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hollandorks · 8 months

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haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter seven

Summary: After the sudden deaths of your mother and grandmother, you’re forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke your heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, you vow to get to the bottom of your former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what you’re expecting. a

a/n: Fuck it, here's chapter 7 since the previous post was technically just an interlude! Once again I'm basically begging for comments/ messages/ any interaction other than just likes because I'm greedy!

Series Masterlist

word count: 3.5k

All she had was an eager cop, a detective, and the detective’s vigilante best friend.

She hoped it would be enough.

Y/n knew that boredom would be her worst enemy, so she downloaded a police scanner app and listened to it almost religiously while she worked. The constant stream of voices helped keep the grief at bay and helped her focus.

To her surprise, the cops seemed to want Batman around. There were a couple of calls those first couple of days–an armed robbery and a creep taking pictures through a window–where the officers mentioned him by name. He’d stopped the armed robbery before the cops got there and also caught the peeping Tom. One cop grumbled on the radio how all their work was being taken by some guy in a costume. The rest of them jumped to Batman's defense, saying there was more than enough crime to go around. “Besides,” one chuckled. “I wouldn't want to be the one to catch some creep with his dick out.”

Y/n was almost pleased to hear the good relationship the vigilante had with GCPD. She wondered how much Gordon had to do with that. She made a few notes of their comments for her article, because it was definitely interesting to see that a city wanted a guy who operated outside the law around.

It was a few nights before an interesting call came through.

A witness reported a woman being shot. A young woman. The details were sparse but it was enough to pique her interest.

Y/n couldn’t say what it was that had her dressing warmly and grabbing her camera and phone. Stupidity, definitely. But it was one of those moments where she felt in her gut that something was happening, something related to her case.

Pepper spray clutched in one hand and camera in the other, she left the safety of Wayne Tower. Every shadow made her jump. She called a cab to take her to the crime scene–or at least as close as she could get. It was practically on the other side of the city and she definitely didn’t want to chance walking alone at night in Gotham.

They were stopped two blocks from the scene, so she got out and peered around. It looked like the actual crime scene was on the other side of an apartment building to her right, but that alley was blocked off as was the street in front of her. So she walked a little further down to the next connecting alley to get to one street over.

“What are you doing here?”

“Shit!” She screamed. She whirled and swung her arm up to use the mace, but her wrist was quickly caught in an iron grip. She tried to scramble away and almost fell when the hand suddenly released her.

Her heart only slightly calmed when she saw who it was.

The Batman.

She pressed her knuckles to her chest. Her heart was jumping out of her chest. “Jesus fucking Christ. What are you doing here?”

He watched her passively, half in the shadows. He had stepped away as soon as he let her go. “I asked first.”

She closed her eyes for a beat and inhaled a steadying breath. “Probably the same thing you’re doing here.” She shrugged. Her pulse was still racing but she knew she was safe now. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. And besides, there were about a million cops just around the corner. If she screamed, they would come.

“It’s too dangerous,” he growled. He took a half-step forward, like he would grab her again.

She held up the pepper spray. “Not afraid to use this on you, buddy. Besides, you’re here now to keep me safe. And the other fifty cops out there.”

He stopped. His eyes narrowed. She wanted to get closer, see what color they were, help narrow down who might be underneath the mask.

“Fine, let’s go.” He started to walk past her, towards the blue and red lights at the end of the alley.

She blinked in surprise. “That was easy.”

He looked back over his shoulder at her. “Only because you’re going to do what you want to do. At least this way I can keep an eye out for you.”

She grinned and winked. “You’re learning already.”

They walked down the alley together, her shadowy protector moving to stay one step behind her like a bodyguard.

At the end of the alley, the world was leached of color in the whirling red and blue lights, the flashes timed almost perfectly to the beat of her heart. She snapped a quick wide picture. She could see the area cordoned off with bright yellow tape.

“Well, of all the officers in all of Gotham,” she said pleasantly when she spied Martinez keeping onlookers away from the crime scene tape.

Officer Martinez’s young face brightened when he saw her, then changed comically fast when he peered over her shoulder. She could feel the Batman’s presence at her back, looming over her.

“She’s with me,” the vigilante said. Martinez sighed but held up the tape to let them under. She sensed there was a story between them and itched to find out what it was.

“If either of you touch anything…” Martinez grumbled. “It’s my neck.”

Y/n flashed him her most winning smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep the big guy in line.” Martinez grinned back.

“So Martinez doesn’t like you, huh?” she asked the vigilante.

He ignored her.

The air around them was humid, wet. It must have rained earlier, like most nights in Gotham. A few cop cars were leaving already. She wondered what had brought on the intense response. Her stomach tightened as they approached another alley. Gordon was talking to a young guy, late teens to early twenties, taking notes on a small notepad as the guy wiped at his face.

Y/n quickly fumbled for her phone and set it to record. She wasn’t making the same mistake twice. Except for, well, the whole leaving Wayne Tower late at night while a murderer might be after her mistake she’d already made. She snapped another sneaky picture of Gordon and the young man.

She caught Batman watching her and arched an eyebrow as if daring him to say anything.

He simply turned away and said, “Gordon.”

“Thank you,” Gordon said to who she assumed was a witness. “We’ll be in touch.”

The guy hurried off, shoulders hunched, his face almost green.

Gordon turned, saw her, and sighed. “I would ask, but…”

She winked. “You’re both learning so quickly. I’m proud.”

“What happened?” Batman asked, all business. Y/n glanced past Gordon and saw a body covered in a sheet. The medical examiner was unzipping a body bag, about to transport it.

The detective’s attention turned to the vigilante. “Single gunshot to the head at close range. Woman in her thirties walking home from work. Guy heard the gunshots and came running. Said he didn’t see the shooter but immediately called it in. Unfortunately, his dinner has…contaminated part of the scene.”

While they were talking, y/n quietly lifted her camera and started taking pictures.

The medical examiner lifted the sheet. She took another picture but paused.

She took a shaky step back and bumped into something. Gloved hands steadied her by her elbows.

“Oh,” Batman said softly. He put it together quicker than she had. Her brain was scrambling to keep up. The girl on the ground was a bloody mess, face down, legs sprawled like she’d tried to run. She was wearing a similar outfit to y/n–leggings, sweater, running shoes.

But that wasn’t where the similarities ended.

The height, the body shape, the hair color, even the shade of her skin…

The woman looked like y/n.

She didn’t realize she was shaking until Batman gently squeezed her elbows.

“Shit,” Gordon said. He must not have seen the body when he first arrived on the scene.

“Don’t look,” Batman said in her ear, pulling her away, his voice conjuring–of all people–Bruce Wayne. It was just her mind reaching for something familiar, comfortable, safe. She shook the thought away. The vigilante turned her around and held her close. “Don’t look,” he said again.

She closed her eyes against the wave of emotion. Her stomach swooped dangerously. She’d seen a dead body or two before but not–not like this.

“Guess we have confirmation, then,” Gordon said softly. She didn’t have to ask what confirmation they had. She knew already, her gut telling her what exactly had happened despite its churning.

Someone had killed that woman because it looked like her.

They knew what she looked like. They knew well enough to kill someone even with the chance it might not be her.

Which meant they were desperate and that it was only a matter of time before they found her.

“Come on, you need to get out of here,” Gordon said, and this time he had her by the arm. He pulled her along, the vigilante cutting a path through the crowd before them.

Her mind was blank. The shock of seeing a body, of imaging her own in its place, had wiped everything clean. She didn’t protest as Gordon bundled her into the passenger seat of his car. At least he didn’t put me in the back like a criminal, she thought almost deliriously.

Batman stood in the open door, staring down at her. She wasn’t sure when he’d gotten there but now he was filling her vision. Her eyes traced the planes of his armor, wondering what he looked like underneath, who he was. There were dings and scrapes in places, physical memories of past fights.

“I’m going to find who did this,” he said. His voice pitched impossibly lower. “And keep an eye out for you.”

This made her snap out of it. “You can’t be in two places at once.” He had black paint around his eyes. She hadn’t noticed before.

The barest smirk on his lips as he looked away. She couldn’t tell what color his eyes were in the darkness of the night. “You don’t know that for sure.”

She snorted. “You’re right. Maybe you’re some sort of mutant freak. Besides dressing like a bat, you know.” Despite the joking, her hands shook. She tucked them between her thighs.

“Listen,” he said, serious again. There was a note of steel in the word. His voice was so low she could feel it as a vibration on her skin. “Stop sneaking out at night. It’s too dangerous.”

She nodded vaguely but didn’t actually make the promise. If they wanted her dead, Wayne Tower wasn’t going to stop them. Slow them down, maybe, but not stop them. She needed to put the puzzle pieces together, and fast. They were getting closer to figuring out who she was, but she and Gordon and even the Batman only vaguely knew who they were dealing with. They needed to even the score.

“Then give me your phone number so you can be my bodyguard,” she said. She was half teasing.

The Batman seemed to consider it. Her eyes went past him as the gurney passed with the body on it. She shuddered and he stepped to block her view.

“If you have to leave, let Gordon know and one of us will come. But only if you have to.”

“Right,” she scoffed. “You’re allergic to texting.” And probably don’t want a reporter having your phone number, she silently added.

Batman stepped back and then Gordon was there. He put one hand on the top of the car and leaned in, expression as serious as she’d ever seen it. “I’m taking you straight home and you’re going to stay there, alright?”

She waved a hand but nodded. Satisfied, he shut the passenger door. She could hear muffled voices as he said something to Batman. Probably berating him for bringing her to the crime scene in the first place. Or telling him something he didn’t want her to hear.

Within a couple of minutes, Gordon was sliding behind the wheel.

“How’d you even know where to go?” he asked as they drove.

“Police scanner app.”

He glanced over at her. “I hate those things,” he muttered. “What happened to quid pro quo? I would have called you.”

She bit her lip and shrugged. “I can’t just sit around waiting for someone to shoot me in the head.” She shivered at the image she now had of what, exactly, that looked like.

“So you’re going to take yourself right to their doorstep instead?”

“With the way my luck is going lately, it’s only a matter of time anyway. Might as well get as much done as I can first.” She hated to be so casual about it, but she had had really shit luck lately. There was no use hiding from it. If she didn’t leave Wayne Tower, they would probably find a way to break in. Or send a sniper after her. She thought about the times she’d leaned against the windows in the study and a chill went up her spine.

“All you’ve done is traumatize yourself and give me a headache,” he said around a sigh. He really did sound like a tired dad half the time, she mused. She leaned her head back and watched the dark streets of Gotham pass by. She was reminded of another night in Gotham, years ago, on the back of a motorcycle with Bruce.

She pushed the memory away and said, “I’ll pay for a bottle of ibuprofen.”

Gordon laughed softly. “Listen, I know you reporter types are always rushing into danger, but this is your life. Can’t write the story if you’re dead. Text me if you have to go anywhere, and either I’ll come or send someone I trust.”

“Okay,” she said. “But if it takes too long I might leave anyway.” She smiled so he would know she was at least partially kidding. “Have you learned anything new?”

Gordon was silent for so long she knew it was bad news. He parked right in front of Wayne Tower–illegally, she might add.

He turned to face her, his hands idly resting on his knees. “It’s definitely the Gallo family. And another of the suspects we caught is dead. Apparent suicide, but we aren’t so sure. The third one is under around the clock protection, but…”

“Shit,” she said. Now she was the one with a headache. “That is…bad.”

“Can you see why I want you to stay home now?” he asked pleadingly. “Like it or not, I’m responsible for keeping you alive. If we can catch the last guy and get him and the other to trial…you’re an important witness. The only witness.”

“Aw, and here I was thinking you were starting to like me.”

A tightening at the corners of his mouth told her he was trying not to smile. “Let me walk you upstairs.”

“Do you see all the security in there? I’ll be fine.” She gestured towards the lobby. It definitely looked more like a swanky prison these days, even at night when no employees were in the lower floors of the building.

“I wanted to see if I could talk to Bruce Wayne.”

Y/n did a double take. Just the sound of his name made her stomach tighten almost painfully. “Why? To tattle on me? Bruce Wayne is not my keeper. He’s not my anything.” She immediately bit her tongue. She’d said too much with that last sentence, let too much of her hurt and bitterness in.

“I want to talk to him about his security, see if we can bolster it with our officers somehow.” Gordon was already up and out of the car. She scrambled to keep up, briefly getting caught in her seatbelt before yanking it off and hopping out.

Gordon flashed his badge to the security. They all relaxed not at seeing it, but at seeing y/n.

“You better talk to Alfred then, if he’s awake. He’s more in charge of that stuff than Bruce. He’s with me, it’s fine.” She said the last part to the concerned security guard–the new one whose name she still hadn’t learned, the one who had called the police for her the night she’d witnessed the murders. He was in charge of the night shift security, apparently. She wondered if he resented being the only guy at the desk at night to having a whole team around. Or maybe it was less lonely.

Gordon followed her into the private residential elevator. “Be that as it may, I’d like to speak to Mr. Wayne too.”

She sighed but hit the button to take them up to the residential part of Wayne Tower. “You really sound like a dad,” she muttered under her breath.

Gordon cut his eyes at her then smiled.

The elevators opened, and there was Alfred, already dressed and waiting. Security must have called up, warning him the detective was coming. Had he even gone to bed? She was starting to think that Alfred might be nocturnal. Or maybe he didn’t sleep at all. That was new–she and Bruce had gotten in trouble many times when they were younger for interrupting his precious sleep. These days he always seemed to be dressed impeccably, even late at night.

“Detective,” Alfred said pleasantly. He briefly narrowed his eyes at her. “How can I help you?”

Y/n idly scuffed her foot against the floor, suddenly feeling like a teenager again. She had always been caught either sneaking out or sneaking back in. Alfred had a knack for it. Or maybe she wasn’t as good as Bruce had been, who had been caught only twice that she could remember.

Gordon nodded politely. “Is Mr. Wayne feeling better? I’d like to talk to the both of you.”

“I would like to add here that it’s not sneaking out if I’m a grown woman,” y/n said helpfully.

Alfred’s eyes narrowed again before he turned his focus back to Gordon. “Mr. Wayne is out.”

Now y/n was narrowing her eyes at Alfred. He caught her looking. She raised one eyebrow. Was he street racing again? She remembered the bruises on his knuckles. Or part of an illegal fight club? Neither would surprise her.

Another thought struck and stole her breath.

Maybe Bruce had a girlfriend.

“Do you know when he’ll be back?” Gordon asked. His tone was carefully neutral.

“Well, as I was just told, the rules are different for grown men–and women. He comes and goes as he pleases and rarely includes me in his plans.” Alfred was being too professional with it. His tone was too flat. Oh yeah, Bruce was definitely up to something, and Alfred definitely knew exactly what it was. Fuck, she thought desperately. She couldn’t breathe. Alfred would know if Bruce had a girlfriend and he knew her well enough to hide it from her.

Why did the thought of Bruce with another woman hurt so much, even three years later? I don’t love you and I never will, he had said that night.

Which meant he was perfectly capable of loving someone else.

Y/n bit her lip until the pain made the panic recede.

“Of course,” Gordon said in an equally flat, professional tone. “I wanted to chat about security measures. There was another murder tonight, and while I can’t give details of an ongoing investigation…it definitely seems like y/n is a target.”

She cringed, remembering how eerily similar the body had been to hers. Who had the woman been? She hadn’t gotten a name, an age. But she felt like she should know these things if the woman had died in her place. What if she was only the first? Would they kill every woman who looked close enough to y/n before they caught her?

Alfred blinked in surprise, the professional facade slipping. “I–of course, let’s go into my office.”

Y/n wanted to go with them but decided against it. It really would be smarter to listen to Gordon. If she needed to leave, she would get an escort, even if it was Alfred. He may walk with a cane but she knew he was secretly pretty spry. He’d been a spy or soldier or something in his younger years, before coming to work for the Waynes.

“Goodnight, Alfred,” she said, taking a half-step towards the hall that led to her room. “And thanks, Gordon.”

They both nodded and bid her goodnight before disappearing towards the study.

Y/n waited a second then darted to the elevator. The other elevator. Bruce’s.

She didn’t really have a plan other than to see with her own two eyes that Bruce was gone and not just hiding.

She hit the button for what was once the garage and again, nothing happened. She frowned at it and hit it several more times. Still nothing.

What if Bruce was down there with a woman, showing her his cars? Or–She shut the thought down and mashed the button one more time, knowing it was futile.

With a curse, she stepped back out.

Fine, she would go to bed and leave Bruce alone. It didn’t matter if he was wrecking illegally souped up cars or beating someone’s face in and following the first rule of fight club. It didn’t matter if he was with a woman he might love more than he ever loved her.

It didn’t matter. He didn’t matter.

Except, as much as she hated to admit it, he did.

Next Chapter

taglist:

@ktficworld @grunge-n-roses5 @anon-cat-posts @projectdreamwalker @warsaur @lachillona02 @crazyunsexycool @doetic @alexiris @that-girl-named-alex @harry-bowie-mercury @vaniasagitaa @widows-writings @missing-loki @exactlyelegantwizard

#the batman x reader #battinson x reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #the batman 2022 #the batman #battinson #bruce wayne #haven #haven fic

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homeboundmonsters · 3 months

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I don't post a lot of analysis here but enjoy this mad scuffling of thoughts on the Tragedy of Javert as the Failed Lover

For me the moment Javert really loses it over Jean Valjean is not at the barricade but when Jean Valjean ‘dies’. In Toulon Jean Valjean belonged to the system, Javert’s eyes could watch him but they were not the only eyes that possessed Valjean with the intensity and scrutiny of the Law. In Montreuil-Sur-Mer Javert spends four years following him, stalking him. His eyes possess Valjean, he tries to offer him up to the law and is abandoned alone in his scrutiny and observation. Yes, Valjean belongs to the townspeople but not Really because they don’t see him like Javert sees him, they don’t have the intimacy of observation that Javert has. In his unaware and abstract way Javert is trying to understand Valjean, not intellectually but biologically: it is the broadness of his shoulders, the strength of his thighs, the gait he walks with; Javert seeks to understand the way his body speaks. For four years Javert is left alone in his desire and the intensity of his desire to penetrate Valjean’s secrets.

Then the rug is pulled out from under him. His understanding of why he consumes this man is ripped away and, all of a sudden, he has to reframe his understanding of why he feels this intensity of emotion, and desire for ‘knowing’, and he cannot understand it. Instead, he wants to run from it: he wants to be dismissed, to flee into mediocrity and the drudgery of agriculture. He can’t bear the burden of his guilt as a spy, but he has been more than a spy he has been a kind of peeping-Tom wanting to see inside of Madeleine and reveal him. This is an affront to Javert, not because he’s homophobic but because Madeleine is a superior: Madeleine is untouchable, a man of better class, better breeding. But mostly because Javert cannot understand his own feelings beyond the idea of them being an intrusion on the Better class of People that he has been determined to serve. He might as well as become aware of himself peeping into a bedroom window. He is a guard dog, he is not meant to experience what goes on in the house, his place is outside. Yet he has sought out the intimate knowledge of this man and in doing so has intruded beyond his status.

But worse for Javert is the world is turned on its axis again and he is proven right. He has NOT sought to go beyond his bounds, instead he has sniffed out a strange dog in the master’s parlour stealing the master’s meal. He is no longer troubled by the uncertainty of his years long passion. The world is set to right so he settles again into the comfort that his understanding of the world and his role in the world is correct. And then, after having Valjean for himself for four solid years, he gives him back to the prison system only… Javert is not there to observe him. Valjean is given over the scrutinising eyes of others and Javert satisfies himself with service to the Law.

So then, why is he so eager to believe that Valjean is still alive? Surely by all rights he should not care that Valjean is dead, Hugo emphasises that Javert shows little interest in the newspaper article. Well, the answer supplies itself when Javert thinks of Valjean is ‘his convict’. His pursuit of Valjean in Paris is defined by the fact that he does not try to share his suspicions, he does not try to share Valjean with anyone. Again and again he foils his own plans to catch the man. There is intimacy again between them, the kind of safe intimacy that comes without touching, only observing. Javert follows him to where he sleeps and secretes himself in a mirror room to Valjean’s: he is seeking again to have an intimate understanding of Valjean biologically; the way and shape in which he lives his life. He seeks evidence of the physical form, even though some part of himself knows it already his mind and eyes hunger for freedom from doubt. Is that not what Valjean always brings him: doubt? Uncertainty. Hunger, the pursuit of intimacy of understanding, the revealing of secrets and the concealed.

He is paralysed by Valjean’s disappearance at Petit-Picpus. He spends a week pacing outside searching for ways in. There is a physical barrier between him and Valjean, here he cannot observe him, here he cannot fabricate the intimacy that is brought on through observation. He is tormented by it. Why? Why does Valjean’s disappearance torment him in a way that the disappearance of Patron Minette? Javert meets Thernadier- a criminal on the run- in the sewers and is disinterested by him. Why because his mind is shaken by Valjean’s act of mercy? It is more than that. Valjean has breached the unspoken rule of their relationship again: there has been a crossing from observation into physicality and that is always destabilising for Javert. He feels safest when he is observing, that is why he is a spy. He likes to go unnoticed. Valjean brings him out into the open, not as a spy but as Javert the man. And for Javert, all these years he has felt that he understood Valjean, that he observed him and knew him as no one else did. That he had penetrated that man’s secrets, his mind, that he understood his desires and goals, and now he finds he knows nothing about him. All of that imagined intimacy is gone, torn from his hands by a man who tells him to shut up and leave already because he knows nothing.

In the carriage Javert battles with his passion, he desires physical intimacy with Valjean: seize and devour, which he can only understand within the framework of arresting him. And yet we know already that since Valjean has reappeared in Paris has been unable to share him, unwilling to give him away. To devour, to bring something into your body and make it a part of you, to process it until it becomes indistinguishable from yourself. These feelings are not new, the desire not to let Valjean go into the hands of others is not new, but for the first time Javert is wrestling with the idea that this means he must turn his back on his Mother and Father: The Law. It is the classic story of the Lover, the Lover must always leave his family to start his own with the object of his affection, but how can Javert do that when his Mother and Father, his ultimate authority, are the very outlining of society themselves? Besides that, he lacks the perceived intimacy that gave him confidence in their interactions before. How can he step out of the safety of his relationship with the Law into the unknown of this man who defies all understanding? Who blinds him, who IS the man who almost brought him to his knees in M-Sur-M? Love is terrifying, but love for someone completely unknowable? Love for someone whose very perspective of the world is so obscure to you that you feel blinded by a glimpse of it? For Javert love has always been self-sacrifice and service. He turned his back on his own people to become a prison guard, he served as a policeman suffering contempt and poverty; so, he loves Valjean how he understands love to be: he sacrifices himself. That at least makes sense to him when nothing else does.

But my point is, as rambling and incoherent as this has been, that Javert has loved Jean Valjean, and wanted to Love Jean Valjean for a long time and not known it. How can a person know Love when they have never experienced it? Not just romantic love, but familial, the love of friendship, the love of a pet. This man has been so abstracted from society by his birth and ethnicity that he never even understood to recognise love from the outsider’s view: he has never even looked on love as a concept. Why torment yourself with what you can’t have? But despite everything, Javert does love and he does love as someone should: self-sacrificingly, with constancy, with patience, with a desire to understand, with a desire to protect and preserve. Javert is the Failed Lover archetype, once upon a time he could have been Marius: watching and falling in love by glances, understanding, scaling walls to communicate and develop intimacy. But Javert, and Jean Valjean in turn, were always doomed to be on the outside, out in the cold.

#valvert #les mis #javert #valvert week #les miserable #lesmis #jean valjean #JVJ #I have many more thoughts

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legallybrunettedotcom · 9 months

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Do you have a list of all the films used in your psychosexual edit?

dead ringers, crash 1996, the handmaiden, body heat, blue velvet, the piano teacher, secretary 2002, videodrome, audition, in the realm of senses, y tu mama tambien, mulholland drive, love exposure, thelma, gothic 1997, climax, possession, titane, law of desire, raw, the skin i live in, the lighthouse, 3-iron, eyes wide shut, thirst, belle de jour, antichrist, salo, possessor, black swan, repulsion, dogtooth, the lair of the white worm, persona, peeping tom, phantom thread, the silence of the lambs, red dragon, the duke of burgundy, the cook the thief his wife & her lover, docteur jekyll et les femmes, the exorcist, the devils, shame, der fan, body double, psycho, quills, basic instinct, immoral tales, caligula, crimes of the future, the double life of veronique, woman in the dunes, stoker, a clockwork orange, the beguiled 1971, the innocents, who killed teddy bear 1965, the housemaid 1960, taxi driver, sisters, teorema, oedipus rex, vertigo, trouble every day, sex lies & videotape, suspiria, carrie, nbc hannibal, a dangerous method, solaris, cat people 1982, the cell, spider 2002, spider 1992

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writingsofwesteros · 8 months

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Iron doe hotd (aemond x stev idea) :

Since stev is married to Otto, she is around alicents age.

That makes her a very very young grandmother-in-law. And aemond notices that too. He sees her struggles at the beginning with otto's coldness.

And he wants to strangle his grandfather even if he is a young. How could he push away an angel like Stev?

Then to his dismay, otto seems to completely fall to the does feet. But not long is it dismay, because he becomes a little peeping tom.

Watching his grandfather rail into stev, learning tricks, as he is built a lot like otto. Tall, lean, long fingers ;)

When he grows up, he fantasizes of the moment he'll have her at his bed. He fantasizes of a moment when she will have him kneeling in front of her.

Little does he know, he would come to spend an eternity with her... Hiding in the stormlands as two lonely "ghosts"

!!!!

Aemond is such a peeping tom it's unreal and delicious !!!

#iron doe hotd

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poppadom0912 · 2 years

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Jay Halstead Masterlist

Series:

The innocent detective - It wasn't you, that lady in the footage isn't you.

Oneshots:

Angry - Apparently, you look angry

Bad kind of butterflies - There's two types of butterflies, good and bad.

When I grow up - your child explains her entire life plan.

She promised - You fail to keep your promise.

Med Students - Stupid students don't gossip quiet enough.

Love on ice - Jay unveils one of his biggest secrets to help a friend.

Peeping Tom - You weren't Jay Halsteads biggest fan but when you start noticing something weird, there's no one else who can help.

What to do - When your daughter starts getting sick and no one’s helping, your brother-in-law saves the day.

Prompts:

'Ladies love a guy who's good with kids' & Happy Birthday (Part2)

Attempted Kidnapping - 'Lets get you out of these handcuffs' & 'We should get you to the hospital' & 'Bite me'

'Let's have a baby' - You and your husband decide to have a baby.

#jay halstead #one chicago fanfiction #jay halstead x reader #one chicago imagine #one chicago fic #one chicago x reader #chicago med #chicago fire #chicago pd #jay halstead fic #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead fanfiction #jay x you #jay halstead x y/n #jay halstead x you #jay halstead masterlist #one chicago masterlist

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faintingheroine · 7 months

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I was reading the bell hooks essay Is Paris Burning? and the part about black male characters in opera, (with reference to Catherine Clement's Opera, or The Undoing of Women) made me think of you, or rather, your ideas about Beşir. Essentially, Clement talks about the way black male characters are usually portrayed as victims, narratively castrated and allowed to experience emotions in a manner which is typified as feminine. I wonder if it could be argued that Beşir is an example of the demasculinised black man in fiction, allowed to be a noble hero with a tragic death only because he is removed from power by his enslavement and physical weakness? It is not a flattering reading for Halit Ziya, but do you think it a legitimate one?

I absolutely think it is a legitimate reading!

Beşir’s case might be different than that of the Black male characters in Western operas, in that he is literally castrated and is a representation of the literally castrated existing Black boys and men in the late Ottoman society. But it is ultimately Halit Ziya’s decision to characterize him as a victim and as weak, and to metaphorically feminize him through his “delicate, pretty face”, through his unrequited love in parallel to Bihter, through his tears that parallel Nihal’s mother’s tears… He is absolutely a feminized character; non-threatening, tragic and weak in a way Behlül very much isn’t.

There is only one moment in the text where Beşir’s non-threatening feminized presentation wavers and that’s before Bihter’s suicide when she imagines him as a threatening figure in parallel to her creepy brother-in-law:

“What was Bihter to do? She saw Beşir come out of the corridor, and slowly ascend the steps. She fancied that as he passed, he was looking at her with a deep and vicious pleasure. She would find this expression in every face from now on. Even in her mother, even in her sister, even in her brother-in-law – that man with eyes that always forced her to lower her own; what foul significance would this look take on from him.”

(Chapter 22)

But this is only one moment. Despite him essentially being a Peeping Tom to Bihter and Behlül’s affair, Beşir is ultimately characterized as infantilized, feminized, “pure” and virtuous in a way no other character in the book is.

I think it is better than him being villainized like male Black figures in Turkish/Middle Eastern literatures often are, but it is at times definitely dehumanizing. Beşir is FAR from being good representation, he is definitely “problematic” by today’s standards. I think he is a step in the right direction and I have no doubt that Halit Ziya had good intentions in writing him, but ultimately he is less fully fleshed out than the other characters in the book. For example, Mademoiselle de Courton who first started learning Turkish at the age of 50 speaks in better and more elaborate Turkish sentences than Beşir who has been at Adnan Bey’s house since at least the age of 6 does.

I do think he is more nuanced than a first reading might let on. For example I think the book does a good if subtle job at laying out the psychology of his loyalty to Nihal. I also like that he is almost presented as the opposite of Behlül through his warning coughs at the scene at the Island. Of course he is never a legitimate romantic option for Nihal, both because of him being castrated and because of his Blackness, but momentarily he is a part of a love triangle. Then there is of course that sentence where he longs for the deserts of his birthplace, which surprised me quite a bit when I first read the book. I think he is also subtly presented as a victim of the other characters’ apathy and privilege. He is an important and essential part of the book.

So yes, I think Beşir is a more nuanced character than he first appears to be but he is also characterized as a feminized victim in a way that definitely is related to his race.

I am quite flattered that you thought of me and Beşir while reading this. It was quite interesting. Thank you!

#aşk ı memnu #aşk-ı memnu #beşir #bell hooks #aşk ı memnu asks #asks #anonymous

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all-rock-and-roll-is-homosexual · 1 year

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Music Shuffle

Tagged by: @galacticstar

Tag Game: Shuffle your library, list 10 songs, and tag 10 people.

Nice 'N' Sleazy - the Stranglers

The Next Life - Suede

Once in a While - Rosegarden Funeral Party

Dust - Siiiii

Gears Of The Atom Man - Angels of Liberty

Peeping Tom - Placebo

Shake it Out - Florence and the Machine

Flesh is the Law - Genitorturers

Monstrance Clock - Ghost

Everything Must Go - Manic Street Preachers

I tag: Ummmm, idk @suede1993 @discotec @aeolianblues @calling-out-of-context @bytherush @rises-vagrant @visible-disappointment

i don't think that's ten people but whatever

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iukasylvie · 10 months

Text

Unpopular opinion about Witch Hat Atelier

Chapter 49 of Witch Hat Atelier is the most pointless chapter I've ever read in manga. It contradicts not only the rest of the series but also itself just to present the message about the harm of sexual abuse in an extremely shallow manner.

For starters, the whole chapter is devoted to the Knights Moralis pursuing a peeping tom and it's on the very last page that the glyph on Dagda's body—the only thing from this chapter that has a real impact on the story—is revealed. The way Shirahama handled it shocked me given how she previously explored the psyches of Agott, Tartah, Richeh, and Eunie. By contrast, it's impossible to erase the Kamoshida arc of Persona 5 because it, along with the prologue, firmly establishes the core theme of the game—corrupt adults who abuse youth—and inspires the main characters to team up with each other as the Phantom Thieves of Hearts.

Throughout this chapter, Easthies shows kindness and understanding to Luluci as a victim of sexual abuse, even going on and on about the plight of the victim—both in her backstory and when they pursue the peeping tom. He punished her teacher on the spot for taking the side of the nobleman who abused her and her fellow apprentice, Ellien, and turning her in to the Knights Moralis to erase her memories just so he could silence her. He refuses to listen to the excuses the peeping tom makes, including the latter's appeal to their "natural urges as men".

However, Easthies never bothered to pursue the nobleman who started the whole mess in the first place. Ellien was mysteriously absent when her teacher turned Luluci in after Luluci attempted to defend her from the nobleman. It's noteworthy that Luluci used offensive magic—which is forbidden by law—against the nobleman to do so, destroying a non-negligible portion of the castle where their teacher had sent them to work. Luluci stands out in the entire series for being disproportionately privileged by the Knights Moralis; not even Agott enjoys their mercy and understanding even though she hails from the prestigious house of Arkrome.

Throughout the series, the Knights Moralis are infamous for ruthlessly enforcing the law of magic and jumping to conclusions just so they could find someone to punish:

Qifrey refuses to turn Coco in after she unknowingly uses a forbidden spell that turns her house into stone along with her mother. Later chapters validate his reasoning that the Knights Moralis would just erase her memories.

During the river incident, Easthies aggressively accuses Coco and Agott of intentionally altering the landscape and threatens to erase their memories instead of listening to them. Not only is it impossible for Coco to do such a stunt without the intervention of the Brimmed Cap Iguin as she's only recently begun studying magic, but also Agott has done nothing but send the mirage of a bird flying in the sky to call the adults for help.

During the second test, Qifrey asserts that not even victims of forbidden magic are spared from the wrath of the Knights Moralis, hence Agott's anger at the Brimmed Cap Sasaran when he nearly carves a glyph on her body while restraining her and Eunie's decision to hide with Alaira after Sasaran turns him into a scaled wolf against his will.

In Qifrey's backstory, the Knights Moralis considered erasing his memories even though the Brimmed Caps had already done it to cover up their crimes after they kidnapped him, took his eye, experimented on him, and buried him alive.

Galga brands Dagda as a Brimmed Cap for the glyph on his body even though Dagda has no idea what it is, later doing the same to Coco and Tartah when the kids try to defend him.

All of this is just a symptom of the cruel rigidity prevalent throughout witch society:

Agott treats Coco with disdain for being an outsider and therefore without the basic knowledge of magic and witch society. Agott tricks Coco into taking a difficult test against the wishes of their teacher in hopes that she would give up and fail.

It's revealed that Agott's prestigious family cast her out of home because she didn't live up to their high standards, explaining where her behavior came from.

Tartah has been told from a young age that he can never be a full-fledged witch because of his color blindness. Qifrey empathizes with his situation, saying that "refusal to accommodate differences is not an admirable quality of witch society." This foreshadows the reveal that Qifrey lost an eye as a child and he's losing the sight of his remaining eye nowadays, which he keeps a secret even from his best friend and apprentices due to the mistreatment he faced in the past.

Richeh and Riliphin's previous teacher punished her for her creativity so much that she came to hate the idea of growing up.

Eunie suffers not only from social and performance anxiety but also from verbal abuse at the hands of his teacher, Kukrow, eroding his self-confidence. Kukrow has the audacity to even ask Qifrey if he could exchange Eunie for Agott when Eunie is right there.

Those who took Qifrey in refused to give him a space appropriate for a child who had been traumatized to the point of near death—they sent him to a room empty of furniture and made him live under the ocean despite his trauma-induced fear of water—and to investigate his past and the Brimmed Caps who victimized him. Even his own teacher, Beldaruit, views him as dangerous due to contact with forbidden magic—one that was inflicted on him instead of something he committed out of his own will—and a subsequent desire to pursue the Brimmed Caps without considering how their neglect caused him to distrust them and refuse to seek help from anyone in the first place.

All of Chapter 49 raises as many questions as the official story of Pink Diamond's assassination did to Defense Zircon in "The Trial" from Steven Universe.

Defense Zircon: Ugh! Who am I kidding? This is pointless! We've all heard the rumors about the demise of Pink Diamond, but I can't believe these files- scrolls through the floating panels Shattered by one of her own soldiers- Ugh! In front of her entire entourage!?

Defense Zircon: Now, as the records show, Pink Diamond was shattered just outside a palanquin much like this. steps onto the palanquin Witnesses say Pink had just stepped out and had only taken a few steps forward when Rose attacked her from the front! [...] Defense Zircon: But the question no one seems to be asking is, "how"? Blue Diamond: I've been asking that question. Defense Zircon: A-A-A-And right you are to ask, my Diamond! B-Because at that time that Pink was shattered, Rose Quartz had been a recognized threat for several hundred years. There were no Rose Quartz soldiers in her entourage and none in her guard. So how did a Rose Quartz, with no business being anywhere near Pink Diamond, get so close in the first place? Where were Pink Diamond's attendants? Her Agates, Her Sapphires? And where was her Pearl? Yellow Diamond: They were with her, of course! They saw the whole thing! Defense Zircon: But none of them saw Rose Quartz approach? Wouldn't her Sapphires have seen Rose Quartz coming? Wouldn't her Agates have tried to fight her off? [...] Yellow Diamond: She must have slipped past them! Defense Zircon: Even if she did, wouldn't her Pearl have cried out an alarm, "Watch out, My Diamond!"

If Easthies could somehow tell Luluci was in genuine distress, why does he refuse to consider that it's logically impossible for Coco, who's only recently become an apprentice, to cast a forbidden spell as great as altering the landscape during the river incident? Why does Luluci receive so much kindness and understanding from the Knights Moralis? Why was Luluci's teacher punished even though the other abusive adult figures listed above have gotten away with mistreating youth like he did? Where was Ellien when her teacher turned Luluci in? Why did Easthies not punish the nobleman too even though he's supposed to hate sexual abuse? Why is Qifrey the one who has been working the hardest to investigate the Brimmed Caps, not the Knights Moralis even though they are supposed to enforce the law of magic?

Speaking of authority figures, I absolutely adore Atelia from Tweeny Witches. Despite her intimidating first impression and strict adherence to tradition and order as one of the highest authorities in the Witch Realm, this obscure anime goes out of its way to show glimpses of her humanity at multiple points even before the warlocks begins invading and her tragic past is revealed. The series is one of the most consistent pieces of media I've ever seen in general alongside the Moribito series and The Beast Player by Nahoko Uehashi and Fullmetal Alchemist by Hiromu Arakawa.

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bzedan · 5 months

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November was kind of a fucking lot! The middle-ish of this playlist ('Dance Hall Days' to 'Kiss from a Rose') is just the five-song playlist I loop on repeat for hours as brain static. Yes I play '30 Century Man' twice in a row, it's the law. Anyway, I apparently used this aural coping method so much it affected my Spotify Wrapped, something it hasn't done so notably in years, so that's the summary of November.

Related media to some of the songs:

There's a Cicada Omega song on here, though I think they've shown up before. We knew these guys (still know these guys some) in the 2010s, Chase took a lot of their promo images and they remain one of the few folks in this particular sliver of genre I enjoy.

If you haven't seen the video for 'Dance Hall Days' then it's worth a gander, I think this song would be what played for me in my personal version of the ballroom scene in Labyrinth.

'Run From Me' by Timber Timbre was featured beautifully in season 2, episode 2 of Our Flag Means Death (this scene is spoilers obvi), and then I FORGOT and I kept listening to it, wondering what I knew it from.

EMA is another musician who is a delight as a person, and one I forget I have known.

My BFF and I were talking about how songs were in the 2000s and 2010s and how sometimes a shitty rip of a song playing diegetically in a scene on a show was the only copy you had. One of those for me is 'Brian Down' by Thee Michelle Gun Elephant, a file from the early 2000s that has floated through our various drives and which is most easily sharable via listening to it on youtube, annoyingly.

Anyway here's a link to November's playlist on Spotify, with the track list below the cut.

And embedded, if you like that:

'November' - Lil Peep

'DANSE MACABRE' - Duran Duran

'Motorcycle' - Liz Cooper

'Marie-Antoinette - Sparks English Version' - Lio

'Milyonochek - Acoustic Techno' - Dobranotch

'BLACK MOONLIGHT' - Duran Duran

'Not' - Big Thief

'SUPER LONELY FREAK' - Duran Duran

'Are You With Me Now?' - Cate Le Bon

'NIGHTBOAT' - Duran Duran

'Anesthesia' - Type O Negative

'Only For Tonight' - Pearl Charles

'Heart and Hope to Die' - Tristen

'Capacity' - Charly Bliss

'Flatline' - Cicada Omega

'Wrong Direction' - They Shoot Horses Don't They

'Dance Hall Days' - Wang Chung

'The Brazilian' - Genesis

'30 Century Man' - Scott Walker

'Hungry Like the Wolf - 2001 Remaster' - Duran Duran

'Kiss from a Rose' - Seal

'What's Up' - O-Dee

'I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)' - The Proclaimers

'So Alive' - Love and Rockets

'Last Life' - Izzy Perri

'Gilgamesh' - King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard

'Change (In the House of Flies)' - Deftones

'There Is a Light That Never Goes Out' - Dum Dum Girls

'I'm Real - Murder Remix' - Jennifer Lopez

'One & Only' - Oliver Tree

'Oh to Be in Love' - Kate Bush

'Run From Me' - Timber Timbre

'Chang'e' - King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard

'California' - EMA

'Major Tom (Coming Home)' - Shiny Toy Guns

'Stray Cat Strut' - Stray Cats

'Inside Out' - The Mighty Lemon Drops

'The Prince - Remastered 2021' - Diamond Head

'Supermassive Black Hole' - Muse

'Help I'm Alive' - Metric

#meche makes playlists #playlists #Spotify

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meme-streets · 1 year

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having let it percolate a little, and having read some critiques/reviews of it, i have further expanded my complicated thoughts about dirty harry.

first of all, i definitely pick up a vibe of "harry callahan and scorpio have the same thing wrong with them, scorpio is just worse/has no morals whatsoever." mostly it's the reckless violence and the sadistic streak, but there's something else there too. they've both got the long hair, though scorpio's is longer. scorpio's outright bigotry and callahan's "i should throw a net over the whole lot of them" comment. i could even stretch this as far as some other parallels, like scorpio being a sniper and harry's voyeurism on multiple occasions, the fact there's multiple scenes of each of them getting beaten up/injured (at least once apiece at each other's hands, no less), the soft spoken demeanor (which granted scorpio doesn't show all the time, but the phone calls are the best example), the wild physicality of the chase scenes on both their parts–and, hell, cat and mouse plots always invite comparison, don't they. i definitely see at least a little similarity between the two.

second of all–and i think this is why i had the reaction of "this is so extreme that i really can't believe i'm supposed to think this guy is in the right"–harry callahan being a dirtbag is a pretty explicit part of the text. at the very least there's the voyeurism, which he pays for on both occasions; the accidental one where he's trying to find a suspect gets him mistaken for a regular peeping tom and (rightfully) beat up, and the intentional one where he then fucks up the entire stakeout. chico calls him on it, too, and he gets reprimanded in some form or another for most of his bullshit (hell, even his nickname is an acknowledgement). so there's at least a little acknowledgement.

then there's the whole deal with the arrest. first of all, the scene itself reads more slasher villain than hero–callahan looks fucking deranged, the music is creepy as hell, the camerawork makes him look super threatening. then we find out he didn't even save the girl, and because he broke damn near ever law in the book, scorpio walks. the kidnapped girl being dead definitely makes the violence feel hollow, but it's hard to say if the movie is blaming scorpio's release on harry's behavior breaking the law, or on the criminal justice laws themselves. i honestly think you could read it either way. the fact that the first stakeout going wrong is pretty clearly his fault makes me lean towards the film also portraying this as a callahan fuckup. then again–he seems really bewildered that what he did was illegal, and the "what about ann mary deacon, what about her rights? who speaks for her?" line carries such pathos i find it hard to believe we're not meant to be at least a little in his favor here. he also says "the law's crazy," which is an incredibly loaded statement, but once again i really can't tell if we're supposed to agree with him or not. i will note, however, that the film definitely isn't on the side of the mayor (who's insistent on paying scorpio off). there's definitely a "both approaches to this suck" reading in there, if maybe a shaky one.

for what it's worth, i have read that the director (and writers as well i think) were going for an angle of "blurring the line between cop and criminal," so i think both the parallels between callahan and scorpio + callahan being acknowledged at least a little as a shitty person are definitely intentional. i think the most generous interpretation you can give this is "they weren't outright trying to send a message that police should be above the law." the thing is that scorpio is such an abhorrent person, and that the narrative in the end is constructed in a way that it justifies harry's violent antics as necessary to take scorpio down, that i think in the end it sends that message anyway. and given how influential the film was on the detective fiction that came after it, much of which has carried that message wholeheartedly, i don't think it's really forgivable. or maybe forgivable isn't the right word, i don't know quite how to put it. it's still for the most part a very enjoyable movie if you go into it with the acknowledgement that it's deeply flawed, and with the intention of having a lot of fun watching two really fucked up guys chase each other around in glorious technicolor, but i don't think i'll ever be able to not cringe at the politics of it, however intentional they were or weren't.

#dirty harry #idk. i do feel guilty being so compelled by the movie even if i disagree with its worldview and i'm embarrassed to be posting about it tbh #it strains right up against the limit of 'you can enjoy things critically' for me. but it is well made entertainment imo

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0junemeatcleaver0 · 2 years

Note

For the NSFW prompts: Armand and Pandora 👀

Pandora/Armand

Rating: M-ish

Featuring: Their shared annoyance at Marius. Oral sex.

𝔼𝕩'𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕙𝕤

The first time it happens was the same as it happens tonight--the two of them angrily pacing the length of her rooms, exchanging exclamations of, "the gall", and "how dare he".

In short, it happens because of Marius.

The chateau makes them all tense in different ways. While many of them come from times and cultures where living with extended family is der reguer, centuries of living alone or with just a handful of their kind has erased the feeling of normalcy that would have once accompanied being so surrounded by loved ones.

Toes get stepped on. Regrettable words are uttered. Arguments are had as laws are made.

And if Marius's brand of pretension was difficult to palate when he was just a wandering historian or keeper of the Parents, it's absolutely insufferable now that he's Prime Minister.

And love, unfortunately, is one hell of a psychoactive. The way it can warp your perspective until you're the fifteen year old who loved this man with your whole heart when you thought he could do no wrong.

So when one of them flings a particularly vicious barb into the discussion, the other rushes to defend his dishonor until the two of them are throwing barbs at each other.

Neither can remember who kissed who first. Or what impulse prompted such a reaction.

In the end, it doesn't matter. Not when the outcome is the same each time. The two of them fighting and then kissing and then fighting for dominance until the playful tussle ends with one of them flat on their back.

Armand thought it was preposterously stupid the first time it happened--absurd to the point that it crossed over the boundary into the surreal. Until he slid his hand between Pandora's legs and his fingertips were met with the overflow of her desire.

They hadn't even bothered to undress that first time--Armand had simply thrown her skirt over his head and gotten to work. A fraction of a second before his mouth met her he worried he might be too out of practice--would disappoint her. He needn't have worried. His time in the brothels came back a quick as a breath and he found himself building a nice rhythm with his tongue and lips until Pandora broke his concentration by saying:

"He watched you in the brothels, you know."

"How would you know?" Armand asks, fighting his way out from under her long skirt. "Did he tell you?"

"He doesn't need to." Pandora shrugs and presses her palm into the crown of his head, forcing him back down. "There were...rumors about Marius around the vici."

The idea of Marius--their shared Maker and apparent peeping tom--was too much for Armand and he laughed into Pandora's flesh, tongue still out against her clitoris. She kicks out at him, her heel connecting with his hip until he stops his giggling and takes her between his lips, sucking at the bundle of nerves until she's seizing--her legs shaking against his shoulders.

#my fic stuff #pandora/armand #talk hard #ficlet

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thrall-of-the-hill-arch · 2 years

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@iomadachd

The night was rainy and overcast, chasing most peeping toms inside for the evening to allow Lucas to work uninterrupted. Or that had been the hope. His target was a known criminal, the law had let him go with little more than a slap on the wrist. He had ruined lives; the spirits were not about to let the man walk freely.

So, there they were laying in the hallway just under a window. The man had tried running. To an unsuspecting person, they looked simply asleep, long slow breaths coming from both men. The target heart rate slowly rising as he entered Lucas’ hellscape. There he would get their revenge his victims deserved, the man would never wake up to cause more pain. It was why Lucas continued to serve his spirits, a twisted notion of justice. In most cases, Lucas was on the other side for about thirty minutes, plenty of time to be seen if he was worried about peeping toms. Thankfully, the man didn’t seem too fast or smart while trying to run away from the giant in the cage.

As the man’s heart beat dropped off Lucas came to, groggy and disoriented, he’d stay that way the better part of the evening while soul and body realigned. It left him very vulnerable.

Pushing off the floor, he started for the door he had entered through. The man would be found and his death ruled an accident. All in a day's work, he mused before leaning on the alley wall to catch his breath; there was movement he didn’t track until it was too late.

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inamindfarfaraway · 1 year

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I can’t believe nobody’s written a ‘Black Friday characters watch the musical’ fanfic yet. They can be taken from the very end, right at or after midnight. Thinking the people who prevented Wiggly’s takeover of Earth deserve an explanation of the day’s events, Webby transports them all to a cinema in the White part of the Black and White. There’s so much you could put in it:

If Ethan’s soul really is in the Black and White and it wasn’t just Wiggly creating a vision, Webby can free him from the Black so he can watch too. He could stay dead at the end but at least have time to say his goodbyes, potentially becoming a new spiritual companion to Hannah and Lex the way Webby is to Hannah; or Webby or even Hannah could bring him back to life.

Everyone learning about Wiggly and Webby’s true natures.

Everyone meeting General John MacNamara of the United States Military, Special Unit PEIP (they call it ‘Peep’).

Everyone learning about Hannah and Lex’s powers.

MacNamara can give them more training too.

Lex seeing Ethan’s death.

Tom noticing what his son really wanted all along in hindsight, Tim gaining a better understanding of his father’s poor mental health and them talking out their thoughts and emotions. And then hugging.

More interactions between the Foster sisters and Tom and Becky, so that they’re a fully fledged found family by the end.

Tom planning to adopt the sisters once he has their trust and a greater insight into how bad their home life is.

Discussion of how at fault for their actions people are when Wiggly’s influencing and controlling them. Tom, Becky and ex-cult member Charlotte can give testimony of how being completely overtaken feels, but no doubt also feel guilty, especially Charlotte (who let Linda commit murder and threaten to kill a child, and you know, contributed to very nearly almost causing the apocalypse) and Tom (who left Becky and Hannah for dead and nearly brought a powerful god of evil making him the worst version of himself into his home to his son).

Discussion of the flaws of late-stage capitalism and American society.

Lex flinching when Wiley mimes cutting his throat and says to Frank, “You are gonna make a killing” and everyone realizing why when Frank is murdered.

Lex asking “What the fuck am I watching?” after “Deck the Halls” just before Tom does.

More Barneston development and fluff.

Becky empathizing with the sisters over having experienced chronic abuse from their ‘family’.

Tom, Tim and Emma getting to talk about Jane and Emma generally bonding with her in-laws.

Emma letting go of her dislike of Becky.

Paul being uncomfortable during the songs.

#am i gonna have to write it?#starkid black friday #black friday #black friday meta #black friday fanfic #hatchetfield #hatchetfield series #hatchetverse #team starkid #starkid

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volosdarling · 1 year

Note

Psycho, Peeping Tom, Cat People for the ask game

Good tidings.I love you

-Me

HIII I LOVE YOU THX FOR THE ASK DARLING :D [LINK TO ORIGINAL GAME]

IM GONNA ANSWER FOR ME AND VOLO BECAUS.... I ..... LOVE HIM........

Psycho (1960): Excluding your f/o, does your s/i get along well with anyone else in canon? Is there anyone they don’t like? Is there someone that doesn’t like them?

HMM YES! MY SONA GETS ALONG WITH COGITA IN A SORT OF MATERNAL/MOTHER IN LAW WAY!! COS SHE SAW ME AND HOW SKINNY I AM AND DECIDED I NEED T O FUCKNG EAT LOL.

ALSO IN TERMS OF PEOPLE WHO DON'T LIKE HIM... KAMADO, WHO BANISHED HIM FROM JUBILIFE VILLAGE FOR BEING POTENTIALLY DEMONIC MAYBE. THE FEELING IS MUTUAL FOR THAT. INO DOESN'T LIKE BEING AROUND THAT VILLAGE SINCE ALL HE DID WRONG WAS BE KINDA OFFPUTTING AND EMO ALSO!!! ALL MY FRIENDS' LEGENDS ARCEUS SONAS ARE MY SONA'S FRIENDS. NO EXCEPTIONS !!

:۩:••:۩:••:۩:••:۩:••:۩:

Peeping Tom (1960): How would your f/o describe your s/i?

SOMETHING ABSOLUTELY DELUSIONAL LIKE: PERFECTLY IMPERFECT, A FALLEN ANGEL, THE EMBODIMENT OF HEAVEN ETC ETC (THIS IS TOO EMBARASSING TO ANSWER SO ILL LEAVE IT SHORT >w>)

:۩:••:۩:••:۩:••:۩:••:۩:

Cat People (1942): What’s something about your s/i that someone wouldn’t expect from them?

ALTHOUGH HE FELL TO HISUI WEARING A LOT OF DARK AND KIND OF MENACING SPIKED BLACK CLOTHES, IS HARD TO TALK TO, AND OFTEN GETS REGARDED AS A STRANGER AND OUTSIDER TO MOST VILLAGES HE DELIVERS TO, HES ACTUALLY A GOODY TWO SHOES AND EARNEST WORKER INSTEAD OF A PUNK XP

:۩:••:۩:••:۩:••:۩:••:۩:

#💫.txt #💜 togekiss wings #SELF SHIP #F/O COMMUNITY

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idreamofhazel · 2 years

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The Boyking-Chapter 13

A huntress has set out to end the reign of the new king of hell. But killing a Winchester is never easy, and she might find that Sam isn’t who she thought he was…

Masterpost here.

Chapter Word Count: 1867

Warnings: show-typical gore

A/N: Beta’d by @impala-dreamer.

“There’s been attacks for the past two months, each on the night of a full moon. But the police haven’t put two and two together.” Dean briefed Dallas en route. Apparently, he’d made contact with the local law enforcement after the first suspicious death, a strategy he'd made a habit over the years, she learned. “The victims show typical signs of a werewolf attack,” he continued. “Large claw marks, a missing heart. And, so far, the victims have been in the same neighborhood, which means our wolf isn’t straying too far from home.”

“But,“ Dallas interrupted, looking out the window. The sun sat on the horizon like a fat orange-yellow egg yolk, staining the sky and puffy clouds in similar shades of the color. “The moon isn’t out.”

She didn’t mention it in the hotel room before they’d left. They had needed to be on their way as fast as possible. The sun being out wouldn’t change that fact that a person had died, but it would affect the way their case could play out.

“Both the other attacks were the same,” Dean stated solemnly, watching the sky slowly turning more orange, tinging the edges of the clouds on the horizon almost red.

Dallas felt the uneasiness with which Dean added the last piece of information. She understood what it could mean for this case if a werewolf, or werewolves, were acting… different, strange, unpredictable. She didn’t speak the obvious thing that was understood between her and Dean—that Lilith, or some other demon in her ranks, could be behind the murders, pulling strings they didn’t yet know existed.

Instead of saying all of that, Dallas changed the subject. “Pretending to be FBI… I’m impressed.” She wasn’t lying.

Dean shrugged. “It’s part of the job. You get that.”

Dallas shook her head. “I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve pretended to be an officer. I don’t know how to make all those fake badges and stuff.”

“Really? How’d you manage this job?” He sounded genuinely surprised.

“I pretend to be other people, nothing illegal,” she said with emphasis, “Reporters, friends of the deceased.”

“You must be real good at talking to people then.”

Dallas laughed. “Right. Me. Good at talking to people.”

“You talk alright with me,” Dean replied plainly.

“Only when bribed with beer. Which was shit by the way.”

Dean chuckled. Dallas found herself annoyed at the sound. She hadn’t meant to be funny. She’d meant to prove to him that their conversation minutes before had not been genuine.

“There were limited selections,” Dean added with another laugh.

Dallas scowled as the Impala’s tires hit gravel, driving up an alley situated on the backside of two quiet streets. They had a full view of the row of backyards on both their right and left as they stopped a ways back from where a group of officers were working. This neighborhood had probably never seen so much activity. Caution tape roped off an area behind a garage whose door stood right on the edge of the alley. Neighbors in their backyards were trying to get a look at the scene as police erected a divider, blocking the view of the body from the peeping toms.

And it was a good thing, too, because as Dean and Dallas approached the scene on foot, the mauled body laid in plain view, slumped against the metal door. Several swipes of claw marks tore across the poor man’s abdomen, chest, arms, and legs. Even his face. But as Dallas surveyed the bloody damage, she noticed something odd about the body.

“The heart’s not missing,” Dallas whispered to Dean as they approached an officer, or at least there wasn’t a heart-shaped hole in the man’s chest, she thought to herself.

Dean nodded discreetly before flashing a fake badge at the man who’d approached them, a lanky, blonde-haired officer whose uniform looked like it belonged to someone a few inches shorter than him.

“Officer Stark,” the man said with recognition to Dean. What he lacked in the ability to find proper fitting clothes he made up for with a smile and charm. He firmly shook Dean’s hand. “It’s good to finally put a face to the name.”

Dean gave the man a friendly smile. “Same here, Johnson. And this is my associate, officer Rogers.” Dean signaled to Dallas. “Sorry I didn’t mention her before.”

Dallas shook the man’s hand, then, thinking quickly because she didn’t have a fake badge like Dean, her hand went to her pockets, pretending to look for her identification.

She groaned, rolling her eyes. “Damn, Stark, did I leave my badge back at the motel again?” Dallas whined.

Dean sighed and shook his head with feigned embarrassment, playing along. “You’d forget your own head if it wasn’t attached.”

“Oh shut the hell up,” Dallas teased. She looked at Johnson, hoping he was as friendly as his smile. “I can run back and grab it real quick-“

“No, no,” he said, confirming her hopes. “You’re with him, it’s fine. Besides, y’all might not want to waste any time checking this out.”

Dallas gave the officer a big smile. “Thanks, I appreciate it. So what happened?”

“I was hoping your partner here could shed some light on that,” he said, “We’re confused as hell. Especially after what our witness has told us.”

“Witness?” Dean asked.

The officer turned around and pointed to the opposite edge of the crime scene.

Dallas hadn’t noticed her before–the child standing with her mom and a female officer, facing away from the gore and death.

Johnson turned to face Dean again. “My officers say the child saw a man. Just a man. We can’t get much else out of her.”

Dallas continued watching the child, the way her head hung down, the way she leaned into her mother, trying to get further away from what she’d seen by melding into her caregiver. The behavior was, simultaneously, painfully familiar and strange to Dallas.

“You mind if I try to talk to her?” Dallas asked. Dean didn’t protest.

“Go ahead,” Johnson replied.

The officer called to his partner and waved her away from the interview. She looked almost relieved to have a break from trying to get through to the kid. As Dallas made her way over to the child and her parent, Dean began walking around the roped-off murder scene, conversing with Johnson about evidence they’d found.

Dallas introduced herself to the mom first, dark-haired like her daughter and with freckles dotting across her concerned features. Then Dallas crouched, getting at eye level with the child who couldn’t be more than five years old. There were wet teardrops staining her yellow t-shirt.

“Hey there,” she said softly. “My name’s Dallas. What’s yours?”

“Are you a policeman?” the girl asked, looking up with chocolate-brown eyes to match her hair and a dusting of freckles like her mother.

“Sort of,” Dallas answered. “I’m here to help the police.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.” The kid clung to her mother further, gripping the woman’s denim jeans with her small, dirty hands. She must have been playing outside when the attack happened.

The mother comforted her child, stroking the top of her head and her shoulder. Dallas’ throat tightened. She cleared her throat, getting rid of the uncomfortable sensation.

“You know,” Dallas started, taking in the girl’s trembling figure, “I know what it’s like to be really, really scared. It’s ok to not want to talk about it. Because it makes it feel like the bad guys’ really here again. Is that what it feels like?”

The girl looked wide-eyed at Dallas and nodded shyly, sniffling subsiding.

Dallas continued. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but it’s real important that you know the bad guy is gone. He’s not here anymore and he can’t hear you. And he won’t be here when you go home. I’m going to catch him so he can’t hurt you.”

“But what if he does come back?” the girl said softly, tears forming in her eyes again. “What if he breaks my door and comes into my room and my mommy doesn’t hear and he gets me?”

“Did he look strong enough to break a door down?”

The girl nodded. “He was really really strong.” She looked down at the ground, then whispered. “He had claws but nobody believes me.”

“I do,” Dallas stated. “You know, my… friend and I,” she pointed to Dean, who was talking with some officers, “We are really good at catching guys like this. It’s our job. So, I’m going to tell you a special secret.”

The girl’s eyes widened again and she loosened her grip on her mother’s clothes slightly. She held her attention to Dallas’ kind but firm face.

“Does your mommy have any silver jewelry?” Dallas asked.

The girl looked at her mom and her mom nodded despite looking confused.

“Ok, good,” Dallas continued. “All you have to do to keep a man with claws away is wear mommy’s jewelry. Just a necklace. Or a bracelet. They hate silver.”

“Really?” the girl gasped.

“I swear it.” Dallas put her hand over her heart. What she had told the girl wasn’t a complete lie. Silver did affect werewolves, but a piece of jewelry would do nothing to stop one. But the child didn’t need to know how to kill the creature. She needed to believe she could protect herself so she’d feel safe enough to sleep tonight.

“Ok,” the girl said, her voice strengthening. She loosened the grip on her mother even further. “That’s good because he lives behind us.”

“What?” The mom grabbed her child’s shoulder.

“I see him when I play sometimes. He talks on the phone a lot.”

Dallas looked up at the child’s mom to give her a reassuring look, then focused back on the little girl. “Thank you for telling me that,” she said to the kid again. “That’s really, really helpful.”

Dallas stood and turned to the mother. “We’ll take care of this, ok? Do you have somewhere you can stay if you don’t feel safe?”

The mother nodded. “My sister’s.”

“Ok, good. Maybe stay there a couple nights. Be sure to give the department a call if you need anything.”

The woman nodded before ushering her child back to their yard. Dallas watched as the pair entered their home from the back door. Once they were fully inside, Dallas turned back towards the scene and came face to face with Dean. He wore a soft expression on his face.

“I heard the way you talked to the kid. You’re a natural,” he said.

Dallas straightened her posture and crossed her arms. “It’s part of the job,” she said coolly.

Dean watched her for a second, lips parted with the beginnings of a response, but he decided not to say whatever was on his mind and thankfully changed the subject. “So, did I hear the kid correctly? The guy lives on this street?”

Dallas nodded. “Yep. Right there.”

She pointed to a yellow-paneled house, a residence that sat directly beside the victim’s, and watched as Dean’s face became sharply focused. “We’ll pay him a visit tonight.”

#the boyking #boyking!sam #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x oc

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