#that's clearly crime against humanity

[asterdust]

on spirealm and how to wife a virtual bf:

(but who's wifing who?)

listen i have very mixed reaction after completing the drama. only tried to get through one arc per day until i reached Sachiko's... i basically just couldn't put it down. that arc was an absolute fave. all the set designs were unbelievably accurate, it was like being transported into the world of doors.

(after all, i fell in love with xi zixu's writing because they're really good in describing horror elements.)

it was such a good experience all in all !!

but since they basically changed the premise while keeping the arc elements, the ending was quite expected. it became a bit predictable and cliché (virtual reality, opponent organisations, capitalism...) with all these cartoon-ish antagonist forces, instead of the novel premise which was... far more bleak.

i'm glad they kept most of nanqiu's notable scenes and lines. and sneaked this in.

one thing i was really pissed about was the absence of the actual gu longming. he was such a memorable character in the novel. im so sorry, comrade, you were cut down from expenses.

games were also being cleared in a more emotional way. idk how else to explain it. although it was not that bad, it made me miss the novel's creepier vibes.

some off screen deaths were also made significant on the drama plot, which i appreciate very much because it made the stakes higher.

(i said, you know, like a liar haahaahhaah who would've thought this shit would hurt ten times more)

NOW the best thing about having the doors be related to qiushi's past and this best friend we never saw is... every doors were spawned from quishi and 这好朋友的 brilliant brains and the reveal about nanzhu's existence was just so fucking homoerotic all these STEM gays in my screen makes me wanna throw hands.

(cute date af)

*intense bro fist bump*

pls watch spirealm in whichever way u can :)

[batboyblog]

I'm seeing a worrying amount of idiots on tumblr dot com push that "Kamala hates trans women" and I am losing my mind at how they are pushing it, constantly, saying she is a proven transmisogynist, despite it being a complete lie and her actively working behind the scenes to help trans women in prison. Is there like, sources that could help debunk this shit because I'm at my wits end as these people scream and cry and vomit trying to get biden to drop out but then are like "eghhhh still don't wanna vote for a transphobic cop..." when she's NEITHER-

Isn't the internet wonderful? first rule NEVER examine your priors! ALWAYS! hang onto whatever the first hot take you had on a subject to THE DEATH!

"Kamala is Transphobic!" over here in reality

past that trans and LGBT rights groups have been quick to endorse her like

Advocates for Trans Equality

Human Rights Campaign

just today 1,100 LGBT celebrities, lawmakers and leaders endorsed her

“The intersection on the issue of reproductive care and trans care, and the ability of families to be able to have care for their children and their families, is really, again, an intersection around attacks that are on an identity,” -Vice-President Harris, 2023

any ways the root of the idea she's transphobic comes from one case in 2015. Two inmates in the California State Prison system sued to get GRS, which as inmates would have been covered by the Prison system. It's worth noting here, both women got what they wanted, one was paroled and got the surgery covered by California Medicare while the other serving a life sentence was ultimately covered by the prison system.

Two things are important to bear in mind here, 1. Part of the job of California Attorneys General is to defend the state when it is sued, thats the job, 2. It seems early on in the case Harris was not personally aware of it, about 1,000 lawyers work in the Cali AG's office and so the AG cannot be personally aware of every case, and check this quote from the Lambda Legal lawyer handling the case:

“The California AG’s office shifted its handling of these cases significantly after now-Sen. Harris took over,” Renn said. “Initially there was language in briefing for the state that glaringly misunderstood the medical necessity of transition-related medical care and was patently offensive. But then, there was a dramatic change, which seems to have gone along with important policy shifts.”

Link

in 2019 Harris talked about the case and working after it was settled to change the policy of the California State Prison system

"When that case came up, I had clients, and one of them was the California Department of Corrections. It was their policy. When I learned about what they were doing, behind the scenes, I got them to change the policy," Harris said.

"I commit to you that always in these systems there are going to be these things that these agencies do. And I will commit myself, as I always have, to dealing with it," Harris said.

Any ways Harris can consistently spoken out for and supported Trans people, banned the hateful Trans panic defense when she was AG, in the Senate supported the Equality Act, during her 2020 campaign for President she drew attention to the hate crimes against black trans women while holding herself accountable for the 2015 case. As Vice-President she drew fire voicing support for Dylan Mulvaney during the hellish Bud Light backlash. Her Husband Doug was tapped to host the first ever White House Trans Day of Remembrance

basically you're looking at a great ally who clearly supports trans rights, who was involved in a case, which involved two people who got the surgeries they were looking for paid for by the State of California, close to 10 years ago now, there's evidence that both she moved the case in a better direction when she took over it and also that she changed the polices of the state to before more gender affirming.

[fairuzfan]

“It should surprise no one that we, Black and Third World people everywhere, attach fundamental importance to the question of Palestine,” says Jordan in her response to Rich’s statement. Driven by her grief and outrage at the massacres at Sabra and Shatila in September 1982, in which thousands of Palestinians were murdered by militia groups over the course of two days, Jordan wrote an open letter called “On Israel and Lebanon: A Response to Adrienne Rich from One Black Woman,” dated October 10, 1982. Her address to Rich was both personal (she names Rich alone among the signatories of the two letters) but also pedagogical (it is an open letter to be published in WomanNews and thus intended for public consumption). Using the words “genocide” and “holocaust,” Jordan lays out the shocking array of war crimes committed by Israel over five months—phosphorous bombs, the destruction of civilian infrastructure, the massacre at Sabra and Shatila—and criticizes Rich’s failure to take responsibility for these things as the tangible outcomes of the Zionism she claims to espouse. This idea of responsibility runs through Jordan’s response like a live wire, culminating in this astonishing statement:

I claim responsibility for the Israeli crimes against humanity because I am an American and American monies made these atrocities possible. I claim responsibility for Sabra and Shatilah [sic] because, clearly, I have not done enough to halt heinous episodes of holocaust and genocide around the globe. I accept this responsibility and I work for the day when I may help to save any one other life, in fact.

— Moving Towards Life: Exploring the correspondence of June Jordan and Audre Lorde, Marina Magloire assembles an archive of a Black feminist falling-out over Zionism.

[astrophileous]

When one side of the "conflict" still has the capacity to worry about providing gluten-free food for their soldiers while the other one struggles to provide water for their children, you know who the oppressor is.

When one side of the "conflict" constantly asks for donations to fund their army while the other one does the same to afford basic necessities such as water and food, you know who the oppressor is.

When one side of the "conflict" is still able to post videos from the comfort of their homes while the other one is being displaced from theirs, you know who the oppressor is.

A simple analysis of the hierarchy of needs will clearly show, between these two videos, who the oppressor is.

This is not a "conflict".

It's a crime against humanity.

It's colonization.

It's ethnic cleansing.

It's genocide.

[azzo0]

Had a silly thought of Bakugo eating your leftovers <3

Bakugo noticed you had a habit of leaving at least three to four bites of food on your plate on your first date. He kept staring back and forth between you and the unfinished food as you talked to him animatedly.

"Finish your food." He told you. 

"Oh, I can't eat more. I'm really full."

He sighed in annoyance and stood up. He leaned over and grabbed your plate, seating himself again. He grumbled to himself about wasting delicious food and finished your leftovers for you. 

You watched him dreamily as he ate. Someone who could finish your leftovers. Very convenient. 

From there on, it became the norm for you to pass your plate with unfinished food to Bakugo. He made sure to show his annoyance each time, but you knew he was more than glad to empty your plate for you. Over time, he trained his stomach to make room for your leftovers after finishing his portion. 

At this point, the last two bites of your food are meant for him. 

One day, you're having dinner together in his apartment. He cooked you your favourite dish. He finished his portion and watched you eat, waiting for you to slide the plate over to him. He stared in shock when you brought the chopsticks with the last bite to your mouth, oblivious to Bakugo glaring at you with pure offence.

How could you do that? It was a ritual for him to finish your food for two years now. And you just broke it. How dare you.

You glanced at him in confusion when you noticed him staring at you like you committed a crime against humanity. You cocked your head in question. "What's wrong?"

"You ate the last bite."

"What about it?"

"What do you mean what's wrong? The last bite is supposed to be mine." He said as if it should have been obvious.

"Oh- that's what you're mad at." You stifled a laugh at the sight of your pouty boyfriend glaring at you. He huffed and took the empty dishes to the sink. You followed him, hugging him from the back.

"Sorry, Kats. I'll leave you the last bite next time."

"No. You finished your food. You deserve an award." You did not need to be facing him to know he rolled his eyes. 

"But clearly, I haven't gotten it yet." You poked his sides, trying to get a reaction out of him. "C'mon, stop being a baby."

"I'm not being a baby." He swatted your hand away.

"Yes, you are."

He sighed and gave you a peck on your lips, still grumpy. You smiled and hugged him again, looking up at him. "I'll give you my last bite next time. Promise."

"I'm going to steal it from you anyway."

[sinfulspencer]

Safe place

Prompt: After working on a hard case, Spencer takes comfort in your body. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Rating: angst, mature (18+, minors DNI)

Warnings: friends with benefits dynamic, dom/sub dynamic, Sub!Spencer, Domme!Reader, dirty talking, praise kink, light hair pulling, titty sucking, breast play, oral sex (fem!receiving, male!receiving), fingerfucking, rough sex as a coping mechanism, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie

Words: 4.6k

A.N.: Is it obvious that I have a thing for Sub Spencer? Also, a massive thank you to my friend @snixkers for beta reading this for me. This was written for @imagining-in-the-margins's FWB challenge.

MY MASTERLIST. MY GUIDELINES. SEND A REQUEST. MY TAGLIST.

I wasn’t surprised to find Spencer on the doorstep at midnight.

He was drenched in water and the look he had on his face was obvious: he needed something to ease his mind, to focus on someone else for a few hours. His mind was a whirlwind of something that he wasn’t going to explain to me and he needed a distraction; a good one, at last.

“Everything okay?” I dared to ask

Spencer shrugged and stepped inside, closing the door behind his back. “Not really, but I don’t want to talk.”

I knew exactly why he came to me, his eyes immediately shifting on what he wanted. His gaze was focused on my chest and I nodded my head: fooling around with Spencer didn't seem such a bad idea. I had an intense day as well, and an orgasm or two would’ve definitely helped me ease the tension clearly clinging to my bones and my joints.

Spencer took off his coat and hung it behind the main door, then he followed me in the living room. I was wearing a boring pyjama but Spencer didn’t seem to mind, he needed something else that required no clothes on. Despite our agreement to have a close friendship with benefits, sometimes we didn’t really need the friendship part - like that night. We didn’t need to talk, we just needed physical comfort.

And I was happy to provide that for Spencer, especially if it involved his mouth all over my neck and my breasts to ease the tension in my own body.

“Do you want me to…”

I pulled the small ribbon on my chest and Spencer nodded his head, helping me remove my shirt without speaking. I knew what he wanted, but I needed to know that he was ready for it and most importantly, he truly wanted it.

Spencer caressed my shoulders with both hands, kneeling on the floor between my thighs as I sat down on the couch but close to the edge. My chest was pressed to his and Spencer was happy to feel my breasts against his body, his mouth already nipping and licking the bruises he had left a few days before on my throat.

The love bites all over my skin were fading, but Spencer could still see them and create new ones that he’d dream about for the rest of week.

“Do you want to do it in this position?” I asked

Spencer shrugged, his hands now moving down to my exposed chest. I couldn’t care less about wearing a bra because I was not supposed to have guests, but Spencer appreciated my bare breasts. He didn’t want to waste time struggling to open up a bra.

Sighing, I brought both my hands behind his neck. Spencer was beautiful, I had no reason to deny that, but he was also so troubled, so upset; I didn’t blame him. His job was awful and he was constantly bombarded with horrific videos, images and information about the worst crimes that humanity could commit. 

And somehow, he chose me as his safe place.

Spencer decided to come and find me each time he didn’t feel good, each time he felt too good, each time he just needed someone to be there for him - whether in a physical or emotional way.

“Bedroom.” Spencer whispered

Following him where he wanted to spend the rest of the night, I laid down on the bed and it didn’t take long for Spencer to lay on top of me. He had undressed so quickly I barely registered it. And once he was on top of me, he left kisses all over my collarbones, nipping at my throat once again while his hands caressed my waist and then the outside of my thighs.

His fingers were gentle across my skin, just like his lips - feverish kisses were peppered down my chest. Spence had his eyes open the whole time and I could see the desire flash behind them when I placed my right hand behind his head. My fingers snuck through his soft hair and I tugged on it, forcing him to look back at him. .

The lustful gaze he gave me was enough to bring a smirk over my lips.

His body reacted to my harsh tug easily: his cock hardened against my inner thigh, and I moved my leg to give him some friction. Spencer bit his bottom lip and his grip on my thighs became tighter, as he dug his fingers into my skin.

“Go on, sweet boy. Do whatever you want.”

Spencer stared at me and nodded his head. “Can I?”

I hummed, pulling on his hair again. “I said that you can do whatever you want. Go on.”

A soft whimper fell from his lips, a sound that I play in my head over and over when I pleasure myself all alone. There was nothing better than to hear Spencer whimper, moan and whine because of me, of my hands, of my mouth, of my cunt, of my body. It was enchanting to see how his body reacted to anything I gave him.

Propping myself on the plush pillows of my bed, I closed my eyes while Spencer struggled to set between my legs. He hooked his right arm underneath my waist to push my body against his. Spencer nuzzled his face against my chest and I ran my fingers through his curls, not wanting to hurt him any further. 

He deserved a motherly touch that night, a gentle caress on his face as he worshipped my chest with his mouth and his tongue. Spencer’s face was pressed to my chest and I bit my bottom lip when I felt his teeth sink into the soft skin between my breasts, leaving the first mark of the night.

“You’ve been so stressed lately, sweet boy.” - I whispered, - “But now you’re safe with me in my arms, in my bed.”

Spencer dragged his tongue from the bruise forming on my skin down to my right breast and I hummed softly, moving my eyes down to his face. He knew that I enjoyed having my breasts played with and what was better than giving someone physical pleasure while, in return, receiving both physical and emotional pleasure?

Spencer was a whore for my touch, but also from my voice and the honey-coated words that fell from my lips each time we were together. He loved when I sweet-talk to him after a tough case and that was exactly what I was going to do. 

“I have missed you so much today.” - I added, - “I’ve thought about you all day, how tired you must’ve been but now you’re with me. And that makes me so happy, sweet boy.”

The sound of my voice seemed to soothe Spencer, though the lust was clear in his actions. 

“Did you miss me, Spencer? Did you think about me?” I asked

Spencer nodded his head, his lips never leaving my skin. “All the time. Think about you, your tits, your cunt, how good you taste.”

It wasn’t strange to hear him use bad words, but it was endearing. Spencer was always so sensible, so delicate in the way he spoke but with me he just couldn’t care less. He was direct, dirty, disgustingly exciting and that turned me on more than I could explain.

“Oh, so desperate for me, sweet boy.”

Spencer smiled against my skin. “You know it.”

I fixed his hair when a curl attempted to fall down on his forehead and I sighed, waiting for Spencer to give in to his own desire. He was always careful when it came to me, terrified that he’d go too far and I appreciated that. When I opened my eyes, however, I saw an eagerness that almost left me breathless. 

Spencer was burning with a flaming desire. 

“What’s wrong, sweet boy?”

His lips quivered. “Can you.. please..”

Spencer pawed at my left hand and placed it upon my own breast. He was eager to have me in his mouth, but I had to offer myself to him and not the other way around. Spencer liked the image of me offering my body to him and I wasn’t going to complain; that image was exciting for me, too. 

Pressing my left hand underneath my right breast, I offered my chest to Spencer’s and his lips quickly closed around my nipple. His tongue rolled all over it, focusing on the tip before he started to suck on it slowly, lazily, gently. His face was pressed to your chest and his other hand was clinging to your waist now, still digging his fingers into your skin. 

He was clinging to your body like it was an anchor and he was lost at sea. 

“There you go, sweet boy. You always make me feel so good.” I reminded him

Spencer glanced up at me, but didn’t answer. He didn’t want to because that meant his mouth would’ve pulled away from where it was and he couldn’t have that. Oh no. Soft whimpers came from him as I closed my eyes again, enjoying the warmth of his tongue now pressing against my nipple.

The pleasure was slowly biting me from the insides, but I stayed quiet. It was a struggle to focus on his own desire, but I made it happen. I wanted Spencer to enjoy himself before ordering him to fuck me however he pleased to forget the miserable days we both had. 

Spencer rolled his hips against my leg and I felt his cock pressing to my inner thigh, leaving a trail of wetness across my skin. 

“Are you happy now, sweet boy?”

Spencer mumbled something. “Missed your tits.” 

I chuckled, running my fingers through his curls again. “Hm, I can feel that.”

He went quiet again after that to focus on the pleasure that sucking my tits and touching me all over gave him. Spencer used his other hand to massage my other breast and I moaned softly, guiding his mouth exactly where I wanted him to be. 

“Nobody can do this better than me, sweet boy. You know that.” I whispered

Spencer nodded his head, sucking on my right nipple before he pulled away and went to give his attention to the other one. A string of spit snapped back on his chin and he looked up at me, his cheeks bright red. 

“I wouldn’t want anybody else.” he replied

With his free hand, Spencer started to play with my right nipple while his mouth closed around my left one. His tongue began its torture, while his thumb and his index rolled and pinched my right nipple. 

“I know, I’m the only one who can take good care of you.” - I responded, struggling to hold back a moan when Spencer softly bit my nipple, - “Ah, ah. Careful.”

He nodded his head and gave me an apologetic look, before sucking on my nipple. Saliva was dripping down his chin and staining my chest, but I didn’t really care. All that mattered was that Spencer was happy, satisfied and horny. 

His tongue lapped my nipple over and over, before Spencer shifted to the other one. And again, he started his torture: he sucked, nipped, bit my nipple and caressed it with his tongue ‘til it was hard in his mouth. And it felt good, but it was also pure torture. 

“Nobody knows you the way I do, my sweet boy. So strong, so powerful, so smart outside but here in my bedroom…” - I smiled down at him, - “Here you are my helpless, eager to please and always needy for me sweet boy.”

Spencer whined and looked up at me, nodding eagerly - his eyes were full of lust and I knew that he was done with my breasts. He proved my point so easily as he pushed his body against mine again, his cock achingly pressing to my inner thigh.

“Let me take care of you.” - I stated, earning a positive response from him in the form of a moan, - “Lay back down for me, sweet boy.”

Rolling on top of him, Spencer laid down on the bed with his hands now clinging to my waist but his grip quickly slipped when I settled between his thighs. I needed to give him something more, I needed to pleasure him and also give pleasure to myself and I knew exactly how to do it.

From between Spencer’s thighs, I saw him close his eyes as he waited for whatever I was willing to give him. He was always so patient with him, so excited for a single touch from him. 

His naked body was glorious to look at and I felt blessed every single time he allowed me to see it. My hands travelled down his chest and they settled on his hips, while I admired his cock twitch under my gaze. It was hard and leaking, which prompted me to lean forward and take the tip in my mouth. 

Spencer hissed at the sensation and his eyes fluttered: he stared at me with his lips slightly parted and I smiled at him.

“What, sweet boy? Do you see something that you like?”

Spencer groaned in pleasure and fell back on the bed, his eyes now closed.. My fingers wrapped around the base of his cock and slowly I started to jerk him off while my tongue lavishly lapped at the tip. I was still resting back on my heels and focused my gaze on Spencer’s face, sucking his cock like I was meant to be doing.

There was nothing better than to please Spencer because the sounds he made just sent pleasure jolts straight between my thighs. It was enchanting to see Spencer react to the pleasure that I was bringing him with my mouth, with my touch, with my body. 

I flattened my tongue underneath the tip of his cock before I slowly pushed him inside of my mouth - inch after inch, I took him with the tears pricking in my eyes. Spencer released a strangled moan when he hit the back of my throat, feeling my cheeks close around his cock. Engulfed in the warmth of my mouth, Spencer snuck his fingers through my hair and pulled it so harshly that I almost cried. 

That felt so fucking good. 

Pulling away from his cock, spit coated my chin and I brushed the back of my hands on my cheeks to wipe the tears away.

“Did that feel good, sweet boy?” - I asked, my voice filled with delirious lust for him - “Did you like it when I took your pretty cock into my mouth?”

Spencer frantically nodded his head. “Hm, yes. Yes.”

He was staring at me with his lips parted and I gave him a small smile, before returning to focus all my attention on the most precious part of his body. His cock slid on my tongue and I sucked on it lightly, moaning softly when Spencer’s hand gripped my hair again. He didn’t pull my hair, but he was anchored to me as I moved my mouth up and down his shaft to slick it with my own spit. 

Spencer was a panting mess and I fucking loved it because it was all my fault. After all, he came to me for some comfort and I was bringing him more than that. 

“Stop, stop. Please.”

His voice caught me off guard and I quickly pulled away from him. My chin was covered in spit and my lips were red, bruised.

“Everything okay?”

Spencer nodded, breathing hard. “Need your cunt. Now. Please.”

Struggling to hold back a laugh, I nodded my head and moved to Spencer’s side. It was endearing to see Spencer completely out of his mind with lust - his hands roamed all over my body as soon as I was laying down on the bed and he could get on top of me, again. His mouth found its way to my neck and soon, his teeth sunk into my skin to leave marks that were making my knees tremble. 

 “Of course you need my cunt, sweet boy, but you have to prepare me first.”

Spencer didn’t waste any and he spat right between my thighs, on my cunt. It made me giggle: that was pure desperation to have me. Usually he took his time to finger me, to eat me out but that night he was just desperate to be inside of me. Collecting his own spit and the essence of my pleasure, he sunk two fingers inside of me and slowly scissored them to stretch me. It felt good, but what I needed the most was his cock - I was just as desperate as him.  

His mouth quickly attached to my nipple again and I gripped the bed sheets, whimpering.

“Fuck, Spencer.”

Spencer curled his fingers inside of me as he sucked on my nipple, torturing it with his warm tongue. I knew I was going to have little bite marks all around my nipples, but they were so worth it. 

My breath was rugged and I felt my chest tighten, a sign of my impending orgasm that I struggled to hold back. I placed my hand on his forearm and whispered to him to stop, which he immediately did. I didn’t want to come on his fingers, I didn’t want my pleasure to end there. 

I just wanted Spencer inside of me before I lost my mind.  

When Spencer pulled his hand away from my cunt, he used his fingers to smear my own wetness all over his cock. The sight was so erotic and dirty that I could’ve come if I wasn’t so desperate for Spencer’s cock. I needed someone to paint that scene for me so that I could hang it on the bedroom door. 

“Can I spend the night here?” Spencer asked

I nodded, not really wanting to kick him out after a good fuck. “Yes, of course.”

His lips twitched into a smile as he forced me to lay back down on the bed. His hands were gentle on my shoulders and when he leaned closer to my face, I was hoping that he’d kiss me but he didn’t. 

Another stupid rule that we set when we decided to become friends with benefits. 

I was starting to hate that fucking rule because Spencer’s lips were too pretty not to be kissed, nipped and sucked on. However, a kiss was definitely too intimate for me - especially if given during missionary or something. 

Weird, given the fact that I was allowing Spencer to be inside of me as deeply as he could, but that’s how we both felt with kisses. 

“Good. Then, I’ll wake you up with my tongue.”

Giggling, I wrapped my arms around his neck to pull him closer. “Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time sweet boy.”

Spencer positioned on top of me and with no hesitation, he slid his cock up and down my folds to gather more of my essence. I bit my tongue and stared at Spencer the whole time, admiring him - and he did the same. 

It felt like time had stopped every single time that our eyes met. 

But I couldn’t let myself go in such a way, so I forced myself to roll my hips and lift it high enough for Spencer to sink into me with no resistance. However, Spencer took his time to thrust inside - slowly, painfully slowly. Inch by inch, he filled me and I saw stars exploding right behind my eyes. 

Goosebumps rippled all over my arms and I released a strangled moan, throwing my head back when Spencer finally bottomed out. 

“I’ve missed your cunt, oh God.” Spencer whispered to me

Our lips were so close and I had to physically restrain myself from kissing him by scratching his back. My nails draw lines all over his skin and I didn’t really care if I made him bleed. I needed to calm down, to focus on the pleasure rather than the intimacy of the moment. 

I hated how each time we seemed to grow close to one another because feelings were extremely scary for both of us. I didn’t need to get caught up with them again.

Spencer melted against my body and he hid his face in the crook of my neck, slowly rutting inside of me. I closed my thighs around his waist and moaned softly, allowing Spencer to get all the pleasure that he could while also giving it to me - it felt wonderful to feel his teeth nipping at my throat and his curls tickling my skin. 

Despite his mouth pressed to my chest, I could still hear the low groans and grunts that came from Spencer. They were music to my ears. 

Spencer pressed me down onto the bed as he thrusted in and out of me, picking up his own pace. The position I was in, with my hips up in the air and Spencer kneeling between my thighs, was perfect - it had me tethering on the edge of pleasure and pain, a delicious limbo that I have learned to love with Spencer.

“God, sweet boy.. so good.” I whimpered

Spencer pulled away from my chest, leaving a trail of saliva between my breasts. He looked down at me as he kept thrusting in and out of me - a brutal, rapid pace that almost didn’t allow me to breathe right. I didn’t want to if it meant that Spencer was feeling all the pleasure that he could take from me. 

“You were made for me.”

I didn’t know if he was being serious or if it was just the haze of passion that blinded Spencer and made him dizzy, but it didn’t matter. His words were enough to bring me closer to the edge. Deep down, I was just like him - I basked in his praise, in the knowledge of my body being what gives Spencer pleasure. 

My whole body erupted with goosebumps and I dug my fingers into his back, whining his name over and over. Spencer had his right hand between my thighs, massaging my clit with the tip of his thumb, and his other hand on my knee. He was keeping me in place, watching me as I came undone underneath him. 

My orgasm hit me harder than I expected.

“Let me prove that to you, sweet boy.” I whispered in return to his words

Spencer knew exactly what I meant by that and his breath became uneven, his thrusts even harsher and violent. I didn’t want him to stop: the pleasure soon morphed into pain and I begged him for more. I started to roll my hips to match his rhythm, not caring that my whole body was shuddering with pain and pleasure at the same time. 

Every sensation was heightened, the pain was so strong that it quickly morphed again into a stinging pleasure that made it difficult for me to breathe right. 

“Come inside of me. Please.” I mumbled 

Spencer groaned at my words and soon, he was fucking me harder and harder into the mattress. His body towered on top of mine as he pushed down, almost crashing me against the soft mattress of my own bed. Spencer was hunched over me, his lips a little too close to mine as more moans and grunts fell from his mouth. 

I closed my thighs again around his waist, earning another whimper from him. He loved when I’d cage him against him, forcing him to fuck into me without pulling out - not even for a moment, not even for a second. Spencer kept whispering to me that he missed me, that he wanted to be with me every single night, that he couldn’t wait to come home and fuck me - and God, did that feel fucking amazing to hear. 

And when Spencer finally reached his release, I felt his warmth spill deep inside of me. I clung to his body with all the strength that remained in me and Spencer hid his face in the crook of my neck, again. 

His hot breath caressed my skin as he came down from his high, slowly rutting into me to feel all the pleasure that he could. His body was warm on top of mine as I released my grip from him. 

I was trembling, still hazy from my own orgasm. It was always a struggle to come down from mine and Spencer’s activity. I barely realised that he walked out of my bedroom to grab something to clean me up. 

“Are you sure I can stay here for the night?”

Spencer handed me a warm washcloth and I cleaned myself up as best as I could.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t you?”

He hesitated and I knew what was going through his mind, because it was the same thought that appeared in mine. I knew we had our agreement and the nights we spent in the same bed could be counted on a single hand, but still. 

“I don’t know. Maybe things can get… weird.” 

“They’ll get weird if we let them get weird.” I responded

Spencer nodded, running his fingers through his curls all messy. “Right.”

I decided to change the topic. “I hope you feel better now.”

“Much better. I needed this. I needed you tonight.” - Spencer said with a smile, standing next to my bed, - “I think our agreement might be the best I’ve ever made with someone.”

Chuckling, I got out of bed. “Hm, good. I’m glad you think so.”

Spencer followed me to the bathroom and we prepared for bed, though I felt his eyes burning on my skin the whole time. Exhaustion was written on both our faces and I craved my warm and bouncy mattress. I needed to lay down and rest my legs, my arms, every inch of my body.  

We returned to my bedroom and we laid together in silence. I didn’t want to break the quiet bubble between us, I was constantly worried of always saying the wrong thing - I didn’t want to scare Spencer off. I was staring at the ceiling when he grabbed my hand and brought it up to his mouth, leaving kisses all over my knuckles. 

“You’ve been strangely sweet today.”

“Is that so weird?” Spencer asked

I chuckled, turning to the side to face him. “Oh no, it’s not weird. I just wonder why.”

He pulled me closer to his body. “I just missed you, that’s all.”

“Remember that you can always come here when you need me.” - I reminded him, laying my head on his chest, - “It’s a safe space.”

Spencer pressed a kiss on top of my head. “Your cunt is my safe space.”

I went quiet for a moment, not knowing if I could laugh. Spencer was dead serious, or at least his tone was. And when I look up at him, he had that usual annoying smug smirk that made my knees tremble every fucking time.

I bursted out laughing. “You’re disgusting.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Well…”

“But you’re a good fuck so you’re excused.” I added

I leaned my head back on his chest and took a deep breath, enjoying the warmth of his body flushed to mine. Spencer ran his fingers through my hair and soon enough, I drifted off to sleep. 

Spencer considered my body his safe space, but he was mine as well. 

Remember that if you asked to be on my taglist, you can easily help me gain visibility with a like, a comment or a simple reblog. If you don't, you're asking me to include you while getting nothing in return. If you want to be removed from the taglist, just dm me. Taglist: @reidselle @alelaeljfj @blvebanisters @Koukatsuki @donttrustlove @moesdraft @r-3dlips @alicentswife @singinghamtaro-blog @Florebore @Topguncultleader @frutilooplupin @mags11 @myoui-me @iluvreid @slaygirl466 @Kikista @icarusgold @pleasantwitchgarden @ohdearlordspencerreid @cherrqblssms @lover-of-books-and-tea @elizabethmidnight2017 @spencerssoup @emmy-reid2627 @winkev1 @benji-screem

[k9wa]

⟁ SANGUINE. ft ARGENTI.

⠀ — “but should you allow me, i would be truly endowed to taste you, hunter.”

⠀ OR

⠀ — a vampire is struck with love at first sight for the human sent to pierce his heart.

⚠︎ vampire!argent & vampire hunter!reader, gn reader, mentions of blood, consuming blood, death, weapons, all that vampire-y stuff, suggestive content, a little sweetness, some gore, so much flirting, argenti is a lil bit of a freak, your freak tho, i love doomed couples, wc 3.2k, from this req.

it’d been weeks now— weeks of terror and bloodshed in a small, humble village to the east. 

a monster, people cried, praying and pleading for someone— anyone to bring justice to their befallen family and friends, their neighbours and colleagues taken and drained of life in the night. you, well-versed and experienced with this ever repeating scenario, were finally sought out as a last ditch and oh so desperate attempt at restoring peace and safety to a once joyful town; told of a red beast who lures prey in with his charm and sinks his teeth into anything deemed beautiful.

vampires were messy hunters, whether they attempted cleanliness or not. it wasn’t an impossible job to follow a few faint traces— blood specks, pieces of fabric, etc— to a mossied, cobblestone path. the muffled clack of your boots against the rock was the only sound for miles in the silent, secluded forest. finally, your search proved somewhat fruitful upon finding a wall of thick, overgrown rose bushes.

pushing past the thorny wall— clearly designed to keep trespassers such as yourself out— revealed a sight nothing short of breathtaking; an old castle-esque manor in the centre of all the red flowers and shrubbery. 

this was where it lived, you had no doubt in your head as you kept forward.

a solution on how to breach the eerie yet beautiful building was but a fleeting thought, your fingers tightening around the hold of a dagger in your palm as the door easily opened with a mere, gentle push.

(years of hunting the wretched creatures left you hearing nearly hundreds of idiotic vampire weaknesses and immunities— the silver in your weapons and a clean shot to the heart was all you’d ever needed.)

as the aged, ornate door creaked open with the whispers of the forest's night, argenti caught the faintest sense (or rather scent) of an intruder; a fragrance and feeling that strongly pulled him to his staircase to further investigate. this smell promised beauty, he could not resist his own curiosity as his lips still glistened crimson.

“ah,” the vampire ran his fingers along the old hand railing with an almost dreamy sigh. “what curious little lamb graces my abode tonight?” he crooned, locking eyes with the figure that’d just stepped into his foyer. 

the sight of you would have taken argenti's breath away, had he had any to steal. your eyes in the moonlight, the faint glisten of your skin, the shine of your hair— you were no ordinary nor foolish trespasser— you warranted his undivided attention.

he was across the room in one swift step, tucking his now red sullied handkerchief into one of his pockets. an amused smile danced on his lips as he took in your cautious stance, the weapon ready to strike.

“you,” argenti leaned forward, lips tugging up further. “must be the hunter sent to end my nocturnal escapades.” he mused, verdant eyes locked onto your form like prey. you instinctively took a step back, keeping a safe distance that argenti was already yearning to bridge.

“keen observation.” you responded with a twinge of sarcasm that the vampire audibly giggled at.

“what are you called?” he asked, beginning to pace a slow circle around you.

“my name is unimportant.”

“it must be a crime for beauty such as yours to go unnamed or unpraised, hunter.”

the compliment didn’t go over your head, nor did the fact that this was the prettiest vampire— prettiest being, actually, that you had ever seen. however, he was still your target, regardless of the way his words made your chest warm.

“i'm afraid we won’t have time for all that, vampire.”

argenti's eyes flashed with both amusement and anticipation as you rebuffed his advances, hues of green gleaming as you twirled your dagger and made your first attack.

his supernatural reflexes sprang into action, evading your small blade with a swift sidestep and a cut to his red, velvet overcoat just above his heart. the thrill of the hunt, the game of predator and prey with the lines so delightfully blurred, coursed through him.

“such haste,” he chided, tsking softly as he caught your wrist with a firm yet gentle grip. “would you not rather savour the moment, mon chasseur?” 

argenti's focus trailed down the bridge of your nose, the curve and swell of your lips, rounded edges of your jaw, acknowledging with a faint hum the beauty of bravery etched into your features. 

“i've never been one for sentimentality,” you responded calmly, letting the weapon in your caught hand drop to the floor with an unheard clang. “you’ll have to forgive me.”

the dance continued, your now open hand shifting in his hold to grab his fingers and spin him around. even as you reached for your weapon on your other thigh, argenti laughed— a rich and sweet sound that echoed through the manor. he admired your pragmatism, even while relishing in the thrilling two-step you engaged in.

as you switched the position with a practised ease, argenti felt the air shift behind him with another stab aimed for the left of his back. a lean to the right and another turn around left your other wrist in his hold, evading you a second time.

“brava, ma chérie,” the vampire praised, his voice dripping with admiration and affection alongside challenge. he gave your wrists a firmer squeeze, a subtle yet clear reminder of the strength that lurked beneath his aristocratic facade. “but don’t be fooled,” argenti leaned dangerously forward, breath a cool whisper against your skin, fangs grazing the skin of your neck just under your ear. “i'm not so easily felled.”

the feeling of teeth so close to your nape had your foot raising and kicking him away with an almost panicked reflex, argenti stumbling back at the force.

“i've never met a vampire quite as talkative as you.” you said while adjusting the hold of your knife. your voice was laced with a clear frustration yet also something argenti recognized to be intrigue.

“perhaps you’ve never met one as enamoured with his prey as i,” he retorted, finding your irritation just as delightful as you. 

“talk is the prelude to understanding, my dear,” argenti hummed while straightening his jacket, adjusting the frills of his white sleeves underneath it. “and i find myself just dying to know you.”

it was argenti’s turn to advance for you, aiming to disarm you of that pesky silver in your palm and leave you perfectly vulnerable. though, in an act of hypocrisy, his haste left him making a predictable reach.

“i encourage you to take your own advice,” you quipped, slipping away from the swift grab with an agility honed purely from experience. the angle left you able to kick his ankle from underneath him and shove him down to his back, landing atop him with your knife pointed down at his adam's apple.

“it’s always important to keep a clear head, wouldn’t you agree?”

argenti's heart, though long stilled by death, thrummed with a refreshing and delectable kind of excitement as he found himself pinned beneath you. he could not help but fall deeper into his affections as he lay beneath the cool kiss of your blade at his throat.

“a clear head,” he echoed softly. “one mustn't let desire cloud one's judgement.” he chuckled. “but then again, where is the thrill in restraint?”

you had not yet dealt your deciding finisher, opting to stay still atop him, the only movement being the faux rise and fall of argenti’s chest. a purely reflexive motion that mocked your owns authenticity.

“tell me, hunter,” he continued, voice tinged with a playful edge. “does this proximity disquiet you? or does it intrigue?”

your response was a quick, defensive one— more abrupt than you’d hoped in an attempt to mask the very intrigue he’d so easily sniffed out.

“you flatter yourself too much.” you resisted a scoff. “perhaps i'll just cut your throat to shut you up.”

argenti's lips curled in a sickly smile. 

“you are beautiful.” he praised with a dramatic flourish in his voice. “in all my years, i have seen countless dawns and dusks– but none have displayed the beauty you have captivated me with.”

your steady hold on your weapon earnestly wavered, the moment suspending you both in a tense yet not particularly uncomfortable stare. perhaps charged was a more befitting term.

what was with this guy…?

“trying to save your own skin now?”

argenti chuckled.

“it is no charade, i assure you.” the vampire’s eyes didn’t leave yours for even a moment– the eliminated need to blink rather helpful in maintaining the contact. “your beauty is not something i would invoke so lightly.”

each word argenti spoke was a measured step, a delicate dance toward an understanding or perhaps even a truce– now it was simply a matter of waiting to see if the olive branch he extended was taken. 

“...you’re quite the odd one.” your brows lightly unfurrowed, and argenti keenly watched as you slowly began to relax. 

“what is your name?” you inquired. “so i may remember the beast who so strongly defied my expectations.”

“beast?” argenti echoed, chuckling yet again. “you wound me with such a word.”

though your inquiry, softly spoken, was an unexpected gift– a thread of curiosity argenti was all too eager to grab hold of.

“i am argenti.” he pronounced his name with a sense of pride. “and you, hunter?”

your name was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, lodging itself snuggly in his amygdala. in the momentary vulnerability of the shared moment, argenti was not only blessed with your name but the slight relaxing of your shoulders– blade no longer so firm to his neck. with a seamless grace that centuries of existence had honed, he acted, seizing the fleeting opportunity your brief lapse provided.

in one swift, fluid motion, argenti reversed your positions with a blur of finesse. now it was you who lay beneath him, the cold silver weapon no longer his threat nor your protector as it clambered to the floor beside you. your hands pinned above your head left you unable to reach for it back.

argenti echoed your name with a dreamy sigh, savouring the syllables like a whispered incantation. “a name unique as the one who bears it.”

though you didn’t…struggle. you hadn’t even pushed against his hold the smallest bit. argenti could feel the subtle change, the gentle yielding of your guard as you remained still beneath him. it was an invitation as silent as the moonlit shadows that played across your features.

he tentatively leaned down, fangs grazing the tender skin at the junction of your neck and shoulder, a mere whisper away from puncturing the flesh that pulsed with the sweetness he craved.

your proximity was so utterly intoxicating, heady with your scent– a mix of steel resolve and something more primal, more human. yet he did not bite down.

“you are a rare gem, my dear,” he murmured against your skin, lips brushing softly against it in a kiss that belied his monstrous nature. “i find myself reluctant to mar such perfection.”

his breath caressed you as he spoke, lips tracing a path up to the shell of your ear.

“but should you allow me,” he whispered. “i would be truly endowed to taste you, hunter.”

he was much too overwhelming, each of your senses buzzed with the sound or touch or simple presence of him. you swallowed thickly in a poor attempt to maintain your composure, to at least save some face and act like your body wasn’t slowly burning up.

“you’ve…” your voice still wavered– once more, a poor attempt. “you’ve been kind.” your eyes remained fixed on the large chandelier hung above you, candles still somehow burning. 

“i suppose i wouldn't mind granting you the indulgence, argenti.”

the corners of the vampire’s mouth curved up at your quiet concession, the light tilt of your head a telling permission. your acquiescence was a gift, one he intended to honour with the reverence it deserved.

“your generosity will not go unappreciated.”

his lips returned to the tender skin of your neck, voice a soothing balm to your ear as he positioned his teeth with deliberate care. the sensation of your pulse, strong and rhythmic beneath the surface, was an alluring melody to his already heightened senses.

he allowed himself a moment of restraint, of savouring the precipice upon which you both teetered, before his fangs gently– oh so very gently– pierced your flesh.

the initial penetration was a careful caress; one that made your head swirl with its settling sting, though still tender as a lover’s tentative exploration rather than the savage bite of a beast as you’d so called him.

the taste of you was nothing less than exquisite, a rush of vitality that flooded every conscious part of him. he drank deeply, small gulps quiet in your ear, yet remained instinctually aware of the preciousness of the gift you’d bestowed him.

his free hand, the one not pinning your wrists, trailed down to cup your cheek, thumb brushing sweetly against your skin in an intimate gesture meant to comfort, to connect, to say without words that you were revered even in your vulnerability.

your heart fluttered and palpated in your chest, both with the penetrating susceptibility of argenti holding you as if you were treasured glass and the blood being slowly drained from your veins. your hands, allowed free from their position above you, moved down to carefully cradle the vampire’s head against you, the touch enough to tug at the remnants of argenti’s humanity. it was almost enough to make you forget why you were there in the first place, how you’d gotten yourself into this embrace. your purpose.

keyword, almost.

argenti’s world, meanwhile, narrowed to the euphoric connection between you as he fed, your warmth wrapping tightly around the immortal’s soul and lulling him into a serene complacency. the very serenity that would mask an impending betrayal.

he was too absorbed to feel the deadly, slow movement of your hand to your right, picking your weapon up with the stealth of a seasoned predator. then, in a hunter’s final ploy, you gripped the handle and pushed the silver up through his chest– past his flesh, his ribs, and precisely through his heart.

the sharp pain immediately tore through him, feeling the muscle that had ceased to beat for so long be so violently yet so cleanly tore through. argenti gasped against your neck, a shock of realisation and honest hurt settling in with the physical burn in his skin. the agony sent tremors through his body, a sensation so foreign and so acute it tore a ragged groan from his throat. he reeled from the visceral surprise, his feeding cut short as the born instinct of survival kicked in.

with great effort he lifted his gaze to meet yours, trying so desperately to speak– whether a scathing retort or a final compliment, anything would do. but the attempt was only a muddled whisper, stuck in his throat with his agony.

he used the last of his strength to roll off of you, but you held firm on your blade and rolled with him, pushing deeper at the newfound leverage.

though, to your begrudging admittance, it was…unsatisfactory. even as your head swirled with your own miniscule puncture wound and sudden anaemia, the lingering thrill of being entwined with such a bewitching creature in your bones, the dripping of your own blood down your skin as you succeeded in your kill–  it left you with no feeling of accomplishment or even at the very least quelled by the death of another vampire.

you felt bad. terrible, even. watching the life ebb from argenti was no longer worth the bounty or keeping of your profession or even justice for the ones he’d killed.

argenti’s heavy breaths matched your own, a final weak rasp of your name leaving his lips. his hand reached up, not with malice but with a gentle beseeching, pale fingers brushing against your cheek, smearing a trail of his blood– a final, poignant connection.

and even in death he looked so stunning to you, as did you to him– even as one of your hands remained steadfast around the silver in his heart.

your free hand covered his, helping hold it against your cheek with a slight clutch around his fingers.

“i think you’re beautiful, too.” you admitted, keeping your voice as quiet as possible so as to not cause him anymore pain or discomfort, “the most beautiful i’ve ever seen.”

the vampire’s eyes, clouded with pain, softened at your confession. the irony of your situation was not lost on him, an immortal succumbing to such a mortal wound at the hands of a creature equally captivating as they were lethal.

“you have bestowed upon me…an exquisite end,” argenti murmured, his voice a mere wisp of sound. “to be seen…truly seen by you, to behold s-such beauty in return…” his hand trembled against your skin, the strength of his once mighty grasp fading like the last glimmers of twilight. his green eyes, still holding yours with the intensity of a man both defeated and enthralled, conveyed a wealth of emotions you’d never get to hear.

“there is no greater finale.”

you held his hand tighter. you wanted him to be comfortable– against every instinct carved into your bones you did not want him to suffer more than you had made him.

“i’ll always remember you, argenti.” your voice was a cool salve to his wounded– literally wounded– heart. “i swear it.”

a ghost of a smile graced his pallid lips, your words weaving through the growing darkness around him.

“that,” argenti breathed quietly, the sound laboured and pained. “is a thought more gratifying than eternity.”

“meet me again,” you said quickly. “under better circumstances next time. you must.”

the thought of not being pitted against each other from the start, the muddied roles of prey and predator or species not interfering in your lives, was just the comfort he needed to nod and close his eyes.

“i will, then.” he felt the touch of your lips to his forehead as his body crumbled to a grey ash, a silent farewell. the moment was paradoxical, held tenderness amidst the dark reality of your short time together. too short, you thought. far too short.

soon enough you're left alone, with two palm fulls of dust in the quiet grandeur of the manor, heart heavy with the mix of feelings you had not nearly anticipated uncovering in what was supposed to be a simple job. hats off to you, for walking into the lion's den only to leave mourning its taming.

you pull the small vial of holy water from your neck, dumping the contents out to your left and refilling it with what remained of the vampire who’d so quickly etched himself into your heart. you stood slowly, mindful of your pounding head as you fastened the vial back around your neck and slowly took your leave. sitting around much longer in your unexpected grief felt too eerie, though the few scratches to your skin on your way back through the walls of thorned roses would leave a lingering reminder of how you felt in the current moment. under better circumstances, you repeated in your head for the journey home. someday distant, under better circumstances.

⠀ MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[miquella-everywhere]

Rating the Demigods based off their Homes

Technically Leyndell is not Morgotts house but his moms, which he inherited after escaping the sewers she threw him into, but he also runs the place like the navy runs a ship, so everything is in perfect working order. Nobody has any clue who he is and I appreciate his commitment to the bit. 8/10 really cool scenery but could definitely use some dusting and giant dragon corpse removal.

The Moghwyn Dynasty is every health inspectors worst nightmare. General unsanitary setting and blood swamps, Albinaurics captured and forced to assimilate against their will, along with several war medics, and also Mohg has the body of his shriveled up half-brother in his freezer. But overall the ancient civilization that lived here before Mohg had pretty okay taste, especially since they built their city under an underground starry sky. 10/10 but only because the health inspector died and Mohg forged the health report.

Godrick snuck in after his failings at the Shattering and just straight up claimed the place as his own, so Stormveil technically isn't even his house. Also his presence alone is so rank that thorns have started festering outside of the castle. 8/10 to the Stormlords cause they've got sick sense of style, but 2/10 to Godrick because he is a literal home invader.

Radahn does not give two shits about architecture, he clearly made Redmane based off of every other fort in the Lands Between and chose function over fashion, which is fair I guess, but also kinda boring. At least he strung up the all of the swords in Redmane and gave it some flaire. 4/10 because Redmane is so basic, plus minus 1 point for the tetanus hazard.

Raya Lucaria had an architecture course as an elective and Rykard committed himself to his GPA and developed his own aesthetic. He graduated top of his class and Rennala baked a cake for him. Best day of his life. Then he went up to Mt. Gelmir and was like, "I should totally make this place my house," and then he did because nobody had the balls to stop him. 10/10 for his commitment to the blasphemy aesthetic. And props to Tannith for doing a great job keeping the foyer the cleanest place in the Lands Between, but also 1/10 for the backyard being a general crime against humanity.

Ranni follows the rule of, "if it aint broke dont fix it," which is exactly why she broke everything else in the world and then returned to her childhood home after the Shattering. Caria could definitely use some bedrooms though because where the heck does everyone sleep?? Or do anything else for that matter???? Caria: Bathroom? Never heard of it. 6/10 because the sparkly magic bits in the air are super cool but Caria Manor definitely should've been a legacy dungeon.

Miquella attended both Leyndell and Raya Lucaria architecture classes, excelling over everyone and beating Rykards score in the final exam by exactly one point, and yet has no idea why Rykard is so pissed at him. Then after disowning his dad he had the great idea to try and build a treehouse but grew his own tree first because he's an over achiever and has gifted kid syndrome. 10/10 because the aesthetic is elegant and immaculate, and everyone who has depression is trying to get there for free therapy.

Malenia went to architecture school with Miquella because she had nothing better to do and slept through every class. The most she did there was break up Miquella and Rykards final exam squabble and also couldn't care less about architecture because she's fuckin blind. Rates the Haligtree architecture 10/10 because even though she's blind, she's sure that Miquellas sense of style is very pretty. But also rates it a 2/10 because Miquella keeps stubbing his toes and tripping on the carved stone flooring even though he insists everything is fine.

The Land of Shadow is less of Messmers house and more of his eternal timeout corner. He was so dedicated to his mom that it honestly weirded Marika out and she essentially put him there and then completely forgot he ever existed. -10/10 because the parental abandonment is so real

[mokulule]

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached - Part 15

First | Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Fandom: DP x DC Summary:

Danny is just trying to build a portal home, becoming a thief was just an unfortunate side effect of that goal. Now if only this vigilante family would just leave him alone. Especially Red Hood - the semi retired crime lord whose ghost-like presence keeps drawing Danny to him.

Danny shouldn’t have come back here. It was too risky. They had a way to disable his powers now, and Danny couldn’t let his mind dwell on that or he would freeze in terror, he had to focus on the present and not what happened the other night. At present he was looking up at the apartment where Red Helmet had taken him. 

It could so easily be a trap. 

But facts. Red Helmet had not stuffed him into a tiny electrified cage while he had the chance. He may of course have thought he had more time before Danny’s powers returned, but he hadn’t taken advantage. He’d stopped questioning when it was clear Danny wouldn’t talk. And- Danny’s throat closed and he fought a sob - he’d just sat there with him, invited him to lean on him and rested an arm around him. 

Just thinking about it made him ache with longing. Two days alone, hiding and licking his wounds, had only highlighted his loneliness. He’d tried to keep busy, to work on the portal, but it was limited how much he could do with a broken wrist. He’d stolen a brace, something he at least hadn’t been discovered at. The feeling of being watched crawled all over his neck whenever he didn’t have his back to a wall. 

Danny just hoped his wrist would grow together right. He couldn’t go anywhere to get the position of the bones checked. It wasn’t usually something he worried about. His healing was normally so fast and it’d always gone fine. But usually he was hurt in ghost form, not human form. Usually he had a better supply of ectoplasm. His ribs still hurt on deep inhales and it had been more than a month since he’d been crushed underneath Red Helmet on that rooftop. 

Danny had no clue how long bones took to heal on normal humans.

He didn’t know if he should be worried - he was worried. If his wrist didn’t heal right, it would make it harder to work on the portal. Danny needed to finish the portal. For a moment he felt faint as the delay stretched out indefinitely in his mind’s eye, and he had to lean back against the wall behind him to steady himself.

His hands shook as he closed his eyes counting his breaths: in, hold and then out slowly. In again- It would be alright. It was just a minor setback. Hold- He would heal. He would heal fine. And out- He would finish the portal. He would go home. 

He couldn’t dwell. He had to focus on the here and now.

Bricks were digging into his back. Flat pavement was under his shoes. Noise of cars driving through puddles, people walking, someone talking on the phone. City smells in his nose: smog, damp garbage, he wrinkled his nose; someone had pissed somewhere nearby and it was rank. The earlier rain clearly hadn’t been kind enough to wash it away. 

Yeah, that was about all the grounding Danny could take. He blinked open his eyes. The overcast sky left the city gray and dim. Across the road, 5th floor, 7th window counted from the right, that was were Red Helmet had taken him. 

Danny should not be here. It was objectively a terrible idea. 

And there he was again, trembling, because this could be a trap (and Danny had had enough of traps). But also he was so fucking tired of feeling like he was a pile of yarn, stacked too high in his arms so bits of him kept rolling off and unwinding and it was all he could do just to pick up the pieces and keep himself together, never mind actually taking a step.

He hated it. 

What was he even doing here?

He didn’t owe Helmet for not trapping him, for not being terrible, for being warm and gentle. Danny grit his teeth. He should not feel guilty for leaving without a word when he discovered his powers were back.

But he did.

Helmet had mentioned something about anger, and that Danny quieted it. He could have been lying, but to what purpose? To capture Danny? He’d already had him helpless? And he’d seemed genuine, his eyes had seemed so tired and pained, and boy did Danny know tired and pained. 

Danny’s longing stretched towards the apartment, before he harshly reeled it in and stuffed it back in his wayward core, ignoring the pain as he did so. That was another thing. He’d said he felt Danny’s call for him. Danny was torn about how to feel about that, and until he sorted out his feelings he had to keep a tight lock on what he might be projecting. 

It also meant Helmet could sense him, possibly from further away than Danny’s ghost sense detected Helmet’s not-quite ghostliness. At least if he was projecting, which he wasn’t. Not right now, and he would keep that locked tight, even if it felt like a hand squeezing his core. 

The one good thing about Gotham was that not a single person looked twice at some anxious, scruffy looking young man standing too long in one place. Danny picked restlessly at the straps on his brace. 

He had to make a choice. He either had to go or leave. It was too dangerous to stay out here in the open. He took a step- and left. He cursed himself for his weakness all the way back to his lair.

He returned the next day to the same pointless, time wasting result.

The day after that he forced himself to not set his feet on the ground. Invisibly, he flew right up to the wall next to the window. The drapes were still drawn, on all the windows that had to belong to this apartment. His ghost sense didn’t activate, even this close, but that didn’t have to mean anything. Danny could only detect Helmet like that, the apartment could be crawling with the rest of the vigilantes. 

It could still so easily be a trap, just waiting for him to stick his head through the wall.

He reminded himself that Helmet already had had his chance to capture him, he hadn’t take advantage. But that was the logical side of his brain and the paranoid one yelled so much louder. Danny was not a stranger to cruel tricks of pretend compassion. 

Still, this was the third day he’d been back here, and he couldn’t go on like this. He needed to know. One way or another, he needed to know for his own peace of mind. For his core which wouldn’t fucking quit it with the longing; single minded pile of useless instincts, is what it was. 

It didn’t mean he had to be risky about it. He’d spent a while thinking about it and if it was a trap, they’d expect him to come through the outer wall. Danny had other options. 

Mentally apologizing to whoever was the upstairs neighbor Danny slid through the wall of that apartment instead - thankfully it didn’t seem anyone was home. Danny lowered his shoulders in relief, and flew across the similar open floor plan, when he reached the kitchen, he halted in the air. 

He took a deep steadying breath, refusing to dwell anymore. If something he happened it happened and he would deal with it - one way or another. Then he stuck his head through the floor. 

It took a moment for him to orient himself, but most importantly he quickly discovered the apartment was empty. And as he looked over to the drape covered windows, nothing seemed to indicate a set trap. He let out the breath he’d been holding in a suddenly exhausted sigh, as the tension left him. 

Something caught his eyes on the kitchen island. He tilted his head, not believing his eyes. That was his backpack! Just sitting there, innocent as if it belonged there and Danny hadn’t lost it and several days worth of food. Danny slid the rest of the way down through the ceiling and absently righted himself as he went. He dared not set down his feet on anything. 

Carefully, he floated over to the backpack and inspected it, not daring to touch it. It was definitely his and not a well made copy. He ran his hands methodically through it intangibly searching for trackers and other technology that could have been hidden in its weave. There was nothing. For all intents and purposes that was his backpack, though of course his phone wasn’t in there anymore. 

Impulsively, he grabbed it and hugged it to his chest. He closed his eyes as he tried to breathe steadily. He was not gonna cry. It was just a stupid old bag - but it was also one of the few things he’d had of home and he’d thought he would never see it again. 

When he got himself back under control, he realized there was more on the table. His brain refused to comprehend what he was seeing because it just couldn’t be. Hesitantly he reached out and picked up the metal cylinder; the spectral calibrator. It just couldn’t be. Why would it be here? It had to be left on purpose, but why?

There was a yellow post-it note stuck to it and Danny rotated it until he could read, expecting an explanation of sorts, instead it just said in all-caps “FOOD IN THE FRIDGE.”

Bewildered Danny looked to the fridge. He’d honestly not even noticed its presence before, it had just been part of the kitchen backdrop, like the sink, the stove and the numerous cupboards.

He put the spectral calibrator in the backpack and put it on, just in case he needed to make a quick exit then floated over to the fridge. It looked like a regular fridge. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Gingerly he opened it, ready to go intangible at any moment. He let the door swing open, waiting, but nothing happened.

The fridge was well-stocked with bottles of water as well as pop and electrolyte drinks. There were also two shelves with shrink wrapped sandwiches right at the height of Danny’s head. They were labelled: chicken-bacon, ham-cheese, egg, tuna, falafel and dated with todays date. Helmet had been here today. Danny’s eyes were wide as he looked from the selection to the post-it he’d left on the table. It was an offer to take something, right? 

But why? Why would he do that? Why would he leave Danny’s bag here and the calibrator? What game was this?

Hesitantly, he picked out a water bottle and turned it around in his hands. It was sealed and didn’t look like it had been tampered with. He picked out more random bottles. Everything seemed fine. The sandwiches could have been tampered with. They could be drugged. But that wouldn’t be a problem as long as he took the sandwiches with him. If he got knocked out for a few hours in his lair that didn’t matter. 

It seemed unlikely they would poison him after all that trouble they’d gone through to capture him. So at most it would probably be something to put him to sleep. 

Exhaustion hitting him suddenly, he realized he’d been using his powers too long. Letting gravity take him, he leaned against the kitchen island behind him. His vision swam a bit as he wiped sweat off his brow. That was the trouble with having a human body, gravity did actually exist for it. It felt a bit like he’d run a marathon. 

He let out a slow breath, debating, then grabbed a bottle of cola - he recognized the Zesti brand. He could use the sugar.

The sugar worked fast. Eating something substantial would be better, but Danny was not eating anything here. He started packing sandwiches into his bag and a couple more of the Zesti bottles. And when he felt he shouldn’t burden it’s old seams anymore, he stopped. 

Potentially drugged or not, eating something other than dry granola bars would be good. 

He left and like a coward, he was glad Helmet hadn't actually been there; even if Danny still hadn't figured out what his deal was. That was future Danny's problem now.

-

Yeah I don't know what's with my strange productivity either, next part is also nearly done but then we'll run into a good deal of stuff that's just plain unwritten.

Also do you have any idea how hard it was to get Danny to go into that apartment? He's just so cursed skittish, this part wasn't meant to be this long - my notes for this was just basically "Danny goes back to the apartment to find his backpack, the calibrator and food left for him" - sigh.

If you wanna follow the story you can subscribe via the masterlist

Update: next

[sayruq]

Yemeni, Iranian, and Palestinian authorities have spoken out in support of US university students and faculty members who have been targeted by brutal police repression for the past two weeks during mobilizations calling for an end to the genocide in Gaza. The leader of Yemen's ruling Ansarallah movement, Abdul Malik al-Houthi, said during a speech on 25 April that the US government “does not respect their laws, their constitution, or any headlines they raise and brag about,” stressing that there is a “concerted effort” from Washington to silence a movement that “has begun to wake up to the horror of what is happening in occupied Palestine.” “With the demonstrations and sit-ins at prominent US universities, the US support for the Israeli enemy became clear, as authorities dealt with the demonstrations and protests … in a bad manner that goes beyond all considerations,” the Yemeni resistance leader added.

Iranian Foreign Minister Hossein Amir-Abdollahian also condemned the crackdown witnessed across several universities. “The suppression and violent treatment of the American police and security forces against professors and students protesting the genocide and war crimes of the Israeli regime in various universities of the United States is deeply worrying,” Iran's top diplomat said via social media, adding that this repression is an extension of “Washington's full-fledged support for the Israeli regime and clearly shows the double standard policy and contradictory attitude of the American government towards freedom of expression.”

In Palestine, officials from Hamas and the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP), as well as student organizations in the Gaza Strip, issued statements supporting the grassroots movement that has taken over about two dozen university campuses in the US. “We, the students of Gaza, salute the students of Columbia University, Yale University, New York University, Rutgers University, the University of Michigan, and dozens of universities across the United States who are rising in solidarity with Gaza and to put an end to the Zionist–US genocide against our people in Gaza,” a statement from students organizations in Gaza reads. “From here in Gaza, we see you and salute you. Your actions and activism matter, especially in the heart of the empire, in the United States … It is clear that a new generation is rising that will no longer accept Zionism, racism, and genocide and that stands with Palestine and our liberation from the river to the sea,” the statement adds. For their part, the PFLP called on Palestinian and Arab students to “rise for Gaza following the example of American universities.” “Palestinian and Arab universities must take the initiative and break the barrier of silence, following the example of American universities which have ignited an intifada within the campus for the victory of the blood of our Palestinian people, and in rejection of the continuing American support for the zionist entity,” the PFLP statement reads. In a similar vein, Hamas politburo member Izzat al-Rishq said that the government of US President Joe Biden “violates individual rights and the right to expression, and arrests university students and faculty members because they reject the genocide that our Palestinian people are subjected to in the Gaza Strip at the hands of the neo-Nazi Zionists, without the slightest feeling of shame about the legal value represented by the students and university professors.” “The Biden administration, which is a partner in the brutal war on our Palestinian people, does not want to acknowledge that [the US public has] discovered the truth about the Nazi entity and is siding with human values and standing on the right side of history. Today’s students are the leaders of the future, and their suppression today means an expensive electoral bill that the Biden administration will pay sooner or later.”

[heli-writes]

A dragon's heart, part 4.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: mentions of injuries, violence, beheading, blood

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

At first, y/n watches Katsuki pack by himself. Eventually, he starts barking orders at her that she doesn't get. He keeps pointing at things y/n starts moving his belongings toward his dragon. Katsuki binds the bags onto the saddle with some rope. When he's done, he shakes everything one more time to check if it's secure. Y/n stands next to him feeling a little bit lost. She feels insecure since she doesn't know what's going to happen next.

"Will he take me with him?", she wonders. If he does, what will it mean? She's not stupid. Y/n knows exactly who is standing in front of her. Bakugou Katsuki, leader of the dragonblood tribe, tamer of the biggest beast known to mankind, slaughter of man. The last thing she witnessed herself.

Clearly, she has heard enough stories about his clan. About their ruthlessness, their crimes. How ten of his men can take out an entire village. She shudders when she thinks about what the stories say they do to women. Y/n gnaws at her bottom lip in distress. So far, Katsuki hasn't shown any aggression or ill intentions towards her. She wonders if the stories are lies or at least exaggerations.

Then again, so far she's only seen Katsuki. He is rude and mean. Thinking back on how he laughed at her when she burned her mouth, he also likes seeing people in pain. Moreover, he easily could kill her if he wanted to. What would it be like if she was in a whole group of men like Katsuki? Group dynamics often develop a strange momentum.

The point is, does she want Katsuki to take her with him? If he takes her back to his home, she would have to live with these people she's heard so many terrible things about. She doesn't speak their language, she doesn't know anything about their culture. How would she even fit it? Y/n shakes her head trying to push the thoughts out of her head. She can't even be sure that that's Katsuki's plan. In addition, what other option does she have? She knows her chances alone out here are grim. Teaming up with the big scary men might just be a chance to survive.

Just when she decided that, as long as no other option opens up, she might as well go with the flow, Katsuki whistles at her sharply. Y/n is ripped out of her thoughts. He stares at her angrily and shouts instructions at her. When he gestures at her to come over, y/n walks closer to him.

When y/n stands next to him and the winged animal, Katsuki explains something speaking rather quickly and wildly gesturing. When y/n doesn't do what he wants her to do, he grabs her hips and lifts her up the dragon. Y/n throws a leg around the saddle and Katsuki pushes her up. Then Katsuki lifts himself up into the saddle. Sitting behind y/n, Katsuki grabs the reigns and gives the dragon a sign.

While y/n still feels anxious about being so high up in the air, she's not as scared as last time. She still clings onto the handle until her knuckles are all white. Katsuki's broad arms cage her in which gives her some sort of comfort. At least she can't fall off on either side.

After a while, she relaxes and suddenly becomes painfully aware of how close Katsuki is to her. She can feel his abs pressed against her back and his breath against her ear. She shivers even though Katsuki's body warmth keeps her comfortably warm.

Katsuki seems to have a plan for where they were going. They fly for about two hours before the dragon lands on the outskirts of the forest. Katsuki gets down first before he helps y/n get down. Y/n feels a bit unsteady on her legs. The inside of her thighs ache and y/n excuses herself behind a tree. Lifting up her skirt, she takes a look at the tender skin on the inside of her legs. They're red and sore. Y/n's surprised the skin hasn't grazed off to a point where she's bleeding. Her dress wasn't made for riding a horse or a dragon.

*~*~*

Katsuki watches y/n disappear behind the tree suspiciously. He noticed how she was still not comfortable with flying. He wonders whether she needs to piss or puke. Scoffing, he turns around and starts setting up camp. When y/n wobbles back, she starts helping him.

They were just about to undo the knots of the rope that secured the bags onto the saddle, when the dragon shifts and lets out a deep, threatening growl. Y/n shys away. "Woops, does he not like that?", she exclaims. Simultaneously, Katsuki swirls around watching the edge of the forest. His hand rest on the hilt of his sword.

Suddenly, the buzzing sound of an arrow fills the air. Katsuki grips y/n's arm and yanks her to he side just in time. Her injured shoulder almost gets pierced again. Next, a bunch or rough-looking men attack their little party with roars of war. "Bandits.", y/n thinks. Katuski yells something at her and gestures at the dragon.

The dragon moves quickly. One second he was behind them, the next he is in front of y/n biting a man's head off. Y/n ducks behind the beast. She hears Katsuki swearing and blades clashing against each other. Y/n rumbles through her back for her hunting knife.

Suddenly, a hand is pushed onto her mouth and an arm grabs her midsection. The person tries to drag her away. Y/n struggles against the man's grip. "Keep struggling and you only make it worse for yourself.", the man tells her.

The dragon blocks the view and y/n can't spot or yell at Katsuki. The man keeps pulling her backward. Instead of panicking, y/n suddenly feels very calm. Living on the road, the wandering folk teach all their children basic self-defense. The scenario of being grabbed from behind is something her elders have practiced her a hundred times.

She prepares to free herself out of the man's grip. She stomps onto his foot and bites his hand simultaneously. She bites so hard, she can taste the metallic flavor of blood. The man yells in distress and lets go of her in his surprise. Swiftly, y/n draws out her tiny knife. She goes straight for his liver. She should've gone for his Adam's apple, piercing his throat, as her elders taught her but somehow she's not courageous or fierce enough to do so. Instead, she stabs him in the liver. However, she's not sure if her tiny knife could even cut deep enough to harm the organ. Nevertheless, it's enough for the man to fall onto his back and clutch the wound in pain.

Y/n swirls around. The dragon is busy fending off some bandits. Somewhere behind it, Katsuki's fighting. Suddenly, Katsuki stumbles backwards and into y/n's view. There's a cut on his bicep and cheek. He holds a sword in his head that drips with blood. Three more bandits come into view, all three attacking the blonde at the same time.

"I've got to do something!", y/n thinks in a panic, "He can't fight them all on his own!". It's not a rational thought. Her elders always drilled into her head that the moment someone carries a knife or another kind of weapon, you do not try to fight them. Despite that, y/n finds herself rushing towards them. Without a real plan, she jumps onto on of the bandit's back. Her weight is enough to make the bandit stumble backwards. It also throws off the other two momentarily giving Katsuki enough time to swing his sword at one of them. He cuts open one of the bandit's throats similarly as he did to the man from y/n's village.

Meanwhile, y/n is still holding on tightly to the third guy's back who tries to shake her off. Y/n clings onto his throat for dear life and the bandit has trouble breathing. Luckily, bandits usually are not skilled swordsmen thus the man is too disoriented to get the idea that he could use his weapon against y/n. Unfortunately, he's still larger and stronger than y/n so he does manage to shake her off eventually.

Y/n falls onto her butt. An uncomfortable pain shoots up her injured shoulder. The man swirls around to her clutching his throat and raising his saber. His face is contorted in anger. "You little bitch!", he roars as he raises his weapon to strike.

Katsuki sees what is happening out of the corner of his eyes. He's still fighting the other bandit but upon noticing that y/n is about to get killed, he turns to the side in an attempt to rush to her aide. This gives the bandit an opening to strike. While Katsuki reacts quickly enough to stop the bandit from piercing him with his weapon completely, the bandit still manages to cut deeply into Katsuki's right leg.

Meanwhile, y/n is quick to roll over and the saber misses her by inches. Quickly she's on her feet again, crouching and holding her knife up in defense. The man takes another swing at her but before he can fulfill the action, his head is severed from the rest of his body.

While y/n wasn't looking, Katsuki killed the second bandit and went to her rescue. The bandit's head drops to the ground with a loud 'thup'. The rest of his body falls to the ground still twitching. Y/n stares at the sight in front of her with wide eyes. The sight doesn't seem to faze Katsuki at all but he is out of breath and his face in contorted in pain. He grabs y/n's injured arm and pulls her towards the dragon who is still fighting off some bandits. From the edge of the forest more cries of war are heard as reinforcements of the bandits run onto the open.

"Shit.", Katsuki curses. There are too many even for him. Where on earth were these assholes hiding? He should've been more observant. He shouldn't have been so distracted by this stupid woman. He pulls y/n towards the beast and pushes her up. Y/n is quick to react and pulls herself up into the saddle just as Katsuki does just seconds after her.

The dragon beats his wings and the force of the air sends a few bandits backwards. Some still try to climb the dragon in an attempt to get to Katsuki and y/n. When one manages to grab Katsuki's foot, y/n stabs her knife into the man's hand who immediately lets go.

As they rise into the air, more bandits lose hold and fall onto the ground. Arrows are shot at the three of them and Katsuki pushes y/n's head down in an attempt to stop her from getting shot in the face. Once they are high enough that the bandits can't reach them, Katsuki lets go of y/n's head.

Just when y/n thinks they're safe, Katsuki turns the dragon around and steers it back to the bandits. "Is he absolutely out of his mind?", y/n thinks as they descend again. However, they never touch land. Instead, the dragon lets out a rumbling sound and spits waves of never-ending fire. Suddenly, the world is burning and hot. Y/n hears the cries of the bandits and the heat licking at her legs.

Quickly they leave again and y/n watches the bandits and parts of the forest burn to the ground over her shoulder. Just when they are out of sight, she notices Katsuki's heavy breathing behind her. She also notices how his grip on her isn't as tight as it was before. That's when she feels a warm liquid drop down her leg. Katsuki rests his head on her shoulder.

Y/n lets go of the handle of the saddle and grabs his hands with both of hers stabilizing his hold on the reigns. The last thing she wants is for both of them to fall off the damn dragon.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tag list: @graviewaviee @cosmicbreathe @tsukikoxo @nnubee @witchbishsblog @elajede @bsallergy @frxcless @berryvioo @eyesforbkg @shamelesjaroflaffytaffy @pastelbaby1111 @iamlizardgod @plvt0fvtvre @hello-peanutdoodle-blog @guccirosegold @kookiemyfeelsposts @sweetblueworm @54fangirl @sakurarr1122 @rv19 @leeliyah @king-dynamight @confused-smol-fan @xmaudx @waterstarz @pinkwhiskerglitter @adeline96 @zoom1374 @fingui @giuli-in-earth @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @futuristicallykawaiiturtle @tragedyofabrokensoul @dynakats @rebel-loves-anime @cloudxluv @itsssyagurll @sunshineandwitchery @cloudxluv @hollykanuki @atouchofmidnight @nutellaenjoyer @musicbecky @miacitocco @cassouandco @penguinlovestowrite @sleepykittycx

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[jotaroslooseeyebrowhair]

I’ve had this idea in my head for days now and it just won’t LEAVE so here have scraps

So we know those de-aged au’s with Danny right, and the ones where Jason adopts him? YESSSSSS so anyways the thing that’s been ravaging my brain like an anteater on crystal meth is:

So all night has been pretty shit for Jason. Drug dealers, a couple muggings (who even goes out anymore in crime alley, at this time of night???????) and some human traffickers. You know, the usual. So anyways he’s pissed. Not to mention when he comes across some bastard who’s beating his family, jason promptly broke his legs in a couple new ways he liked. Later, deep into the night he’s already seeing a bit of green around the edges and he’s already called in dick to cover some areas while he cools off, so, naturally, as it is in crime alley, something goes horribly wrong that gets him pissed. Beyond pissed. He sees green and only when dick drags him away does he see some red too. A lot of red.

Fuck.

Well, he knows exactly what he has to do, so he pushed dick off of him and starts roof-hopping over to his apartment (where did his bike go?) and dick calls in the others thinking Jason’s going for more weapons/ammo or smthn, and Jason gets to his lil place and carefully opens a window, trying to be quiet because even though he’s in a killing mood he doesn’t want to wake Danny up, what kind of monster would do that?

Anyways Jason’s taking a moment with his helmet off, leaning his arms against the counter to calm himself down taking deep breaths he learned from Danny yes okay he learned from his son when Tim and dick crash through and Jason gets a little more pissed because those assholes probably just woke up Danny!

So here’s Tim and dick wrestling with Jason to get his weapons off of him and calm him down when all of a sudden the lights flick on and there’s a little boy, around 6, with a messy mop black hair and loose space-themed pajamas, rubbing his eyes as he clearly just woke up. everyone freezes in place and Danny looks around, his eyes adjusting to the light before he looks at Jason and–

“Dad? What’s going on?” He asks so innocently with a tilt of his head. While his brothers are stunned to silence Jason shrugs them off as hard as he can (they woke up his son) and walks over to Danny. Dick and tim lurch foreward but Jason just picks up Danny and places him on his hip. Danny reaches forward and carefully pulls off his dads domino and holds it in his hand while he frowns. “Green monsters are being angry again?” And Jason just sighs with his son (his son!!) in his arms and looks at danny; dick and Tim now seeing the green almost completely gone from his eyes.

“Yeah bud. No big deal though, alright? The green monsters are all gone now. So come on, it’s past your bedtime Danny.” To which Danny groans and he turns to look at the two others in the room who are bewildered as fuck because does Jason have a kid????? W h e n?? H o w??? Okay they know how they really don’t but that’s not the point

Anyways they stand there for a minute while Jason puts Danny to bed and when Jason comes back out he stares at them in silence. Then he just *sighs* and stares them dead in the eyes “yes, I have a kid. Yes, he quiets the pit. Yes, it’s past his bedtime. And yes,” Jason cocks his gun, “you both will be getting out of my apartment. right now. Silently.”

Yeah, they guess questions can wait till tomorrow

Link to the fic :)

[spacedace]

Reluctant War AU Part 2

Part One

...I ended up writing more for that Reluctant War AU...Like. Wrote this before work and started on part 3 with plans for part 4 more.

this was supposed to just be a brain worm what happened (also thank you @catastrophic-crow for the AU name <3 <3 <3 Also, also: welcome to the cult of Ancient of the Speedforce Elle! Membership includes nonsense, shenanigans and chaos haha)

-

Gotham had always been a place for ghosts.

Every corner haunted by death and tragedy.

Every street stained red at least once in its many years.

Every dark shadow holding the faint shadows and shades of the dead.

Gotham was, before all else, a grave yard.

Jason had known that his entire life. Every kid born and raised in the Alley did. Death came fast to Gotham’s streets. Especially for those the rest of the city turned its back on. He did his best to lighten the reaper’s load when it came to the people that called Crime Alley home. Well, mostly. He’d certainly added names to old Death’s list before, when the occasion called.

When the armies of the dead descended upon Gotham, the only surprise Jason could feel was that those white wearing pieces of shit had dared to try and hunker down in his city.

It was a sentiment shared by most of Gotham’s fine citizens. By the city itself - herself? Something to ask later, if there was a later - even if the impossible, living shadow that rose up out of Gotham’s many dark corners was anything to go by. He knew, almost instinctively, that the entity - skin of cracked pavement, mouth a bridge suspended too wide across the face, eyes of CCTV camera lenses and body built brick by grimy, bloody brick of the sharp skyline - was Gotham. Not a ghost but something bigger, greater. Something awfully, terribly alive in all its horrible, noble glory. His city, manifest in the shape almost human beneath the green glow of the torn apart sky above.

Phantom’s armies arrived without warning as they had everywhere else, and their enemies poured out in unforgivably unmarred white suits to meet them. Horrible and garish against the Gotham streets. How they’d ever managed to slink by unnoticed while being so blatantly, clearly not of Gotham Jason wasn’t sure he’d ever know.

If either side thought this would be like the battles they fought before, they were mistaken.

Gotham was a place for Ghosts.

A place the dead piled up, lingered well beyond their deaths. A place where the rules were different from everywhere else in the world. Where crime was rampant and chaos reigned but at the end of the day people said their thanks that they were born to this hellhole and not so cursed to call anywhere else in the world home.

The dead came to fight

And Gotham, a thing so alive it was sickening to look upon, rose up to fight right along side them all.

The agents were ready and prepared for the incursion of the dead. It’d been two weeks since the first volley of attacks. Two weeks spent shoring up defenses and ramping up weapons and strategizing ways to kill what was already dead. They were, as best as they were able to be considering how endless the armies that came for them, prepared.

They weren’t prepared for Gotham.

Weren’t prepared for the city itself to rise up and take spectral, eldritch shape. Jagged building spire and shattered glass teeth bared in a snarl that spanned miles. Screaming rage in a voice made of gunfire and the concussive boom of explosions and the shrieks of a furious crowd.

Weren’t prepared for its people to ignore the gentle ushering of the dead trying to push them away to safety and instead press forward to fight shoulder to shoulder with the ghostly armies.

Weren’t prepared to have brick and bottles and trash and debris rain down upon them from the jeering living. Weren’t prepared for dirty faced children with hard eyes to light up rags stuffed into chipped beer bottles filled with gas and kerosene and throw them with more speed an accuracy than any professional baseball player. Weren’t ready for Gotham’s motley crew of terrifying Rogues to band together with the citizens they so often accosted and worried and bring down wave after wave of chaos and Goons.

Weren’t prepared for Red Hood to swap out his rubber bullets for the real deal and start mowing the fuckers in white down, his own crew at his back, the rest of the Outlaws on their way.

The Justice League was trying to find a peaceful resolution. Trying to play go between to the US Government and the infinite dead. Too wound up in US politics to side with the dead outright, too disgusted by what the American government had done to ever want to stand with them. All it had gotten them was spun wheels and confusion and the slow creeping realization that the time to try and play negotiators had well passed.

Red Hood wasn’t a member of the Justice League.

He had no obligation to try and find a way to talk things out.

What he had was a grave he’d dug his way out of, enough ammunition to arm a sizable country, and a burning need to make things right.

Gotham had always been a place for ghosts, and Jason had long accepted that he was one of them.

Haunting the streets he’d survived as a child, the city he protected as Robin, the family he’d loved and lost a thousand and one times before and after his death.

The sky cracked open above his home, and it was not an invading army that came rushing out but a native one. Friends, neighbors, strangers on the street you caught from the corner of your eye. The people of Gotham knew their own and fought for them. Only Gotham was allowed to fucked with Gotham and they’d been screwed over enough by the government themselves to know what side they were on.

He lifted his guns and fired, teeth bared in vicious satisfaction beneath his helmet as white was splattered bright red.

A hissing electric whine of a weapon, a flash of green from the edge of his vision.

“Down!”

He was thrown bodily to the cracked and ruined street beneath him, the body shielding him warm and living as one of the agent’s weapon fired a blast of energy right where he’d been a second before. He’d seen that same weapon reduce one of the raging dead to dripping green and screams of agony the dead should not be capable of making.

Before he could shove himself up and respond in kind, the body above him was in motion and the air above him cracking with the snapping-popping-roar of a gun of a much higher power than even what he had. The fucker in white that had shot at him dissolved into a mist of red viscera, body seizing and shuttering in the briefest moment it had before it was obliterated completely.

“Watch yourself.” He looked up - and up - and wondered at the lovely, fierce face he found staring down at him. “Even without shooting at them you’re Liminal enough to trip their sensors.”

She was tall enough to be an amazon, six inches in height on him at least. Body strong beneath the pitch black armor she work - as deep and dark as the depths of space, etched with starlight, a familiar crest upon her chest in the dizzying burst of a supernova - she held herself with confidence. Strands of hair the color of a warning sunrise escaped out from beneath the helm she wore, bright against her pale skin, warming the glass-sharp teal eyes that had pinned him in place.

The hand not holding the gun she’d just used to delete the asshole that had just tried to shoot him - a strange, impossible thing that made him taste lightning at the back of his throat to look at it - stretched out to help him up.

He accepted it.

Something pulsed to life in his chest. A piece forgotten where it’d been left behind, half buried in grave dirt and broken pieces of a casket he’d clawed his way out of. It burned like a hot coal in his chest, froze him with the same aching cold of a blizzard, crackled his nerves to life with lightning even as his brain popped and fried with the same sizzling energy.

On his feet, hair on end and body and Core pulsing with the need to fight, to rend and tear and scream for all done to him, his people, his home, he met the eyes of the woman before him. Her cool gaze softened, just a moment, just a second as she seemed to realize what had happened. Her hand, lighter than the armor she wore should allow it to be, tightened on his just a moment, mouth tilting from determined frown to soft understanding.

Gotham had always been a place for ghosts.

Jason had long accepted that he was one of them.

---

Part Three

[thebrightestwitchofherage]

The UN's Official Mission report on Hamas' Sexual Violence in Israel was published

Please take your time to read this. Israeli \ Jewish victims deserve the same protection as any other women.

The brief version can be read here.

----

***I am not going to include any graphic detailing.

The pattern of Sexual Violence used by Hamas is very clear:

It was one of their key goals and tactics on October 7th.

You cannot say "Female Hostages are treated well. you're lying by saying they're raped" anymore!

Notice how they also said **Children**

Civilians were in fact burned inside their homes

This is also clearly a pattern used by Hamas, as this is just one of many examples they detail. -Hamas has also burned soldiers alive in their dorms and offices. That is also further detailed in the report.

This is not fake or propaganda

I can't believe I have to write this but this report is an official report (finally) made by the UN's Sexual Violence Office, as part of their yearly report.

They had a 2-week delegation that toured the actual Kibbutzim (turned crime scenes), interviewed eyewitnesses, spoke to families of victims, etc...

___

I do have to say I was mistaken in my earlier post, besides their conclusion, they have also written their recommendations:

...." V. Conclusions

Overall, based on the totality of information gathered from multiple and independent sources at the different locations, there are reasonable grounds to believe that conflict-related sexual violence occurred at several locations across the Gaza periphery, including in the form of rape and gang rape, during the 7 October 2023 attacks. Credible circumstantial information, which may be indicative of some forms of sexual violence, including genital mutilation, sexualized torture, or cruel, inhuman and degrading treatment, was also gathered. 22

With regards to the hostages, the mission team found clear and convincing information that some hostages taken to Gaza have been subjected to various forms of conflict-related sexual violence and has reasonable grounds to believe that such violence may be ongoing.

The mission team was unable to establish the prevalence of sexual violence and concludes that the overall magnitude, scope, and specific attribution of these violations would require a fully-fledged investigation. A comprehensive investigation would enable the information base to be expanded in locations which the mission team was not able to visit and to build the required trust with survivors/victims of conflict-related sexual violence who may be reluctant to come forward at this point.

Regarding the occupied Palestinian Territory, while its scope did not extend to verification, the mission team received information from institutional and civil society sources as well as through direct interviews, about some forms of sexual violence against Palestinian men and women in detention settings, during house raids and at checkpoints. Though the mission team did not visit Gaza, the Office of the SRSG-SVC will continue to monitor the situation for any relevant allegations of CRSV in the context of the ongoing hostilities. The relevant UN entities present in the occupied Palestinian Territory will provide UN-verified information for reporting to the Security Council on allegations of CRSV, which will be complemented by the information obtained by the mission team.

VI. Recommendations

The mission team makes the following recommendations: a) Continue to encourage the Government of Israeli to grant, without further delay, access to the Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights and the Independent International Commission of Inquiry on the occupied Palestinian Territory, including East Jerusalem and Israel, to carry-out fully-fledged investigations into all alleged violations that would deepen the preliminary findings contained in the present report. b) Urge Hamas and other armed groups to immediately and unconditionally release all individuals held in captivity and to ensure their protection including from sexual violence, in line with international law. c) Call on all relevant and competent bodies, national and international, to bring all perpetrators, regardless of rank or affiliation, to justice based on individual, superior and command responsibility, in accordance with due process of law and fair trial standards. d) Encourage the Government of Israel to consider signing a Framework of Cooperation with the Office of the SRSG-SVC to strengthen capacity on justice and accountability for CRSV crimes as well as security sector engagement, training, and oversight to prevent and address CRSV. 23 e) Strengthen the capacity of the United Nations to monitor and report on incidents, patterns and trends of CRSV in both Israel and the occupied Palestinian Territory through the establishment of the Monitoring, Analysis and Reporting Arrangements on CRSV (MARA), convened by dedicated technical specialists, namely Women’s Protection Advisors (WPAs), deployed to the region to ensure prevention, protection and coordinated multi-sectoral assistance to survivors/victims. f) Encourage relevant actors to uphold information integrity and ethical, trauma-informed representations of conflict-related sexual violence, including by respecting and safeguarding the dignity and identity of survivors/victims and witnesses of sexual violence, as sensationalizing headlines, media pressure and scrutiny, exposure of identity, political instrumentalization and pressure, and/or fear of reprisal can result in the suppression, silencing and discrediting of survivors/victims and witnesses, further compound trauma and increase the risk of social stigmatization. g) Urge all parties to the conflict to adopt a humanitarian ceasefire, and to ensure that expertise on addressing conflict-related sexual violence informs the design and implementation of all ceasefire and political agreements and that the voices of women and affected communities are heard in all conflict resolution and peacebuilding processes....."

Israelis have been repeatedly saying all of this for months now, while you deny it. I've personally had people tell me it's all "fake propaganda". You should all be ashamed.

I am infuriated at the fact that for 5 months, our evidence and word isn't enough for Anti-Zionists. Here is some undeniable proof for you.

Believe Jewish Women.

[sorcerersandskillusers]

Fyodor and the Devil: Analysis of Fyodor's motives and role in the narrative

Asagiri has stated that he based Fyodor not on Dostoyevsky the author but on a specific scene from one of his books The Brothers Karamazov where Ivan Karamazov confronts “the devil” in his room.

(It's a really good book, you should read it if you have time. Also. fun fact, Fyodor and the devil wear the same hat, “His soft fluffy white hat was out of keeping with the season.”)

Having read the book and gone over this scene, I realized that this could be used to find out a lot more about Fyodor as a character than we see in the story, including a potential glimpse at his real motivations.

A bit of context for the scene. Ivan Kramazov is a clever but deeply trouble man who has struggling with the concept of God and rationalising him with the cruelty of humanity, at one point while very sick, Ivan starts seeing a man in his room who claims to be “the devil”. Their conversation is a fascinating look at morality and why evil exists in the world, and if you look at it closely it reveals a lot about the role of a “villain” in a story.

This line from “the devil” is really interesting to me, and seems to explain a lot about Fyodor’s character, as well as align perfectly with how Asagiri has described Fyodor in interviews:

Before time was, by some decree which I could never make out, I

was predestined 'to deny' and yet I am genuinely good-hearted and not at all inclined to negation.

'No, you must go and deny, without denial there's no criticism and what would a journal be without a column of criticism?' 

Without criticism it would be nothing but one 'hosannah.' But nothing but hosannah is not enough for life, the hosannah must be tried in the crucible of doubt and so on, in the same style. But I don't meddle in that, I didn't  create it, I am not answerable for it. Well, they've chosen their scapegoat, they've made me write the column of criticism and so life was made possible.

Basically the devil is saying that he was created because without evil then good means nothing, if everything was perfect then nothing would happen or change, life couldn’t exist, so he was forced to be that evil even though he never wanted to be.

This is so similar to how Fyodor is described in the BSD exposition 2020:

Fyodor is the antagonist, he is the villain of the story, that is the role he plays. This explains why he chooses to commit so many atrocities in the name of  “following God's plan”. It even connects to his line in The Dead Apple, and his ability name. He is both crime and punishment, as “crime” or sin originates with the devil, but it's also the devil who punishes sinners.

(I mean the title of the episode he is introduced in is literally “My Ill Deeds Are the Work of God” by committing evil acts he is fulfilling God's purpose for him.)

And if Fyodor is really based on “the devil” it's very likely he also either does or used to wish for release from this role that was assigned to him, but he knows that he cannot stray from his path or the story will cease to exist. My evidence for Fyodor wanting to be free of his mission is just one interaction, when he kills Karma.

Look at Fyodor's expression here, this is the only time in the entire series where we see him look truly sad. This isn't an act, there is no one there for him to trick, he simply says a quiet prayer for the life of a boy who's only purpose was to suffer and die.

This next part of “the devils” speech actually seems to fit very well for Dazai, it's interesting since he is the narrative foil to Fyodor and clearly is a very similar character.

We understand that comedy; I, for instance, simply ask for annihilation. No, live, I am told, for there'd be nothing without you.

If everything in the universe were sensible, nothing would happen. There would be no events without you, and there must be events. So against the grain I serve to produce events and do what's irrational because I am commanded to.

For all their indisputable intelligence,men take this farce as something serious, and that is their tragedy. They suffer, of course... but then they live, they live a real life, not a fantastic one, for suffering is life. Without suffering what would be the pleasure of it? It would be transformed into an endless church service; it would be holy, but tedious. But what about me? I suffer, but still, I don't live. I am x in an indeterminate equation. I am a sort of phantom in life who has lost all beginning and end, and who has even forgotten his own name. 

This ties perfectly into Dazai and Fyodor’s debate on the nature of God in the sky casino arc.

Dazai here points out that it's not perfection and harmony that make the world move, it's the irrational, it's the foolishness and stupidity of humans who charges into life making a million mistakes but always finding ways to fight on through it. Here Dazai and Fyodor represent the conflicting sides of “the devil” with Fyodor embodying his mission to drive the world and Dazai embodying his secret love for, and wish to join, humanity.

“I love men genuinely, I've been greatly calumniated! Here when I stay withyou from time to time, my life gains a kind of reality and that's what I like most of all. Yousee, like you, I suffer from the fantastic and so I love the realism of earth. Here, with you, everything is circumscribed, here all is formulated and geometrical, while we have nothing but indeterminate equations! I wander about here dreaming. I like dreaming. Besides, on earth I become superstitious. Please don't laugh, that's just what I like, to become superstitious. I adopt all your habits here: I've grown fond of going to the public baths, would you believe it?

And I go and steam myself with merchants and priests. What I dream of is becoming incarnate once for all and irrevocably in the form of some merchant's wife weighing eighteen stone, and of believing all she believes. My ideal is to go to church and offer a candle in simple-hearted faith, upon my word it is. Then there would be an end to my sufferings.”

“"Why not, if I sometimes put on fleshly form? I put on fleshly form and I take the consequences. Satan sum et nihil humanum a me alienum puto."*

* I am Satan, and deem nothing human alien to me.”

This piece from the devil feels like it could be a description of Dazai’s character, his wish above all else to find happiness and love as a human despite believing he is a demon. Both Dazai and Fyodor have strong ties to the Devil, both of them are often described as demonic or inhuman, with emphasis placed on the darkness of their souls and the isolation they feel due to their minds.

But the difference between them is how they dealt with it, Fyodor chose to embrace it and fully commit to his role in the story as the ultimate evil for the greater good, but Dazai has always shown a fasciation with humans and has spent his life trying to connect to them and find meaning in his existence.

Finally, let's look at what we can learn about Fyodor’s motivation. Fyodor is the villain, he is the final obstacle the protagonist has to overcome, he is the driving force behind so much of Atsushi’s life and the reason so much of the series has played out at all. He sent Shibusawa to torture Atsushi as a child, he was an informant to the guild who put the bounty on Atsushi making the mafia turn on him, he was involved in the guild invasion, and obviously he was the master mind behind cannibalism and Decay of Angles.

If he is aware of his position as the antagonist, then he also is probably aware Atsushi is the protagonist, he knew he was the “envy of all ability users” after all, so he knows Atsushi has some significance to the world as a whole.

Atsushi is also the “guide to the book” which is seemingly Fyodor’s end goal, so even though Fyodor doesn’t seem to be focused on Atsushi, he has been indirectly influencing his whole journey up to this point. This also explains why Fyodor is only moving actively now, because the protagonist has appeared and his role as the villain can finally be fulfilled and he, like “the devil” can finally get the “annihilation” he asked for. Hence, Fyodor’s true goal is to erase himself from the narrative.

There is actually quite a lot of evidence for this. The obvious part is that Fyodor wants to rid the world of ability users while he himself is an ability user, he cannot exist in his perfect world. 

Then there’s the fact that in the Dead Apple, Fyodor calls himself “crime” if Fyodor is “crime” or “sin” then a world free of sin would not contain him at all

Even when Fyodor talks about sin, he says how humans are easily manipulated into killing each other, while he constantly manipulates characters into killing each other, he is the cause of the sin he fights.

A really strong bit of evidence is this interview with Asagiri and Harukawa

Not only does Asagiri reiterate Fyodors role as the person who moves the story, Harukawa specifically mentions that Fyodor might be trying to create a world without ability users because he thought it was a “bad thing to do” aka the action a villain would take that would lead to a hero stopping them.

“Dos-san is the biggest villain in the story so far, but I have continued to draw him with spaced out eyes that are neither righteous nor evil for a long time. The only time I drew his eyes completely white was when he said he would create a world without skill users. It was because, in reality, we would decide what is evil or not by our own scales, but I wasn't sure if he himself was doing it because he thought that was a bad thing to do.”

This also connects to how Fyodor was able to understand Gogol when no one else could, Gogol is chooses to fight against the way the world is to prove to himself that he truly is free. Fyodor, who is bound to play a part in a narrative, would understand that feeling and that longing to be truly free.

To be clear, I don’t think that Fyodor is really a good person whose just been trapped in an awful position against his will, we see many times that Fyodor revels in his cruelty and enjoys killing and torturing others. Its the same with “the devil” in the book, although he hates the job he was given, he tells Ivan stories of the people he’s corrupted and seems very proud of himself for it.

My personal interpretation is that the sadistic zelot personality Fyodor displays is a mixture of a mask and a coping mechanism, kind of similar to Yosano developing a sadistic side to help her deal with the guilt of half killing people in order to heal them. I think it makes sense that after centuries of cruelty and manipulation a person would become detached and stop really caring about the lives he destroys.

This analysis is partially unfinshed but I wanted to post it now and see what other people think of it.

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

If you're going to call me a woman, just go ahead and call me useless too. It just means the same thing `\/(:/)\/'

I can't tell if this is sarcastic in reference to something or not, so I'm going to take it at face value.

You need to stop hating yourself. Women have better immune systems, better balance, are more likely to survive famine and plague. Our DNA takes more time to break down, meaning it's much easier to track the matrilineal genetic line. Genetically we have much more variation than men do and we live longer on average. Humans are a social species and women commit far less violent crime, especially sexually-motivated violent crime. We have higher endurance, higher pain tolerance, and shorter recovery periods. And in a system designed by men for men, we still outperform them in school, in the medical profession, in safety, etc..

Men outperform us in absolute strength, but not relative strength. They outperform us in short bursts of speed, but not long-distance running or swimming. And they outperform us in committing horrific violence, especially sexually motivated.

I don't know about you, but that doesn't say women are useless to me. It says men are at best flashy, at worst bad for the species since they actively stifle creative minds and commit horrific acts. To a social species dependent on our big brains and on community, stifling half and committing violence against your own is detrimental. And yet we live. Clearly it's women who have been keeping our species alive for millennia.