tier maker since they’re relatively new characters.

LOL, honestly, I haven't met either of these two in-game yet, so I kind of forgot that my tier list didn't include them!! 😂

To answer your question, though...I'd put them both in the "Ehhhhh" category.

To start with Corey, they're really not an awful character or anything...but it's hard to ignore that they are clearly meant to be a stand-in for Rowan after their death, right down to their placement as Head Boy/Girl, their instant devotion to MC, their slight social awkwardness and lack of friends outside of MC, and their talent for and intense interest in History of Magic. And with Corey introduced so late in the game too, it feels really bizarre that MC has been leaning on them so much in year 7, rather than the friends MC has been building relationships up with for years beforehand and who quite honestly should not have been so eager to disband the Circle of Khanna as soon as they possibly could, damn MC's feelings. But hey, at the same time, it's kind of impossible for me to completely hate someone who appreciates History of Magic as the undoubtedly fascinating subject it is, even despite Binns's horrid teaching. (It's one of Ismelda's few saving graces, in my eyes.) I don't consider year 7 canon for Carewyn, but I do see Corey being Head Boy alongside Carewyn as Head Girl, and they both treat each other respectfully. (Corey in particular has admired Carewyn from afar ever since first year when she dealt with Merula and actually spoke on her behalf to Dumbledore alongside Ben, Jae, and Charlie after the fact, to try to keep her out of trouble.)

As for Victor, my biggest problem with him comes down largely to how he (and the student body's reaction to him) relates to vampire lore in the Potterverse -- namely, that it makes no bloody sense, alongside what little has already been established in previous canon. Victor's personality and backstory as this insecure, lonely kid who ends up completely reinventing himself to become popular and in the process becomes a much less likable person I think are pretty awesome. I just think that the "vampire" aspect of his characterization doesn't really aid in this, because ultimately a vampire like Victor wouldn't even be treated as a grown wizard, upon graduation -- his affairs would be dealt with by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, as part of its Being Division alongside other marginalized groups like werewolves, rather than the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Victor wouldn't even be considered human anymore, and thus wouldn't be protected by wizarding Law the same way. If anything, I think a far more intriguing twist on the concept would've been if Victor had been pretending that he'd become a vampire so as to make himself appear powerful, which by extension warded all but maybe Ismelda and Beatrice away from him, only for him to actually get turned into a vampire and realize it's not as glamorous as he'd thought it would be. Then he'd have to learn that reputation is a fickle thing and that what truly matters is someone liking you as you are. Or perhaps he could just be leaning into the "vampire" aesthetic to appear sexy and cool, kind of like historical half-vampire Lorcan d'Eath did, only to be confronted with just how terrible of a hand vampires truly have in the Wizarding World and how much the (dare I say) "fetishization" of their condition has only made things worse for them, not better. Then he'd have to learn a hard lesson about how his own problems are pretty damn insignificant in the grand scheme of things -- while he was desperate to be treated as this hot, popular, special guy, this group he was using to his own advantage have had to struggle just to be treated with respect. Should I do a Victor playlist? I feel like I could ttly make a Victor playlist.

[littlemspeachy]

This Conversation is Getting Older and Older

Part Two of You Keep Me Waiting 

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Murder, A character is racist 

Word Count: 3.8K (Yup y’all are getting more to read)

Draco stares at where Hermione was once stood and sighed before muttering a repairing spell that fixes the broken picture frame, then came organizing his notes for Yazmeen while he was out.

"Hey, Draco, it's Yazmeen. I came for your notes on the death eater case," Yazmeen announced, peeking into his office.

Draco shot the younger girl a smile. "Yeah, I was getting them cleaned up for you. I know how much you hate having to work with illegible writing."

She laughs and shakes her head. "It's fine, you're fine. It's other people on this floor I have to worry about. But um.."

Draco looks up at her, an eyebrow raised.

"Nevermind, I'll talk to you when you get back."

Draco nods and hands over his revised notes. "Take good care of them. They're the only kind."

"I'm pretty sure that I can read your actual notes. But thank you anyway."

Draco smiles at her and watches her leave before grabbing his things and following after her.

"You know, for such a smart wizard, I came in here easily." She says coldly.

Draco pauses in his living room, unsure how to start the conversation.

"Daphne, I made it sure you could come in."

"You need to sign them," Daphne says, pulling a pen from her purse and setting it down on the divorce papers laid out before her.

"Not before my father dies," He responded, voice tight.

"I don't really care about your feelings about your father, and he's practically a shell of a human anyway. Why do you think he's back at the manor?" She shot back, staring pointedly at Draco.

Draco stays quiet because she's right: His father doesn't do anything but look outside to the garden, and he isn't improving his mother's health either in fact, she's gotten worse because of his father being back/ He was thinking of killing him, but after working in law enforcement he wasn't sure how that was going to work.

"Just sign the papers. This isn't for you; it's for me, so get over yourself." Her voice annoyed at how long this situation was taking her.

He sighs because she was right: He was being selfish. Making them stay married even though they haven't been in the same room for longer than 10 minutes in the past 8 years unless it was an event that was centered around his mother. So he walks over to sign the papers.

"Your mother misses you, you know, and she wants an explanation."

Draco pauses the signing of his last mane to look at the woman in front of him before he goes back to signing his last name.

"I don't know why you continue to visit her."

"Because at least one of us to maintain the image of a proper person. We all can't go running around like children on the playground."

Draco rolls his eyes equally as annoyed at his now ex-wife. "Listen, here're the documents, just send me an owl with a court date, and I'll make sure to be there."

Daphne just sighed and slipped the papers into her purse, and leaves through the front door. "You need to talk to her. Also, I poured out the tea. It was getting old.

Draco simply stares at her leaving, leaving his house and his life.

Maybe it was better this way.

He steps out of Hermione's fireplace and into a living room. A room that he knew way too well for simply being fuckbuddies with her roommate.

"I thought you had better wards up 'mione." A familiar voice commented from the other room.

"I did. It was Yazmeen who let him in." Hermione said, watching Draco step out of her fireplace. Fred followed her gaze and watched as Draco got reacquainted with the apartment. Draco noticing their gaze on him.

"Are you two just going to stare at me? If so, I could've met you at the train station," Draco commented, annoyed.

Fred laughs. "Some people never change. I'll see you when you get back," Fred said, smiling at the brown-skinned woman. He pauses at the door. "Keep her safe, Malfoy."

That, for some reason, catches him off guard, but he manages to get out a quick, yeah.

Hermione watched Fred leave before turning back to the blond-haired man who has moved out of her living room.

"You ready to go? I need to call a cab." Hermione asked.

"Yeah, I'm good. Don't know about you, though... Seemed a bit preoccupied." He shrugs, back turned away, looking at some artwork on the wall.

Hermione doesn't validate the statement and instead goes to call a cab. "One is in the area, and it'll be here in about 3 minutes."

Draco doesn't respond, so they exist in silence before Hermione asks, "You've been here plenty of times.. You don't stay over like you used to?"

Draco turns quickly to face the curly-haired woman. "Yeah, unlike like some of us, we have work to do."

"Now, what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It's obvious half your stuff isn't here, and with Fred being over, I'm going to assume it's at his place?"

All Hermione does is glare before going to look outside to her window. She notices the yellow cab outside, and instead of telling him of the new development, she simply grabs her bag and leaves but unfortunately for her, Draco is a smart man, and he quickly follows after her.

The ride to the train station is filled with tension and silence. Draco likes to think that he wondered if he overstepped a boundary, but then he remembered that he could care less about how he picked at her sex life. If she wanted to do that to him, he could do the same to her. But due to that pettiness, nobody spoke until they were on the train and even then, there wasn't much talking done.

"How are you?"

Hermione glares at him from her seat before rolling her eyes, annoyed at the question "You left me Draco,"

"You left me too; this wasn't a one-person thing,"

"So when were you going to tell me you were married?"

"I wasn't then, and I'm not now."

"Tell that to the gossip magazines."

"Tell that to the gossip magazines that wrote back to back articles about you and Krum? Since when did you listen to them? Also, when did you start caring for me outside of the bedroom?"

"I don't know but stop asking like you weren't the one knocking on my door at first."

The silence informs them both that neither of them have been good. Not that they were ever good, especially not back in college. Running to each other to find something familiar only to go back to hating each other the next day. That's what made the sex good, they both think. Too much passion made anything feel good during the moment, but it's in the morning that you have to wonder whether it was really worth it.

"So are you with him now? You hop from one ginger dick to another?

"Oh, I didn't know you were ginger, and it seems like we're both following patterns."

That one shuts him up because he realizes that he hasn't changed and only moved on to her intern, whose skin looks like the woman's sitting in front of them when the sun hits it just right.

"Also, I don't mind you having sex with Yazmeen, but having sex with every black woman in our office is.... A bit suspicious."

Draco doesn't know how to respond to the claim, so he simply changes the topic "Are you going to Harry's wedding?"

Hermione's eyes snap from the blond man to the window across from him. "Of course, I'm the maid of honor."

Draco isn't really surprised by the admission, "What an Honor. But you know it's surprising that she gave birth before being married."

"Not really.. Might have been going at it for a while, but unlike you, he can stay committed."

"What are you so mad at me for?"

"I don't know?  How about we start with the fact that you left Daphne right after getting married, only to start sleeping with me 3 months later. And then lying to her about it. She thought you loved her; I mean, sure, we all knew it wasn't going to last. But she wanted to at least make it work. But there we were fucking in the backseat while she was in the store."

"Listen, it takes two, don't pretend like you're innocent." He shot back-way too quickly for a man who wanted to seem unaffected from the claims.

"That would be a good claim, but there you were in my bed way past time for you to go, talking to me about the future and how uncertain you were and all that other bullcrap only for you to be in a dedicated marriage. It'd be a bit different if you both didn't give a damn."

Draco sat in silence because she was right. Always right.. Never wrong. Never wrong in the classes they were and certainly never wrong about the life they lived

"Well, we're getting a Divorce... to legalize the situation."

Hermione glares at him. "So that's what makes this better? A divorce after what? 5 years?"

Draco wants to say yes, but after knowing the woman sitting next to him for the past 18 years, he knows a warning sign he sees one, so he drops the subject.

They both know that they'll need to talk about this again, and they didn't need to read tea leaves for that. But just like tea, it can only steep for so long before becoming bitter, or maybe they were past that stage, and it just needed to be poured out.

The train comes to their stop, and they go to a cab that was already waiting for them; they both think that even though Sanchez is annoying and strict, he still knows how to be hospitable if hospitable meant a very homely looking hotel.

"Is this it? The place we're supposed to be staying?" Draco asked, voice full of disgust.

"Yea, this was the address given to me by Sanchez."

Hermione and Draco stared at the small white and brown homely inn that looked like its been around since the dark ages.

"Let's go. It's only a night." Hermione whispered, giving a nudge to Draco.

They climb out of the car and were preparing to go in before the driver rolled down the window. "I'm going to be here by 6 tomorrow evening to take you back to the train station and if need to floor just tell the lady at the desk and she'll help you. Good Luck."

They nod before walking in and realizing that the inside looks exactly like the outside. Homely and cold-one of the great perks of being in a city next to the water.

"Check-in for Sanchez," Hermione said, smiling at the hostess.

Draco stayed in the back and looked around, hoping to see something that would indicate the age of this inn, but unfortunately, nothing stood out but a pattern in one of the supporting beams.

"Hey, got the key," Hermione says, jingling the key in his face before walking down the hallway where the supposed hotel room was.

"15, 25, 35, and 45 is the lucky number."

"Why are the doors numbered like that?"

"I don't know you're the pureblood you tell me,"

Draco rolls her eyes at her response. "Why the hell would I know that?"

"The wizarding world is a weird place, and rich kids are supposed to be cultured," Hermione joked before seeing their bedding situation. "Of fucking course, how brilliant."

Draco was confused by her sudden change of tone until he saw what she was talking about: One bed.

One medium-sized bed in a room that was freezing cold.

As Draco starts to say something, Hermione cuts him off. "Listen, we can talk about this later," Hermione sighs before setting down her bag. "I'll go down and call us a cab to the station."

Draco watches her walk away with only her purse, confused as to why she never lets him talk. But he dismissed the thought when he casted a quick charm to keep their bags safe.

They get to the station and head over to sign in at the front desk "Officer Granger and Officer Malfoy is here to talk to... Your head officer, officer Pearce I believe, is the name, about the recent killings." Hermione says confidently while leaning slightly on the wooden desk.

"Why does he look so confused?" an officer asks while coming up behind the secretary that was checking her computer for confirmation.

"Listen, he doesn't do fieldwork; he does office stuff. This is his first time. Give him a break," Hermione confides, laughing slightly at the Blond man's facial expression.

The officer laughs and checks the computer that shows the confirmation. "Alright, let me check your IDs, and I'll get you guys back there." Draco and Hermione gave their IDs to the officer, and he nods that suggests they follow him to the back.

"Have you seen any pictures of the body? or any of the bodies?" Draco asks. He hasn't seen a dead body since the war, and even though it's been 10 years, the sight of them still can keep him up for days. He wonders how Harry moved on. He thinks he should ask him.

"No, we were only asked to get the statement from the old lady, and even then, it's a bit spotty."

"Well, can you fax a copy to our office so that we have a hard version in London? We're not going to take long." Hermione says, her voice more determined than usual.

"Yeah, I can do that for you. Alright, here's his office, by the way, he doesn't like this kind of stuff, so... You gotta be smart." The officer they were following says before knocking on a door that had the name of Anthony Pearce.

"Come in." A baritone voice commands from behind the door.

"Alright, good luck."

Hermione and Draco give the optimistic officer a nod before heading into the office.

"Hello Officer Pearce, we are investigators sent from London to talk to you about the report that was given to you after a recent murder against a young woman," Draco says, looking around the office before landing on the officer's face.

Hermione thinks that the officer looks like one of the men from Mama Mia.

"So when did they start sending in young ones with fancy outfits to deal with murder cases?" He inquired before lighting a cigarette.

"We aren't dealing with the murder it's self we're just trying to find out about the... uh.. designs being left on the bodies of the victims. I'm officer Malfoy, and this is my partner Granger." Draco shoots back at the man. He knew they were young for their field; there was no denying that, but they were good at their jobs, and there will be no one that questions that, muggle or not.

Officer Pearce raises a brow before tapping his cigarette into the ashtray. "Is that so? If you're only dealing with the designs, why do you want the lady's statements?"

"We want her statements because she was the last one to talk to the lady that was most recently killed, and she could possibly tell us some information that could help us understand what's going on," Draco responds with a slight huff.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Dracos body language 'how immature. You don't hold any power out here, pretty boy.'

"If that's the case, I could've just sent the report to your office. Why come all the way here for something we could've faxed you?" The older man responds, a demeaning edge to his voice.

"Because we're going to interview the woman tomorrow, and since we were in the city, we decided to question you directly. But if you don't want to comply, I can and will have you arrested for obstruction of justice." Hermione responds, a clear tone of annoyance in her voice.

Pearce stares at Hermione and then looks at Draco. "You should keep her around; she gets stuff done. And I'll get you the interview report, and I can't tell you anything because I didn't conduct it and what was said was nothing out of the usual... But I have received some pictures of the, uh, drawings." He says before going through a drawer and bringing out a manila folder.

"Can we look at them?" Hermione asked softly.

"I can make you a copy," He says, putting out his cigarette before heading over to the printer. "Now, why'd you come here? These murders have been happening for a while."

"It's because our office thought these were stand-alone cases. It's London.. And unfortunately, people get killed all the time." Hermione says slowly, making her seem sadder than she actually was.

"Understandable, but Liverpool does have its crime.. Luckily we're not in the city, so it's a bit easier for us." Pearce says before handing Draco the first page.

"If you don't mind me asking... Why were you so resistant to us knowing the information?" Draco asked, passing the page to Hermione.

"Because whoever is doing this is getting off scot-free. And they're sick cunts too. Imagine, instead of just killing the bloke, you carve patterns into their skin. I tell ya it's some of them, refugees."  Pearce says, handing them the next two copied pages.

Hermione looks up from the pictures. "Sir, this is obviously not Arabic. And it's interesting that a cop that is supposed to serve his community has those kinds of feelings for the people he's supposed to be protecting."

"Nah, none of them live around here, and a good thing too. Don't want them to be committing crimes and stuff." Pearce says, walking back to his desk and lighting another cigarette.

Draco noticed the fist tightly wrapped around the paper before speaking up. "Thank you for your time here, sir... If we hear anything thing new, we'll make sure to let you know."

Pearce simply nods before going off into his own world as they left.

"What a fucking bigot." Hermione angrily whispered. Draco stayed silent shocked at the bluntness of the officers' rudeness, but then he realized that his father was the same towards muggles.

They walked to the front and thanked the secretary, and then went to an empty-looking coffee shop across the street.

"My father was like that, wasn't he?" Draco asks while they were sitting down in their chosen seats.

Hermione looks up from the small menu provided at their table. "You think?"

Draco drops the subject before reaching over and grabbing the files.

"How may I help yous?" A bubbly waitress asked Hermione, almost completely ignoring Draco.

"I would like a cup of coffee, straight please." Hermione says with a smile that makes the younger girl blush.

"And I would like a cup of earl grey and some of the strongest stuff you have." Draco says dryly.

The waitress doesn't respond but jots the items down. "That'll be right out."

Draco watches the waitress retreat to behind the bar. "What the hell was that about?"

"Aww, are you mad that you didn't get attention?" Hermione teasingly giggled while picking up her well used legal pad.

Draco didn't respond.

"Hey, Malfoy, do you work with still work with ruins, or are your college years being wasted on artifacts?" Hermione asks, laying out the pictures in front of her.

"Mainly artifacts and studying the charms people put on them," He responds before the waitress came over.

"Here is your drink and alcohol, and your drink, ma'am, is still being made." The waitress says in a light, bubbly tone.

Hermione nods in recognition, but her brows stay furrowed in concentration.

The waitress leaves before Draco speaks up again, clear liquid in hand.

"Don't drink that right now," Hermione says, quickly looking up and snatching the glass of clear liquid. She sniffs if before confirming. "It's moonshine.. That's some powerful stuff, and if you want to coherent while researching, then I suggest you leave that for later." Hermione informs before pulling out an empty flask.

Draco looks at her curiously before pouring the clear liquid into the flask.

"Look, they didn't die graphically. There's no blood if that what you're worried about." Hermione says, looking up at the blond across from her.

"No..That's- I just.. If something big happens when we're on this case, we're going to become much more than researchers, and I just- I left the field for a reason, and I really don't care to be put back in. I was perfectly fine at my desk and perfectly capable of what I was doing."

Hermione looks at him deeply at him before looking back down at the ruins. "That's wonderful to know, and I understand I really do, but we've been working under Sanchez since our internships. And I know that he's smart enough not to let his head researchers go into the field blindly just to get killed. He knows we can handle ourselves out here. Meaning you gotta start trusting yourself. Plus, after this, we'll probably get a nice vacation offering once we're done, so suck it up and let's figure this out before more people die."

Draco sips on his tea, considering the words of the intelligent woman in front of him.

"Here's your coffee, ma'am... Buy the way it's on the house." The waitress interrupts, setting down the requested coffee.

Draco rolls his eyes at the "sincere" action before grabbing his wallet and handing the young woman 100 pounds. "Keep the change."

Hermione gawks at the exchange but doesn't voice her comment until the woman goes away.

"Do you know how much money that is?"

Draco sends her a confused look before replacing his wallet with his glasses. "All right, what are we looking at."

"Well, firstly, you're starting to look like Harry for one. I get you both are basically office mates but geez. And secondly, I think it's Egyptian. Like something found in tombs, but then there's more stuff that I can't really think of... Maybe Mayans?"

Draco grabs a pictured and stares before shaking his head. "Possibly, but there seems to be a mix of several curses among the charms. Those are most certainly from Egypt, and that's probably how the doctors died," He says before grabbing another picture. "Yeah, because they look like hieroglyphics, and so they decoded them and then cursed themselves. But how he got them on the body is what's' really confusing."

Hermione nods before asking, "Don't you have tea with you?"

"Yeah, but I know it's cold, and so I got a new cup."

A new cup indeed.