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innuendostudios · 3 years

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I was invited to give a talk on GamerGate over Zoom in early 2021. I've long been frustrated that there isn't a good timeline of GG and its origins on YouTube. When people ask "what the hell was GG anyway?" they often get referred to my or Dan Olson's videos on the subject, but both of them were made while GG was ongoing, and presumed a degree of familiarity on the part of the audience. There was just too much to say about what was already happening to spend time getting the audience up to speed, and it was safe to assume our audiences had enough context to follow along. But time moves fast on the internet, and many people who now care about such things weren't there while it was happening, and are lacking the necessary context to follow the better videos. For a long time, I've only been able to direct them to RationalWiki's timeline, which is excellent but so exhaustively comprehensive that it's likely to scare off first-timers.

I realize an hourlong lecture isn't necessarily helping matters, but the first 20-or-so minutes of this video are my attempt at streamlining the timeline such that people can be up to speed on the most important stuff fairly quickly. The rest is talking about what it all meant, how it prefigured the Alt-Right, and using it to better understand digital radicalization.

This video was made with the help of Magdalen Rose, who edited the slides to the audio while I was laid up with a back injury. Go sub to her channel! And please back me on Patreon.

Transcript below the cut.

FUCKING VIDEO GAMES? FUCKING VIDEO GAMES. THEY MADE DOZENS OF PEOPLE MISERABLE FOR YEARS OVER VIDEO GAMES! NOT EVEN FUCKING VIDEO GAMES, FUCKING ARTICLES ABOUT FUCKING VIDEO GAMES. THIS IS WHAT PASSES FOR LEGITIMATE GRIEVANCE. ARE YOU KIDDING ME WITH THIS SHIT??

Hi! My name is Ian Danskin. I’m a video essayist and media artist. I run the YouTube channel Innuendo Studios, please like share and subscribe.

I’m here to talk to you about GamerGate, and I needed to get all that out of the way. I’m going to talk about what GamerGate was and how it prefigured The Alt-Right, and there are gonna be moments where you’re nodding along with me, going, “yeah, yeah I get it,” and then the sun’s gonna break through a crack in the wall and you’ll suddenly remember that all this is happening because some folks - mostly ladies - said some stuff - provably true stuff, I might add - about video games and a bunch of guys didn’t like it, and you’re gonna want to rip your hair out. By the end of this, you will have a better understanding of what happened, but it will never not be bullshit.

Also, oh my god, content warning. Racism, sexism, antisemitism, homophobia, transphobia, rape threats, threats of violence, domestic abuse - I’m not going to depict or describe at length any of the worst stuff, but it’s all in the mix. So if at any point you need to switch me off or mute me, you have my blessing.

Brace yourselves.

Some quick prehistory:

In 2012, feminist media critic Anita Sarkeesian ran a Kickstarter campaign for a YouTube series on sexist tropes in video games. And, partway through the campaign, 4chan found it and said “let’s ruin her life.” And a lot of the male general gaming public joined in. And by “ruin her life” I’m not talking 150 angry tweets including dozens of rape and death threats per week, though that was a thing. I’m talking bomb threats. I’m talking canceled speaking engagements because someone threatened to shoot up a school. I’m talking FBI investigation. The harassers faced no meaningful repercussions.

And in 2013, Zoe Quinn released Depression Quest, a free text game about living with depression. They received harassment off and on for the next year, most pointedly from an incel forum called Wizardchan that doxxed their phone number and made harassing phone calls telling them to kill themself. The harassers faced no meaningful repercussions.

(Also, quick note: Zoe Quinn is nonbinary and has come out since the events in question. When I call Zoe’s harassment misogynist, understand I am not calling Zoe a woman, but they were attacked by people who hate women because that’s how they were perceived. Had they been out at the time things probably would’ve gone down similarly, but on top of misogyny I’d be talking about nonbinary erasure and transphobia.)

Okay. Our story begins in August 2014. The August that never ended.

Depression Quest, after a prolonged period on Greenlight, finally releases on Steam as a free download with the option to pay what you want. In the days that follow, Zoe’s ex-boyfriend, Eron Gjoni, writes a nearly 10,000-word blog called The Zoe Post, in which he claims Quinn had been a shitty and unfaithful partner. (For reference, 10,000 words is long enough that the Hugos would consider it a novelette.) This is posted to forums on Penny Arcade and Something Awful, both of which immediately take it down, finding it, at best, a lot of toxic hearsay and, at worse, an invitation to harassment. So Gjoni workshops the post, adds a bunch of edgelord humor (and I am using the word “humor” very generously), and reposts it to three different subforums on 4chan.

We’re not going to litigate whether Zoe Quinn was a good partner. I don’t know or care. I don’t think anyone on this call is trying to date them so I’m not sure that’s our business. What is known is that the relationship lasted five months, and, after it ended, Gjoni began stalking Quinn. Gjoni has, in fact, laid out how he stalked Quinn in meticulous detail to interviewers and why he feels it was justified. It’s also been corroborated by a friend that Quinn briefly considered taking him back at a games conference in San Francisco, but he became violent during sex and Quinn left the apartment in the middle of the night with visible bruises.

Off of the abusive ex-boyfriend’s post, 4chan decides it’s going to make Zoe Quinn one of their next targets, and starts a private IRC channel to plan the campaign. The channel is called #BurgersAndFries, a reference to Gjoni claiming Quinn had cheated on him with five guys. A couple sentences in The Zoe Post - which Gjoni would later claim were a typo - imply that one of the five guys was games journalist Nathan Grayson and that Quinn had slept with him in exchange for a good review of Depression Quest. Given the anger that they’d seen drummed up against women in games with the previous Anita Sarkeesian hate mob, #BurgersAndFries decides to focus on this breach of “ethics in games journalism” as a cover story, many of them howling with laughter at the thought that male gamers would probably buy it. This way, destroying Quinn’s life and career and turning their community against them would appear an unfortunate byproduct of a legitimate consumer revolt; criticism of the harassment could even be framed as a distraction from the bigger issue. Gjoni himself is in the IRC channel telling them that this was the best hand to play.

The stated aim of many on #BurgersAndFries was to convince Quinn to commit suicide.

Two regulars in the IRC, YouTubers MundaneMatt and Internet Aristocrat, make videos about The Zoe Post. Incidentally, both these men had already made a lot of money off videos about Anita Sarkeesian. Matt’s is swiftly taken down with a DMCA claim, and he says that Quinn filed the claim themself. (For the record, in those days, YouTube didn’t tell you who filed DMCA claims against you.) Members of the IRC also reach out to YouTuber TotalBiscuit, who had been critical of Sarkeesian and dismissive of her harassment, and he tweets the story to his 350,000 followers, saying a game developer trading sex for a good review might not prove true, but was certainly plausible.

This is where GamerGate begins to get public traction.

Zoe Quinn is very swiftly doxxed, with their phone number, home address, nudes, and names and numbers of their family collected. Gjoni himself leaks their birth name. The Zoe Post, and the movement against Quinn - now dubbed “The Quinnspiracy” - make it to The Escapist and Reddit, which mods will have little luck removing. The Quinnspiracy declares war on any site that does take their threads down, most vehemently NeoGAF. People who defend Zoe against the harassment start getting doxxed themselves - Fez developer Phil Fish is doxxed so thoroughly, hackers get access to the root folder of his website.

In what I’m going to call This Should Have Been The End, Part 1, Stephen Totilo, Editor-in-Chief at Kotaku where Nathan Grayson worked, in response to pressure not just from The Quinnspiracy but an increasing number of angry gamers buying The Quinnspiracy’s narrative, publishes a story. In it he verifies that Quinn and Grayson did date for several months, and that not only is there no review of Depression Quest anywhere on Kotaku, not by Grayson nor anyone else, but that Grayson did not write a single word about Quinn the entire time they were dating.

In response, The Quinnspiracy declares war on Kotaku. r/KotakuinAction is formed, which will become the primary site of organization outside of chanboards. The fact that their entire “movement” is based on a review that does not exist changes next to nothing.

Some people start to see The Quinnspiracy as potentially profitable. The Fine Young Capitalists get involved, a group ostensibly working to get women into video games but who have a Byzantine plan to do so wherein they crowdfund the budget and the woman who wins a competition gets to storyboard a game, but another company will make and she will get 8% of the profits, the rest going to a charity chosen by the top donor. 4chan becomes the top donor. They like TFYC because the head of the company has a vendetta against Zoe Quinn, who had previously called them out for their transphobic submission policy, and he falsely accused Quinn of having once doxxed him. 4chan feels backing an ostensibly feminist effort will be good PR, but can’t resist selecting a colon cancer charity because, they say, feminism is cancer and they want to be the cure to butthurt. They also get to design a character for the game, and so they create Vivian James, who will become the GamerGate mascot.

Manosphere YouTubers Jordan Owen and Davis Aurini launch a Patreon campaign for their antifeminist documentary The Sarkeesian Effect and come to The Quinnspiracy looking for $15,000 a month for an indefinite period to make it, which they get.

In what will prove genuinely awful timing, Anita Sarkeesian releases the second episode of Tropes vs. Women in Video Games, and, despite not being a games journalist and having nothing to do with Quinn or Grayson, she is immediately roped into the narrative about how feminists are ruining games culture and becomes the second major target of harassment. Both she and Quinn soon have to leave their houses after having receiving dozens and dozens of death threats that include their home addresses.

After being courted by members of the IRC channel, Firefly star Adam Baldwin tweets a link to one of the Quinnspiracy videos and coins the hashtag #GamerGate. This is swiftly adopted by all involved.

In response to all this, Leigh Alexander writes a piece for Gamasutra arguing that the identity that these men are flocking to the “ethics in games journalism” narrative to defend no longer matters as a marketing demographic. Gaming and games culture is so large and so varied, and the “core gamer” audience of 18-34 white bros growing smaller and septic, that there was no reason, neither morally nor financially, to treat them as the primary audience anymore. Love of gaming is eternal, but, she declared, “gamers,” as an identity, “are over.” Eight more articles contextualizing GamerGate alongside misogyny and the gatekeeping of games culture come out across several websites in the following days. GamerGate frames these as a clear sign of [deep sigh] collusion to oppress gamers, proving that ethics in games journalism is, indeed, broken, and Leigh Alexander becomes the third major target of harassment. These become known as the “gamers are dead” articles - a phrase not one of them uses - and they make “get Leigh Alexander fired from Gamasutra” one of their primary goals.

Something I need you to understand is that it has, at this point, been two weeks.

Highlights from the next little bit: Alex Macris, a higher up at The Escapist’s parent company, expresses support for GamerGate; he will go on to write the first positive coverage at a major publication and cement The Escapist as GamerGate-friendly. Mike Cernovich, aka “Based Lawyer,” gets GamerGate’s attention by mocking Anita Sarkeesian; he will go on to hire a private investigator to stalk Zoe Quinn. GamerGate launches Operation Disrespectful Nod, an email campaign pressuring companies to pull advertising from websites that have criticized them. They leverage their POC members, getting them, any time someone points out the rampant racism and antisemitism among GamerGaters, to say “I am a person of color and I am #NotYourShield”; most of these “POC members” are fake accounts left over from a previous, racist disinformation campaign. Milo Yiannapoulos gets involved, writing positive coverage of GG despite having mocked gamers for precisely this behavior in the past, and gets so much traffic it pulls Breitbart News out of obscurity and makes it a significant player in modern conservative news media.

[Hey! Ian from the future here. This talk mostly addresses how GamerGate prefigured the Alt-Right strategically and philosophically, but if you want a more explicit, material connection: Breitbart News took its newfound notoriety to become, as its Executive Chair phrased it in 2016, "a platform for the Alt-Right." That Executive Chair was Steve Bannon, who threw the website's weight behind The Future President Who Shall Not Be Named, and, upon getting his attention, would then go on to become his campaign strategist and work in his Administration. So, if you're wondering how one of the central figures of the Alt-Right ended up in the White House, the answer is literally "GamerGate." Back to you, Ian from the past!]

In what I’m calling This Should Have Been The End, Part 2, Zoe Quinn announces that they have been lurking the #BurgersAndFries IRC channel since the beginning and releases dozens of screenshots showing harassment being planned and the selection of “ethics in games journalism” as a cover. #BurgersAndFries has a meltdown, everyone turns on each other, and the channel is abandoned. And they then start another IRC and things proceed.

It goes on like this. I’m not gonna cover everything. This is just the first month. It should be clear by now that this thing is kind of unkillable. And I worry I haven’t made it obvious that this is not just a chanboard and an IRC. Thousands of regular, every day gamers were buying the story and joining in. They were angry, and no amount of evidence that their anger was unfounded was going to change that. You could not mention or even allude to GamerGate and not get flooded with dozens, even hundreds of furious replies. These replies always included the hashtag so everyone monitoring it could join in, so all attempts at real conversation devolved into a hundred forking threads where some people expected you to talk to them while others hurled insults and slurs. And always the possibility that, if any one of them didn’t like what you said, you’d be the next target.

To combat this, some progressives offered up the hashtag #GameEthics to the people getting swept up in GamerGate, saying, “look, we get that you’re angry, and if you want to talk about ethics in games journalism, we can totally do that, but using your hashtag is literally putting us in danger; they calling the police on people saying there’s a hostage situation at their home addresses so they get sent armed SWAT teams, and if you’ll just use this other hashtag we can have the conversation you say you want to have in safety.” And I will ever stop being salty about what happened.

They refused. They wouldn’t cede any ground to what they saw as their opposition. It was so important to have the conversation on their terms that not only did they refuse to use #GameEthics, they spammed it with furry porn so no one could use it.

A few major events on the timeline before we move on: Christina Hoff Sommers, the Republican Party’s resident “feminist,” comes out criticizing Anita Sarkeesian and becomes a major GG figurehead, earning the title Based Mom. Zoe Quinn gets a restraining order against Eron Gjoni, which he repeatedly violates, to no consequence; GG will later crowdfund his legal fees. There’s this listserv called GameJournoPros where game journalists would talk about their jobs, and many are discussing their concerns over GamerGate, so Milo Yiannopoulos leaks it and this is framed as further “proof of collusion.” 4chan finally starts enforcing its “no dox” rules and shuts GamerGate threads down, so they migrate to 8chan, a site famous for hosting like a lot of child porn. Indie game developer Brianna Wu makes a passing joke about GamerGate on Twitter and they decide, seemingly on a whim, to make her one of the biggest targets in the entire movement; she soon has to leave her home as well. GamerGate gets endorsements from WikiLeaks, Infowars, white nationalist sites Stormfront and The Daily Stormer, and professional rapist RooshV. And hundreds of people get doxxed; an 8chan subforum called Baphomet is created primarily to host dox of GamerGate’s critics.

But by November, GamerGate popularity was cresting, as more and more mainstream media covered it negatively. Their last, big spike in popularity came when Anita Sarkeesian went on The Colbert Report and Stephen made fun of the movement. Their numbers never recovered after that.

Which is not to say GamerGate ended. It slowed down. The period of confusion where the mainstream world couldn’t tell whether it was a legitimate movement or not passed. But, again, most harassers faced no meaningful repercussions. Gamers who bought the lie about “ethics in games journalism” stayed mad that no one had ever taken them seriously, and harassers continued to grief their targets for years. The full timeline of GamerGate is an constant cycle of lies, harassment, operations, grift, and doxxing. Dead-enders are to this day still using the hashtag. And remember how Anita had nothing to do with ethics in games journalism or Zoe Quinn, and they just roped her in because they’d enjoyed harassing her before so why not? Every one of GamerGate’s targets knows that they may get dragged into some future harassment campaign just because. It’s already happened to several of them. They’re marked.

(sigh) Let’s take a breath.

Now that we know what GamerGate was, let’s talk about why it worked.

In the thick of GamerGate, I started compiling a list of tactics I saw them using. I wanted to make a video essay that was one part discussion of antifeminist backlash, and one part list of techniques these people use so we can better recognize and anticipate their behavior. That first part became six parts and the second part went on a back burner. It would eventually become my series, The Alt-Right Playbook. GamerGate is illustrative because most of what would become The Alt-Right Playbook was in use.

Two foundational principles of The Alt-Right Playbook are Control the Conversation and Never Play Defense. Make sure people are talking about what you want them to talk about, and take an aggressive posture so you look dominant even when you’re not making sense. For instance: once Zoe leaked the IRC chatlogs, a reasonable person could tell the average gater, “the originators of GamerGate were planning harassment from the very beginning.” But the gater would say, “you’re cherry-picking; not everyone was a harasser.”

Now, this is a bad argument - that’s not how you use “cherry-picking” - and it’s being framed as an accusation - you’re not just wrong, you’re dishonest - which makes you wanna defend yourself. But, if you do - if you tell them why that argument is crap - you’ve let the conversation move from “did the IRC plan harassment?” - a question of fact - to “are the harassers representative of the movement?” - a question of ethics. Like, yes, they are, but only within a certain moral framework. An ethics question has no provable answer, especially if people are willing to make a lot of terrible arguments. It is their goal to move any question with a definitive answer to a question of philosophy, to turn an argument they can’t win into an argument nobody can win.

The trick is to treat the question you asked like it’s already been answered and bait you into addressing the next question. By arguing about whether you’re cherry-picking, you’re accepting the premise that whether you’re cherry-picking is even relevant. Any time this happens, it’s good to pause and ask, “what did we just skip over?” Because that will tell you a lot.

What you skipped over is their admission that, yes, the IRC did plan harassment, but that’s only on them if most of the movement was in on it. Which is a load of crap - the rest of the IRC saw it happening, let it happen, it’s not like anybody warned Zoe, and shit, I’m having the cherry-picking argument! They got me! You see how tempting it is? But presumably the reason you brought the harassment up is because you want them to do something about it. At the very least, leave the movement, but ideally try and stop it. They don’t, strictly speaking, need to feel personally responsible to do that. And you might be thinking, well, maybe if I can get them take responsibility then they’ll do something, but you’d be falling for a different technique I call I Hate Mondays.

This is where people will acknowledge a terrible thing is happening, maybe even agree it’s bad, but they don’t believe anything can be done about it. They also don’t believe you believe anything can be done about it. Mondays suck, but they come around every week. This is never stated outright, but it’s why you’re arguing past each other. To them, the only reason to talk about the bad thing is to assign blame. Whose turn is it to get shit on for the unsolvable problem? Their argument about cherry-picking amounts to “1-2-3 not it.” And they are furious with you for trying to make them responsible for harassment they didn’t participate in.

The unspoken argument is that harassment is part of being on the internet. Every public figure deals with it. This ignores any concept of scale - why does one person get harassed more than another? - but you can’t argue with someone who views it as a binary: harassment either happens or it doesn’t, and, if it does, it’s a fact of life, and, if it happens to everyone, it’s not gendered. And this is not a strongly-held belief they’ve come to after years of soul-searching - this is what they’ve just decided they believe. They want to participate in GamerGate despite knowing its purpose, and this is what would need to be true for that to be ok.

Or maybe they’re just fucking with you! Maybe you can’t tell. Maybe they can’t tell, either. I call this one The Card Says Moops, where people say whatever they feel will score points in an argument and are so irony-poisoned they have no idea whether they actually believe it. A very useful trick if the thing you appear to believe is unconscionable. You can’t take what people like that say at face value; you can only intuit their beliefs from their actions. They say they believe this one minute and that another, but their behavior is always in accordance with that, not this.

In the negative space, their belief is, “The harassment of these women is okay. My anger about video games is more important. I may not be harassing them myself, but they do kind of deserve it.” They will never say this out loud in a serious conversation, though many will say it in an anonymous or irreverent space where they can later deny they meant it. But, whatever they say they believe, this is the worldview they are operating under.

Obscuring this means flipping through a lot of contradictory arguments. The harassment is being faked, or it’s not being faked but it’s being exaggerated, or it’s not being exaggerated but the target is provoking it to get attention, which means GamerGate harassers simultaneously don’t exist, exist in small numbers, and exist in such large numbers someone can build a career out of relying on them! It can be kind of fun to take all these arguments made in isolation and try to string together an actual position. Like, GamerGate would argue that Nathan Grayson having previously mentioned Zoe Quinn in an article about a canceled reality show counts as positive coverage, and since Grayson reached out to Quinn for comment it’s reasonable to assume they started dating before the article was published (which is earlier than they claim), and positive coverage did lead to greater popularity for Depression Quest. But if you untangle that, it’s like… okay, you’re saying Zoe Quinn slept with a journalist in exchange for four nonconsecutive sentences that said no more than “Zoe Quinn exists and made a game,” and the price of those four sentences was to date the journalist for months, all to get rich off a game that didn’t cost any money. That’s your movement?

And some, if cornered, would say, “yes, we believe women are just that shitty, that one would fuck a guy for months if it made them the tiniest bit more famous.” But they won’t lead with that. Because they know it won’t convince the normies, even the ones who want to be convinced. So they use a process I call The Ship of Theseus to, piece by piece, turn that sentence into “slept with a journalist in exchange for a good review” and argue that each part of the sentence is technically accurate. It’s trying to lie without lying. And, provided all the pieces of this sentence are discussed separately, and only in the context of how they justify this sentence, you can trick yourself into believing this sentence is mostly true.

So, like, why? This is clearly motivated reasoning; what’s the motivation? What was this going to accomplish?

The answer is nothing. Nothing, by design. GamerGate’s “official” channels - the subreddit and the handful of forums that didn’t shut them down - were rigidly opposed to any action more organized than an email campaign. They had a tiny handful of tangible demands - they wanted gaming websites to post public ethics policies and had a list of people they wanted fired - but their larger aim was the sea change in how games journalism operated, which nothing they were asking for could possibly give them. The kind of anger that convinces you this is a true statement is not going to be addressed by a few paragraphs about ethics and Leigh Alexander getting a new job. They wanted gaming sites to stop catering to women and “SJWs” - who were a sizable and growing source of traffic - and to get out of the pockets of companies that advertised on their websites - which was their primary source of income. So all Kotaku had to do to make them happy was solve capitalism!

Meanwhile, the unofficial channels, like 8chan and Baphomet, were planning op after op to get private information, spread lies with fake accounts, get disinformation trending, make people quit jobs, cancel gigs, and flee their homes. Concrete goals with clear results. All you had to do to feel productive was go rogue. In my video,

How to Radicalize a Normie, I describe how the Alt-Right encourages lone wolf behavior by whipping people up into a rage and then refusing to give them anything to do, while surrounding them with examples of people taking matters into their own hands. The same mechanism is in play here: the public-facing channels don’t condone harassment but also refuse to fight it, the private channels commit it under cover of anonymity, and there is a free flow of traffic between them for when the official channels’ impotence becomes unbearable.

What I hope I’m illustrating is how these techniques play off of each other, how they create a closed ecosystem that rational thought cannot enter. There’s a phrase we use on the internet that got thrown around a lot at the time:

you can’t logic someone out of a position they didn’t logic themselves into.

Now, there are a few other big topics I think are relevant here, so I want to go through them one by one.

MEMEIFICATION

So a lot of interactions with GamerGate would involve a very insular knowledge base.

Like, you’d say something benign but progressive on Twitter.

A gater would show up in your mentions and say something aggressive and false.

You’d correct them. But then they’d come back and hit you with -

ah shit, sorry, this is a Loss meme.

If I were in front of a classroom I’d ask, show of hands, how many of you got that? I had to ask Twitter recently, does Gen Z know about Loss?!

If you don’t know what Loss is I’m not sure I can explain it to you. It’s this old, bad webcomic that was parodied so, so, so many times

that it was reduced to its barest essentials, to the point where any four panels with shapes in this arrangement is a Loss meme. For those of you in the know, you will recognize this anywhere, but have you ever tried to explain to someone who wasn’t in the know why this is really fuckin’ funny?

So, now… by the same process that this is a comics joke,

this is a rape joke.

I’m not gonna show the original image, but, once upon a time, someone made an animated GIF of the character Piccolo from Dragon Ball Z graphically raping Vegeta. 4chan loved it so much that it got posted daily, became known as the “daily dose,” until mods started deleting every incident of it. So they uploaded slightly edited version of it. Then they started uploading other images that had been edited with Piccolo’s color scheme. It got so abstracted that eventually any collection of purple and green pixels would be recognized as Piccolo Dick.

Apropos of nothing, GamerGate is a movement that insists it is not sexist in nature and it does not condone threats of rape against the women they don’t like. And this is their logo. This is their mascot.

If you’re familiar with the Daily Dose, the idea that GamerGate would never support Eron Gjoni if they believed he was a sexual abuser is so blatantly insincere it’s insulting… but imagine trying to explain to someone who’s not on 4chan how this sweater is a rape joke. Imagine having to explain it to a journalist. Imagine having to explain it to the judge enforcing your abuser’s restraining order.

Reactionaries use meme culture not just because they’re terminally online but also because it makes their behavior seem either benign or just confusing to outsiders. They find it hilarious that they can be really explicit and still fly under the radar. The Alt-Right did this with Pepe the Frog, the OK sign, even the milk glass emoji for a hot minute. The more inexplicable the meme, the better. You get the point where Stephen Miller is flashing Nazi signs from the White House and the Presidential re-eletion campaign is releasing 88 ads of exactly 14 words and there’s still a debate about whether the administration is racist. Because journalists aren’t going to get their heads around that. You tell them “1488 is a Nazi number,” it’s gonna seem a lot more plausible that you’re making shit up.

MOVE FAST AND BREAK THINGS

Online movements like GamerGate move at a speed and mutation rate too high for the mainstream world to keep up. And not just that they don’t understand the memes - they don’t understand the infrastructure.

In an attempt to cover GamerGate evenhandedly, George Wiedman of Super Bunnyhop interviewed a lawyer who specializes in journalistic ethics. He meant well; I really wish he hadn’t. You can see him trying to fit something like GamerGate into terms this silver-haired man who works in copyright law can understand. At one point he asks if it’s okay to fund the creative project of a potential journalistic source, to which the guy understandably says “no.”

What he’s alluding to here is the harassment of Jenn Frank. A few weeks into GamerGate, Jenn Frank writes a piece in The Guardian about sexism in tech that mentions Anita Sarkeesian and Zoe Quinn. In another case of “here’s a strongly-held belief I just decided I have,” GamerGate says this is a breach of journalistic ethics because Frank backs Quinn on Patreon. They harass her so intensely she not only has to quit her job at The Guardian, for several months she quits journalism entirely.

Off the bat, calling a public figure central to a major event in the field a “journalistic source” is flatly wrong-headed. Quinn was not interviewed or even contacted for the article, they were in no way a “source”; they were a subject. But I want to talk about this phrase, “fund a creative project.” Patreon is functionally a subscription; it’s a way of buying things. It’s technically accurate that Frank is funding Quinn’s creative project, but only in the sense that you are funding Bob Dylan’s creative project if you listen to his music. And saying Frank therefore can’t write about Quinn is like saying a music journalist can’t cover a Bob Dylan concert if they’ve ever bought his albums.

And we could talk about the ways that Patreon, as compared with other funding models, can create a greater sense of intimacy, and we also could comment that, well, that’s how an increasing number of people consume media now, so that perspective should be present in journalism. But maybe it means we should cover that perspective differently? I don’t know. It’s an interesting subject. But none of that’s going on in this conversation because this guy doesn’t know what Patreon is. It was only a year old at this point. Patreon’s been a primary source of my income for 5 years and my parents still don’t know what it is. (I think they think I’m a freelancer?) This guy hears “funding a creative project” and he’s thinking an investor, someone who makes a profit off the source’s success.

The language of straight society hasn’t caught up with what’s happening, and that works in GamerGate’s favor.

In the years since GamerGate we have dozens of stories of people trying to explain Twitter harassment to a legal system that’s never heard of Twitter. People trying to explain death threats to cops whose only relationship to the internet is checking email, confusedly asking, “Why don’t you just not go online?” Like, yeah, release your text game about depression at GameStop for the PS3 and get it reviewed in the Boston Globe, problem solved.

You see this in the slowness of mainstream journalists to condemn the harassment - hell, even games journalists at first. Because what if it is a legitimate movement? What if the harassers are just a fringe element? What if there was misconduct? The people in a position to stop GamerGate don’t have to be convinced of their legitimacy, they just have to hesitate. They just have to be unsure. Remember how much happened in just the first two weeks, how it took only a month to become unkillable.

It’s the same hesitance that makes mainstream media, online platforms, and law enforcement underestimate The Alt-Right. They’re terrified of condemning a group as white nationalist terrorists because they’re confused, and what if they’re wrong? Or, in most cases, not even afraid they’re wrong, but afraid of the PR disaster if too much of the world thinks they’re wrong.

ACCOUNTABILITY AND CONTROL

A thing I’ve talked about in The Alt-Right Playbook is how these decentralized, ostensibly leaderless movements insulate themselves from responsibility. Harassment is never the movement’s fault because they never told anyone to harass and you can’t prove the harassers are legitimate members of the movement. The Alt-Right does this too - one of their catchphrases is “I disavow.” Since there are no formalized rules for membership, they can redraw boundaries on the fly; they can take credit for any successes and deny responsibility for any wrongdoing. Public membership is granted or revoked based on a person’s moment-to-moment utility.

It’s almost like… they’re cherry-picking.

The flipside of this is a lack of control. Since they never officially tell anyone to do anything but write emails, they have no means of stopping anyone from behaving counterproductively. The harassment of Jenn Frank was the first time GamerGate’s originators thought, “maybe we should ease off just to avoid bad publicity,” and they found they couldn’t. GamerGate had gotten too big, and too many people were clearly there for precisely this reason.

They also couldn’t control the infighting. When your goal is to harass women and you have all these contradictory justifications for why, you end up with a lot of competing beliefs. And, you know what? Angry white men who like harassing people don’t form healthy relationships! Several prominent members of GamerGate - including Internet Aristocrat - got driven out by factionalism; they were doxxed by their own people! Jordan Owen and Davis Aurini parted ways hating each other, with Aurini releasing chatlogs of him gaslighting Owen about accepting an endorsement from Roosh, and they released two competing edits of The Sarkeesian Effect.

I say this because it’s useful to know that these are alliances of convenience. If you know where the sore spots are, you can apply pressure to them.

LEADERS WITHOUT LEADERSHIP

One way movements like GamerGate deflect responsibility is by declaring, “We are a leaderless movement! We have no means to stop harassment.”

Which… any anarchist will tell you collective action is entirely possible without leaders. But they’ll also tell you, absent a system of distributing power equitably, you’re gonna have leaders, just not ones you elected.

A few months into GamerGate, Randi Lee Harper created the ggautoblocker. Here’s what it did: it took five prominent GamerGate figures - Adam Baldwin, Mike Cernovich, Christina Hoff Sommers, Milo Yiannopoulos, and Nick Monroe, formerly known as [sigh] PressFartToContinue - and generated a block list of everyone who followed at least two of them on Twitter. Now, this became something of an arms race; once GamerGate found out about it they made secondary accounts that followed different people, and more and more prominent figures appeared and had to get added to the list. But, when it first launched, the list generated from just these five people comprised an estimated 90-95% of GamerGate.

Hate to break it to you, guys, but if 90+ percent of your movement is following at least two of the same five people, those are your leaders. The attention economy has produced them. Power pools when left on its own.

This is another case where you have to ignore what people claim and look at what they do. The Alt-Right loves to say “we disavow Richard Spencer” and “Andrew Anglin doesn’t speak for us.”

But no matter what they say, pay attention to whom they’re taking cues from.

AD CAMPAIGN

George Lakoff has observed that one way the Left fails in opposition to the Right is that most liberal politicians and campaigners have degrees in things like law and political science, where conservative campaigners more often have degrees in advertising and communications. Liberals and leftists may have a better product to sell, but conservatives know how to sell products.

GamerGate less resembles a boots-on-the-ground political movement than an ad campaign. First they decide what their messaging strategy is going to be. Then the media arm starts publicizing it. They seek out celebrity endorsements. They get their own hashtag and mascot. They donate to charity and literally call it “public relations.” You can even see the move from The Quinnspiracy to GamerGate as a rebranding effort - when one name got too closely associated with harassment, they started insisting GamerGate was an entirely separate movement from The Quinnspiracy. I learned that trick from Stringer Bell’s economics class.

Now, we could stand to learn a thing or two from this. But I also wouldn’t want us to adopt this strategy whole hog; you should view moves like these as red flags. If you’re hesitating to condemn a movement because what if it’s legitimate, take a look at whether they’re selling ideology like it’s Pepsi.

PERCEPTION IS EVERYTHING

One reason to insist you’re a consumer revolt rather than a harassment campaign is most people who want to harass need someone to give them permission, and need someone to tell them it’s normal.

Bob Altemeyer has this survey he uses to study authoritarianism. He divides respondents into people with low, average, and high authoritarian sentiments, and then tells them what the survey has measured and asks, “what score do you think is best to have: low, average, or high?”

People with low authoritarian sentiments say it’s best to be low. People with average authoritarian sentiments also say it’s best to be low. But people with high authoritarian sentiments? They say it’s best to be average. Altemeyer finds, across all his research, that reactionaries want to aggress, but only if it is socially acceptable. They want to know they are the in-group and be told who the out-group is. They don’t particularly care who the out-group is, Altemeyer finds they’ll aggress against any group an authority figure points to, even, if they don’t notice it, a group that contains them. They just have to believe the in-group is the norm.

This is why they have to believe games journalism is corrupt because of a handful of feminist media critics with outsized influence. Legitimate failures of journalism cannot be systemic problems rooted in how digital media is funded and consumed; there cannot be a legitimate market for social justice-y media. It has to be manipulation by the few. Because, if these things are common, then, even if you don’t like them, they’re normal. They’re part of the in-group. Reactionary politics is rebellion against things they dislike getting normalized, because they know, if they are normalized, they will have to accept them. Because the thing they care about most is being normal.

This is why the echo chamber, this is why Fox News, this is why the Far Right insists they are the “silent majority.” This is why they artificially inflate their numbers. This is why they insist facts are “biased.” They have to maintain the image that what are, in material terms, fringe beliefs are, in fact, held by the majority. This is why getting mocked by Stephen Colbert was such a blow to GamerGate. It makes it harder to believe the world at large agrees with them.

This is why, if you’re trying to change the world for the better, it’s pointless to ask their permission. Because, if you change the world around them, they will adapt even faster than you will.

THE ARGUMENT ISN’T SUPPOSED TO END

Casey Explosion has this really great Twitter thread comparing the Alt-Right to Scary Terry from Rick and Morty. His catchphrase is “you can run but you can’t hide, bitch.” And Rick and Morty finally escape him by hiding. And Morty’s all, “but he said we can’t hide,” and Rick is like, “why are we taking his word on this? if we could hide, he certainly wouldn’t tell us.”

The reason to argue with a GamerGater is on the implied agreement that, if you can convince them they’re part of a hate mob, they will leave. But look at the incentives here: they want to be in GamerGate, and you want them not to be. But they’re already in GamerGate. They’re not waiting on the outcome of this argument to participate. They’ve already got what they want; they don’t need to convince you GamerGate isn’t a hate mob.

This is why all their logic and rationalizations are shit, because they don’t need to be good. They’re not trying to win an argument. They’re trying to keep the argument going.

This has been a precept of conservative political strategy for decades. “You haven’t convinced us climate change is real and man-made, you need to do more studies.” They’re not pausing the use of fossil fuels until the results come in. “You haven’t convinced us there are no WMDs in Iraq, you need to collect more evidence.” They’re not suspending the war until you get back to them. “You haven’t convinced us that Reaganomic tax policy causes recessions, let’s just do it for another forty years and see what happens.” And when the proof comes in, they send us out for more, and we keep going.

The biggest indicator you can’t win a debate with a reactionary is they keep telling you you can. The biggest indicator protest and deplatforming works is they keep telling you in plays into their hands. The biggest indicator that you shouldn’t compromise with Republicans is they keep saying doing otherwise is stooping to their level. They’re not going to walk into the room and say, “Hi, my one weakness is reasoned argument, let’s pick a time and place to hash this out.”

And we fall for it because we’re trying to be decent people. Because we want to believe the truth always wins. We want to bargain in good faith, and they are weaponizing our good faith against us. Always dangling the carrot that the reason they’re like this is no one’s given them the right argument not to be. It’s all just a misunderstanding, and, really, it’s on us for not trying hard enough.

But they have no motivation to agree with us. Most of the people asking for debates have staked their careers on disagreeing with us. Conceding any point to the Left could cost them their livelihood.

WHY GAMES?

Let’s close with the big question: why games? And, honestly, the short answer is:

why not games?

Games culture has always presented itself as a hobby for young, white, middle class boys. It’s always been bigger and more diverse than that, but that’s how it was marketed, and that’s who most felt they belonged. As gaming grows bigger, there is suddenly room for those marginal voices that have always been there to make themselves heard. And, as gaming becomes more mainstream, it’s having its first brushes with serious critical analysis.

This makes the people who have long felt gaming was theirs and theirs alone anxious and a little angry. They’ve invested a lot of their identity in it and they don’t want it to change.

And what the Far Right sees in a sizable collection of aggrieved young men is an untapped market. This is why sites like Stormfront and Breitbart flocked to them. These are not liberals they have to convert, these people are, up til now, not politically engaged. The Right can be their first entry to politics.

The world was changing. Nerd properties were exploding into popular culture in tandem with media representation diversifying. And we were living with the first Black President. Any time an out-group looks like it might join the in-group, there is a self-protective backlash from the existing in-group. This had been brewing for a while, and, honestly, if it hadn’t boiled over in games, it would have boiled over somewhere else.

And, in the years since GamerGate, it has. The Far Right has tapped the comics, Star Wars, and sci-fi fandoms; they tried to get in with the furry community but failed spectacularly. They’re all over YouTube and, frankly, the atheist community was already in their pocket. Basically, if you’re in community with a bunch of young white guys who think they own the place, you might wanna have some talks with them sooner than later.

Anyway, if you want to know more about any of this stuff, RationalWiki’s timeline on GamerGate is pretty thorough. You can also watch my or Dan Olson’s videos on the subject. I’ll be putting the audio of this talk on YouTube and will put as many resources as I can in the show notes. The channel, again, is Innuendo Studios.

Sorry this was such a bummer.

Thank you for your time.

#video essay #alt-right playbook #Youtube

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anxiousstark · 4 years

Text

S2 07 | Restraint

BIG MASTERLIST | TW REWRITE

Stiles Stilinski x Reader! Half-sibling!Mccall

Word count:

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, murder, swearing (always).

A/N: This is more likely a filler chapter. I swear as chapters go on they get better! I’m so excited for those ones to come out!

↪ PLEASE RESPECT MY WORK. DON’T COPY, TRANSLATE OR CLAIM THEM AS YOURS. NOT ON THIS WEBSITE OR ANOTHER. ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED.

"You will not go within 50 feet of Jackson Whittemore. You will not speak to him. You will not approach him. You will not assault or harass him physically or psychologically." Noah Stilisnki glanced at us with deception. It broke my heart to see him feeling so ashamed of us. If only he knew everything that was going on.

Jackson had told his father about us, and now Scott, Stiles, and I had a restraint order.

The Hazel-eyed boy gazed around. "What about school?"

"You can attend classes while attempting to maintain a 50 - foot distance."

"Bu-. Okay, what if we both have to use the bathroom at the same time and there's only two stalls available and they're only right next to each other?" Mr. Stilisnki, Melissa, and Jackson's dad sighed, crossing their arms over their chest. "I'll just hold it."

Stiles was bickering with his dad. "Move," Melissa pushed Scott and me slightly. She focused her gaze on her son. "It's not just this. Although, a restraining order is a new low that I didn't think that you would reach quite this soon. It's everything on top of it. The completely behaviour, the late nights coming home, having to beg Mr. Harris for you to make up that chemistry test that you missed." She now looked at me. "I truly didn't expect you to follow whatever these two had in mind while preparing such a stupid joke to Jackson." I felt a pang on my chest, biting my lower lip, deciding that it was better to remain silent.

"I missed a chemistry test?"

"Really, Scott? Really? I have to ground you. I am grounding you. You are grounded." Her eyes again on me. "That goes for you too, young lady. I have to ground you too." I nodded.

"What about work?"

"Fine.Other than work. And no TV."

"My TV's broken." And I didn't watch TV.

"Then no computer."

"I need the computer for school." True.

"Then no, uh, no Stiles."

"What?!" Stiles and I snapped at the same time.

"No Stiles?!" Said boy came closer to us.

"No Stiles!" She shouted, making me and the boy back up. Damn, Melissa was quite scary when she yelled. "And no more car privileges. Give me your keys. Give 'em to me!" Her hands shook a little as she tried to take the car key. "Oh, for the love of God."

"Mom, you want me to-"

"No."

"Mom, come on, let me just, mom. Mom!" He grabbed her trembling hands.

"What is going on with you? Is this about Allison?"

"Do you really wanna know?

"Yeah. Is this about your father?" Stiles nodded in the back, telling Scott to lie. I was too distracted by the mention of our sperm donor. "It is, isn't it? Okay, you know what, um-. We'll talk about this at home. I'm gonna go get the car." It made me think. Why did he leave Scott and Melissa?

"So did you guys get into much trouble?" Allison asked me, her right hand tightly clutching her bag. "Melissa seems like a woman who has a strong attitude."

"She does." I nodded. "She took Scott's car keys, TV, my radio, and no Stiles." I pouted. I opened the door of the library, motioning for her to go first. She grinned at me.

"Woah, no Stiles." She winked while I looked at her confused. "Must be hard for you."

"Uh? What do you mean?" She didn't answer, gazing at the camera that was installed on the top of the wall, walking directly to a determined place. I wanted to ask her again, but if the Argents knew that she was talking to me, hell would break. That is why when we entered the library, I walked away from her, finding Scott and Stiles.

I smiled at both boys, Allison separated from us by a big shelf. From one of the spaces between the books, she slid a tablet. "It's everything Lydia can translate. And trust me, she was very confused."

"Yeah, what'd you tell her?"

"That we were part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures." She replied, making Scott chuckle.

"I am part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures." He gazed at both of them, feeling insulted.

"I-I do too." Stiles's head turned towards me as he heard my confession.

"You do?" I nodded. "Want to come to my house and play together? We could complete all the missions, I'm already on the second part of the new event that finishes on-"

"No way!" I interrupted him. "It started one month ago! How did you get so far?"

Scott grinned, interrupting our passionate talk about our online community. "Okay, does it say how to find out who's controlling him?"

"Not really. But Stiles was right about the murderers."

"Yes!" His aggressive gesture celebrating that he was right almost hit me on the face.

"It calls the Kanima a weapon of vengeance. There's a story in there about this South American priest who uses the Kanima to execute murderers in his village."

"All right, see? So maybe it's not all that bad." I nodded along.

"Until the bond grew strong enough that it killed whoever he wanted it to."

I groaned, punching Stiles's arm playfully. "Why did you have to talk so soon?"

"All bad, all very, very bad."

"Here's the thing, though. The Kanima's actually supposed to be a werewolf. But it can't be-" Allison couldn't finish her sentence as the person in charge of the library got closer to her, trying to organize some books.

"Until it resolves that in its past which manifested it." Scott finished fo her. A chill ran through my body, I knew what was in my past.

"Okay, if that means that Jackson could use a few thousand hours of therapy, I could've told you that myself." If I was the same as Jackson, a Kanima. Would I be a werewolf after discovering what manifested this all?

"What if- It has something to do with his parents? His real parents." That could be me too. Jackson and I could have ended up being this monster for similar reasons.

"Yeah, does anybody actually know what happened to them?"

"Lydia might."

"What if she doesn't know anything?"

"Well, he doesn't have a restraining order against me, so- I'll talk to him myself." That wasn't a good idea. Jackson wouldn't be able to control his instincts if he was mad. And yeah, Allison was a pretty great hunter, but she could still get killed.

"Okay, what do I do?"

"You have a make-up exam, remember?" She grabbed his hand. "Promise me."

"Are they going to have sex right now? Here?" Stiles chuckled after my comment, grabbing my hand, taking me away from them to give privacy.

Scott was trying to past the chemistry test that he didn't attend, and I hoped that he would pass it. Stiles had spent the night before it helping him as much as possible, without Melissa knowing, of course. Remember, no Stiles.

Allison went to talk with Jackson and Stiles with Lydia. Allison didn't let me go with her, saying that she could protect herself, but I felt like something was going to be wrong. Stiles decided that Lydia would shy away if we went in a group to talk to her, so I was resting my back against the lockers while he followed the strawberry blonde girl.

I heard the ticking of a clock inside my head, I groaned. "Y/N?" Scott? Was I hearing Scott inside my head? "Allison needs me. Go get Stiles, he is in trouble. Keep an eye on him?"

"What about your exam?"

"They need me. She needs me, please."

"Go get Allison," I whispered aloud. I started walking fastly, trying to find Stiles. I did, and he was following Erica.

"You can't tell Derek, okay? There's a lot more to this that you don't know about. And just because you got the Alpha bite makeover doesn't give you a license to go around destroying people."

"Why not? That's all anybody ever used to do to me. I used to have the worst crush in the world on you. Yeah, you, Stiles. And you never once even noticed me. Exactly how you're not noticing me right now." Her hand rested on his chest, and I could feel hot all over. I didn't think twice, walking fastly to them, grabbing her wrist.

"I told you," I growled. "Don't touch-"

I was interrupted when the boy's locker room opened, Scott flying in the air, falling brutally into the ground, groaning. Jackson jumped on him, not being able to control himself. I ended up jumping on top of Jackson, trying to free Scott from him. But Whittemore punched me on the chin. Still, I continued fighting until Erica grabbed Jackson, and Stiles grasped me, lifting me from the floor. His arms were tight around my waist, mouth near my ear, letting me know that my eyes were ice blue. "Close them. Close your eyes. Breathe with me." He whispered.

We all ended up getting detention, Jackson had gone out of the room. He was pale and crazily sweating. When he came back, he still looked like he was going to pass out. Mr. Harris had left us on our own, letting us know that we needed to organize the library. I hated that dude.

Erica had let us know that Jackon's parents died in a car accident. Her father was the insurance investigator. Every time he sees Jackson drive his Porsche, he makes some comment about the huge settlement he'll be getting when he's 18. During all this, Stiles was sitting next to her, and she tried to lowkey flirt with him.

Ugh.

"It means he was born after his mom died by c-section. They had to pull him out of her dead body."

"So was it an accident or not?" Allison and I were staring at Jackson while organizing some books. The sooner we finished, the sooner we could get the hell out here.

"The word all over the report is inconclusive."

"Then his parents could have been murdered?" My parents weren't killed. My mom was a murderer, and my dad was an asshole who didn't have the heart to take care of any of his kids.

"If they were, then it falls in line with the kanima myth. You know? It seeks out and kills murderers."

"Then what about me?" I whispered.

"You aren't a kanima," Hazel-eyes peered deep into mine. "I told you before. We would have known that you were the Kanima like we knew that Jackson was." His hand rested on my back. "Don't worry about that. We will continue investigating."

After comforting me, Scott decided that we had to talk to Jackson. They continued talking, but I decided to ignore them. I felt dizzy, so I continued grabbing books, placing them where they belonged. My eyes went to read the title of the book 'Close your eyes, Y/N'. I blinked, a couple of times until those words disappeared, and the real title of the book appeared.

I grabbed another book, glancing at it. 'Obey or they die.'

"Stiles," I grabbed his arm, but he was trying to talk to Allison and Scott, deciding what to do with Jackson. "Stiles," He finally looked at me, a questioning look on his face. "W-What is the title of this book?"

He grabbed the books from my arms, still confused. "To kill a mockingbird." I nodded after his reply, smiling and placing the book where it belonged. I walked around, trying to find Jackson. But I found Matt, laying on the floor, blood dripping from the back of his neck.

"What the heck?" I heard Scott behind me when I turned around to look at him, glass shattered from above us, books falling. Scott threw his body on me, trying to shield me from the glass. "You okay?" I nodded my head, then he called for Erica. We heard her scream, and then, a thud.

We both quickly got up from the floor. We had to check on Erica, Allison, and Stiles. Stiles, was he okay?

Scott ran to Allison, and Stiles asking both of them if they were alright. I took a step to go to them but was stopped by Jackson. Half of his face was squamous, yellow eyes. He pushed me with incredible strength, my back hitting something, making me groan in pain.

Stiles clutched my hand, moving me to them. "Hey, hey. You okay?" His worried eyes examined every part of my face.

"Hurts like a bitch." I answered, grinning to lower his anxiety. Jackson was now acting odd, he was acting like the kanima. He was being controlled. He began writing on a blackboard "STAY OUT OF MY WAY OR I'LL KILL ALL OF YOU." Then he flew out of the library, smashing his body against a window.

We got into our feet, Stiles and I running towards Erica while the other two were too focused on the board. "Whoa, hey, hey, hey, hey! I think she's having a seizure." Stiles took Erica into his arms.

"He's alive." Allison checked Matt's pulse.

"Hey, we need to get her to a hospital."

"Derek - only to Derek." Even if her body was shaking, she just wanted to go to Hale.

"When we get her to the hospital-"

"To Derek. To Derek."

"Go." Allison looked deeply into my- Scott's eyes.

"I'm staying here with you."

"He can't take her alone. Not like this. And Matt - I've got to call an ambulance for him, just go."

"Guys," I interrupted. "Take Erica to Derek, now. I will stay here with Allison," I gazed at Scott, who was utterly anxious. "We will be alright." I felt other eyes on me when I turned my head I was met with Stiles's eyes. "Taker her to Derek, okay? Then, come back to me." He nodded.

TAGLIST: @og-baby-ob14 - @savemypostcards - @cas-loves-pizza - @used-avocado - @mvrylee - @bilesxbilinskixlahey - @honeydoll-stark - @arieltheworldisamess - @softpeteparker - @kit-kat-katie99 - @thatsuperherosidekick - @bexbetterxthanxwords - @big-galaxy-chaos - @littlemiss-forgotten - @enchantedcruelsummer - @coldfreakeggsexpert - @merla123 - @sammypotato67 - @weirdowithnobeardo - @maggiesblogsblog - @itskindyl - @bobo-bush - @moongoddesskiana - @multifandxm353 - @irwxnhugsx - @xoprincessmel - @iclosetgeek - @andreagf956 - @niawoods - @anerroroccurrrrred - @perrytheplatypus11 - @trustfundparker - @nmriia - @steve-harringtonnn - @trustfundparker -

People in bold means it doesn’t let me tag them.

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vennilavee · 4 years

Text

to build a home - ch 3

from dusk till dawn

attack on titan masterlist

check out this story on ao3

Pairing: levi x reader (attack on titan)

Summary: a modern au where you and levi both work for the Survey Corps, a non-profit organization with a mission to help the youth of the Underground District.

Warnings: cursing, alcohol, harassment, smut- 18+!!!

Word Count: ~8800

A/N: there is smut, mentions of harassment (in a flashback) and kenny makes an appearance! ENJOY THIS IS 18+

***

“Why do I have to go?” You groan, rubbing your face, “Isn’t it Hange’s turn to go? Or Levi’s? Anyone but me? Can’t we all go together?”

“I don’t think all of us need to go for this one,” Erwin offers, “And it would be a good learning opportunity for the new hires. You can pick one or two of them to accompany you.”

“Lucky me,” You mutter, glancing at Levi. He’s looking at you with a small upturned smirk, clearly gloating at Erwin’s specific insistence that you go.

“These are all the rich people that you have the most experience with,” Erwin explains and you groan again, “They’re your favorite people, remember?”

You glare daggers at him when he grins at you.

“So now I have to babysit the rich guys and the new kids?” You say without any real heat in your voice.

“Careful. You’re starting to sound like Levi,” Erwin says, grin still plastered on his stupidly handsome face.

“God forbid,” You throw your hands up in the air, “We’re showing up in a limo and everything will be on the company card.”

“I expect nothing less,” Erwin confirms.

“Good, you know me so well.”

***

The door to Levi’s office is closed and locked, because you’re trying to convince him to come to the ball with you. Your eyes are dark and coy, lips only a breath away from his, and Levi could scoff. But he’s enjoying your groveling.

“You can hold your own with them,” Levi says, poking your forehead, “You know you can.”

“Of course I can,” You sigh, “Is it so much to ask for you to come with me just because I want you to?”

Your hands are flat on his chest and Levi tugs your wrists into his, rubbing circles. You already see the agreement on his face, in the turn of his lips.

“Not at all,” Levi promises, “I’ll tell Erwin I’ll be coming as your plus one.”

As if he could ever say no to you. As if he could ever say no to a night of being on your arm, both of you dressed to the nines. Even if that meant listening to rich men and women speak to you both in a way that annoys him to no end, in a way that makes your blood burn.

You both usually manage to make nights like this fun. He’s sure you have something up your sleeve. A memory of the first time Erwin had assigned you both to one of these donor’s galas resurfaces, maybe from ten years ago at this point-

Levi had barely paid you any mind, and you were quite annoyed with it all. You didn’t know why Erwin thought this was a good idea, pairing you up with him to tag team this gala.

You would probably have more success on your own anyway. Since you would be focused and your thoughts wouldn’t be filled with ire for the man who was accompanying you.

But just because he doesn’t pay you any mind doesn’t mean that he wasn’t a gentleman. He held doors for you and had even gotten you both a drink as soon as you had entered the ballroom.

There’s no way he could’ve known that you needed something to hold in settings like this to stave off your anxiety.

You had offered him a smile and a ‘thanks’, to which he had waved off. You had wanted to tell him that he looked nice, but refrained from doing so when he seemed to not even want to look at you.

What an ass. That’s okay, you’ll pretend like it doesn’t irk you. That one of your coworkers who you’ve worked with for as long as you’ve been part of the Survey Corps seems to not even want to breathe in the same general vicinity as you.

You had only just gotten his phone number, and you’ve worked with him for almost five years now.

With a scoff, you tell him that you’ll go and mingle with the crowd. You advise him to do the same and he has the gall to roll his eyes at you.

Fine. Two can play at that game.

He dislikes these events, but he knows how much it benefits the organization to get into the pockets of these rich types. Knowing that their money was benefiting something good for the Underground soothed their egos, after all. He gets frustrated when he sees these people talk about themselves like they're something to be worshipped for a simple donation. Maybe simple is the wrong word. But to Levi, spending the time with the kids meant just as much.

Considering that he was one of them.

But as Erwin often says- they need both to function. They need the resources and they need interest.

Levi hates this. Making small talk with people. Specifically, making small talk with people who don’t give a shit about him. Or you. Or anything outside of the walls of their unattainable realities. He decides to keep to himself and watch you plaster a sweet, unassuming smile that nearly makes his skin crawl. Because with that smile, you could convince anyone to do anything.

Him included. Probably.

You place calculating touches over the shoulders or forearm of whoever you’re talking to, bursting out in laughter at the perfect time, and Levi wonders when and how you got so good at this. When and how you got so good at schmoozing.

No wonder Erwin prefers that you come to these galas. You’ve got these fuckin’ losers eating out of the palm of your hand so effortlessly. It’s like clockwork- your dark eyes are wide and shining, smile easy and sweet, hands open and friendly.

These people will have nothing but good things to say about you at the end of the night. You had clearly done your homework- you knew who the big families in attendance were and you had their profiles nearly memorized as talking points.

That begs the question- why the fuck was Levi even there then?

You manage to excuse yourself, promising the people around you that you’d be back soon enough. Levi watches your smile fall as you roll your shoulders back. You’re exhausted, things like this clearly took its toll on you.

Levi has a glass of water ready for you.

“Thanks,” You mutter, unable to pull your muscles together for a smile.

“Think you need more than just a water to deal with these fuckers.”

“Tell me about it,” You sigh and then realize it’s the first full sentence he’s said to you all night, “Gonna go to the bar. You want somethin’?”

He shakes his head and you shrug, heading to the other side of the room. Levi watches you walk away and picks up on the tension building in your shoulders.

Your cheeks are beginning to hurt from all of the forced smiles, forced laughter, and forced conversations. You want to go home, but you have a duty to fulfill. After you order a drink, you find yourself in conversation with two women, asking you about what it was like to work in the Underground.

It’s one of the few genuine questions you’ve received, and yet you’re almost too drained to answer. One of the women leans in closer to you, nose only millimeters away from yours.

“You’re somethin’ else aren’t you? Survey Corps finest and all,” She muses, “Erwin only sends his best to these things.”

“Uh,” You reply, your head suddenly filled with air. You back away a step, but she’s somehow closer to you than before. Her fingers dance over your bare arm and you reflexively yank your arm closer to you but she pays no mind to your reluctance.

“His prettiest, too,” She says and you wish you would melt into the floor. Away from her. Away from this.

“Can’t you tell when you’re making someone uncomfortable?” A voice comes from your right and you can barely hear it over the slamming of your heart against your ribcage. It’s Levi and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Or do you have a stick so far up your ass that you can’t tell what’s right in front of you?” Levi continues easily, ignoring your wide eyes and the woman’s flabbergasted look.

Levi stands next to you, nearly shielding you with his body.

“Do you even know who I am?” She says rudely, arms crossed across her chest. As if she hadn’t just touched you with those same fingers.

“No,” Levi says in his bored tone, “Don’t really care.”

“Levi, let’s go. It’s fine,” You whisper, trying to plead with him.

“You won’t get my money then-”

“We don’t fuckin’ want your shitty money,” Levi says coldly, already turning his back on them and you follow him. He’s walking fast and you have to call out to him to wait up for you at the coat check. Your head is spinning, a sure sign of a headache that will be coming.

“Which coat is yours?” Levi asks once you catch up.

“That one,” You point to the black peacoat that you want nothing more than to bury yourself in. You stay silent as you walk to the entrance, mindlessly scrolling on your phone and texting Erwin that you’ll be heading home.

“Tell me that was the first time,” Levi says, breaking the silence.

“Huh?” Comes your eloquent answer.

He raises an eyebrow expectantly.

“Oh. Uh… It happens sometimes,” You shrug, “Doesn’t really get too far. These rich types just like what they can’t have.”

Another beat of silence.

“I’m gonna kill Erwin,” He mutters.

“Why? He didn’t do anything.”

“It’s not worth it. Do you think it’s worth it?” Levi asks, more emotion in his voice than you’ve possibly ever heard before.

“Levi,” You murmur, “It’s fine. Just drop it.”

He looks like he wants to protest but he abides by your request. Levi can’t get your hesitance, your fearful eyes, your flinch out of his head. It reminds him too much of his mother, and he can’t get it out of his head.

Levi takes a cab home with you, telling the cab driver to stop at your apartment first then his. The ride is mostly silent, save for the cab driver’s small talk. Your hands are twisting in your lap as you look out of the window.

“Hey,” You murmur, “I’m glad we’re coworkers. Friends, even.”

“Tch,” Levi replies easily, “Don’t get any ideas.”

But you smile at him and Levi doesn’t look away. He has to make sure that the look that reminds him of his mother is gone.

***

Tonight’s gala is at the castle in Wall Sina. Coming here still puts a bad taste in your mouth, but it’s not so hard to manage as it was before. The decorations are more tasteful than they usually are, bronze and blue streamers and banners hanging throughout the large ballroom.

“How are we supposed to blend in here?” You hear Jean mutter under his breath.

“By getting that stick out of your ass and mingling,” Levi replies easily, shooting a sideways glance.

“It’s not so bad,” You muse, “It’s not so bad now . Just be yourself, Jean. These people love talking about themselves. Just charm them. From what I hear, you’re pretty good at that.”

Levi rolls his eyes at Jean’s surprised expression.

“C’mon, Jean. We can go talk to that noble family over there,” You suggest, looking expectantly at him.

“What about Ca-, I mean Levi?” Jean asks.

“Levi has his own list of people Erwin wants him to talk to,” You wink at him and Levi rolls his eyes.

“Meet you back here in an hour or so.”

***

A voice that you haven’t heard in years breaks your reverie, your heart sputtering as you turn around to face him. You try to face him as neutrally as you can, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he bothers you.

“Kenny,” You breathe, surprise morphing into irritation, “Why are you here?”

“What, I can’t check in on my favorite nephew and niece to be?” He smirks in that way that you know gets under Levi’s skin.

“He’s not- we’re not-” You sigh, cutting yourself off, “You shouldn’t be here. He doesn’t want to see you.”

“He’s playing hard to get, huh?” Kenny says, lips twitching and eyes trained on you. You feel exposed, as if he’s burning you from the inside out but you refuse to give him the satisfaction. His cool, grey eyes are unforgiving but you hold his gaze. He seems satisfied with his assessment of you and you pretend like your skin isn’t crawling.

You’ve never liked Kenny. Even if he wasn’t such a dick to Levi, you’re certain you wouldn’t like him.

“I said he doesn’t want to see you,” You repeat firmly. The longer he stands in front of you, the more disgusted you become.

“Aww, he doesn’t want to see his ol’ man?” Kenny pouts, “I’m sure I’ll run into him at some point. Give him my best will you?”

“Wait,” You call out, curiosity getting the best of you, “Why are you here? I haven’t seen you in, what, four years?”

“You miss me, sweetheart?” He grins wolfishly and you visibly recoil, “This whole thing. I’m one of the people they’re honoring.”

“Oh, really? This is for donors, for good, upstanding people of Wall Rose and Wall Sina who give money and resources to help us-”

“I’m hurt that you don’t see me as one of those good, upstanding people.”

“Kenny,” You scoff, “ Good and upstanding isn’t in your fuckin’ vocabulary.”

“Ouch,” Kenny says, “You kiss Levi with that mouth?”

You swear you’re about to lunge at him, hands ready to throttle his neck and wipe the stupid grin off of his face. But then you feel Levi’s presence before you see him and his hand brushes against yours. In an attempt to reassure you. He doesn’t look at you, only concentrating his gaze upon Kenny.

His uncle. Uncle Kenny.

“Oi, Levi. Lookin’ the same as ever,” Kenny drawls and you see red.

“Shut up,” You hiss, “Shut the fuck up -”

Levi quiets you with a look before turning back to Kenny. He’s quiet for a moment, as if he can’t believe that his Uncle Kenny is standing in front of him.

“You’re here because of the weapons business you have,” Levi says, voice perfectly even. Only you can catch the small inclination of fury beneath layers of iciness.

“You somehow wormed your way in with these people. Convinced them that you’re like them,” Levi continues with piercing eyes, “You’re not. You’re a weasel. A shitty little weasel with no place here. You’re nothing like them. At least they can sleep at night, but you? You don’t deserve to.”

Before Kenny can say anything, Levi’s turned his back on him and you walk side to side with him. Tension radiates off of him in waves as he stews in his quiet anger and you let out a soft sigh.

“Levi,” You murmur, “Come with me.”

You touch the inside of his wrist and he follows you to an empty room. Boxes upon boxes sit on the sides of the walls. The room is illuminated by drowning sunlight creeping in through a window. You lock the door behind you and take his hand, drawing circles in the inside of his wrist.

“Levi,” You whisper again, pulling him out of his thoughts. He says nothing in reply, only looking at you with that same piercing gaze. Iciness has chipped away from the corners of his eyes, and instead he just looks lost for a moment. It disappears as soon as it comes, but you’re sure it’s a look he wore often when he was a kid.

“I’ll tell Erwin we have to leave,” You say, “He’ll understand, Levi. It’s not worth it.”

His eyes flash at you but you stand your ground.

“Do you want to stay?” You ask, sensing his hesitancy, “We can leave, Levi. We can go home.”

Levi pulls you in without a word and presses his face into the crook of your neck. His breaths are heavy against your skin, trying to calm himself down with your woodsy scent. You run your fingers through his undercut and over the base of his neck, lightly scratching with your freshly done nails.

You just want him to feel safe and you know he doesn’t. Not when Kenny is around.

It’s a few minutes before Levi speaks again, and his voice is even but tight.

“I need to know why he’s here. And how.”

“Levi,” You say softly, cupping his cheek, “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” He says sharply, turning his icy gaze to you. Levi winces when he sees you pull your hand back in alarm. He reaches for your hand again, rubbing circles over your thumb.

“He raised me,” Levi says, “I need to know.”

You nod, eyes round with understanding. But you see a crack through his armor and you press your forehead to his, allowing his shaky breaths to fall onto you.

“Why is he here?” He whispers, eyes trained on yours. You hear the silent question- why is he here now? Why wasn’t he here before? Levi pulls you closer to him by your waist, hands firm and searching for comfort.

“I don’t know, Levi,” You murmur, “But I’ll kick his ass outta here, you know that. If he even looks at you the wrong way-”

Levi cuts you off with a kiss, pouring all of his frustrations, his anguish, his love for you and for life into you. Your startled gasp is muffled, fingers clawing at his shoulders.

“I know,” He whispers when he pulls away, “Saw you about to throttle him earlier. Who do you think you are?”

Levi’s offers you a crooked smile and you press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Kenny Ackerman’s niece to be, apparently.”

“Is that what he said?” Levi says mildly. You hum and Levi pulls you closer for another stolen kiss. He breathes compliments into your skin with his lips and with featherlike touches of his fingers. You coax his nerves out of him, whispering honeyed promises with your tongue and your touch to his warmed skin.

“We should go,” Levi mutters, pulling away, taking in your heaving chest and swollen lips, “Before people notice that we’re gone.” He runs his thumb over your bottom lip and you nod reluctantly.

“Or we could stay here and make out for the rest of the night,” You protest feebly, already smoothing your dress out and taking his arm as he leads you out of the room.

“We have family business to attend to.”

***

You keep sneaking glances at Levi, unsure of what he’s thinking. You want to hold his hand and rub his back but refrain from doing so. Instead, you reach under the table and touch the palm of his hand to reassure him and before you can pull away, he holds on to your fingers. He’s rigid in his seat, face betraying no trace of emotion. But you know better.

Levi tenses up immediately when Kenny walks across the stage to receive his commendation for being such an esteemed donor. Kenny spots him immediately in the crowd, narrowing his eyes with a smug smirk.

Poor Jean. He probably has no idea what’s going on. A drop of guilt blooms in your chest. He’s supposed to be here to learn. You mentally promise to make it up to him.

Jean looks at you, then Levi, then the stage. He’s no fool- he can tell how tense the air has become. There’s a crease in Levi’s brow that he’s never seen before.

You’re certain you’ll all receive a scolding from Erwin, but at this point, you truly do not care.

***

“I’ll get the car keys from the valet,” Levi promises, “It’ll take a second.”

His thumb brushes your chin and you nod. He didn’t want to wait for valet to bring his car around, he wanted to get the hell out of there as soon as he could. Even if that meant going on a wild goose chase for his car within the parking lot.

“Wait,” You reach for him, “What about Jean? The least we can do is take him home.”

Levi groans and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Fine,” He sighs, “I’ll look for him inside. If I don’t find him in a minute, I’m leaving his ass here.”

You stifle a laugh but nod at him. He leaves you with his blazer when he sees goosebumps on your skin as well as another brush of his thumb against your chin. You admire him from behind, the way his navy colored waistcoat hugs him. As you’re tugging his blazer on and crossing your arms for warmth, you see Jean walking out of the entrance. You’re about to text Levi and tell him that you found Jean, but then you see Kenny following him outside and you swallow.

You thought you could make a getaway without running into Kenny once more. The number of times you’ve seen him tonight is already one too many. Dread fills you, leaving you rooted on the spot as he approaches you with his cool, unassuming smirk.

“You could knock someone dead with that look,” Kenny muses, “I suppose that’s one of the many reasons why my nephew is with you, huh?”

You say nothing as your cheeks flare.

“The silent treatment? That’s not very nice…”

He’s close enough to you that you can see the steel of his eyes. It’s the same steel in Levi’s eyes and you swallow your nerves once more to face him.

“Don’t talk to me about being nice, Kenny,” You scoff, “What do you want from me? What do you want from him?”

“Nothin’,” Kenny shrugs, “Can’t I just say hello to my family? See how everyone’s been?”

“No,” You say bluntly, “Leave us alone, Kenny.”

Jean is nowhere to be seen and you breathe a minuscule sign of relief. You don’t want him to listen to this.

You try to move away from him and get back inside the venue, but he grabs your shoulder. Your head snaps back in surprise and then irritation. Shrugging your shoulder out of his grip, you step closer to him. Close enough that he takes a step back.

“Don’t ever fuckin’ touch me again, Kenny,” You seethe, “You don’t need to worry about Levi beating your ass. I’ll break your wrist on my fuckin’ own.”

To your surprise, he laughs.

“She’d like you, you know. Kuchel,” Kenny laughs, sudden fondness in the lines of his eyes. He pokes your forehead, almost teasing and you ache for Levi. This was the man who raised him. And then left him when he was barely a teenager.

“Leave us alone, Kenny,” You murmur, taking a step back, “If he wants to see you, he will. But leave us alone until then.”

“He’s doing okay?” Kenny asks, and you see a familiar crack in his armor. It reminds you of Levi, when he lets his guard down and allows the perceived luxury of vulnerability.

“Yeah,” You reply, “He’s doing okay.”

“You’ll take care of him,” He says, his voice hard. Steel returns to his eyes, but you’re used to it.

“Always,” You reply without missing a beat. Your heart is out in the open on your sleeve, bleeding and beating for Levi. You wonder if Kenny can sense all of the things you want to say to him.

Kenny pokes your forehead once more, eyes lingering on your face. As if searching for a shred of doubt or reason for disbelief.

As if he has a right to.

***

Levi was about to give up on looking for Jean when he bursts into the entrance as if he’s seen a ghost. His eyes are wide and he sprints to Levi when he finally spots him across the room.

“Spit it out, Jean,” Levi says with a raised eyebrow.

“Some guy- There’s some guy out there,” Jean pants, “Looks kinda like you except smiles more. But in a scary way. Talking to her. Figured you should know before I intervened.”

It’s not fair for Levi to be annoyed that Jean left you, but he closes his eyes in irritation.

“And you left her there with him ?” Levi asks, walking long strides to get to you.

“All due respect, sir, but she can handle herself,” Jean says easily and Levi stops to give him a look.

“You questioning me, Kirstein?”

“Well, no, sir-”

“Shut up, Kirstein.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go find my car, Kirstein. Pull up to the front when you do,” Levi says, tossing him his keys. Jean looks flabbergasted for a moment but sprints off to the parking lot.

Of course Levi knows you can handle yourself with Kenny. He just wishes you didn’t have to.

***

Defiance is written across your features, in the furrow of your eyebrows and the crossing of your arms.

He sees Kenny poke your forehead and he sees you wince. It’s an action that reminds him of when he was young, when Kenny would approve of something he did. He would always receive a poke to the forehead as a thank you, or as a job well done.

Seeing Kenny touch you, no matter how small or fleeting, sends him into a rage that he’s been struggling to contain all evening. Your dark eyes widen when Levi roughly clasps Kenny’s shoulder to pull him back and away from you.

He’s so close to the edge, about to fall off an invisible precipice and you both know it. Levi pulls his arm back behind him as his hand curls into a fist, just like the way Kenny taught him all those years ago, but before he can land a solid punch on Kenny’s sneering face. Something pulls him back.

“Levi,” You whisper, your arms tight around him, “Do you need this, Levi? Is this what you need?”

Smoke slowly lifts from his eyes as he focuses on your quiet breaths against him and your fingers tracing his chest. The sound of his blood flooding to his ears quiets with each breath of yours. Levi un-clenches his fist and instead, pushes Kenny away in the same breath. He looks at Kenny long and hard, his eyes calming from a raging, stormy sea. Your cheek is still pressed against his back, arms locked around his waist.

Levi offers him nothing more than a scoff and turns his back on him. You peel yourself from his back, giving him a small smile and dare to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Let’s go home, Levi,” You murmur.

“Kirstein’s getting the car,” Levi says and you can’t help but let out a laugh.

“Really? I’m surprised,” You muse, “You must trust him.”

“He wishes,” Levi scoffs.

Just as you’re about to comment that you would be surprised if he ends up finding it in this sea of cars, he honks at both of you.

Jean can tell that something has happened, from the tired look on your face and the tension in Levi’s shoulders. He hops out of the driver’s seat when Levi barks at him and you scold Levi for his tone.

“Thank you, Jean,” You murmur, “You’re a good man.”

You kiss his cheek lightly in gratitude and Jean feels his face heat up. He touches the spot you had kissed in wonder.

“Oi, Kirstein! If you don’t get in the car in the next five seconds, I’m leaving your ass here,” Levi threatens with a glare and you stifle a laugh behind your hand in the passenger seat.

The drive is quiet, save for music playing as background noise and your small talk with Jean. Jean notices you looking over to Levi every so often, gazing at him as if you’re looking for something.

“So,” Jean says, to try to lighten the tension, “Do you come to these often? Do you come together? ”

Levi looks like he’s about to say something scathing to Jean but you send him a sizzling glance that keeps him quiet.

“For the last nearly six years… If that’s often, then yes,” You reply, watching in amusement as Jean’s brown eyes widen in shock.

“Six years?!”

“Close your mouth, Jean. You look like a horse,” Levi says plainly and you roll your eyes.

Jean wonders if anyone at all will believe him when he tells them about this evening.

***

As soon as you kick your heels off of your aching feet while leaning against the front door of your apartment, Levi’s arms are around you. Inhaling you in deeply. You relax in his hold, leaning your head against his shoulder as his fingers trace over the delicate veins of your neck.

You can sense his need through the rough calluses of his hands.

Levi tilts your jaw towards his lips, eyeing you for a few moments. Your honeyed eyes are swirling, patient and waiting for him. Your lips are slightly parted and he can’t take it anymore- he can’t take how you still look at him like that. As if he’s pulled the stars from his bleeding heart. His blood has turned to fire, eyes molten and smoky as he pulls you in for a rough, searing kiss.

You turn in his hold, arms wrapping around his head as fingers slide through his inky hair. Levi gives you half a second to breathe before he’s pressing another kiss to your lips and swallowing any thread of a thought that you have. He doesn’t realize how tightly he’s gripping your hips and your soft sounds hardly register in his mind. He hears you say something, but ignores it, in favor of pushing his lips to your neck. Your sweet spot, the spot that makes your knees go weak. He pulls a small sound from your throat, barely aware of your nails scratching his chest from over his clothes.

Then he hears your voice again.

“Levi,” You say softly, barely above a whisper, “Are you okay?”

He ignores you, muffling your concern with the cool press of his mouth to yours. Your hands are firm against his chest this time, pushing him away lightly. Just a few breaths away. Not too far.

“Levi,” You press, “What do you need Levi?”

He can’t take the sweet sound of his name on your lips. The way it sounds like honey, dripping from your tongue and into the air. His eyes are uncharacteristically wild, tendrils of vivid affection swirling together.

“You,” He finally says raspily, “It’s always you.”

You give him a small smile with glowing cheeks, and he wants to drown in your adoration.

“C’mere, Levi.”

Your arms wrap around him tightly, tucking his face in your neck. You rub his back gently while your other hand runs through his hair the way he likes.

“Today was a long day,” You breathe into his ear, nipping his earlobe lightly. He hums into your neck, his breaths evening out. You pull his dress shirt out from the hold of his pants while still rubbing circles over his back.

“Did you see Jean’s face? Poor kid,” You laugh lightly, “Think he’ll come to one of these things again?”

Your honeyed voice anchors him, and he wants to sink into you.

“He’s a good kid,” You continue, “Like you. Like I know you were. Like I know you are. I know your heart. You gave it to me, remember?”

You snake your hand to his chest and lightly scratch at his left side.

“I need you, Levi,” You murmur, tipping his chin from the crook of your neck to meet his eyes, “Can you feel how much?”

You move his hand first to your chest, where he can feel your heart beating fast. Like a hummingbird. His gaze is sharp, eyes boring into yours and you don’t falter. You lift the skirt of your dress to your waist with one hand and take his hand, allowing him to brush his fingers against your panties.

Levi’s throat goes dry at your unwavering, hazy eyes and rubs you over your panties. He swallows when a soft sigh escapes your pretty lips.

“You gonna do somethin’ about it or what, Levi?” You drawl, a smirk tugging at your lips. He sees the plea in your eyes, your plea for him to come back to you.

His thumb circles your panties once more, avoiding where you need him the most. Your smirk crumbles into a pout quickly and you try to buck your hips into his hand to get him to touch you. You watch him rub circles over your panties, finally getting the friction you so crave. He noses your neck, pressing his searing lips to yours fiercely.

His eyes aren’t so wild anymore, but his touches are.

You fumble with the buttons of his waistcoat, fingers slipping with every touch of his lips to yours. You’re uncoordinated and clumsy, getting frustrated with yourself. How is he so good at doing things with his eyes closed?

Levi senses your frustration and lets out a breathy chuckle. His hand is still under your dress, lazily teasing you’ve and you finally open your eyes to unbutton his waistcoat and dress shirt with shaky fingers.

You’re suddenly taken back to a memory of the first time you had seen him. You were one of his firsts and he was far from yours. He wanted to do right by you, and it took time for him to learn what you liked and how to please you and make you sigh in that sweet, breathy way.

Levi pushes your panties to the side, thumb circling your bundle of nerves. You gasp in surprise at the sudden but welcome warmth.

You manage to pull his shirt off of his shoulders, leaving his chest bare in front of you. Hunger floods your senses, hunger for this man in front of you. For your man, who has given you his heart despite his heart being so heavy for so long.

You feel your panties being pushed down your legs when Levi crouches on the floor. His fingers squeeze your thighs and your calves lightly as he looks up at you. You step out of your panties as he tugs you by your hands.

“Come here,” Levi mumbles, pulling you into his lap.

Levi reaches behind you to search for the zipper of your dress with his fingers. He peels the dress off of you easily and you can’t say that he’s looking at you like you’re a goddess in his arms because he looks at you like this every day. All the time. But that’s what this look reminds you of. Before, when you were in your early stages of your relationship, it intimidated you. The depth of his devotion.

But now, it surrounds you and you welcome it.

Just before he sets your dress on the couch to keep it off of the floor, you stop him.

“Let me put it in the hamper,” You murmur, “We’ll forget about it and then I’ll wake up in the middle of the night because it’ll be bothering me.”

That’s one of the many reasons that his love for you runs deep. You can keep up with his need for cleanliness. Levi follows you into the bedroom with his shirt, waistcoat and your panties in his hands. And his eyes on the arch of your bare ass and the curve of your spine.

“Give me that,” You say, turning around to take his dress shirt and waistcoat. You place it in the special hamper, the one designated for dry cleaning.

Levi tosses your black panties into your hamper with an unassuming smirk and you can’t help but wonder how a simple action like that turns your stomach over in arousal. Levi pulls you towards him, littering your hips with fleeting touches before squeezing your ass firmly.

His lips are on yours in an instant, pulling you even closer into his chest. Your fingers spread over his scarred shoulder, fingernails pressing into his skin. You pull a groan from him and trail your fingers down his chest. Scratching where you see fit, scratching over the smattering of dark hair leading into his pants.

Levi snakes a hand in between you, fluttering over your chest. His fingers are replaced by his lips quickly, as your breath hitches with each bite of his lips to your skin. You can’t get enough of his mouth on you, or of the way the shadows fall over his broad shoulders and taut muscles. His other hand brushes against your heated center and your hips buck into his hands involuntarily.

You can taste his longing, hidden in the crevices of his lips, the roughness of his touch against you. The way he slots himself with you, molding into every curve of your body. You hear your own soft moans and calls of his name as his lips touch every part of your soul.

Without a word, he hooks his arms under your thighs and lifts you up. His lips are still on your skin, wherever he can reach. You lock your arms behind his head, tugging his hair back tight enough that it pulls him back. An audible groan escapes his throat when you pull at his hair.

Something you had discovered early on that he liked.

He stumbles for just a step before regaining his balance. You let out a breathy laugh into his neck before pressing a kiss there. Then behind his ear. Close to his collarbones. Along the expanse of his chest.

Levi gently drops you to the bed, drinking you in from above with wide eyes. The voracity in his darkened eyes nearly makes you look away but you hold his gaze. He surges forward, unable to fathom another moment of not touching you.

He grinds into you lazily, your bare center seeking more friction than the roughness of his pants.

“Levi,” You nearly whine, pulling at his belt buckle, “Take it off, Levi.”

“ You take it off,” He drawls, voice low. Your heart flutters and your throat goes dry.

You sit up, drawing your knees to your chest and pull him closer to you by his belt. Your movements are slow as you unbuckle his belt and toss it to the floor, and you yank his pants and boxer briefs down in one swift motion.

Levi can’t deny that the way your eyes always widen when you see him strokes his ego.

“Off, Levi,” You say softly and he tosses his pants into his hamper before ducking down to meet your lips- your chest- your navel.

Levi presses a hand to your center and you gasp, the pretty sound floating into the air and reverberating in his ears. He holds your hips steady with his forearm as he circles your clit with his thumb. He hoists your legs over his shoulders while gazing at you with that same tenacious look.

Lust and love mixes together to make your eyes a darkened brown.

You gasp his name breathily, back arching slightly with the first flick of his tongue against your center. He maintains his gaze, eyes piercing into yours and your toes curl at the added intensity. You struggle to keep your eyes open but Levi squeezes your hips every so often as a reminder. He squeezes your breasts, pinching and tweaking.

He pulls his hand away to rub your clit with his thumb as his tongue laps you up. Levi wasn’t always this good with his tongue and with his fingers. It took you both some time to get in sync with each other, in terms of what you both liked.

Time and patience, which you both had infinite amounts of for each other.

Stars are beginning to dot your eyelids, your hands bunching up in the sheets as urgent, broken whispers of his name float into the air. Just as your thighs begin to shake and your toes curl, he pulls his lips away from your aching, empty center and you could scream .

Levi does this often. He brings you to the edge, only to back away. Only to take you there once more. Like clockwork.

The smug smirk on his face makes you want to kiss him. So you do. You pull him into your arms, grinding into his hardened length and hungrily bite his bottom lip. Your stolen release burns in the back of your mind but you give it no attention. Levi groans in pain at your bite and you smile against the kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. You lock your legs around his waist, holding him in place and reach in between your bodies to stroke him in your hand. Levi bucks against your hand with a low moan.

“I want you, Levi,” You whisper into his ear, nipping at his earlobe. Warmth pools in his belly at that and he looks dazed for a moment before snapping out of it. Your lips are parted and swollen, brown skin glistening and warm, dark eyes wide and wanting.

“Fuck ,” Levi mutters, “I need to be inside you right now.”

You nod vehemently, parting your legs for him quickly. He looks to your dripping center and guides himself in one swift glide. Both of you groan in unison and Levi stills for a moment when you pull him in for a kiss. You run a hand through his hair, smiling when he groans as you clench around him.

“Don’t do that,” He says breathily, playfully biting at your shoulder.

“Why? You gonna cum or somethin’?” You tease, earning yourself a squeeze to your hips.

“Shut up.”

Before you can say anything back to him, he lifts himself up over you, arms around your head. His hair falls into his eyes, tickling your heated cheeks and he shallowly thrusts into you. It’s the sweetest burn, the way he fits in you.

Your eyes begin to water when his thrusts get deeper. You subconsciously tilt your head to the side, away from him and Levi kisses your neck. He nudges your jaw with his nose to pull your eyes to him. You crane your neck up to press a kiss to his lips but he pushes himself into you particularly roughly and you moan into his mouth.

Levi pulls you up into his lap, arms tight around your hips and you hum. His lithe fingers are everywhere- cupping your neck, holding your thighs steady on either side of his waist, your scalp.

You’re gasping his name as he pushes into you and murmurs soft notes of encouragement into your neck. He watches as he slides in and out of your wetness with darkened cheeks. Nails scrape his back and he winces for a second but pays it no mind. Your soft breaths and whines of his name against his neck are distracting enough.

Levi rubs your folds lazily as he thrusts up into you. All you see, hear and feel is him and you’re overwhelmed. You raise your head to meet his searing eyes with an arm hooked around his head and sloppily press your lips to his.

Heat pools your belly once more, and you can nearly see stars about to burst behind your eyelids once more. Levi can sense that you’re close, in the way your legs quiver around him and in the way you clench around him. He rubs your clit in tight circles, coaxing you to the edge. Where he’s right there to catch you.

“Good girl,” Levi whispers, and your eyes widen like they always do.

He holds you tightly when you cum with a soft gasp and shaky legs. You’re panting broken notes of his name into his skin. Levi peppers your face with kisses. He’s still inside you and you give him a devilish smile.

You push him down to the bed and dig your nails into his chest teasingly. He knows that look in your eyes all too well. You stretch your torso, your hands skimming your sides and brush your fingers over your clit to tease yourself. Levi groans and plants his hands firmly on your hips. Squeezing your ass and your thighs as he pleases.

“You feel so good, Levi,” You breathe, as if it’s a secret only for his ears. You start to rock against him, hips dragging across his heated skin. The friction from his skin sends a shudder up your spine and Levi slides his hands over your sides before squeezing you.

Levi loves the way your eyes shine with desire and an undercurrent of trust. He loves the way your brown skin glistens with a thin layer of sweat, the way you’re clawing at him for something to hold on to. Levi pulls you close to him, kissing up and down your chest.

You find a rhythm and ignore the way your thighs burn as you take all of him in. The only sounds in the four walls of the bedroom is the sound of your skin slapping on his and his shaky breaths. Levi is always so composed- seeing him come undone by your hands sends another pool of heat into your belly.

“Shit,” Levi groans, throwing his head back and tightening his grip on your thighs. His hooded eyes are trained on you, watching you bounce as your legs slowly begin to tire out. But you’re determined, he can see it in your face. He loves watching you like this- determination and desire mixing together. Levi rubs your clit with his thumb and you gasp, your legs beginning to shake once more. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you flat against him, thrusting into you.

You clench around him without meaning to and he moans breathlessly in your ear, feverishly pressing his lips to your throat to stave off his climax until yours. You can feel how close he is, in his sloppy thrusts, the way his legs jerk against yours and you breathe him permission for him to cum inside of you.

Levi gasps your name into your skin as he cums, his stomach tightening as you feel warmth inside of you and beginning to leak down your thighs. He’s about to pull out but you stop him with a tug of his wrist.

“Stay,” You mumble and he swallows. He’s sensitive, but he stays. He flips you over so you’re under him and rubs at your clit lazily while his lips find your salty skin. Your senses are deliciously overwhelmed as Levi engulfs you.

“Levi,” You nearly cry, water gathering in the corners of your eyes. You’re overwhelmed by the love you have for him, by the love you feel and see in his grey eyes. Your nails are piercing against his bicep but he hardly feels it. You’re so close , and he needs to feel you come apart under him.

Your grip is tight around his arms, lips parted as your back arches when you finally cum for the second time so far.

“Good girl,” Levi murmurs again, kissing your hairline, your heated cheeks and your chin.

You rub your foot up and down his calf with a small smile. You hold him close to you, enjoying his warmth as it lights you up from inside out.

“We should go shower,” You murmur, rubbing a hand over your face.

“Why? You thought we were done?”

“You’re right. How stupid of me,” You muse, earning yourself a pinch to your waist.

“You’ve said worse.”

***

Fatigue settles in your bones after the fourth, or was it fifth, orgasm of the night. Your eyes are heavy, both from the events of the day as well as the events of the night. You hear Levi panting next to you, exhausted as well.

But you can’t rest. Not yet.

“Levi,” You nudge his shoulder, “We have to shower.”

“Give me a minute,” He says hoarsely.

“Can’t believe you seduced me into sex before washing up after the gala. You’ve made me lose my marbles.”

“Me?” Levi says, flabbergasted.

You hum, closing your eyes for a few minutes. You feel Levi’s weight shift and he carries you to the bathroom on shaky legs. Once you’re under the warm water, you groan as it soothes your sore muscles. You feel heavy, but weightless at the same time. Levi holds you up with your back to his chest and washes you down with his shower gel quickly but effectively. It smells just like him and you inhale deeply.

You swear you could fall asleep like this, and Levi knows it. You’re beginning to yawn widely enough that your eyes water. But you open your eyes to take the gel from him and lather him down slowly, taking your time with the dips and crevices of his body.

You even manage to sneak a kiss onto his bruised lips in between.

Levi holds you under the spray of the water for a few moments, with your head over his shoulder and an arm around your waist. His heartbeat is even and steady, so close to lulling you back to sleep.

“Stay awake,” Levi says softly but firmly, “Still have to towel off.”

You give him a noncommittal answer but pull away from him and wait for him to give you your towel. His dark hair is slightly damp, cheeks flushed from the heat of the water and from you . You can’t help but run your fingers through his hair as he wraps a towel around his waist and around you. Your limbs feel pliable, and damn, you are so tired.

Levi holds the implicit, unwavering trust you have for him in the palm of his hands and carries it carefully but confidently. He moisturizes the both of you, knowing that you hate waking up to dry skin.

“Raise your arms,” Levi murmurs and slides a sleep shirt over your head. He pats your head when you look up at him with a sleepy smile and nearly closed eyes.

“C’mon, it’s bedtime for us,” Levi says, carrying you to bed and drawing the covers over both of you. He presses a kiss to your shoulder as a goodnight and wraps himself around you. His legs intertwine with yours, and he draws you close to him. You’re fast asleep in minutes, your hand loose around his.

***

It’s the middle of the night when you wake up to a cold bed. You rub sleepiness out of your eyes and stretch your muscles, feeling every inch of the delicious soreness. Especially in your legs.

A soft but unsurprised sigh leaves your lips when you see the empty bed and the faint glow of the lights in the living room.

Levi is sitting on the couch, scrolling his phone mindlessly. His eyes are tired but you can tell his mind is spinning.

You wordlessly take one of his favorite teacups from the kitchen cabinet and start making tea for him. It’s a teacup that you had bought for him, painted black with gold accents. It reminded you of him.

He lifts his head a little at the scent of his favorite tea.

You bring his teacup and the teapot in a tray to the coffee table and tuck your bare legs under yourself to sit a few inches next to him, unsure if he wants space. When he says nothing for a few minutes, you assume he wants to be alone and you press a kiss to his hair. To leave and go back into the bedroom.

But he tugs your hand gently and so you stay.

“Come back to bed, Levi,” You murmur softly, fingers in his dark strands of hair.

It’s 3:18 AM and Levi drinks his black tea in his overhanded manner, leaning into your touch.

“Can’t stop thinking,” Levi finally says, “About Kenny.”

You’re not surprised.

“He asked me if I would take care of you,” You muse. Tension immediately fills his shoulders but you press your fingers into his muscles to calm him down.

“He told me that your mother would like me.”

Levi cracks a small smile at that.

“I told him to leave us alone, unless you want to see him,” You reply, “Then I told him I’d break his wrist if he touched me again.”

Levi kisses your cheek.

“Do you? Do you want to see him?” You ask, pressing a finger to his cheek.

“I don’t know,” Levi says honestly.

“It’s okay if you do. You don’t need anyone’s permission or justification but your own if you do want to see him,” You say firmly.

“Come with me. If I decide that I want to,” Levi breathes.

“Of course,” You nod determinedly.

He presses his lips to your forehead before leaning his forehead on yours.

“He did this, too,” You murmur, poking his forehead, “Oddly affectionate for a man with asshole tendencies.”

Levi lets out a soft chuckle.

“I saw,” Levi says, “He used to do that when I was a kid.”

“I figured.”

You lean your head on his shoulder, tracing patterns over the scars on his chest. Sleep is threatening to overtake you with the steady hum of his heart against your ear.

“Let’s go to bed, honey.”

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot imagine #snk imagine

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briefololtragedy · 4 years

Text

Bleed for me

Pairing: ShiSaku

Rating: M (for violence)

Summary: Shisui didn’t like people touching what was his

for day 3 of shiSaku weekend: Yakuza AU, obsession, You’re mine and only mine @shisakuweek

Also posted on AO3

A pale child laid in a hospital bed. Their skin almost blending into the stark white sheets that encased the bed. A man and woman sat beside the bed holding onto the child’s hand. Tears could be seen streaming down their faces. They spoke sweet nothings into her ear. The young girl could not hear what they were saying. It was hard to distinguish the small fragile body of the girl from the lines going to and from her. She was almost more machine than human at this point.

The click clack of heels could be heard nearing the door. A gentle knock took the couples attention from their child to the woman now in the room.

“Mr and Mrs. Sato, I’m Doctor Sakura Haruno and here to talk to you about Rin.” The married couple grasped onto each other. They stared at the woman before them, waiting on bated breath for good news.

“I am one of the transplant doctors who specialize in pediatric cardiothoracic surgery. Do you mind if I sit as we talk about Ms. Rin?” A gentle smile made its way onto Dr. Haruno’s face as the couple nodded their heads yes.

“As you know Rin was born with hypoplastic left heart syndrome. She has undergone the three stages of repair for her condition, but has now developed complications from not having a 4 chambered heart.” Sakura paused giving time for the parents to process. She always hated these conversations. She glanced at the child laying in the bed. It was likely that good news would not come to this family.

“She has started to develop heart failure in combination with protein losing enteropathy, PLE, as we call it. We do not know the exact reason why some children who have undergone the second or third stage of repair develop this condition. There are some experimental procedures that some surgery centers have tried with little improvement in the patient's condition.” Another pause.

“We are currently pumping the blood through her body artificially with the machine you see. I know when Rin was placed on this they told you what it entails. Her heart is no longer strong enough to function. The machine is giving her lungs a break as well. Right now the best chance Rin has is a heart transplant. She will be near the top of the list in her current state. However, I want you to prepare for the worst case scenario. I am not sure when there will be a donor who matches Rin’s needs…” The words faded into the background for the couple as the sobs overtook them. The doctor placed a hand on the wife’s back rubbing soothing circles. She hoped for a miracle, but life was a cruel bitch.

_______________________________-

The doctor from before was sitting at a bar stool, her petal pink hair cascading down her back. She took a swig of the beer in her hand wanting to erase the day she had. She was dressed to kill with a body hugging backless dress. It was wine red in color, accentuating her alabaster skin. Her green eyes shined like emeralds.

She felt a calloused hands caress her back causing her muscles to twitch. She could smell the alcohol on the individual's breath.

“Aint you a pretty little thing. Let me buy you a drink and you can repay me later.” She had to roll her eyes.

“Beat it. I’m not interested.” She didn’t even bother looking at the man.

“Come on pinky. I can rock your world. You look like you need something stiff.” His laugh grated on her nerves. When he wouldn’t leave her alone, she got up and started to leave. The oaf of a man couldn’t take the hint and grabbed her waist, pulling her to him. She wanted to hurl fron the stench.

“You smell good pinky.” He was starting to rub his nose in her neck. Before she could send her elbow to the man’s skull he was already falling to the ground.

“Ahh!” The drunken idiot now had a foot crushing the bones in his hand. Sakura could hear the crunch of bone from where she was.

“I think the lady told you she wasn’t interested.” A rich baritone voice spoke.

“Oh you just want the bitch for yourself. Find your own. I saw this one first.” The man before her applied more force through his foot, causing the man below him to groan in agony.

“I think it would be best if you leave before something unsightly happens to you.” Sakura knew the man’s fate was dealt the moment he touched her. Sakura already saw a few men in the corner start to move. Once the drunk was up and moving to the exit, he was being followed.

“Was that really necessary, Shisui?” Sakura took the martini from him and started to sip it slowly. She melted when he wrapped his right arm around her. He brought his index finger to her chin and traced her bone structure. Shisui stopped once he was under her chin and turned her face to look at him.

“He was touching what was mine. Don’t forget you’re mine and only mine.” Shisui then sealed their lips together with a kiss.

“Hmm don’t forget you are mine as well.” Shisui smirked. He wouldn’t have it any other way. Shisui would do anything for her. _______________________________

Shisui sat in his leather chair listening to his lackeys talk about different shipments. He really didn’t care at the moment. Sakura was upset about one of her patients. While she told him most things, she always kept her work at arms length from him. Well she tried to for the most part.

When Itachi entered the room Shisui found his back straightening. The glint in Itachi’s eye told Shisui that he was successful in his mission.

“You three leave now.” The three scattered out the door faster than cockroaches clearing ,when a light was turned on. The two waited for the door to close before speaking.

“It appears Sakura has a patient who recently went on the heart transplant list. It's a young girl 8-9 years of age. She has two younger siblings. Mother is an elementary school teacher and father works for a bank. He is a low level teller. The nurses were saying how they don’t think a match will come in on time. Parents are preparing for the worse.”

Shisui leaned onto his clasped hands. “Did you get her blood type and cross matching?”

Itachi smirked and held up a file. “Of course I did. I also tracked down some of the regulars at that bar the two of you go to. I found one who is a match.”

This was just all too perfect.

“You know what to do. Sakura and I will be meeting there for drinks tonight.” Shisui got up from his desk and grabbed his jacket. He was going to kill two birds with one stone. Rid the world of a lowly excuse for a human being and make Sakura happy.

___________________________________________

Shisui had gotten to the bar early to make sure he was sitting in a dark corner. He watched the man go to the bar and order his drink. The bartender glanced his way and Shisui gave a nod. The guy was too busy talking with his friends to see the purple liquid get added to his drink. In just 30-60 minutes the man would lose all inhibitions and fall into the trap.

Itachi was stationed with two others around the bar. The moment Sakura walked into the bar Shisui’s breath escaped his lungs. He could never figure out how she looked so ethereal.

_________________________________________

Sakura snuggled to the man next to her. She buried her nose into his chest. He smelled of sandalwood.

“Hmm where did you go after we got home?” Sakura mumbled as she talked to him. Before he could answer her pager went off. Sakura jumped out of bed and grabbed her phone.

Soon she was kissing Shisui and rushing to get dressed. Shisui just leaned back in their shared bed. Thinking of earlier.

The blade ran up and down the man’s skin. Shisui made sure not to apply enough pressure to cut into the epidermis, at least not yet. The man’s arms and legs were bound to the table immobilizing him.

“Do you know why you are here...What’s your name again?” The man was a sobbing mess.

“K..Ken. Please I have a family.” Anger boiled in Shisui’s veins. He grabbed Ken’s chin, squeezing hard.

“You have a family? Do they know you were at a bar trying to force yourself on women?”

“I’ve never.” A forceful sob caused Ken’s body to jerk violently. Shisui squeezed harder on the man’s jaw. He could feel the bones give under his grip, with a flick of the wrist he jaw gave way.

“What were you doing tonight then? Touching what is mine.” Shisui knew he was not going to get an answer due to the dislocated jaw in his hand.

“Don’t worry your life will mean something once it is ended.” Shisui took his other hand and dug the knife at the base of Ken’s skull. He had read enough of Sakura’s medical textbooks to know the right place to hit to render someone brain dead. Ken would still have his brainstem functions allowing his heart to beat long enough for it to live in another.

In the corner sat Kabuto. While Shisui didn’t agree with his politics, he knew the man could keep a secret. Kabuto also knew better than to cross Shisui. Shisui would not waste any time adding more bodies to the bottom of the ocean.

“You know your part?” Shisui cleaned off his blade.

“Yes. I will take this man to the OR after declaring him brain dead. The nurses will find his organ donor card and alert the transplant team.”

“What are you waiting for? Go.” Shisui wanted to go back home and crawl into his bed. He knew his slumber was going to get distrubed in a few hours with the page Sakura was going to get.

Sakura was running around their bedroom grabbing the nearest article of clothing to dress in. Shisui threw the covers off his body and followed her.

“What are you doing?” Shisui just raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll take you to work so you can rest on the way there. I don’t have work in the morning so I can stay to drive you home.” Shisui melted when he saw her smile. He soon felt arms around his neck and a soft kiss.

“You’re amazing. I can never get over how kind of a husband I have.” Shisui just rested his head on hers before hurrying her to the car.

_____________________________________

He was pacing back and forth. He could see a couple with two young children sitting in the uncomfortable waiting room chairs. Sakura had been in the OR for over 5 hours now. He was lucky she let him sleep in her office, but he was restless. Multiple what if questions ran through his brain. Shisui started chewing on his thumb nail. He ignored the pointed looks from the staff and visitors who passed him.

Shisui propped himself on the wall. He wanted a view of the OR doors when they opened. After another hour or two, the doors finally opened. Sakura’s hair was tucked under her scrub cap and part of her face obscured by her surgical mask, but she still looked stunning. As he watched her walk over to the family Shisui knew it was all worth it.

It just wasn’t tonight that was worth it. He thought back to when he first met his wife. She was a struggling medical student who his little cousin brought over to stitch him up. Shisui was ensnared in her beauty at that moment. She didn’t bat an eyelash when he cursed at her due to the pain. Sakura didn’t care who he was or how he would be taking the mantle of the Yakuza head.

Shisui spent months planning on how he would bump into her. He memorized her schedule, followed her some nights. She became his obsession. His life was consumed by her. He felt like a nervous fool asking her out the first time. They fell into a comfortable rhythm after that. She was always by his side. Shisui found that they shared a lot of the same ideals.

“Shisui did you get any sleep?” Her hand on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts.

“I got some. Let’s get you home. Was the surgery successful?” He held her close as they walked back to her office.

“It was. Thank you.” Her head rested on his shoulder as they walked.

“No need to thank me.” Shisui found himself against her office wall as she devoured him.

“Without you there would have been no surgery tonight. So thank you. You got Kabuto to help didn’t you?” Well hearing that rat's name killed the mood.

“You said you didn’t want to be involved anymore.” They stood in her office embracing.

“You know it’s best for me to not be involved. Let’s get back home to Hiroyuki, he’ll be missing us.” Sakura was right. Their son would be missing them.

#shisui uchiha #shisui x sakura #shisaku #shisakuweekend082020 #Sakura Haruno #yakuza #SurgeonSakura

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b1ksh88p · 4 years

Text

Guts and Roses

Plot: Jesse hired you to clean up crime scenes. This time you were stuck cleaning up boob implants and stomach bile after a gruesome murder. All was well, you never crossed paths with him and didn’t mind it. That is when he accidentally forgot something important lodged into the girls torso leading to a unexpected visit from the man himself. (This was supposed to be practice for suspense soooo if it’s ass I apologize)

Warnings: Gore/Cursing/Implied Necro (nothing happens lmao)

It started with good intentions. You were a forensic anthropologist/medical examiner for the Florida PD, truly the best of the best. To bad all that knowledge and expertise was wasted. The whole system was corrupt. From dirty cops to crook politicians there was no such thing as reform. The entire system was fucked. Sometimes you’d get bodies without organs despite them not being organ donors. So many people came through and cases piled up. You felt more like a mortician than a forensic anthropologist. It made you feel horrible for the victims but after a few years you just let it pass you.

To make some extra cash on the side you put your services up for hire on the deep web. At first you were sure you were gonna get caught by the FBI but it seemed like a lot of sickos in Florida needed someone to clean their mess. They’d do their business, call you in, you’d take pictures for some blackmail, then do your job. You carefully instructed that they leave the cash in a plastic bag. The price varied on a few things. The floors material, the square feet, severity of stains, chemical cleaning cost, etc. were all factored into the final price. She made a good 5 grand off one easy clean up. A pretty good gig although certainly nausea inducing for the faint of heart.

This Jesse guy was no different than the rest of them. A rich weirdo with mommy issues who had a knack for snuff films. Nothing new. Sometimes you thought about watching one of the films just to see what all the talk was about. You got what was left of some bodies but you don’t really get the full picture from a crime scene or a cold corpse. There was a morbid curiosity. Ever since you’ve taken jobs for him you’ve wanted to see it. See him in action. You wondered if he got off to it. If he had a ritual, what his motives were. Along with playing music you could think about the crazed Chromeskull to help past the time. What a lame name. Surely the guy wasn’t that scary with a stupid name like that.

After scrubbing the blood splatter with your own secret mix you let it sit for a bit and get to work on the floor. First you dispose of all the guts, chunks of flesh, and silicon implants into a acid mix. Then you move onto mopping up the blood and other bodily fluids released by the body. She was completely torn apart. Her rib cage exposed as if the Jesse guy was looking for something inside her. Admittedly you were kinda grossed out. You much rather worked for the Collector. At least he had a bit of interesting presentation. This Chromeskull guy was just a fucking monster. The girl must’ve done something to piss him off if he got this mad.

After staring you get out some plastic wrap and cover the bathroom in it. After that you start cutting her limbs one by one and placing them in your special acid mix. One score was the bitches jewelry. Sick looks like Chromefuck left a lil tip. If this shit was real you could totally pawn it after her case turned cold.

You were just about to decapitate her when you heard the doorknob jiggle. You always locked the doors behind you, it was a safety precaution. You didn’t want to have to clean up another body for free. At first you just ignored it. Maybe the person would go away when they figured out no one was here. Suddenly a fury of hard knocks rammed upon the thin door. You get up. Whoever was trying to get inside sure as hell weren’t the friendly type. You think to grab your gun but your dumbass left it on the counter outside. All you had was a bone saw, and by the sound of it you were gonna need a tank.

After a serious of loud thumps the rickety chain snapped sealing your fate. You huddle into the bathtub and slide the shower curtain to conceal you. Whoever he was he was strong enough to open the door but oddly stealthy enough to muffle his steps because after the chain snapped and the door flung open you didn’t hear shit. For a moment you thought you were in the clear, that whatever they wanted they got and left. You start to slowly stand up before a sound makes your knees buckle in place. The same pounding from before was right outside the door. You freeze. Your entire body wanted to flee but there was nowhere to go. The door flings open like it was a piece of paper. On the other side of the curtain you heard shallow breaths. Whoever it was was pissed. For a second there was silence. It felt like you had held your breath for what seemed like a eternity before you heard the grossest sounds ever. It was the sound of flesh being strained and bothered with. Meat and congealed bodily fluids churning around echoed off the walls. You wanted to gag. Was he...was he fucking it?

All of a sudden the sounds came to a abrupt stop. You watch in pure horror as he tears the shower curtain asunder. A gloved hand grabs at your crinkly clean up suit and you instinctively swipe at it with your bone saw. Lucky for him in your fear ridden haze you miss. “Gah! What the fuck do you want?!?” You shriek pointing the blade at the mask. Definitely believed the hype around this guy he was fucking terrifying. For a moment he just stared at you, possibly thinking if he should kill you for the stunt you just pulled. To your surprise he recoiled and calmly began to sign.

‘I thought you’d be finished. It’s been 3 hours’

Before you can stop yourself you scoff. “I don’t rush you when you’re making pulled pork.” When you noticed what you said you felt the color leave your body. Everyone always said your attitude would one day get the best of you. Now you were about to become the star of a snuff film lucky you. Instead of slamming your face into the tiles until it resembled strawberry purée his shoulders raised up and down...he was laughing.

‘Touché, well doll I’m looking for something. The stupid cunt swallowed it.’

Did you even want to know the gruesome details? Yes, but you didn’t need this sicko thinking you admired him. You were merely intrigued. Anyone would be even just a little. Or at least that’s what you told yourself. “Want me to...help?” You treaded carefully. You didn’t need him getting angry that a woman wanted to help. Some men saw it as pity and got all pissy and acted like they were Alpha males. He shrugs. It seemed like metal head didn’t mind a lady getting down and dirty. Good cuz it was your fucking job.

‘Knock yourself out Princess.’

You step out from the safety of the tub and dig into the mush of the torso. You can feel him looming over you. Cold eyes boring into your skin as you searched in silence. It hit you.

“What am I looking for exactly?” You ask turning to him.

‘A sim card, the stupid bitch swallowed it thinking I’d spare her or something.’

“Clearly her plan didn’t work out.” You let out a wry laugh. That wasn’t funny. Oh god why were you comfortable saying weird shit around this guy. You kept focus on finding the little black card. It was lodged in a piece of her small intestine that he had missed during his rampage. When you turn to announce your findings he’s crouched down in front of you. “I...I got your sim c-card...” you try and mask the fear in your voice but failed. Why was he so close? How’d he keep moving so silently? You tense up as he slowly signs to you.

‘I wanna see you without the mask.’

Your heart sunk but a stupid smile was on your face. Is that all? The sicko just wanted to see her face? But why? You’d only worked a few jobs for him. This was the first time you’d met face to face. Was he joking?

‘But not now. I’ll let you get back to work.’ He stood and dusted himself off. When he outstretched a gloved hand you thought he was just waiting for you to hand over his precious SIM card so you did just that. With like zero effort he hoisted you up to your feet. He hands you a card and takes his property before leaving you alone in the penthouse. You read the card and furrow your brow. On the back there was a message. When you read it aloud it made your skin crawl.

“I’m always watching you”

What the hell have you gotten yourself into???

#chromeskull #slasher #horror #slashers #jessecromeans #slasher x reader #slasher x s/o #potential series maybe idk #im not good at writing lmao

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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 years

Text

Trudeau promises massive covid stimulus

Canadian Prime Ministers have a fun gambit: when things start to go really badly for them, they "prorogue" (suspend) Parliament, which dissolves all committees, inquiries, etc, until such time as they are ready to reconvene, with a tabula rasa.

Most egregiously, the far-right asshole and climate criminal Stephen Harper prorogued Parliament in the middle of the 2008 Great Financial Crisis in order to avoid a no-confidence vote that would have triggered new elections.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2008%E2%80%932009_Canadian_parliamentary_dispute

While this DID save Harper's bacon, it also left Canada without a legislature during a global crisis that threatened the nation's entire future. It was a crazed, reckless thing to do.

Canada has a safeguard to prevent this kind of gambit: as a constitutional monarchy, Canadian parliamentary manoeuvres have to receive the Crown's blessing, in the form of assent from the Governor General, the Queen's rep to Canada.

This is the sober, apolitical adult supervision that fans of constitutional monarchies are always banging on about, and then-Governor General Michaëlle Jean completely failed to do her fucking job, leaving Canada without a Parliament during the GFC. She literally had one job.

Proroguing Parliament didn't just save Harper from a no-confidence vote: it also dissolved all the Parliamentary inquiries underway at the time, including the "Afghan detainee transfer" affair, which was investigating Canadian forces' complicity in the torture-murder of POWs.

In many ways, Trudeau is the anti-Harper: a charismatic Liberal who tells refugees they're welcome in Canada, marches with Greta Thunberg, and appoints the first-ever First Nations person to serve as Attorney General .

Truly, there is no policy so progressive that Trudeau won't endorse it...provided he doesn't actually have to make it into policy. Because many of his policies are indistinguishable from Harperism, albeit with a better haircut.

This started before he won the election, when Trudeau (whose father once declared martial law!) whipped his MPs to vote for a human-rights-denying mass surveillance bill, C-51.

Trudeau did so while insisting that the bill was a massive overreach and totally unacceptable, but claiming that the "loyal opposition" should still back it so as not to be accused of being soft on terrorism in the coming election. He promised to repeal it after.

Of course, he didn't.

Trudeau is often compared to Obama, a young and charismatic fellow who makes compromises, sure, but comes through in the clutch.

Tell that to pipeline protesters.

After the Obama administration killed the Transmountain Pipeline - the continent-spanning tube that would make filthy, planet-destroying tar sands profitable enough to bring to market - Trudeau bailed it out, spending billions of federal dollars to keep it alive.

Then, Trudeau - who campaigned on nation-to-nation truth and reconciliation with First Nations - announced that he would shove this toxic tar-sand tube through unceded treaty lands across the breadth of the naiton.

And then he had the AUDACITY to march with Greta Thunberg at the head of a climate march, demanding a change to policies that would see billions dead in the coming century.

HIS OWN policies.

I mean, Trudeau's boosters have a point - Harper NEVER could have pulled that off.

The Harper years were a Trumpian orgy of blatant self-dealing and cronyism.

The Trudeau years, on the other hand...

One of Trudeau's major donors is SNC Lavalin, a crime syndicate masquerading as a global engineering firm (think Halliburton with less morals).

SNC Lavalin had done so much crime that it was on its final notice with the Canadian legal sysem, a probation that it must not violate on penalty of real, big boy federal criminal prosecutions.

Then it did more crimes.

Remember Trudeau's historic appointment of a First Nations woman to the Attorney General's seat? Now was AG Jody Wilson-Raybould's moment to shine.

As Wilson-Raybould began aggressively pursuing these corporate criminals, she started getting calls from Trudeau's office.

For avoidance of doubt, these were not calls of support. They were demands to drop the case and let the SNC Lavalin crime syndicate get off scot-free. Eventually the PM himself called her and demanded that she give his cronies a pass on their repeated criminal actions.

Wilson-Raybould went public, decrying political meddling in the justice system. Trudeau denied everything and began to smear her (Harper had tons of scandals like this, BTW, only the counterpart was usually a rich old white guy, not a First Nations woman).

But Wilson-Raybould had recorded the conversations, and she released the recordings, and proved that Trudeau had lied about the whole thing. Trudeau fired her and kicked her out of the party.

But at least he's not Trump, right? He's the anti-Trump! (Well, except for the pipeline and that time he announced "No country would find 173 billion barrels of oil in the ground and leave them there").

Remember the Muslim Ban? As Trump was tormenting refugees at the US border, Trudeau tweeted "To those fleeing persecution, terror & war, Canadians will welcome you, regardless of your faith. Diversity is our strength #WelcomeToCanada."

Yes, that was awesome. There is no policy so progressive that Trudeau won't endorse it...provided that he never has to do anything to make it happen.

Canada and the US have a "Safe Third Country Agreement" that says that asylum-seekers turned away from the US border can't try again in Canada. To make #WelcomeToCanada more than a hashtag, Trudeau's government would have to suspend that agreement.

Instead, Trudeau's government insisted that under Trump, "the conditions of the Safe Third Country Agreement continued to be met" and thus they would not suspend the agreement and give hearings to those turned away by Trump's border guards.

But at least Trudeau handled the pandemic better than Harper handled the Great Financial Crisis.

No, really, he did!

Mostly.

I mean, unless you were in a nursing home or on a First Nations reservation.

https://www.canadalandshow.com/podcast/an-emergency-season-pandemic/

But still, Trudeau's government did a MUCH better job than the Trump government, or Boris Johnson's Tories. Neither Liberals nor Conservatives will really fight cronyism, climate change or authoritarianism, but there are still substantive differences between them.

But in some ways, they are depressingly similar.

Take corruption.

Long before the plague struck, Canadaland was publishing damning reports on We Charity, a massive, beloved Canadian charitable institution nominally devoted to ending child slavery.

Canadaland's initial reporting on the charity focused on its partnerships with companies that were using child slaves to make their products, but the investigations mushroomed after the charity sent dire legal threats to the news organisation over its coverage.

And then Canadaland founder Jesse Brown found himself smeared by a US dirty-tricks organization that got its start working for GOP politicians, who got a contract to plant editorials criticizing Canadaland's We coverage in small-town US newspapers.

Private eyes started following Brown around, even keeping tabs on his small children. Rather than being intimidated, Brown kept up the pressure on We, which prompted whistleblowers to leak him even more details about the charity's activities.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/08/03/turnkey-authoritarianism/#we-charity

These included massive, mysterious real-estate holdings, hard-to-excuse criminal investigations of its Kenyan activities, and (here's where I've been going with this all along) GIANT CASH PAYMENTS to Trudeau's family, as well as valuable gifts to his Finance Minister.

And, as with the Wilson-Reybould affair, Trudeau's initial response to this was to simply deny it, calling his accusers liars. But then the scandal kept unspooling, his Finance Minister quit in disgrace, the charity (sort of) folded up and shut down, and Trudeau...

Well, Trudeau prorogued Parliament, shutting down Canada's government in the midst of a crisis that was - unimaginably - even worse than the 2008 crisis that Harper had left the nation rudderless through to avoid his own scandal.

(Again, for constitutional monarchy fans, that's two entirely political proroguings in the midsts of global crises, signed off on by the Queen's supposedly apolitical and sober check on reckless activity)

Shutting down Parliament seems to have rescued Trudeau's government from snap elections, which may well have been won by the Tories, who have resolved their longstanding racist and plutocratic tensions with a new ghoulish nightmare leader:

https://jacobinmag.com/2020/09/canada-erin-otoole-conservative-party-cpc/

And, as Trudeau has reconvened Parliament, he's promised something genuinely amazing: a massive, national stimulus package meant to keep families, workers and small businesses afloat through the looming second pandemic wave.

https://www.reuters.com/article/us-health-coronavirus-canada-economy/canada-bets-the-farm-on-big-spending-as-second-wave-threatens-economic-recovery-idUSKCN26F1NF

This is something Canada - and the US, for that matter - desperately needs. Canada is monetarily sovereign: it issues its own currency and its debt is in the same currency, meaning it can never run out of money (no more than Apple could ever run out of Itunes gift cards).

The Canadian DOES face constraints on its spending, but they're just not MONETARY constraints - they're RESOURCE constraints. If the Canadian government creates money to buy the same things the private sector is shopping for, there'll be a bidding war, AKA inflation.

But as a new wave of lockdowns and mass illness looms over the country, there's going to be a hell of a lot of things the private sector isn't trying to buy - notably, the labour of the Canadian workforce, millions of whom will be locked indoors through the winter.

An analyst warns that Trudeau's proposal is likely to add CAD30B to the deficit, which is a completely irrelevant fact unless that new money is going to be chasing the same goods that Canadian business and citizens are seeking to buy.

Trudeau has promised to create a national prescription drug plan (a longstanding hole in Canada's national health care system), as well as universal childcare, and he's denounced austerity as a response to the crisis.

There's a part of me that is very glad to see this. My family and friends are in Canada, after all, and if Trudeau lives up to his promise, he will shield them from the collapse we're seeing in the USA.

But that is a BIG if. Trudeau isn't Harper. He's more charismatic, he's got better hair, and he says much, much better things than Harper.

However, when the chips are down, Trudeau out-Harpers Harper.

Mass surveillance legislation. Corruption scandals. Lying about corruption scandals. Bailing out the pipeline. "No country would find 173 billion barrels of oil in the ground and leave them there." Abandoning asylum-seekers to Trump's lawless regime.

"Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. The third time it's enemy action." It would be pretty naive to assume that merely because Trudeau has promised to do the right thing, that he will do the right thing.

Indeed, if history is any indicator, the best way to predict what Trudeau will do is to assume that it will be the OPPOSITE of whatever he promises.

I won't lie. I felt a spark of hope when I read Trudeau's words.

But hope is all I've got - and it's a far cry from confidence.

Or relief.

#pluralistic

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buckys-old-habits · 5 years

Text

Wet T-Shirt Contest

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Prompt: College AU

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Fluff

This is my entry to Lani’s Mysterious Writing Challenge by @propertyofpoeandbucky. I got the prompt College AU and I hope I didn’t bend it too far so it still fits into the category. It was fun and thank you for letting me take part.

The sun was beating down on the running track and you push your sunglasses higher on your nose, partly happy that you don’t have to run today.

Other students are running or walking their rounds for a good cause. All to save up money for an organization who takes care of abused kids and adults.

Your college really boasts about these charity events and every year another class has to organize them and make the other students run and collect money for a social organization.

This year your class was the one organizing it and you are happy to finally kick back and watch the other students run. All these years before it was the other way around and you hated the smug looks the organizing class gave you.

But now that the sun is trying to burn the track under your feet, you feel guilty and worry about the runners. So you grabbed a few of the water bottles your class bought for people who have no water anymore, and stand on the track, handing them out when someone reaches for them.

Clint is standing beside you, a white strip of suncream down his nose and hands out the elastic bands to the runner who pass them.

In the end, they will be counted and the money will be racked up accordingly. The donors pay per round, so the more the runner runs, the more money they will get.

“It’s so hot today”, Clint groans beside you and you chuckle, turning his cap to the front.

“It would be better if you would wear your cap the right way.”

He blows you a raspberry and arranges his baseball cap like it was before, the peak pointing to his neck.

“I’m so happy we don’t have to run today”, Wanda sighs from the other side of you, handing an elastic to a runner.

You hum and uncap a water bottle when you see the outstretched hand of an approaching girl, silently begging for the cold beverage.

In her run, she grabs it and throws you a smile, Clint jogging after her to hand her the elastic for this round.

“Yeah, it’s beating down. And we were worried it would rain”, you agree to Wanda’s statement.

“The weather report said it would be a possibility”, she shrugs and you look into the sky, not even a cloud in sight.

“And now I wanna see some fun on the track!”

The microphone carries Tony’s voice over the whole track and he turns up the music again, blasting some AC/DC song. He wanted to be the DJ so bad and now he has the time of his life, screaming into the microphone and playing his music taste.

“He didn’t even play one of the songs we collected”, Wanda grumbles and you smile, knowing that it’s true.

“Let him be. At least he is not moaning about the money counting like that. He has his fun and we silence.”

She hums in thought and nods, agreeing that you are right with that.

“How much money did we collect until now?”, Clint asks and you hand over another water bottle, frowning at the question.

“I actually don’t know. Pepper said that she will make an update in a few minutes.”

You look back to the pavilion where the money gets collected, seeing Pepper still counting some bills.

“Oh, here he comes”, Wanda nudges your side and you turn back to the track, confused who she means.

Along the many runners coming your way, there is Bucky Barnes, a classmate of yours and one of the few who decided to take the chance and actually run and not just give some money.

Bucky Barnes is clad in a white shirt and black gym shorts, his blue running shoes matching his blue eyes. His short hair is hidden by a black baseball cap and his sharp jaw glistens with a bit of sweat.

He slows down in front of you and smiles gently. Bucky breathes a bit faster and you look down to his wrist, counting five colorful elastics.

“Here, Bucky”, Clint holds out a red elastic and Bucky takes it, adding it to the other ones.

“Thanks. The sun is really killing me today.”

You hold out a water bottle and Bucky smiles, taking it and moving beside you, deciding to take a small break.

“So, you don’t run?”

You look up at him and frown, shaking your head. Bucky hums and tips the water bottle, taking a huge sip.

“I gave some money. It’s our cause, so even if I don’t run, I want to take a part in this”, you explain and Bucky nods, smiling at you.

“And now. My beautiful girlfriend and the update on the collected money”, Tony’s voice echoes around the field and you see Pepper smack the back of his head, shaking her head.

“You all are here for two hours already and ran 49 laps collectively. Now to the fact you all want to know. We collected over 1000 dollars already.”

A cheer comes from the stands and you smile, happy that you already made so much money.

The music starts blasting a few moments later and you shake your head at the choice and Sam, standing beside Tony, makes some weird dance moves to fire up the crowd.

“Bet he will be sick tomorrow”, Bucky says beside you and you look up at him.

“Why?”, you frown and Bucky chuckles softly.

“He is sitting in the sun and moving like an idiot. A perfect combination for a sunstroke.”

You tilt your head and Bucky taps the rim of your cap, before pulling it into your face.

He laughs when you yelp and try to slap him, but he already started to run his next round again.

“Oh, lover’s quarrel”, Clint coos and you roll your eyes, throwing an empty bottle at him.

“Shut up”, you hiss and try to write off the heat in your cheeks to the high temperature.

Half an hour later, Pepper made another update and you frown at the only slightly higher sum of money than before. Not much changed and you think about another idea to get the other students more fired up.

“You know… We have some hot guys in class”, Natasha says beside you and downs her bottle of water, looking onto the track.

You follow her gaze and your eyes meet Bucky’s, who is waving at you before he talks to Steve again, running beside him.

“He is wearing a white shirt”, Natasha continues and you hum softly, still not sure where she wants to lead this conversation.

“Yes, and?”

She shakes her water bottle and smirks, her eyes glinting with mischief and it slowly dawns on you.

“Are you saying that…”, you trail off and she nods.

“Make it a bet with some students and you will make some money. I can see that it annoys you that the sum didn’t rise more.”

“That’s insane, Nat.”

“Is it?”, she tilts her head and takes another swig of her water.

“Yes, I won’t do it.”

You grip the bottle of water in your hand, your heart thumping loudly in your chest. You said you won’t do it, but now…

Bucky runs towards you, each footstep bringing him closer to you and you uncap the bottle.

You will regret this, for sure. But you have 150 dollars on the line, all given by a few students and your friends.

Bucky has no idea and you sigh, hoping that he will take it as a joke and not hate you.

The man comes closer and you try to smile at him, meeting his own.

Here goes nothing, you think and Bucky is in front of you, wanting to run around you.

“Hey, Buck. I’m sorry”, you call and before he can ask you what you mean, you grip the water bottle and squeeze.

The spurt meets his shirt and soaks him, making his white fabric transparent and clings to his skin.

You bite your lip and Bucky stops, looking down at himself and then to you, his eyes wide with shock.

“Oh, a wet T-shirt contest. I didn’t know that was on the list”, Tony’s voice is loud and you cringe when you hear it, feeling all eyes on you and Bucky.

“Bucky, I…”, you try to explain, shrieking moments later when Bucky makes a step towards you, a glint in his eyes that only can mean trouble.

“Better run, sweetheart”, he warns you and you take the hint and start to run across the grass field in the middle.

“It was for the greater good”, you call back, trying to shake off the pursuing brunet.

A body collides with you and you yelp, being thrown to the ground, an arm breaking your fall.

“Got you”, Bucky grins and you feel his wet chest on your side.

A ticklish feeling comes up your side and you start to giggle, Bucky attacking you with his hands.

“I yield”, you laugh out, your breaths coming shorter and your side starting to hurt.

Bucky pulls back and lays beside you on the ground, his laughter slowly dying down. He turns his head to you and his blue eyes twinkle from the sunshine reflecting in them.

“So, how did I deserve this attack?”, he asks and you meet his eyes, slowly calming your breath again.

“It was a stupid idea, I agree. But the donation didn’t rise that much in the last half hour, so…”, you shrug and he pokes your side, a silent warning that he will tickle you again.

“I made a bet with a few others, that I would soak you in water, and yeah…”

Bucky shakes his head and you shrug apologetically.

“How much did you get?”

“150 dollars.”

“You are trouble, doll.”

“Didn’t you know that already?”, you retort and he laughs, rolling onto his side and watches you.

His white shirt is now a little green in some places, it still sticks to his skin and you swallow, trying to look away.

He was handsome, always made your butterflies flutter in your stomach, but you always told yourself that you don’t have the time to have a relationship. Plus, Bucky was a crush for many women and men.

So how high would be your chances? Yes, you had some group projects together and you were in his circle of friends, but still… He had so much more to do than make googly eyes at you.

But now, it feels like he really only wants to look at you, his eyes mustering your face and you look back, your breath calm and your heart hammering in your chest.

“I know”, Bucky starts and you hum softly, watching his lips move. “I know that I want to kiss you, doll.”

Your eyes widen and your breath stops for a moment. Did you hit your head and this is all a dream now?

“Did you get a heatstroke?”, you ask quietly and Bucky chuckles, laying his head on your shoulder, laughter shaking his body.

“No, I assure you that I’m fine”, he glances up at you and his eyes are searching your face for something. Maybe rejection.

It seems like he made up his mind and leans closer to you, his breath fanning over your cheek and he smiles.

“So, can I kiss you? Since you made me wet already?”

You scrunch your nose at the bad joke and chuckle before you lay your hand on his cheek and nod softly.

Bucky leans closer and his lips brush yours, at first it’s soft, testing almost. Then he pushes more into the kiss and you respond. Your hand glides from his cheek to the back of his head and you smile a bit.

It’s like a dream come true, as cliche as it sounds.

“Oh, it’s getting hot on the green field. Don’t catch a heatstroke, lovers.”

You groan softly when Bucky pulls away, an embarrassed laugh escaping his lips, hearing Tony’s voice booming across the field.

“Permission to chase him across the track?”, Bucky asks softly and you hum, but shake your head.

“No, but you have permission to kiss me again. All for a greater cause.”

#bucky barnes x reader #reader insert #lanis2ndmysteriouswritingchallenge #franca writes

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truthbeetoldmedia · 5 years

Text

The 100 6x05 "The Gospel of Josephine" Review

Y’all breathing okay? I think there were a few times when I held my breath this episode and boy howdy! I’m glad The 100 can still give me those moments. Now let’s dive right in to the episode:

Bonjour Josephine!

Last week we got a tiny bite of Josephine. Tonight we got the whole "gâteau opéra”, emphasis on “opera”, for the story of the Primes seems to be a long and bloody Shakespearean affair on an alien moon. Jaux!Clarke (see what I did there?) has barely fired up her silicone memories before she dispatches poor Kaylee with a cheese knife. Apparently Kaylee assisted, or at least didn’t prevent, Josephine’s last host body’s “death”, and she’s been on ice for six years waiting for a new host to be born and grow up. (Which we learn later is because they need a fully developed over-21 adult brain to host an adult’s memory chip, as they overload and kill child hosts. Glad we don’t have to see how they know that.)

Apparently Russell and Simone “jumped line” to bring back Josephine so I’m assuming it’s setup like an organ donor list, except people wait actual decades to talk to their loved ones again. The price of eternal life, eh? Also I can bet there will be some VERY unhappy Primes once they find out Russell and Simone cut line to get their daughter back amongst the living. Josephine seems to be hardened by her long life, and thinks very pragmatically and cold. She has successfully “other-ed” everyone except her loved ones...which is not comforting but also, I can’t help but think the gang would be very happy to have old Clarke back when they get a taste of real cold indifference from Jaux!Clarke.

Her “parents” give her time to adjust and we see Jaux!Clarke painting while dancing to French rap — a sentence I never thought I’d type for a sci-fi show review. She’s of course been given a task: find out how many nightbloods, aka hosts, our Space Popsicles have (since we really can’t call our gang the 100 or the delinquents anymore I’ve decided to call them this, fight me) to keep the Primes from becoming extinct. How hard can it possibly be to pretend to be Clarke right? All I thought was give Bellamy Blake and Jordan Green 10 minutes alone with her and she will figure that out real quick. (Also I was SO pleased to discover I was correct with guessing those two!)

Space Popsicle™️ Fam finds skeletons in the closet!

Jaux!Clarke meets up with Bellamy, Jordan, Gaia and the rest of the SpacePops™️ Fam and starts acting weird immediately. (Subtle at first but someone forgot to check if she knew Trig ha!) She dodges her first bullet and finds Abby to try and find out how many nightbloods might be on the main ship, only to hear herself called a monster and have Abby compare her book to the Eugenics books of our time. I enjoyed seeing her squirm at Abby’s assessment of her book, though Abby doesn’t have a lot of room to judge...

When Abby questions why her left-handed daughter is writing with her right hand, Jaux!Clarke needs to find a reason to exit stage left and she sees Bellamy and Murphy looking for Jordan and follows them. They find Jordan in the spooky science closet full of skeletons (subtle the Primes are not) and Bellamy is of course in full Dad mode™️, asking Jordan what the heck he’s doing. Jordan delivers quite possibly my favorite line of the season, thus far:

“What you would’ve done, The you before Praimfaya, anyway. Heart over head. That was always my favorite Bellamy.”

Monty and Harper's son, ladies and gentlemen!! Y’all I nearly jumped to my feet and clapped! Because that Bellamy is also my favorite Bellamy! And this whole season is a little odd feeling to me because Bellamy already feels like he’s been body snatched. Let’s hope this wonderful line delivered with perfection by the fabulous Shannon Kook is a sign we will get some old “I say, screw fear. I’m telling my own damn story” Bellamy Blake back this year! (Can I get an amen!)

Back to the science skeleton closet:

Jaux!Clarke Tries and fails to lure team SpacePops™️ out but Jordan and Gaia keep digging around and they end up watching the first “successful” upload of Josephine by Gabriel and her now very old looking father (og body) Russell. We also learned it took 25 years for them to develop and perfect the AI tech and lord knows how many corpses to get there.

We don’t know yet but I have a feeling we can guess the “old man” is Gabriel and “the Children of Gabriel” are followers against the “Primes ways” and are a result of him regretting playing God to get Josephine back and exiling himself once Josephine and fam got a little to unhinged about “hosts” and “nightblood”, leading others to follow his example. After Jaux!Clarke calls Murphy “John” and says a few other strange things, Bellamy asks to speak to her alone and, I’m just saying, if you watch this scene you see that Bellamy already KNoWS this isn’t “normal” Clarke. He isn’t sure what’s wrong yet, but he knows enough to test her and he can tell she can’t really understand what he’s saying in Trig! So he pulls a signature “Bellamy” move and yanks her back by the throat and starts asking questions because he’s now officially in panic mode —

BUT alas! She had a syringe of that lovely paralytic on hand just in case and the last thing we see in this scene is the horrible realization in Bellamy’s eyes as he lies helplessly paralyzed on the ground: there is a cold stranger behind his best friend’s beautiful blue eyes...and he cannot process his fear and loss fast enough. Welcome back heart over head Bellamy, we’ve missed you!!

Cut to Jaux!Clarke finding Murphy in the bar and revealing her true identity and confessing “Clarke is dead. My parents killed her” (listen I don’t buy it kids) and offering our favorite morally questionable cockroach something he might not be able to pass up: eternal life. Given his recent brush with death and sudden fear of hell….oh boy! It’s gonna take him a minute to realize he should help his friends, I just hope he realizes that before he’s made a full deal with the devil.

Diyoza and the Brat

This pair is a surprising team up, but if I have to suffer through Octavia’s “redemption” they couldn’t have picked a better reward than my favorite Season 5 addition (besides sweet Shaw! I’m still bitter about that guys) DIYOZA! Sassy, amazing fighter, the universe’s longest known pregnant lady. I could watch an entire show about her. (Also Ivana Milicevic is a dream in this role.) She’s the gift that keeps on giving, cool as a cucumber while stuck in space quicksand as Octavia is about to go under because she cannot be still for one second. Probably because if Octavia’s quiet she’ll think and with that comes dark thoughts: how she failed as a leader, how she was willing to abuse, torture and maybe even kill her brother, how her brother, the one person who she thought would always love her through her greatest faults, finally couldn’t take anymore and rejected her. She doesn’t have anything left to lose. Rock bottom meet Octavia Blake, Octavia Blake meet rock bottom.

Now I know I sound harsh but after Season 4 I was beyond seeing her as anything but a villain. I know she is on her way to redemption, but I’m glad they are giving her the long way through the dirt and mud, letting her soak in the cage of her own making a while. And giving us the wonderful Diyoza to lighten the mood. I am all for unsuspecting road trip buddies in shows (Arya and the Hound anyone?) but unfortunately so far all Octavia’s done is try to murder people, throw tantrums, and sulk. Oh well, at least Diyoza is getting in some practice for when she finally gets to have her 200-year-old baby! Really though bless her heart, she deserves some kind of sainthood for this.

Mount Weather + City of Light + Commander worship, shaken not stirred

I actually dig the intersecting of all the “bad guy” storylines into one big villain origin story wearing Clarke’s face. If nothing else it’s a poetic rehash of all the previous seasons, but refreshing enough to not seem stale...for the most part. I grow tired of the Flame/commander story and miss the more simple “teens surviving the unknown my learning to depend and care for each other” story of the first few seasons. BUT considering Season 5’s underwhelming last half, if there is one thing I can say about Season 6 of The 100...it’s not boring! And for a show that sometimes paces the plot too fast I was actually okay with that this time around! I did not want it to take three episodes for our fave family of 150 year old space popsicles to discover Clarke is “dead”. Also I am so glad it was the magic duo of Bellamy and Jordan that made the realization first.

Final thoughts

Eliza Taylor has grown so much as an actress over the seasons! She looks like she had so much fun playing Jaux!Clarke and she gave her such a different “spirit” than our usual worried and sometimes snarky but mostly serious Clarke Griffin. Just the way her eyes dance lets you know it’s not “real Clarke”.

I neglected to mention the importance of Jordan knowing “Delilah” before her change to Priya VII, so his spidey senses also go off around Clarke because he knows what a person who just got body snatched acts like! When he took “Delilah” the flowers I was like my poor son.

This episode was great because the focus was tighter and had fewer characters to keep up with! (Listen I love ensemble casts but they have not given Raven a strong independent storyline since Season 4, and I love Emori but she doesn’t really have a lot to do at the moment either, as for Echo...why she was made a main character when Harper was right there all those seasons? I’ll never know.) All that to say, I like when they break up the cast a bit and just focus on a few at a time to really get that interpersonal development between characters. That used to be the bread and butter of this show. Don’t get me wrong, I still love The 100 and find it unique and fun and twisty and exhilarating and at times beautifully heartbreaking.

(Episodes 1x05, 1x07, 1x13, 2x15, 2x16, 4x13 and 5x13 are perfect examples of this.)

But I do yearn for those slower, deeper days of, say, a boy and a girl grappling with the moral quandary of torturing a stranger tied up in the cockpit of a crashed spaceship to save a dying friend. Sometimes bigger and shiner isn’t always better. But no matter how this season goes, The 100 is still one of my favorite TV shows ever, and deserves a spot up there with a lot of other great sci-fi dramas of the past two decades.

As of now all I need to know is: where the heck is Bellamy Blake and is he okay?!

Gina’s episode rating: 🐝🐝🐝🐝

The 100 airs Tuesdays at 9/8c on the CW.

#The 100 #The Gospel of Josephine

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roominthecastle · 5 years

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For someone who hasn't seen TBL since... early season 4? (and even then only watched a couple episodes) could you give me a quick rundown of what I have to know in order to watch the beginning of season 6? If that's too much hassle I understand but I thought if anyone can put that car crash of a show into a sorta sensible summary it's you.

“car crash of a show” well, that is… too real. like you can’t help but stare and wonder what might emerge from the wreckage. :)

Thank you for the vote of confidence, I tried my best to recall the main events from each season. If something important is missing or I misremembered, hopefully somebody corrects that in a reply or a comment, and you will be able to see those, too.

(putting the rest behind a cut bc length)

Alexander Kirk is the latest contestant of the increasingly crowded “who’s your daddy” competition. He was in love w/ Liz’s mom, has a life-threatening blood disorder, and a pathological fondness for kidnapping. He takes Liz and Agnes to her childhood home that triggers some vague memories of Katarina. Kirk is sure he is her father and has a DNA test to prove it. Liz also finds Katarina’s journal in which Katarina mentions how she was assigned to honeytrap Reddington.

Meanwhile, Red uses Mr. Kaplan’s connections to learn where Kirk keeps Liz and Agnes, then tips off the task force. Despite feeling betrayed by the fake death stunt, they roll out to rescue her but Kirk gets away and they take Agnes, too (they play hot potato with that poor kid). Red takes Mr. Kaplan to the woods and shoots her for her betrayal. But she survives the headshot (not unprecedented as we learn later that she survived a head injury before and has a metal plate in her head) and is nursed back to relative physical health (but apparent psychological unwellness) by a hermit in the woods. For now, nobody else knows she is alive.

Kirk is trying to find a cure. Tom and Liz keep failing in their side-mission to get Agnes back, but Red uses Kirk’s doctor to track him. This leads him to a trap but Liz tips him off just in time. This is the first time (IIRC) that Red hesitates to trust her (kinda understandable since he’s still reeling from the fake death thing) and he almost dies as a result. Then Liz lures Kirk, gets Agnes back, but Kirk collapses and is hospitalized. He needs a donor to survive. Liz volunteers bc getting answers trumps everything. Red tells her that the DNA test proving that she is Kirk’s daughter was faked and it gets confirmed bc Liz is not a match, she can’t save him. Kirk’s goons rescue him from the hospital and Liz is taken again. Red volunteers to trade places w/ her and even manages to secure the cure for Kirk to sweeten the pot. Liz is released but Kirk, now aware that he is not the father, tortures Red. He demands Red confess that he (Red) is Liz’s father, which he finally does under insane duress, then whispers sth to Kirk that convinces him to let Red go. We still don’t know what he whispered or where Kirk is now, but this is the end of the first big arc of S4.

Liz gets her FBI badge back thanks to Red applying pressure and securing a presidential pardon. She and Tom try playing house and keep failing bc Tom will never be what she wants him to be: his meek teacher cover role from S1. Red looks for and finds a new cleaning crew but what he did to Mr. Kaplan is eating at him. Dembe gets worried about his mental state and tells Liz what happened to Kaplan, which drives Liz further down the “blame Red for everything” path but they continue working together. After Kaplan recovers, her revenge mission kicks into gear and the various ways in which she tries to dismantle Red’s criminal empire is the second big arc that lasts until the end of the season.

Kaplan tries to strip Red of his resources and connections. Her methods range from clearing out his back accounts to trying to sabotage the Task Force. She goes as far as poisoning Red, for which she tries to frame Dembe to destroy their relationship but Dembe (w/ Aram’s help) proves he didn’t betray Red and their bond becomes tighter than ever. Then Mr. Kaplan unearths 86 bodies (including Diane Fowler’s, so Cooper & Co. now know Red killed her), which launches an official investigation that threatens to expose the Task Force and its ties to Red. Mr. Kaplan also meets with Liz, tells her about their past connection (in a flashback episode, we learn that she worked for Katarina as Liz’s nanny and she handed her off to Sam after the fire, then started working for Red at his request), and tries to convince her to turn on Red but Liz refuses.

Meanwhile, Ressler is trying to get justice for the murder of Fowler’s replacement, Reven. He knows Hitchen (the National Security Advisor) killed her but he has no solid proof. Mr. Kaplan reaches out to the doctor who tampered w/ Liz’s memory when she was a child, and hires him to mess w/ Ressler’s head, planting fake memories and almost driving him to kill Hitchen. He is stopped in time, the doc is captured and he tells Liz he was also hired 2 years ago to take away some of her memories again (concerning Red) at the request of a man they both know, but we still don’t know who this person is. Red denied it was him and I, for one, believe him.

Red decides to set a trap for Mr. Kaplan, playing on her blind fixation on Liz. He hires a blacklister to kidnap Liz, feeds clues to Kaplan that lead her to where Liz is kept. Red tells Liz he is willing to refrain from killing her (Kaplan) but if Kaplan doesn’t stand down, she has to die. When she walks into the trap, Red offers truce. Mr. Kaplan refuses, the FBI also shows up, there’s a shootout and Mr. Kaplan escapes. Red visits Dom bc he needs a key he hid on his property and tells him his granddaughter, Liz, is alive. Then he meets with Kaplan, offers her that key to a remote and secure paradise in exchange for ending this war but she once again refuses. The agent investigating those 86 bodies shows up but Red escapes and Kaplan agrees to testify in exchange for immunity.

Red and Ressler reach out to the blacklister who cleaned up after Hitchen and use the evidence he kept to blackmail her into scrapping the inquiry concerning the task force, Red, and those bodies. Vague national security excuse works every time. Liz reaches out to Kaplan and they go on a drive. Kaplan promises answers but Red and his men show up and she commits suicide by jumping off a bridge. Her death triggers a protocol to release Red’s secret, aka the suitcase w/ the skeleton in it, that lands in Tom’s hands but for now nobody knows he has it. Ressler visits Hitchen and accidentally kills her when they get into an argument, so he calls the blacklister that previously cleaned up after her to clean up after him now. Cooper runs a DNA test on a sample from an old bloody shirt in evidence that belonged to Reddington, compares it to Liz’s sample and tells her it’s a match. Liz tells him she ran a test too, soon after Red showed up in her life, but never checked the result bc she was afraid to know. She now confronts Red w/ the news and he neither confirms nor denies, just lets her hug him - which is their basic dynamic in the first half of the next season.

Most of the first block of this season is about Red trying to rebuild his organization from scratch in various ways - first as a bounty hunter and then once again working w/ the task force. He seems to enjoy the freedom that comes w/ hitting rock bottom. Liz helps out, too, acting jarringly happy. Meanwhile, Tom decides to keep the suitcase a secret from her and asks Nik to help him identify the human remains inside. He also steals Liz’s ID to be able to access official databases and they reach out to another guy to have the bones DNA tested. Then Nik is killed when he goes to get the results and the skeleton gets taken.

Still not knowing about Tom’s involvement or the suitcase, Liz asks Red to help find Nik’s killer and Red soon discovers that Nik was working with Tom and that he had the skeleton. Tom tracks down the girlfriend of the guy who ran the DNA test to ask for help finding him. She helps, they find him, but then all of them get captured by a US Marshall named Garvey who is v much interested in the skeleton, too, bc he has a very personal ax to grind w/ Red. Tom escapes and he takes the skeleton. He calls Liz and tells her to meet at home but reveals nothing concrete, so you know he is not long for this world. That’s where Garvey and his men find them. He stabs Tom and Liz gets badly injured, too. Red and Dembe come to the rescue and take both to the hospital.

Tom dies, Liz is in a coma for 10 months and struggles a lot after she regains consciousness. She asks Tom’s mother, Scottie, to look after Agnes, makes Red promise to keep working cases with the task force and to not follow her, then moves to a remote cabin in Alaska where she saves a witness from the bad guys who want to silence him by killing them all in a Home Alone meets The Shining manner. After this, she decides to return to find out why Tom was killed and get revenge. She works this case separate from the task force.

The blacklister, Prescott, who cleaned up after Ressler last season starts blackmailing Ressler, threatening to reveal that he killed Hitchen if Ressler doesn’t derail an investigation. Ressler refuses but with Red’s help they manage to arrest Prescott who then intends to deliver on his threat. Red kills him and removes any implicating evidence. So Ressler goes to Cooper to deliver his written confession but Cooper says he will hold onto the letter as long as the task force is up and running bc none of them are who they were before, each of them has a letter like that, so to speak, but the work they do here is too important. They will hold each other accountable after it’s done.

Liz is investigating on her own. She tracks down one of Garvey’s goons and ends up killing him when they get into a fight but she also learns that Nik was helping Tom. She then dissolves the body Stewmaker-style but leaves a piece of evidence behind by accident, so she also breaks into the evidence room and steals it to cover her tracks. She draws the attention of a detective in whom she later confides about looking for Tom’s killer and even shows him the Post Office. Red helps out w/ her investigation, too, they both want the suitcase back after all. Liz confronts him about his motives (saying he only wants to keep his secret, nothing else matters) and responsibility in Tom’s death. Red tells her Tom died bc he didn’t heed his warning and that this secret is something he has to keep, so he isn’t telling.

Liz finds some notes among Tom’s belongings that eventually lead her to Dom. She doesn’t know he is her grandfather, he doesn’t tell her, but they talk. Dom denies being a spy code named Oleander (from Tom’s notes) but tells her he used to work as an analyst and came to the US after the Cold War (he really is Oleander, tho). He also tells her he knew Katarina well but doesn’t reveal their connection other than “we worked in the same building”, and he refuses to say anything about Red.

Red learns that whoever killed Tom and took the skeleton has law enforcement ties and Liz decides to rejoin the Task Force but only to up her chances at capturing Tom’s killer. This reinstatement requires a psychological evaluation and Liz goes a few rounds with Dr. Fulton who later turns out to be a serial killer killer/vigilante. Liz corners her at a crime scene but then lets her go bc she might need her help one day, and Fulton green lights her official reinstatement.

With the help of the detective she confided in, Liz finally identifies Garvey as Tom’s killer but Garvey kills the detective. They wanna take Garvey down by proving he is not only a murderer but also has ties to drug trafficking. Liz also approaches a woman Garvey keeps visiting in a diner and tells her everything, hoping she will flip on him. This is when the woman reveals she is Jennifer Reddington whom Garvey has been protecting from her father for decades. Red wants to kill Garvey but he cannot do that as long as he has the skeleton, so he kidnaps him. Then Garvey escapes and goes to the diner. Red and Dembe follow him there. Garvey shoots Red. Liz and Dembe shoot Garvey. Garvey later dies in the hospital w/o revealing anything.

While recovering, Red uses one of Garvey’s goons to track the skeleton to Costa Rica and learns that it’s in the possession of another enemy of his, Sutton Ross. Liz follows Red and wants to find the remains first. Ross is captured by the Task Force. Liz offers a secret deal and he agrees bc he was tasked by Garvey to reveal the skeleton’s secret bc Jennifer deserves to know the truth. Together they put on a show for Red: Ross escapes, takes Liz hostage and then pretends to torture her to force Red to give up his secret. Just when Red is about to break and reveal it, the Task Force storms the place and captures Ross again. Red doesn’t seem to know he has been played but he takes the skeleton, shoots Ross, then walks away. He takes the remains back to Dom’s place where he burns them. Dom warns him that Liz is not gonna give up. He is not wrong bc it is revealed that Liz was not only working w/ Ross, she now also knows the remains belong to the real Reddington, so Red is an imposter and not her father. She vows to find out his real identity and then destroy him w/ the help of her half-sister, Jennifer.

Oh and Samar and Aram’s relationship takes a few turns over the season as well. They start dating and then Aram prepares to propose, which ends in a fight and an almost break-up. Then Samar gets abducted by a blacklister and the last thing she says to Aram is that she would have said yes. She also ends up in a coma but regains consciousness at the end of the finale, so their engagement is now official.

#apicturewithasmile #the blacklist #long post

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nochuobsessed · 6 years

Text

Bite Me || Pt 11

Bite Me Masterlist

Word Count: 3.5k

Groups: BTS, Got7, NCT, Twice, Red Velvet

Au: Supernatural

Pairing: Werewolf!Yoongi x Vampire!Reader

Genre: Angst | Fluff | Smut | Au

Warnings: Gore, Smut, Supernatural Creatures, rough sex, yoongi getting off (thank you jesus)

Two days had passed since Yoongi started his heat, and you were getting annoyed. You would wake up in the middle of the night to Yoongi grinding against you and moaning your name. You’d wake him up and offer to help him out, but he’d leave the bed and go into the bathroom, jerking off until his hard on was gone. You’d lay in bed, wrapped in the pregnancy pillow, which proved to be extremely comfy, and waited for Yoongi to come back.

You moved out of the pillow, and leaned against his chest, “Baby let me help you.”

Yoongi looked sadly to you, stroking your cheek, “I don’t want to hurt you. If I get too into it, I could hurt the babies. They won’t die, but the thought of hurting even one hair on either of their heads kills me. I’m sorry.”

You pursed your lips, resting your forehead on his chest, before looking up at him, “I could give you a handjob?”

Yoongi shook his head, “I’ll be okay. I handled this before just fine, what’s one more time?”

You sighed in defeat, snuggling into his chest, “If you insist.”

But you weren’t going to stop.

The next time Yoongi was being effected by his heat, you would beat him to it.

You were both sitting on the couch in the main room, watching whatever drama was on at the time. You were cuddling up to him, his hand drawing random shapes on your baby bump. You felt him tense up, and try to adjust his sweatpants. You realized straight away what was wrong, especially from the sound of his heartbeat speeding up, and his body temperature rising.

“You okay?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow to the wolf.

“I-I’m fine,” Yoongi stammered out. You poked out your tongue and wet your lips, your hand sneaking over to his crotch, lightly beginning to palm his erection. He let out an involuntary moan, his eyes desperately locking with yours, “Y/N-”

“Let me take care of you,” You cooed, attaching your lips to his neck, biting onto the bloodsinger mark. You sucked lightly on his blood, and he let out a loud moan, his grip on your hips tightening.

“I-I don’t want to hurt you,” Yoongi choked out, “I can’t control myself.”

“You don’t have to,” You purred, climbing onto his lap. You grinded into him, your hands cupping his face. His tongue swiped a line long your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth, allowing him entrance. His tongue intertwined with yours, tasting you completely. He

Yoongi pulled away, moving you off him abruptly, “I don’t want to risk it.”

He stood up and walked out of the room and upstairs, leaving you alone.

You bit your lip, sighing as you sat back down.

Yoongi was annoyed with himself. You were more than willing to help him out, and yet he left you high and dry. He walked into the bathroom, pulling down his sweats and letting his dick spring free. He ran his hand over his slit, getting the precum onto this hands. He spat in his hand, and coated his dick with it. It didn’t feel as good as usual, having gotten used to you in the past few months. But he needed his relief, it was killing him. He began to pump himself, already feeling on edge from your grinding. He imagined you, bent over for him, begging for his cock like you had done many times before. Every little thing you did drove him crazy. Every smile, every look, every touch. You were perfect to him. Add that to the fact that you smelled like him, and you were pregnant. What more could a wolf want? The woman he loved, pregnant by him. It was the highest of honors… and incredibly sexy. He swapped hands, finding the unfamiliar feeling making him think that it wasn’t him jerking himself off. He tried to remember everything that you usually did, pumping himself fast and then stopping, squeezing the tip before starting again slowly.

“Fuck,” Yoongi groaned, moving faster and faster. He imagined you were in front of him, mouth open and begging for him to cum on you. He felt the pressure build, and he came into his hand, throwing his head back and groaning loudly. He knew you could hear him, and he hated himself for it. But he wouldn’t give in.

His orgasm died down, and he cleaned himself up. You were still downstairs, so Yoongi came back to you, sitting down silently.

“I can smell it,” You said, moving towards him and laying your legs on his lap, “Did you think of me?”

Yoongi pressed his lips to your neck softly, “I always think of you.”

You hummed, resting your head on his shoulder, “I know you’re only trying to keep me safe, but I can take it.”

Yoongi moved you onto his lap, not feeling horny, but a need to be close to you. Your back was pressed against his chest, and his arms wrapped around you, resting on your bump, “Can we not talk about it.”

You nodded, “You know I love you, right?”

Yoongi kissed the back of your neck, sending a shiver up your spine, “I love you too.”

You smiled, before standing up abruptly, “I’m going out.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened in alarm, “Don’t leave me.”

“You have no use for me baby,” you smirked, “Besides, I’m just going to a café to meet up with the girls. We have baby shower planning to do.”

Yoongi pouted, “Leaving me when I just want cuddles.”

You shrugged, “You know what I want.” You turned around and walked upstairs, getting changed into a nicer outfit, before leaving the house, and Yoongi.

The Artery was a café opened by vampires, for all supernatural creatures. The owner was a friend of yours, but he was rarely in town. The café had fresh blood, from willing blood donors. To say you were looking forward to it was an understatement.

You entered the café, flashing your eyes at the guard, who let you pass. You walked to the back, seeing Yeri, Momo, Wendy and Irene, already waiting for you with their drinks.

“And here’s our expecting mother!” Wendy announced, making you laugh as you slid into the booth, “How’s the baby daddy?”

“Baby daddy is going through his heat right now but refuses to touch mommy,” You said, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “He thinks he’ll hurt the babies.”

“You’re a vampire, the babies are vampires,” Yeri said, looking at you in surprise, “Werewolves in heat would be going crazy right?”

Everyone looked to Irene, and she provided answers, “Yoongi would be crazy, he finally has his mate, who is willing to… satisfy him. Heats are for the purpose of breeding, and Y/N is already carrying pups, his pups. The hormones in Y/N’s body would be attracting him even more. The fact that he’s able to reject her is amazing.”

You pouted, “I want to help him. Sex with Yoongi is amazing.”

“Sex with bloodsingers is always amazing,” Momo smirked, “It’s just one of the many perks I guess.”

“Can’t relate,” Irene said with a sigh, before smiling, “Your drink’s arriving.”

True to the wolfs word, a waitress arrived, placing down a glass filled with fresh, warm blood. You thanked her, your sharp teeth coming out on instinct. You took a sip, your eyes closing as the liquid slipped down your throat, the iron aftertaste strong against your lips.

“Feel better?” Yeri asked, and you nodded happily, “Good. We can start talking about the real reason we’re hear.”

“The baby shower!” Wendy said excitedly, making you laugh. The girls seemed so happy to be organizing it, which in turn made you even happier.

“Y/N gives birth in just under three months, so we should have it in two months,” Irene said. The others nodded, and Yeri pulled out a notebook to start writing things down. “We already know the genders so we don’t need a gender reveal.”

“A niece and nephew, I’m so excited!” Yeri gushed, “The theme should be purple. Blue and pink together. What do you think Y/N?”

You beamed, “I love it! I have a request about the venue.”

“Of course,” Wendy said, “At the end of the day, it’s your party, for your babies. We’re just helping out.”

“My babies,” you thought, “my babies that Yoongi and I created.” You shook your head, coming back to the conversation. “Yoongi and I have a house that will be finished building in a month. I’d like it to be at the new house, kind of like a house warming and baby shower.”

“You guys are building a house together?” Yeri asked, her face breaking out into a smile, “You guys are pretty serious now.”

You subconsciously touched your mate mark, smiling fondly, “I mean, we’re mated, and expecting two children. How much more serious can you get? Plus, the house is only because the pack house is too busy, and the celestial manor is… dangerous.”

Yeri, Momo and Wendy’s faces fell, looking at you in sympathy, “Anyway… The new house will be perfect, I’m sure,” Yeri said, writing it down, “Where is the house?”

“North side of the forest.”

Something seemed to click in Momo’s head, “So that’s the building site. I was beginning to worry that some human had decided to invade us.”

“Ugh, could you imagine?” Irene asked, the idea already making her cringe, “Humans going out for a walk at night, only to come face to face, with two wolves that are drinking blood.”

“Yoongi calls them blood pups, thanks to Jungkook,” You said, “Maybe that could be a theme for the baby shower, blood puppies.”

“I know!” Momo stood up abruptly, her hands flat on the table as she leaned over it, “We’ll get puppies!”

“I already have Dracula,” You sighed, remembering that you actually had more than just two responsibilities. “Speaking of which, can one of you guys please bring Dracula and his stuff over? I don’t think it’s fair to live in the pack house and leave him at the Manor.”

“Sure,” Wendy said, “I’ll drop by the manor and bring him.”

“Thank you,” You said, getting back on topic and planning the shower.

You got back home an hour later, Yoongi waiting behind the door for you.

“Someone missed me,” You smirked, walking past him and setting down your handbag. He pouted, following you around like a lost puppy, or rather, a lost wolf.

“You left me,” He said, hugging you from behind and inhaling your scent. He placed a soft kiss on your neck, and you hummed, placing your hands over his. “Don’t leave me again.”

“No promises,” You said, escaping out of his grasp, “Maybe if you let me help you, I wouldn’t have any reason to leave.”

Yoongi let out a low growl, “You know why I can’t.”

You turned around sharply, “I know why you think you can’t. It’s bullshit. All you’re doing is torturing yourself, and torturing me.”

“You?”

“Yes, me,” You huffed, sitting down on the coach, crossing your arms over your belly, “You’re not getting the help you need and deserve. You’re having to get off by yourself instead of using me. You left me high and dry this morning, and you still got off to the thought of me.”

Yoongi sat down on the couch next to you, taking your hands in his, “Y/N, I’m grateful that you want to help, but you’re too fragile. They’re too fragile.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up and walking up the stars, deciding to try one last thing.

“Yoongi, can you come in here for a sec?”

Yoongi huffed, standing up and walking up the stairs. He entered your shared bedroom, and froze, his eyes widened.

You sat on the bed, wearing the lingerie that you had bought days before. The black and white lace complimented your pregnant belly perfectly, your larger breasts silently asking to be touched.

“Y/N…”

“Yoongi, I tried to hold back,” You said, your hand trailing down your stomach and to your clothed core, “But I can’t any longer. If you can get off by yourself, then I’m sure I can too.”

You slipped your hand into your panties, using a finger to circle to your clit, spreading your arousal against your folds. You let out a soft moan, slowly grinding against your hand.

“Y/N, if you don’t stop, I’m going to lose control,” Yoongi warned, stepping slowly towards you, “You’re torturing me.”

You took your hand out, licking it slowly, “Please Yoongi. I need you.”

Yoongi wasted no time striding over to you, pulling his shirt off and climbing on top of you, his legs on either side of you. His attached his lips to yours roughly, forcing his tongue inside your mouth. You massaged your tongue against his, slowly grinding your hips up against him. He moved your head to the side, aggressively sucking on your neck. His canines came out, and biting into your mate mark, making you shift involuntarily. You moaned in a mix of pain and pleasure, raking your nails down Yoongi’s back.

“You wanted me,” Yoongi growled into your ear, “Now you get me.”

Yoongi sat up, and threw his pants off, licking his lips as he came back to you. He massaged your breasts over the top of your bra, before ripping the item to shreds. He massaged the soft flesh again, pinching your nipples, making you squeal and buck your hips up.

Your hand reached down to his zipper, pulling it open, revealing the werewolf sized hard-on he was baring.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi asked, watching as you slowly sat up, yanking down his jeans and bowers. You licked your lips at the sight, his red-hot cock hitting his slightly toned stomach.

“I’m helping.” You mused, gently massaging his aching balls. Yoongi sat back, brushing a hand through his hair.

You crawled towards him, hands resting on his knees as you licked a long stripe up his shaft. His breathing grew heavier as you pressed a kiss to his tip, his pre-cum spreading onto your soft lips.

“That’s it baby,” Yoongi groaned, licking his lips at the sight of you in front of him, finally doing what you had both been dying to do. You hollowed out your cheeks, sticking out your tongue as you finally took him in. You went slowly, taking all of him so that his tip hit the back of your throat, “Sweetheart don’t push yourself.”

You closed your mouth around him, pulling off him with a pop, “I’m not pushing myself.” Your mouth enclosed around him once more, and your began bobbing your head up and down, trying to make his dick as wet as possible, whilst trying to take in as much as possible. Yoongi entangled a hand in your hair, pushing your head down a bit further every time.

“Fuck baby, swallow around me.”

You licked his tip again, before going all the way down. You attempted to swallow, but ended up gagging. You sat back, a line of spit connecting you to his cock.

Yoongi lifted your chin up, “You’re alright sweetheart.” You nodded, and tried again, this time swallowing around him, emitting a loud groan from the wolf. You brought your hand forward, massaging his balls as you felt him swell up, a clear sign he was about to cum.

“Almost there-“

You tightened your lips around him more, making your movements go faster, as he moved his hips in harmony with you. A guttural moan left his throat as he came, his seed going straight down your throat, not giving you a chance to taste him.

You sat back up, wiping your mouth, before dropping your jaw, “You’re still hard.”

“We haven’t finished yet,” Yoongi growled, pushing you down and connecting your lips. His arms wrapped around you, lifting you up and into his lap. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your belly pressed to his as you sloppily locked lips.

“You still up for more?” Yoongi mumbled against your lips. You kissed him again, nodding as he sat you back down, bending down and moving your panties to the side. He gently spread your folds, trailing a finger up and down your slit.

“Finger me already, I’ve earned it, don’t you think?” You smirked, before it changed into a moan, arching your back as he slowly entered two fingers into your core. He moved slowly, coating his fingers in your arousal. He felt every part of you, scissoring his fingers.

“So warm and wet,” Yoongi said, his fingers moving at a steady space, “All for me?”

“Only you baby,” You moaned, clenching lightly around his fingers. He climbed up more, his fingers never leaving your core as he connected his lips to yours, hovering above you as not to hurt your belly.

You began to squirm as he curled his fingers, making your grip the sheets, “Fuck, baby I’m gonna-“

You never finished your sentence, as you squirted again, covering Yoongi’s lower half in your liquid.

Yoongi growled lowly, “You get hotter every time you do that.”

You moved your hips, “Even as I’m pregnant?”

Yoongi licked up your slit, “Especially when you’re pregnant.” Yoongi quickly grabbed a pillow, placing it under your back. He caressed your cheek, kissing you roughly,

“Yoongi, I need you inside me,” You moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along his jaw.

“Anything for my mate,” He whispered, squeezing your thighs, before ripping your panties off you. He gave his cock a few pumps, covering it in your arousal.

“You ready sweetheart?” Yoongi asked, pushing gently against you.

You nodded, “I’ve waited long enough.”

He pushed into you, groaning loudly as his cock was devoured by your pussy. He didn’t move, wanting to savor the feeling of himself inside you. You clenched around him, getting annoyed by the lack of friction.

“Patience baby, patience,” Yoongi smirked, moving out of you, before snapping back into you, making you moan out in pleasure, “This is gonna be the best fuck of your life.”

“I have no doubts-“

Yoongi began thrusting into you at an animalistic pace, growling lowly, “Fuck- you feel, so good.” He attached his lips to your neck, biting into the flesh, tearing through the bite scar as he injected his venom back into you, making you scream, the burning feeling through your veins making the experience so much better.

“Fuck Yoongi-“ You bucked your hips up, letting Yoongi fuck you deeper than before. His thrusts were perfect, hitting your sweet spot every time. His eyes had turned red, his canines still bared. He was going crazy, and you dug your nails into his pale biceps, “I’m gonna squirt again-“

He pulled out, using his cock to rub your clit aggressively, as you let loose, letting your liquids come out, bringing you a pleasurable feeling.

Yoongi smirked as he entered you again, going faster than before due to the increased wetness you had caused. He lazily played with your clit, too focused on getting you both to another high.

You clenched around him, pressure building up in your clit as you legs spasmed from how sensitive you were, telling you and Yoongi that you were almost getting to your high.

“You’re close sweetheart,” Yoongi growled, pressing your hips down carefully, “You’re gonna scream my name.”

He went faster, harder. So hard you were sure that if you were human, you would break. He hand on your clit went as crazy as his thrusts did, slowing down partially, before getting a boost of adrenaline.

“I’m cumming-“

“YOONGI!”

You clenched hard around him, your vision going white as Yoongi bite into your shoulder, vibrations being sent through your skin from his muffled grunts. His cum poured into you, and you took it eagerly, finding the feeling of his cum inside you comforting.

He pulled out, panting hard. He fell on the bed next to you, smiling as your hand subconsciously linked with his, squeezing it weakly.

You caught your breath, wiping your sweat from your forehead, “Feel better?”

“I should be fine for the rest of the week now,” Yoongi sighed, rolling onto his side to face you, “Thank you, really.”

You snuggled into his side, letting sleep overtake your exhausted body, “I love you.”

Yoongi chuckled, kissing your forehead sweetly, “I love you too sweetheart.”

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hufflepuff-ravenclaw-reviews · 5 years

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Proven Innocent Season 1 Episode 1

Being a crime drama, this review discusses suicide, murder, drug use, and the murder of a child.

Before I begin my review, I'd like to preface it by stating that a few years ago, there was another show with a similar plot based around a Project Innocence theme. It only lasted for one season, but I really rather enjoyed it while it lasted.

I also love crime dramas, and true crime. So obviously, this show is perfect for me.

Anyway...

Met our main character, Madeline Scott. She's a lawyer, who goes to somebody's house late at night. She has a court order for a DNA sample, but the guy isn't exactly eager to give Madeline anything. He has a gun, although Madeline is quick to tell him that if she goes missing or is injured, then cops will come to get the DNA sample... and to find out what happened to Madeline. However, the man turns the gun to himself instead. Madeline calls 911, but instead hangs up. She takes a blood sample... and the guy's dog.

But Madeline hasn't always been a lawyer. Before that, she and her brother, Levi, had been convicted of killing their friend, Rosemary, and sat in jail for 10 years before the court overturned the ruling and said that they were innocent. After that, Madeline went to Harvard, where she graduated top of her class, and went on to go work for the man who'd helped her, who now runs a Project Innocence-like organization.

Some time later, Madeline goes to court to defend a man who'd been wrongfully convicted. The prosecutor is the same man who put Madeline and Levi away, so when he comes into the courtroom, she has a lot of traumatic flashbacks involving the day that she and her brother were convicted. Madeline goes up to start arguing her case, but before she can, the prosecutor steps up and says that he's withdrawing the case, and he believes that he made a mistake in putting the man away.

Later, the law firm holds a fundraiser. They might help those that they believe to be wrongfully convicted for free, but they need to get money from somewhere. Rich donors is a good place to start. At the mixer, Madeline talks to a reporter. He seems intent on going on a date with Madeline, although it seems as though she's always brushing him off.

Finally, the prosecutor announces that he's running for... some sort of fancy office. This understandably ticks Madeline off something fierce. So she brings them a case: Gothic Child Killer. And... that name says enough, don't you think? But here's a few problems: first off, the lady had been a pastor's wife, and she dressed accordingly in literally all old photos of her that they could find. Second, she insists that something was done to her in the ambulance ride, which leads to a missing toxicology report. Talking with her in prison reveals that she doesn't know why she confessed to the murder, and she barely remembers that night at all. Madeline's boss isn't exactly happy about the entire affair.

Meanwhile, while Madeline has been making quite the name for herself as somebody other than “Rosemary's murderer”, Levi has been struggling. He has a job coaching kid's soccer, but he's one day confronted by two of his former “friends” who don't like that their conviction was overturned. They come back to beat him up after practice is over; Levi tries to talk him down, and reminds them that you could face upwards of ten years in jail. But that doesn't matter, hit with baseball bat.

Madeline goes to get her brother out from jail (which we don't see). But as she goes into the courthouse, she runs into the wife of the guy, one of her former “friends” as well. The lady says that a lot of people still think that Madeline and Levi should never have gotten out, because they killed Rosemary. Madeline turns the tables and says that she's certain that Heather killed Rosemary. That seems to shut her up, at least.

Later, one of the lawyers comes back after having poked around the firehouse for a while. He says that the fire captain said that the year of the fire, it was a “charcoal Christmas”. That it to say, there was a production of cheap Christmas lights that set a lot of fires on Christmas trees that year. And while nobody can say for certain that the lady had bought those lights, it sure raises a few questions.

Madeline and her boss, Ezekiel “Easy” go to talk to the EMT. She says that she didn't give the lady anything, but drew her blood, because that's standard procedure. They know that the toxicology report is missing... doubly so because Madeline found a copy of a report with a staple in it, and it said “see attached report”, but there was literally only one page. They ask the EMT if she could get the report for them. She's reluctant, but comes through in the end. The report says that the lady was suffering from carbon monoxide poisoning, which among other things, puts people into a highly suggestible state.

Finally, the lady had said that her husband said all of these things about how awful and cruel that she was. However, his testimony was in English, and do you want to guess what language that the man barely speaks? English. Bodie, the investigator, is sent out to find the man.

First, Easy tries to get the prosecutor to make a plea. However, he kind of refuses... until Easy mentions “Oh gee, what a shame it would be to your career as a politician if these missing toxicology reports were released to the press...”

Madeline and Easy go talk to the lady in prison. Easy just wants the lady to agree to child endangerment, where she'll be let out for time served. However, upon prompting from their client, Madeline gives an impassioned speech about wanting to do the right thing, even if it's not easy. She wants to go to court. Easy reams Madeline out over this, stating that she's manipulating the client. Madeline however, views it as emphasizing with the lady, because she was once in her shoes. Although, I personally feel like she's walking a thin line between the two.

Bodie eventually comes back from having found the now ex-husband... who beat poor Bodie up because he was scared that Bodie was ICE. Anyway, this leads them to the conclusion that they need to look into the translator who'd provided the transcription for the husband.

And because we also have the season/series wide question of “who killed Rosemary” (her killer never having been caught), Levi calls up Madeline after being fired from his job. He confesses to his sister that he and Rosemary had been together romantically. Madeline had been certain that Levi had only just found Rosemary's body, but now she's not quite sure if that's the case.

She's also got quite a wall of evidence about Rosemary's murder going in the little office where she sleeps. (And the dog she stole from the guy at the beginning of the show is there now, too.)

The judge had previously just about thrown out their case the day before, before Bodie had shown up. However, the next day, they bring in the translator... Who has been arrested for having mistranslated so many statements, all according to what HE thought was right and wrong.

The judge is rightfully horrified over this, and almost immediately sets the poor woman free. The prosecutor, in the mean time, in an effort to try and save face, says that he's going to look into some of his past cases to try and find out if this particular translator might have affected any other cases. However, the judge doesn't exactly seem very thrilled with this idea.

I was kind of looking forward to what this show could offer, and I have to say, I'm not disappointed in the least. The scene when the old man was freed, and then again when the lady was freed had me in near tears. The on-going mystery of who really killed Rosemary is interesting. Madeline is a sympathetic character (the same could not be said of the main character from the other drama series). And the cases are realistic; I could be watching this unfolding on my local news.

Overall, a great first episode, and I'm looking forward to the rest of the season.

#Proven Innocent #The Ravenclaw mod

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italicwatches · 5 years

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The Good Place, season 2 - Episode 05

Tomorrow…Is gonna be busy. But today, at least, I’ve got some time to work with. It’s The Good Place, season 2, episode 05! Here we GO!

-We begin at Eleanor’s place, with Chidi putting the trolley problem in front of the class. One of the classic head scratchers. You know how it works. Your trolley’s brakes fail. On the track ahead are five people. You can do nothing, and they die. You can switch to a side track, on which there’s one person, but that means making the active choice to kill that person. What do you do?

-Eleanor’s questioning is remarkably…pragmatic in her own way. She wants to know about the people, and if there’s a nasty ex, or a judgmental shopkeep. …You do not. Okay, then, gotta go for the least harm. Better to live with the guilt of choosing one death than the guilt of un-choice making for five.

-Tahani gets lost in her lifestyle stuff. But, she also picks saving the five.

-Right, good! That’s a pretty common answer. But the trolley problem is interesting because of how data changes it. Say the one is a good friend of yours, or a loved one. Or what if you’re not, yourself, on the trolley, but just a bystander who might be able to reach the track switch in time? Or even, skip the trolley itself, look to another metaphor. You’re a doctor facing five people with organ failures, and you’ve got one healthy organ donor. You could save all five…If you shot the donor in the head right now.

-And so that does make things different. The raw arithmetic is the same, but the framework changes the moral quandary. And through the whole thing, Michael’s been awfully quiet. But to him, the dilemma is clear.

-How do you kill all six? His plan is a long pole arm hung out the window. to catch the one while we catch the five. …He’s wrong, isn’t he. Yep! Now write “People = good” ten more times on the blackboard.

-Chapter 19!

-After all of that, Tahani and Jay are gonna tap out and take their free hour before they’re expected at a thing…I assume they’re gonna go bone down again.

-I WAS RIGHT

-And so after their boning down, or as Jay puts it, ‘pounding it out’, Tahani is all worried about people finding out…But Jay thinks she needs to talk about this with someone. Of course, Tahani doesn’t have anyone she can go to in this place, because the only two fellow humans are the ones she’s trying to keep from finding out… (Janet’s right there, guys. Not, like, literally, that would be weird and also I have to clarify given the character but you get my point)

-Back at Eleanor’s place, Chidi’s struggling to get this stuff to stick with Michael…And aside from his attempt to form it into a rap musical, the core thing Eleanor leaves him with is…time. You’ve got time, use it. Michael’s gonna be a slow burn, but they’ll get him there. And very no on the rap musical.

-Back to Tahani! She hits on the idea that she can talk it out with Janet. And Janet even gets out a notebook and some quite frankly adorable glasses to be a sounding board slash therapist.

-New day, new scene, Chidi’s chatting with Michael about his…Complete and utter failure to grasp the ethical questions in Les Miserables. He’s relying too heavily on his concrete knowledge of how the back-end of the whole system works, and thus not doing the real work, which is about questioning assumptions.

-Back with Tahani’s therapy sessions, where Janet hits on a core element of Tahani’s problem: She has no experience with someone like Jay…And if I may interject? Tahani’s whole deal, aside from seeking fame and fortune to get all eyes on her, is sticking firmly in well-charted waters so she can memorize those charts and look like the smartest person in the room for following them.

-Speaking of Jay, he stumbles on in and Janet decides she wants to hear his side of things. Tahani, though, cuts it off with, and I quote: “He thinks I have to control everything and he has no voice in this relationship. Right? Good. Now, where were we?”

-And then she hears herself actually say it, and…Okay. Okay, she’ll step out.

-Back with Michael and Chidi, Chidi tries to get two concepts into Michael’s head: First, these things do not have concrete answers, that is their point. Second, when it comes to grappling with and explaining human ethics? Chidi knows more than you do.

-Michael’s not buying it. He’s not liking all this theoretical stuff, and so he decides they need to have a more concrete example.

-And that’s how they’re on a speeding trolley with the very real, concrete scenario in play. Five workmen on this track, one on that one! Here’s the levers! Do what you’re gonna do, Chidi!

-Chidi ends up doing nothing and hits all five. Good lesson, Chidi. What did they learn? Come on, they weren’t real people, he’d never make you kill real people. “Oh, well that’s reassuring, because some of the parts of the fake people FLEW INTO MY MOUTH!” Chidi is not having a great day.

-And, okay, back to the classroom. And fresh restart on the trolley! So, take another run at it? PULL THE LEVER, Chidi! Also this version of the problem has the one person be Henry, of the infamous boots.

-Which slap across Chidi’s face when he’s forced to run Henry the fuck over.

-The Ethics Express comes to a stop, as Chidi’s in screaming shock and Eleanor’s trying not to let her inner Michael Bay fan out too much.

-Baaack to therapy! Jay’s problem is that, fundamentally when you boil out all the jokes about his stupidity, is “I feel like Tahani’s embarrassed that I’m not some scientist who forecloses on banks.” Speaking of Tahani, cue Tahani who’s freaking out and she needs Janet. …Janet, what about couples therapy?

-She’s game! Also her upped thumb just came off, filled with helium, and floated into the air. She might be operating a bit out of protocol here and it might be making for some glitches in the physics engine.

-Let’s see how the trolley problem is going. Chidi chose to run over five Shapespeares to save one Santa Claus. Interesting! And Eleanor’s feeling like they need to call it on this trolley problem. Michael agrees.

-How about the doctor one?

-So that’s how they all find themselves in scrubs, and these five people all need organ transplants! Eleanor’s perfectly healthy! (You are so lucky that the afterlife makes that true) Slice her open and use her parts to save these patients! Wait, wait Chidi think about this, think it through man, she’s your…No, she’s your…She’s A friend!

-And Chidi takes a hardline stance. Look, in this scenario he’s a doctor, right? Right. Hippocratic oath. First, do no harm. He is not going to violate that oath. Cool, cool. …Tell the families.

-“Doctor Chidi? My daddy needed a heart transplant. Did you save his life? He was working, then a really bad man ran him over with a trolley.”

-I literally cannot outdo that. Like, my goal with these is generally to make the jokes just as punchy, to make the drama just as tasty, to get as much of the experience of the show in as possible. But I can think of no way to do better than just straight quoting that entire line right there.

-Even Chidi has to call bullshit and Eleanor realizes Michael is just torturing them. …Okay, yeah, it’s true, sorry but it was pretty fun right? …No, Michael. No, it was not. Your entire premise for why they’re working with you is that the alternative is being tortured. You have just undermined the entire justification for why you’re here, and you are no longer welcome in this class. Get the fork out!

-Chidi stomps off furiously, and Michael is legitimately confused.

-A full hour later, Eleanor checks in with Chidi…Who has been concentrating on a table of contents to help calm his nerves. It’s not working. But Chidi has decided this was all a sham from the start…But Eleanor’s got another theory she’s working on.

-Back to therapy. Where Janet tries to get Tahani to give all the things she likes about Jay. …He’s thoughtful, and kind. Deeply un-self-aware and has no reason for his confidence, but all of that confidence means he actually goes for it in the bedroom…

-But from Jay’s boiled down perspective, he tries to be nice to Tahani, and yet she’s often not very nice to him. That’s…Not okay. And all Tahani can ask for is time. …And then Janet vomits up a frog, which is very much not the plan.

-Meanwhile, Eleanor’s gone to Michael’s office and you’re doing what she used to do. You’re lashing out when you feel like you’re not good enough. You felt dumb and small, so you took it out on the teacher.

-Bullshit!

-Okay, prove her wrong. Go make it up to him, and make it right, and prove you’re better than she was. Or stay down in the mucky muck of Shellstrop conflict tactics.

-So that’s how Michael ends up back at Eleanor’s place, having done a lot of long hard thoughts to get them each something they will deeply enjoy.

-For Tahani…A diamond the size of her god damned fist, but she’s giddy. For Eleanor, you have a secret shrimp dispenser! Ohhhh yes this is good.

-For Jay? A Pikachu balloon awwww he popped it.

-And for Chidi? It took a lot of long, hard thoughts…But he figured it out. One of Immanuel Kant’s lost notebooks, plucked right from his history. Full of thoughts, and musings, and…some crude erotic doodles. Interesting guy, Kant.

-Cool, cool.

-Chidi chucks it right in the bin.

-He’s not interested in a bribe or having his forgiveness and love bought, Michael. So what DO you want? For Michael to admit that he felt lost and small and vulnerable?!

-…Well yeah.

-So, Michael does exactly that aaaand he was totally faking it if you ask me. Also, bribe or no bribe, Eleanor’s keeping the shrimp machine.

-Cut to a month later! Tahani and Jay’s relationship has become stronger, better. …And then Janet books it because an earthquake is running hard through the whole facility!

-She appears in Michael’s office because she is going wrong. Her glitches are getting worse and she can’t stop them. She is going to put this neighborhood at total risk of utter collapse. …So that’s her day, how are you doing?

-Credits!

Well SHIT

#where I watch #recap #live action #the good place #season 2 #spoilers

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likegoldrp · 6 years

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membergroups + subplots

today, our content preview is going to be our membergroups and half of our site subplots!

our membergroups are pretty straightforward - the five boroughs of new york city (and we can’t forget out-of-city commuters!) we have noticed both from our own experience and you all’s survey responses that, with personality member groups, it’s often hard to fit a character into just one group. we find that it can be restrictive at times, so we wanted to make it easy. we gave a brief description of what the boroughs each offer, as well as a list of aesthetics that may guide you into picking a general vibe for your character to associate themselves with. even so, keep in mind that these aesthetics are not binding and don’t have to represent the character. the amazing thing about new york city is that no matter the stereotypes associated with a certain section of the city, there are always exceptions due to its incredible diversity!

next, we have six of our thirteen subplots! at this time, you’re free to go ahead and send an ask reserving spots in any of the subplots (whether listed in the blurb or not, you can put your character into any role in a subplot that you see fit!). today, we’ll be showing you the following six subplots: murder mystery, greek life, nyc ballet, broadway, staten island yankees and glow women’s magazine! if you’re holding your breath for any of our other subplots, don’t worry! we’ll be releasing the remaining seven very, very soon.

subplots will all be under the cut!

clockwork killer

21 years ago, a man named jonathan goldwyn was arrested for seven counts of murder and eight counts of kidnapping. his crime was meticulous, well planned out, and most importantly - terrifying. every six months a young girl (ages ranging from 14-21) from manhattan would go missing, and like clockwork, three months later to the day, her body would begin to turn up piece by piece. for three years, goldwyn terrorized the nypd with letters including nonsense puzzles as hints to his identity. it wasn't until he was turned in by his own son that the truth was revealed. the eighth victim, and only known survivor, moved to california never to return. two years ago, goldwyn died in the sing sing correctional facility after an altercation with a fellow inmate.

on december 31st, 2017 SAMANTHA CLAYTON left her home for a friends new years eve party. of course when she didn't return, her family began to worry. it was unlike her to not at least call, so immediately the police were brought in. at first, this was being handled as a typical missing persons case, until one month later when a letter arrived at the home of the LEAD DETECTIVE. a letter stating "i'm back, did you miss me?" with a 97% handwriting match to the late jonathan goldwyn. when march 1st came around and the police found their first piece of clayton, it was confirmed. new york city had a copycat killer on their hands.

despite the efforts of the nypd, when june 1st rolled around the cries of CHEYENNE JENKINS' parents could be heard for miles when she didn't return home. three months later, the city of new york waits to see what will turn up.

with time ticking, the nypd has nearly tripled their efforts to find the man who has begun to taunt the city once again. SUSPECT ONE a new york university professor who had both clayton and jenkins in separate english classes. the only common link found between the two girls. SUSPECT TWO, a fellow student with what can only be described as an unhealthy obsession with the case. and lastly, SUSPECT THREE, the only living child of jonathan goldwyn - the one who originally turned his father in for his crimes who moved back to new york only a few years before the killings began again.

* known associates of samantha clayton: 004. young with money

* known associates of cheyenne jenkins: 007. go greek

clayton family

FIRST CLAYTON / 45+ / FACE

FIRST CLAYTON / 20-26 / FACE

FIRST CLAYTON / 20-26 / FACE (daisy)

SAMANTHA CLAYTON / 19 / FACE TBD

jenkins family

FIRST JENKINS / 45+ / FACE

FIRST JENKINS / 19-26 / FACE

CHEYENNE JENKINS / 21 / FACE TBD

dedicated officers

FIRST LAST / LEAD DETECTIVE / 30+ / FACE

WESLEY JAIN / 28 / DEV PATEL

FIRST LAST / AGE / FACE

suspects

FIRST LAST / SUSPECT 1 / 30+ / FACE

FIRST LAST / SUSPECT 2 / 20+ / FACE

FIRST GOLDWYN / SUSPECT 3 / 35+ / FACE

greek life (nyu alpha chi mu & tri pi)

in such a huge city, it can be easy for people of all ages to find themselves lost in the crowd. however, the hardship seems to fall unevenly on the young students that come from as far as siberia - or as close as greenwich village - to come to schools in new york city. without a campus or a physical way to corral students together, new york university has established an extensive list of activities, clubs and opportunities to get students together and make the city a little smaller.

something that sets nyu apart from its university counterparts in the city - like columbia, fordham, and countless others - is that is has a thriving network of greek life organizations that many students take advantage of when they come in as freshman. it's a home for many, a way to make connections with like-minded individuals and make use of the opportunities and connections that a fraternity or sorority offers.

in recent years, greek life at nyu has found itself hitting roadblock after roadblock. fraternities have been shut down, forbidden from hosting parties or even participating in philanthropic events. after two of the so-called top tierfraternities found themselves being pushed off campus, alpha chi mu has found themselves in an awkward position. they'd never been a top tier fraternity themselves, but with their competition gone they've moved up significantly in the ranks. now, recruitment is busier than ever with guys fighting tooth and nail for spots in what is now their best shot at being cool. the current members, in response, are both swimming in the new attention and grappling for some sense of familiarity that they've lost in the upending of their reputation.

their newfound status has surely not come without issue. the 2017-2018 school year came and went with several scandals that they successfully swept under the rug: several close calls with members getting alcohol poisoning or circulating speculation of the brothers spiking drinks at mixers with xanax (accompanied by rumors of harder drugs being sprinkled in with it). there were even whispers that a domestic dispute between a brother and his tri pi girlfriend turned violent and all the partygoers were sworn to silence, but if it really did happen, no one's saying.

despite all of this, alpha chi and nyu's top tier sorority, tri pi, are going into fall recruitment with a clean slate and a thirst for fresh blood - and fresh blood they'll get.

WHISTLEBLOWER is new to greek life, but she's not coming in without a goal. an ever-eager journalism major, she's heard the whispers around campus and saw it immediately as a chance to make a discovery and lift herself up in the process.

WHISTLEBLOWER's vying for tri pi and for a way to get close to alpha chi and all the dirty secrets she'll be able to unearth in the process. with the threat of being exposed and kicked off campus looming just behind the clouds where they haven't seen it yet, the brothers of alpha chi mu and the sisters of tri pi are simply getting ready for recruitment and a new pledge class to get to know. little do they know, they'll have to be on their best behavior to avoid letting WHISTLEBLOWER uncover all their indiscretions.

AXM

FIRST LAST / PRESIDENT / 21-22 / FACE

FIRST LAST / RECRUITMENT VP / 21-22 / FACE

FIRST LAST / COMMUNICATIONS VP / 21-22 / FACE

CHAD BAJEK / MEMBER / 21 / TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET

ΠΠΠ

FIRST LAST / PRESIDENT / 21-22 / FACE

LYDIA BEATON / WHISTLEBLOWER / 20 / OLIVIA HOLT

new york city ballet

nobody goes to the ballet anymore.

at least, according to the board of the new york city ballet, one of the world’s foremost dance companies. seeing their ticket sales decline over the past decade, the board has been besides themselves figuring out how to bring in new patrons while still trying to appease the old.

one of their orders of business has been to diversify their staff. the young and ambitious M1 has recently been hired as the company’s new artistic director, charged with bringing his charisma and energy to the box office. as promised, he’s been working to siphon new, exciting talent… and to get rid of the old.

F1 is worried about this. she’s the company’s premiere principal, after all, and after years of playing the very best roles, the changing times are starting to freak her out. currently on what looks like to be a career downslide, she’s been in the studio more than ever, spending all her time and energy trying to keep her job.

which might not be enough when you’ve got girls like F2working their way up to the top — or is it sleeping? young, beautiful and reportedly not nearly as talented as she should be, she’s been recently promoted to principal dancer and is eyeing F1’s roles with hunger and determination. she swears she’s got the skill, and she puts in the time, but it probably doesn’t hurt that she’s been seeing one of the nycb’s top donors, M2, for the past couple of months, coinciding perfectly with her new gig. and that rumor about her fling with M1? well, she’ll never tell.

not that she has to, with gossips like F3 and F4 around. longtime friends of F1 and ballerinas of perfect pedigree, they’ve been doing their due diligence in spreading around petty gossip so F2 knows her behavior isn’t welcome here. F3has even been hatching a plan to leak it all to the press, once she’s got enough details… the principal spot really should’ve gone to her, after all.

will any of this matter? will the change in talent give the nycb the kick it needs to keep itself around? or will the drama playing out behind the stage be more important than what’s happening on it?

FIRST LAST / M1 (ARTISTIC DIRECTOR) / 32+ / FACE

FIRST LAST / M2 (DONOR) / 25+ / FACE

FIRST LAST / F1 (PRINCIPAL DANCER) / 30+ / FACE

ROBIN CASEY / F2 (PRINCIPAL DANCER) / 26 / DANIELLE CAMPBELL

FIRST LAST / F3 (SOLOIST) / 25+ / FACE

FIRST LAST / F4 (SOLOIST) / 20+ / FACE (daisy)

FIRST LAST / PRINCIPAL DANCER / 27+ / FACE

FIRST LAST / SOLOIST / 20+ / HWANG HYUNJIN (artemis)

WINNIE VO / SOLOIST / 22 / LANA CONDOR (jo)

FIRST LAST / CORPS DU BALLET / 20+ / FACE

FIRST LAST / DONOR / 20+ / AGE / FACE

clueless the musical

with the huge success of musicals adapted from movies, such as mean girls and anastasia, broadway's hottest trend shows no signs of dying off any time soon. maybe it's the nostalgia or maybe no one has any creative ideas left, but producers have been racing to be the ones to put on the next adapted smash hit, and it seems that each premiere generates even more buzz than the last. such is the case with writer robert kendall's latest production, clueless the musical. aptly titled after it's forefather, the classic 90s teen flick, clueless is fun, flashy, and smart. the cast, composed mostly of newcomers, bring impressive vocal chops with impeccable comedic timing to match. critics have been raving about the show - from the cast to the music to the production value - and tickets are selling out fast. but do these broadway newbies have what it takes to carry a show that will make a lasting impression or will the fading excitement of a new fad leave clueless in the dust?

FIRST LAST / CHER / AGE / FACE

NINA JORDAN / DIONNE / 27 / LAURA HARRIER

FIRST LAST / TAI / AGE / FACE

FIRST LAST / JOSH / AGE / FACE

FIRST LAST / CHRISTIAN / AGE / FACE

FIRST LAST / MURRAY / AGE / FACE

FIRST LAST / ELTON / AGE / FACE

FIRST LAST / TRAVIS / AGE / FACE

FIRST LAST / AMBER / AGE / FACE

FIRST LAST / MR. HALL / AGE / FACE

FIRST LAST / MS. GEIST / AGE / FACE

FIRST LAST / ENSEMBLE / AGE / FACE

staten island yankees

ah, baseball: the great american pastime, played by kids all over the united states, loved and adored by millions. it's infiltrated american culture like few other subjects are able to do, with the mlb surpassing $10 billion dollars in revenue for the past year. the dream starts young for many, but it hardly stops once little league players grow up. so many young men across the country have taken it to the next level, playing in college or even the major leagues - but there is an intermediary step that many forget.

the minor leagues are where many people start, signed to a major league team but playing for their satellite minor league team. these players are young, fresh, hungry for blood and playing time, but they're not quite ready for everything that the major leagues offer and the responsibilities that come along with those vast opportunities. as realistic as it is to put a buffer between these young and hungry early-twenty-somethings and immeasurable fame and fortune, most of them don't see it that way.

the staten island yankees are the satellite team for the famed new york yankees, way across the river in staten island. they're small, some of them having played on bigger fields in high school or in brief stints in college before they made their way to the baby bombers, but they're mighty. as minor league goes, the staten island yankees are good.

after a pretty rough time without making it to the playoffs oncefor ten years in a row, something sparked with these underdogs. in 2015, they came out of nowhere and won the playoffs, setting an intimidating precedent for the following years. this year, they've got a promising roster of high school state champs and shining college stars that found the university circuit stage too dim for their big dreams.

all that talent comes at a cost though: egos are clashing, coaching styles are falling flat, and the whole team is wondering whether they can make a name for themselves like past years' teams have, helping themselves to stand out against all the other choices in the sea of baseball recruits. some are banding together, trying to build the team as a whole, and some are trying to shine individually - there's no telling which one will bank the most value, though, and only time will tell.

FIRST LAST / PITCHER / FACE

FIRST LAST / CATCHER / FACE

FIRST LAST / FIRST BASE / FACE

FIRST LAST / SECOND BASE / FACE

FIRST LAST / SHORT STOP / FACE

FIRST LAST / THIRD BASE / FACE

FIRST LAST / OUTFIELD / FACE

FIRST LAST / COACH / FACE

FIRST LAST / MANAGER / FACE

glow magazine

with magazines shuttering left and right and journalism turning to digital, glow magazine — the number one women’s magazine in the country, where you can find everything from sex tips to celebrity interviews to thinkpieces on the state of the healthcare system — is in crisis mode.

over the past few years, glow has seen its subscriptions steadily decrease, only to plummet during the last financial year. in effort to bring some money to the business, its previous publisher recently sold the glossy to vancamp media, a media stronghold interested in restoring glow to its so-called former glory — and board members such as M1, whose family founded vancamp, has ideas of how to do it.

this puts glow editor-in-chief F1 in a tough spot. revered by the journalism world and her employees alike as strong, tough and incredible at what she does, F1 is suddenly seeing many of her choices go under the microscope by a company that swears she’s bleeding money left and right.

meanwhile, the company gossip mill is churning with rumors of layoffs and lower-paid replacements. this terrifies longtime section editors while maybe piquing the interest of younger upstarts, who just might be able to turn their youth (and lower pay) into a pitch to the board for a promotion. for example, digital director F2 is starting to wonder if she could be a contender for top dog should M1 decide her mentor, F1, just isn’t cutting it in the new frontier of journalism.

in the midst of all this chaos, will the women (and men) of glow band together to create the best possible product? or will tensions turning to rivalries get the better of everyone?

FIRST VANCAMP / M1 (BOARD MEMBER) / 35+ / FACE

FIRST LAST / F1 (EIC) / 40+ / FACE

FIRST LAST / F2 (DIGITAL DIRECTOR) / 30+ / FACE

FIRST LAST / FASHION DIRECTOR / 30+ / FACE

FIRST LAST / BEAUTY DIRECTOR / 30+ / FACE

FIRST LAST / ENTERTAINMENT DIRECTOR / 30+ / FACE

FIRST LAST / CULTURE & NEWS DIRECTOR / 30+ / FACE

FIRST LAST / HEALTH & FITNESS DIRECTOR / 30+ / FACE

FIRST LAST / PHOTO DIRECTOR / 30+ / FACE

FIRST LAST / DESIGN DIRECTOR / 30+ / FACE

FIRST LAST / (SECTION) EDITOR / 30+ / FACE

AUTUMN ELLIS / ASST. BEAUTY EDITOR / 25 / ZOEY DEUTCH

FIRST LAST / (SECTION) WRITER / 30+ / FACE

#likegoldrp #updates #subplots

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