#true crime content. it needs to be tasteful though. and people need to be normal about it.

[string-cheese-cake]

Nobody asked but white supremacy is the reason why white women are obsessed with true crime.

So when chattel slavery was becoming cemented in the United States and other European areas, the idea of biological race and racial hierarchy emerged to justify the generational enslavement of Africans and the genocide of indigenous people. Africans and other non-whites were labeled as less developed, more susceptible to their "primal urges" and committing sex crimes and therefore needed to be controlled by white men. Specifically to protect white women.

White supremacy is typically framed as necessary to 'protect' (read: control) white women, the mothers of the next generation of whites. They must be protected from "sexually voracious black men" (read: miscegenation and mixed race children). So white supremacy operates on the myth that white women are constantly under threat of sexual violence and must be protected by white men.

That myth becomes baked into the public consciousness, many unaware of the origin or even that the idea is there. It even becomes less racially based, but there is still a common belief that white women are inherently vulnerable to violent crime. Especially among white women. To be fair, it's difficult to not internalize an idea that you are not exactly aware of but is still seeped in every interaction and bit of advice. Don't wander off, don't talk to strangers, don't go out alone or late at night, cover your body, hold your keys between your fingers, take self defense, watch your drink, don't be under the influence. Your body is soft and valuable and delicate and you must protect it.

This idea of vulnerability is reinforced in the news media, which chooses to focus on stories which fit this particular narrative of white women's vulnerability. Missing white women syndrome. This subconscious belief has saturated society. White women develop an outsized fear of death by violent crime. So what do they do? They embrace it. They eat up stories of families like theirs and the deaths of women like them.

It's been suggested that experiencing that fear of violence in the controlled environment true crime provides can be cathartic, somewhat like watching a horror film. There is also a sense of justice and closure felt when the perpetrator of that crime is punished.

In conclusion; White women love true crime because it's a coping mechanism for their deeply embedded fear of violence which was established and is upheld by white supremacy.

#statistically white women are the least likely to be victims of violent crime. they can be and all victims need support but white women are #just not as vulnerable as society makes them out to be. and it becomes the standard of behavior and treatment for women of all races #women don't need control and protection they need empowerment and for men to treat them like goddamn human beings. #i kno im using binary language but u tell me how to better word this. the binary is fake tho. all the little stranger danger things got to #me. walk away from the street don't walk too close to unknown men I'm not afraid of my community!!! no one should be!!!! #we should not fear each other. i understand that violence and assault are real things that happen to people all the time but it's much more #likely to happen to men and women of color. they deserve love and support and real effective change. and white women shouldn't have to #be afraid and feel vulnerable. we need legitimate efforts to address and prevent random violence #not fearmongering and the offloading of responsibility onto potential victims. anyway thank you for coming to my ted talk #why am i talking #maybe I'll use this one day #i wrote this at 2am don't @me. i am right tho. i also like me some ethically filmed #true crime content. it needs to be tasteful though. and people need to be normal about it.

[landon-barnes]

Basics

Full Name: Landon Nicholas Barnes

Nickname(s): None yet!

Pronouns: He/him, They/them

Orientation: Pansexual

Age: 27

Birthday: February 13, 1996 (Aquarius)

Birthplace: Cedar Falls, Iowa

Occupation: Bookshop keeper

Dream Job: Writer

Detailed Bio:Here

Facts/RP Hooks

Small Town Boy: Landon grew up in a small town where he spent a lot of time on biking trails and farmer's markets. They always lived a fairly calm and unassuming life until they decided they wanted to change that and move to a bigger city and get more life experience.

Bookworm: It’s rare to see him without a book tucked under his arm. He had a tablet, but it broke and he hasn't bought a new one yet. He also works at Bookworm Bookstore & Cafe.

Aspiring Writer: Landon's been in the middle of the worst writer's block they've ever experienced. They seem to have lost their muse to write and is wondering if maybe they even want to write at all anymore.

Suburbanite: Though Landon moved to Ashmore, he found a cozy, affordable apartment in the Suburbs where the bustle of the city doesn't feel quite so jarring. However, he does spend time all around the city when he isn't in the arts district working.

True Crime: Loves following true crime podcasts and tv shows, and keeps up with cases quite often

Music Appreciator: Like books, he has a wide range in taste of music and will listen to almost anything. He's got a playlist for everything.

Scentsational: Landon loves good smells! Scented candles, soaps, incense, you name it. They doesn't overdo it though, and their apartment always smells nice. (As do they!)

Comfy Fashion: Landon mostly dresses in jeans and sweaters or cardigans with print tees underneath. He carries a large bag across his shoulder where he lugs around a few essentials. He also has a tendency of painting his nails on occasion. Pretty simple and unassuming.

Theyby: Landon is non-binary and uses he/him and they/them pronouns interchangeably (as does his/their writer).

Personality

Landon is quiet and reserved, but by no means shy and won't balk at the idea of starting conversation first. He's a great listener, friendly, clever, and can carry on most conversations quite well.

Though prone to melancholy behind closed doors, they do his best to outwardly hide it. Most people wouldn't notice, and in fact would see a fairly normal, content person.

He is reliable almost to a fault, and makes friends quite easily. He's a good contact to have after last calls when you need a designated driver and lost your wallet.

He's something of an idealist and tries to see the good in most, if not all people.

When his trust is broken, it's difficult to build it back up! He's a firm believer in actions before words when it comes to things like forgiveness and promises.

#ashmore intro #about landon #landon: aesthetic #I'm open to any and all connections!

[sazandorable]

About moderating and banning content on AO3!

Okay so! I haven’t had the spoons to do this for a while but I cracked and ranted about it on twitter which is... not... conducive to long rants, so!

This is a h u g e discussion part of the l o n g history that led to the creation of AO3, which older, more informed, and more articulate people have talked about at length and can be found around if you look (I reblog some of it in my AO3 and fandom history tags for the curious). So I won’t go into that here, nor into the practical reasons why it’s not even possible to put that system in place anyway.

Arbitrarily, or the purpose of this post, because it’s the biggest topic I’ve seen brought up lately, I’ll be talking about fic depicting underage characters in se*ual situations, but honestly I could hold the exact same conversation on literally any controversial content.

This is about why you, specifically, if you are a content creator and especially if you are marginalised and especially if you are queer and especially especially if you are sensitive to fiction depicting certain things... do not, actually, want a banning system on AO3.

What? Of course we do. There’s a lot of p*do shit on AO3 and p*do shit is gross. No one should condone that, wtf? It would be easy to do — just periodically delete the entire Underage tag!

What will happen if that is done is that people will re-upload and continue to write it, they’ll just stop tagging and you will run into it with zero warning nor ability to filter it out. Again, this is not a theoretical — we know this is what happens. When I was a teen, adult content (all adult content) was not allowed on FF.NET; it was everywhere regardless, and without tags. The exact same thing happened on tumblr when adult content was banned as well. It’s not a matter of “staff not handling it well” — it just doesn’t work.

To keep safe the people who need to be able to exclude that tag, that tag needs to exist and be used.

Well, shucks. A reporting system then?

A reporting system would operate in one of two ways:

-an algorithm, which would delete a lot of stuff we wouldn’t want it to delete.

-humans, which is... the bigger problem.

An algorithm sounds great. We do want it to delete everything.

Okay. What about the daddy k*nk fics between consenting adult characters? What about the fics featuring characters that are children in the canon but are adults in the fic? What about the fics about teenagers exploring their se*uality together, written by adults about the experiences they remember having or wish they could have had? What about the thousands of SasuNaru and Drarry and other shounen and YA fics that will get written, by teens or by people who remember being teens? What about the se*ually explicit fic written by teens who are se*ually active in real life? What about the fics about CSA as trauma, about healing from it? What about the fics written by survivors of CSA to cope about their trauma? What about the fics that clearly show that it’s evil and traumatic? What about the super dark, harrowing, but beautiful and artistic that I’m glad I read even though it fucked me up for days? What about the ones that were really shitty but also horribly hot?

Well, some of these are still not okay, but maybe some might be. It depends on how it’s written. We’ll have humans moderating content and deciding, then.

Okay.

The thing is, I don’t know which of the things I just listed were okay for you to be depicted in fiction and which were too much. Odds are I don’t agree with you. Odds are if I asked 10 people randomly picked off the street, not everyone would agree.

Odds are, even if AO3 arbitrarily decided on which of those are allowed and which are not, you would not agree with their choice, and you would still be unhappy with the decision. (Or you would be happy, but your friends wouldn’t.)

Odds are, different AO3 content moderators might not agree on whether a given fic qualifies or not — is it artistic enough? Does it show enough that these actions are evil and wrong? Can the author prove they’re a teenager? Can the author prove they are a CSA victim? Can the author prove that this is to help them cope with their trauma? The author seem to be functioning alright, they mustn’t really be traumatised!

You know what I mean! There’s absolute, objectively gross shit out there that is not artistic and should not be published.

I agree that there’s vile stuff out there that makes me sick and that I think is very clearly just ped*philic trash. But there is no way to, 1) stop those from getting published anyway, 2) take those down and preserve the safety of everything else.

If we start forbidding some things, there’s two ways to go about it.

One single, clear, arbitrary rule — for instance, absolutely no adult content featuring characters under 18 (leaving aside the fact that this would not even work for the reason cited above). So we lose all the stuff from teenagers, all the coming of age stories about adolescence, all the stuff from CSA survivors; people who need to write it can’t publish it anymore, and people who need to read it can’t anymore either (and as a cool bonus, they’re told it’s wrong and made to feel bad about it). Depending on whether the rules applies to characters that are under 18 in the canon, we lose entire fandoms.

Or, subjective moderation by humans, according to what they estimate to be gross.

Let’s assume all moderators can agree on what’s gross or not.

If there is a system in place to ban some underage works because “gross shit”, then that means other gross stuff can be taken down on account of being gross and harmful.

Yeah! Gross stuff should be taken down! Come on, surely everyone agrees on what’s gross and harmful.

Ah.

But the problem is.

Here is a list of things I have seen — with my eyes seen — called harmful to be depicted in fiction:

Murder

Non-con

Inc*st

Cannibalism

Torture

Self-harm

Mental illness

Drugs

Racism

K*nk

Non-negotiated k*nk, but healthy k*nk is ok

Spanking k*nk

BDSM where the woman is a bottom, but woman top is ok

Healthy depictions of BDSM

Unhealthy depictions of BDSM

Queer people doing bad things

Abusive relationships

Rival/Enemies to lovers

Redemption stories

A happy relationship between a 17 yo and an 18 yo

A happy relationship between a 20 yo and a 60 yo

A happy relationship between a boss and their employee, or a college teacher and a student

A happy relationship between a 14 yo boy and an older teenage boy, because that’s reminiscent of older men preying on younger gay boys IRL

Se*ual content featuring a character whose age is unclear in canon and some people headcanon them as being underage, some as being a young adult

Loving, consensual fluff between characters that are evil villains, because it romanticises them and their actions

Dark content shipping female characters

Fluffy content shipping female characters, because it’s misogynistic to act like lesbians are only soft all the time

Consensual s*x featuring a canonically asexual character, because it implies that all aces can and should still have se*

Fics about the same canonically asexual character hating s*x, because that erases the experience of s*x-positive aces

Shipping a character who is perceived by some fans as queer-coded with a character of a different s*x

The tendency to ship a black character with white characters

Fluffy drunk s*x, because that’s not actually consensual

Sleep s*x, because that’s not actually consensual

Trans characters not experiencing dysphoria, because that idealises the trans experience

Consensual s*x between adults that are not married

LGBT+ content, because kids shouldn’t see that.

I guarantee you: you, I, and 10 random people plucked from the street will not agree on what, in that list, is and isn’t okay to publish and consume fiction of.

So why should your taste be the one followed? Why should it be the taste of mods you don’t know? Why should anyone get to dictate? What if the mods think your OTP is gross and your NOTP is fine?

This is the slippery slope argument.

Yes, it is the slippery slope argument. Because we know it happens. Because we’ve been there, because I’ve seen it happen myself twice already and I’m not even thirty. Because we know people do complain loudly about all of these things.

And because the second there is a banning system in place, assholes will use the system to abuse it and get stuff they just don’t like taken down using the “it is gross” argument, and one day you’ll wake up and the beautiful fic that helped you come to terms with your abuse/trauma/identity/orientation/k*nk for feet will be taken down and wonderful vulnerable creative people will have been harassed out of fandom because they argued with 1 person who didn’t like their foot k*nk fic that happened to also feature, for instance, a CSA trauma backstory.

Again: not exaggerating. Not theoretical. It happens, we know it happens, AO3 was created literally because it happens.

I still fucking hate that stuff.

That is completely fine and normal. No one likes everything. Me too! Most of the dark stuff is niche and the creators know only few people will like it the same way they do.

(For the record, I get grossed out and triggered by fics about an asexual character who does not like s*x having s*x with their partner to make them happy. Deep in my gut everything screams that that’s fucked up, terrifying and harmful, how can people write that. But I recognise that there are people who love and need that, and I leave those people and their content alone.

OTOH, I read a lot of otherwise dark shit and I enjoy it in the same way I enjoyed, say, Hannibal, in the same way some people enjoy true crime documentaries, horror movies or r*pe fantasy k*nk. It helps me explore stuff that I like to see in fiction, in a safe, controlled way. I’m also asexual, 90% s*x-repulsed IRL, and, obviously, I would never abuse a child. For that matter, I wouldn’t kill and eat people, either, nor would I do 90% of the tamer k*nky stuff I read.

Of course, Hannibal was fucked up and lots of people probably think Hannibal was gross and should not have been aired — but as exemplified by the fact that it was created, aired and watched, lots of people thought it was fine, interesting and even fun to watch.)

You can and should curate your experience and protect yourself. The AO3 website now allows you to exclude certain tags, and people have developed tools to help with that such as plugins that save your filters or hide fics that contain certain words.

But no, it isn’t going to, and it shouldn’t, get banned.

#ao3 #fandom history #aaaaand that's all im going to tag

[saiqherrr]

.could not be tainted (s. getou)

.pairing suguru getou x fem!reader

.content warning gojo’s past arc / jjk vol. 0 manga spoilers, angst, manipulation, mind-break, nsfw, non-con, dub-con, mentions of suicide, mentions of murder, mentions of death, rough sex, choking, break-up, unprotected sex, oral sex (f!receiving), pregnancy

.synopsis "at this moment you accepted that he had done something terrible and his soul had become wretched, but again, cursed yourself for still loving him. your love for him was unconstrained. shamefully, your perception of his disposition could not be tainted. this would remain your first and only love. he was your everything, your entire world."

.a/n i just want to make it very clear that i do not want this fic to be romanticized in any way at all. some aspects of this are written from experiences and about guys i’ve dealt with in my life. (85% is just me writing angst just to cope about suguru lol). this is not the life you want to live or fantasize about. these are very real feelings i want to express and this is the best way i could do it. thank you for understanding.

.wc 4.k

WHY DID IT HAPPEN? why? why? why? when? how? you couldn’t grasp it. you were panicking, you were still in shock. you still couldn’t bring yourself to believe it. even if it were to happen right in front of you, you probably would still deny it. this was a thing that the two of you used to joke about together, yet it seems now that those jokes were simple warnings - no, a divination of the future.

still, you couldn’t fathom that suguru would ever do such a thing. an entire village? you knew you couldn’t deny it when satoru could barely look at you without flinching when his default, pompous grin wasn’t on his face when his voice broke and he looked away so that you couldn’t see him cry. that’s it, you thought to yourself. that’s how fast that lifestyle could break people.

you saw it coming now that you were thinking about it with your face covered in your grasp, sitting on the couch, shuddering with pulverization, outrage, and dread. your hands were damp from the tears that had run along your cheeks. suguru stopped smiling. he was excessively profound into his brain and at whatever point you broke him out of it, he’d bring his absent eyes to you and feign an artificial smile on his face. he stopped eating and the only one who pointed it out was satoru. his face was paler than it already was, he was getting fatigued quicker. he didn’t want to have sex with you, yet, he kept tasting you, feasting on your core some nights, and one night, you swore you heard him whisper “i’m sorry” once, but it slipped your mind seconds later.

why did you ignore it? why didn’t you ask him? why didn’t you talk to satoru? you couldn’t answer your own questions. regardless of his inert, distorted thoughts, he was still showering you with love. he was still tucking you into bed when he came home. he was still kissing you goodbye when he’d leave. he was still saying “i love you”. he was still asking you if you were alright. he was still suguru, the beautiful boy with long black locks that fell into his face whenever he’d laugh too hard. the boy that smiled simply because you were breathing. the boy that’d reach around for you at night, just to make sure you were beside him. the boy that would tell you he loves you each possibility he got simply to ensure that those were his final words in case of anything. your boy, he was your boy. your beautiful boy.

he was your boy yet you couldn’t keep him safe. you couldn’t shield him from the traumatic experiences that he inevitably faced as a sorcerer. you couldn’t reassure him that he was doing the best he could when everyone else expected him to do better. there was nothing you could do to aid him, to guide him, to protect him.

i failed, you thought. i failed to save you, my love.

where do we go from here? you thought. were you supposed to leave? were you supposed to stay with him? join him? end your own life? end his life?

your heart sunk and your body went still as you heard the door handle shaking behind you. you stood up from the love seat and went to approach the front door. the stifled sound of keys outside of the door had your heart dashing almost too fast to measure. finally, the door opened slowly, creaking loudly and he walked in.

“y/n-”

you didn’t know how you managed to move so quickly. suguru couldn’t even process it himself. but you cut him off, wrapping your arms around his body, fastening onto him as if he was trying to run anyway. he didn’t return the embrace, he was breathing quite heavily.

you pull away yet your hand lay on his chest, steadily grasping his shirt in your hands as you looked up at him with glossy eyes. the crying didn’t have to build - you just cried, warm tears liberated from your eyes and rolled down your cheeks.

“suguru, please tell me it’s not true,” you sobbed desperately. you brought a hand up to his cheek, scouring your thumb beneath his eye. “please...”

suguru’s jaw clenched, looking at you with deadpan eyes before he, oddly enough, smiles. it was almost frightening how he beamed at you, yet showed nothing in those dark eyes of his. his calloused hands are placed on your cheeks and he kisses you. it was so soft, yet so intense. he pulls away before you could even situate yourself with the kiss. your crying subsided.

as though the kiss didn't occur, he leaves and goes to the room that you two shared. you followed behind him.

“suguru...”

he didn’t respond to you. he looked into the mirror and rubbed his eyes. he was evidently tired. “suguru,” you called out to him again as you leaned against the door frame. he continued to ignore you and proceeded to remove his clothes from his body in an unusually slow manner.

“it’s true,” he finally speaks as he gets to the last button on his shirt and pulls it off of his arms.

your eyebrows curve upwards and your lips tremble once again and the tears started to stream. “t-then why did you come home...?”

suguru turned around to look at you. “just because i’ve lost my mind, does not mean i do not love you.” he walks closer to you and tilts your head up by pushing his fingers underneath your chin. “you understand that, right?”

“what does that mean?” you asked him in a small voice. he didn’t answer quick enough for you. “what does that mean, suguru?”

rather than giving you a verbal reaction, he snatches your face and kisses you covetously. it was messy and off-kilter and you didn’t enjoy it. this wasn’t a problem that he could kiss you through as he did in other situations. you pried his fingers off of your face and stepped back, shutting your mouth so his tongue just licked your face until he quit, taking a gander at you with a risky desire.

“i don’t want to kiss right now, suguru...” his nostrils flared at your words and his hand snaked up to the back of your neck. you drove his hand away again in which he quickly snatched you by the throat and pushed you into a wall. “su-sugu...” you struggled to speak and felt your face tightening. your fingers scratched at his flexed hand in an attempt to pry his fingers from your throat, however, you didn't succeed.

“i’ve lost my mind, y/n,” he growls, gazing at you with a profound, threatening glare. “i hope that doesn’t mean you don’t love me.” he let go of your throat but pushed you into the wall again, making you hit your head.

you wheezed for air and slid to the ground, urgently attempting to breathe once more. tears settled in the outer corners of your eyes. what happened? your beautiful boy had warped into something evil, something greedy. he had never touched you like this before and it terrified you, it frightened you so awful that you could hurl. he watched you struggle instead of coming to the rescue the way he’d normally do. he was so comfortable seeing you in pain at this moment. his words replayed in your head like a broken record. you pressed your forehead into the middle of your palm as you tried to get it to stop, screwing your eyes shut.

“i still love you...” you uttered in a feeble voice. you couldn’t find the courage to bring your eyes to his. you’d rather die than be glared upon like this by him. “i still love you, suguru,” you repeated. and you meant it.

his ears perked at the sound of your voice. despite the way he had just choked you for the suspicion that you didn’t love him anymore, he didn’t want to hear the words come out of your mouth. he knew he had committed an unforgivable crime, one, not even you would stay with him for. he knew that you were afraid and, with much guilt, he wanted it to stay that way. he didn’t want you to keep loving him for the sake of your safety, your own heart. but he needed to have you one last time before he walked out of that door. he needed to have you one last time before everything fell to shit. one could argue that things already did. 

he leans down and picks you up bridal style, bringing you to the bed that the two of you shared. he laid you down, caressing your cheek with a somber expression on his face.

“please stop loving me after tonight, y/n,” he whispers in your ear as he inclined down and began to kiss your earlobe, moving to your cheek and then your neck. your eyes augment at his sudden words. no. he anticipated your guarding hands and once they lifted to push him off, he was already grabbing them, pinning them above your head.

“suguru, please-” you interjected but he cut you off with another one of those messy kisses. You tucked your lips and turned your head left and right, trying to block it.

“stop fighting it,” he tells you in a warning tone. “please, just stop.”

you were tenacious. you tried kicking him, however, you just kneed his abdomen multiple times. “suguru, i don’t want to do this right now...i want to talk!” you started hysterically crying, wishing the entirety of this would stop. the suguru you knew wouldn't try to do this to you. he was a man of his word. he regarded you. he cherished you. this wasn't love. this was an evil longing.

realizing that you weren’t going to give up any time soon, he let go of your wrists and turned your body over. he placed his hand on the back of your head and pushed your face into the bed. your blood-curdling screams were muffled, your tears soaked into the sheets and your body trembled with immense fear.

he yanked your head up, your screams no longer suppressed and they echoed throughout the room. they were soon replaced by wheezing. “p-please-”

“promise me you’re not going to fight it...i don’t want to go any harder on you.” you gulped at the sound of his intimidating voice. you hated that you couldn’t see his face.

“i-i won’t f-fight it,” you stammered.

he finally let your hair go and gravity pulled you down on your stomach, collapsing on the bed. his hands caressed your ass, spreading his fingers over the expanse of each cheek before gripping it as if he was savoring the plushy feeling. for the first time in forever, you felt disgusted by his touch. you killed people with these hands. he pulled down your shorts, revealing your black, cotton underwear that hid underneath it.

he decided that, now, he wanted to see your face. he rolled you over onto your back and paused the subsequent he saw your face. he didn’t know what he was expecting, but you had completely shut down. you looked as if you had died. you figured that this was the solitary way you could go through with this - be numb to it all. you absentmindedly stared at the ceiling. your face was that of a cadaver. in an - almost - real sense, you let your psyche wander somewhere else and forfeited your body to him. 

suguru flinched when your eyes had finally moved. they darted to his face, taking a gander at him with an undeniable look. they then shifted to the ceiling. “do what you want, suguru.” your voice was dry and feeble. you had given up. there was nothing you could do to save him or yourself.

despite the fact that you had shut down in front of him, he still wanted to fuck you. the clunking of his buckle made your ears twitch as he unfastened his belt. once he unbuttoned his pants and unzipped the fly, they fell around his ankles and he stepped out of them. your eyes caught a glimpse of his prominent print in his underwear. he took his underwear off as swiftly as he did his pants and he held his veiny cock in his hand, stroking it slowly before rubbing it against your warmth, the only thing separating his length from your core were your panties. you gulped, terrified as you were unnerved of what move he’d make next.

instead of taking off your panties, he slides them aside, your breath hitching once your clit was met with cold air. to suguru’s disappointment, you weren’t aroused, yet he wasn’t surprised. but that didn’t stop him from pushing two, long fingers inside of you. you grimaced at the feeling of the burning sensation as his fingers forcefully and uncomfortably pushed into your walls. realizing he was getting nowhere, he grunts with irritation and rips off your panties. his head makes a plunge between your legs, his tongue frantically flicking at your clit. 

no.

your back wildly curved a smidgen and you squeezed your lips tight to cover the moans that needed to be urgently liberated from your lips. your stomach uncontrollably tucked in and out. your body formed a layer of sweat as your body temperature steadily rose higher and higher. he devoured you sporadically, no pattern, no steady pace. he wanted you wet. he wanted you gushing. he just wanted to feel comfortable inside of you.

against your own will, you gave him want he wanted. at the point when your lips at long last abandoned keeping down your groans, they came out stressed and weak. when his tongue had come in contact with your increasing slick, he lifted his head again. you deplorably became lascivious - craving him, needing him, and wanting him. you loathed yourself for it, how quickly he could make you lose yourself. this was most likely the last chance you’d get to touch him...feel him. no matter what, you couldn’t open your eyes. you had to pretend like this was all a dream. the man in front of you wasn’t a murderer, he was the loving guy he had always been. he liked getting his hair brushed before bed. he liked making you breakfast if he ever woke up before you. he liked taking showers with you, washing every last trace of your body while also getting a chance to admire it, to praise it. suguru liked kissing you in public, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. he liked making love to you after a hot bath. he liked asking if you were comfortable between each movement he made. he liked entwining fingers when he was ready to cum inside your tight cunt. he liked kissing you after he was done releasing, falling close to you, and murmuring “i love you.”

that’s the suguru that was touching you, right? right?

“no...” you whispered out loud as a response to your own psyche.

you hadn’t even realized he was scouring your wet warmth with his fingers and you regrettably had to open your eyes, only to be hit with the painful reality of things. you were too lost in this imaginary fantasy that the man in front of you was the same man a couple of days before. he simply was not. this was not the suguru that you fell in love with. but tonight, you had to make the best out of what you had right now.

“kiss me...”

“huh?” a perplexed look spreads across his face.

“kiss me.” you plead louder, hoping that the old suguru inside this man in front of you would hear you. and he did.

suguru brings himself down, crashing his lips into yours with passion, with regret. his tip unintentionally teased your entrance as he was hunched over you, making you squirm. he breaks away from the kiss and positions himself in front of your opening. you swore your soul left your body when you felt his calloused hands hassle with your dank fingers, finally settling in the free space between them. they locked in place and that was the moment you felt his love again, his comfort. you were taking so much time to process that he was holding your hands that it distracted you from the fact that he was entering you, stretching your opening.

you gasped, your eyes flitting rapidly before they eventually closed. you squeezed his hands as he continued to push the entirety of his length inside of you. your body jolted at the sudden feeling of his lips on your neck. contrary to what you expected, his thrusts were slow, steady, and amorous. tender kisses were scattered on your skin, his lips sucked on sweet spots that only he knew. the pretty moans that flew from your lips were out of your control. you were addled, trying to make sense of his actions that completely contradicted his demeanor from before. as he quickened his pace you could hear him inhaling every time he pulled back and exhaling every time his hips went forward to meet your groin. your eyebrows furrowed when you heard those breaths stutter. he was breathing spasmodically - he was silently sobbing.

at this point, he couldn’t hide it anymore. he thrusted into you harder as he got more overwhelmed. when he finally lifted his head, that’s when you saw it, his grief. his eyes were tightly shut, he was biting on his bottom lip, and tears, real tears, had rolled down his gaunt cheeks and met at this chin. your lips part as a look of despair came across your face. the sight was jarring, it was unusual. you wanted to hold him, kiss him, caress him, something. your hands still felt comfortable in the finger embrace, so you squeezed his hand as tight as you could, feeling like your bones would rip out of your skin.

suguru, i’m here.

at this moment you accepted that he had done something terrible and his soul had become wretched, but again, cursed yourself for still loving him. your love for him was unconstrained. shamefully, your perception of his disposition could not be tainted. this would remain your first and only love. he was your everything, your entire world.

and he knew this.

he knew this because he feels the same way about you. every feeling between the two of you is always reciprocated. there was complete equilibrium between this connection. both of you felt blessed by god himself to be able to experience a love like this, a love that many people cannot acquire. a love that everyone else coveted.

he kissed you feverishly, sniffling as he continued to move his hips, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout the room. you found the strength to wriggle your fingers away from his and place your small hands onto his back to hold him close to you. he would die in your arms if he could right now. still, he hated the way you kept showing him affection at a time like this, but it’s not like he was making it easy for you to despise him.

it just kept bothering him. it was bothering him because he knew couldn’t have you like this anymore after tonight. he didn't lament his contemptible decisions, yet he was enduring inside on the grounds that he had allowed himself to get so attached to you, and he let you get so attached to him. he wished he could tell you how much he loved you, how sorry he was. he wished that he didn’t succumb so deep into his own madness. he wished he could embrace you and tell you everything was okay. he wished he had just left the country instead of coming back here to you. he wanted you to be happy. he wanted you to live your life without him. he wanted you to be safe, yet, he wanted to be there to watch you prosper, to watch you find yourself, to watch you smile, to watch you cry. he couldn’t be here to watch you live out the rest of your long life. he wanted to kiss you. he wanted to hold you. he wanted to sleep with you. he wanted to marry you. he wanted to have kids with you. he wanted to grow old with you. where were these passionate thoughts before he slaughtered those monkeys?

“i’m sorry,” he whispers into your ear before he starts ramming into you rather roughly.

i hate that i want to forgive you.

you whimpered his name graciously, arms still wrapped around his built body as he delivered rhythmic strokes. he was getting closer to his climax, his face strained as he grunted and choked back pleasurable moans. he pushes himself up with his hand pressed firmly into the mattress, gazing down at how your gummy walls didn’t hesitate to take him in every time he pulled out.

“one last thing,” he murmurs. “i’ll give you one last thing.”

what does that mean-?

the voice in your head was cut off by the feeling of warm, sticky fluids saturating your hole. he let out a dragged-out groan as he came inside of your pulsating cunt, filling you up to the brim. his eyes screwed shut from the relieving feeling of his climax.

he opens his eyes, looking at your pretty face. he gets on the bed and lays down, pulling up your body and laying you down on his chest, holding you for the last time. the ear that was pressed against his chest could hear his agile heartbeat. your lips quivered before you started to weep in his arms. you were so out of it, still so confused on what he wanted, what he was thinking. you wished he could just tell you, but even you knew he wouldn’t. he couldn’t. he didn’t want you to follow him, to abandon the long, stainless life you had ahead of you. he didn’t want you to keep thinking of him.

it hurt to walk out that door that day without expressing everything to you. it hurt to walk out that door, period. once he finally got off the bed, he did nothing more and said nothing more.

as his back faced the apartment building as he walked on, he cried silently, regretting every step he was taking. if only you knew how much he loved you, how many times you had saved him from becoming this way early on, how he trusted you and relied on you to keep him stable when times were rough, how much he hated to see you in pain. if only you knew, if only you knew.

he fell while you prospered. he took two young girls under his wing while you cried once you saw the positive as clear as day on that pregnancy test. he shamelessly played house with his “shaman” family while you had moved in with satoru with a growing belly. he pleasurably mocked the lives of non-shamans while you gave birth to the very thing he hated in a delivery room. he slowly lost himself while you imbibed every word in those self-care books to better yourself for the sake of your baby girl. he laid awake at night, disturbed, while you slept peacefully on satoru’s couch, your infant child asleep in a rocker beside you. he cried in the shower as he thought of you while you cooed and giggled with your child as you soothingly washed her in the kitchen sink. he talked to himself when he was too out of it while you read bedtime stories to your child. he fell while you prospered. he thanked satoru for taking care of you during these miserable times before he was brought to his death while you gazed at your child and thought of him for the first time in months, murmuring, “you’re just as pretty as your father was.”

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this. i feel very proud that i took my time on this particular fic. just want to remind everyone that if you find yourself in abusive relationships, please talk to someone. if you find yourself having suicidal tendencies, please talk to someone. being an abuse survivor myself, i hope that i reached other survivors with this work. i hope my words touched someone.

#suguru geto #jjk suguru #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru #getou suguru imagines #getou suguru smut #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen getou #getou x reader #jjk #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jjk imagines #jjk x reader

[captaincoffeegirl515]

What the hell was that last act???

So first of all I want to say that I did enjoy most of the movie. It was okay. The sex scenes didn’t do anything for me though since I’m just not interested in sex at all. But while I more-or-less liked the movie, I felt that the big plot twists in the last act and the ending were badly done because… how the fuck did ANY of them manage to get away with ANY OF THAT??? Like from a legal standpoint it’s just ???

This got so much longer than I anticipated, so the rest is under the read more. And yes, there are so many spoilers. So if you haven't seen The Voyeurs yet and don't want spoilers, please avoid this.

Seb and Julia literally confess to selling their old apartment in order to spy on the people who live there and use them for their art show. Like, yes, they put that clause in the Terms of Agreement for the apartment (which literally no one ever reads) but there is still the matter of Informed Consent. Informed Consent is usually in the form of a contract Pippa and Thomas both need to read and sign, or via verbal questions and answers which is filmed so Seb and Julia would have physical proof of an agreement. This is basically telling them what footage was taken, how it will be used, and if Seb and Julia have permission to share the footage publicly. In Thomas’ case, since he’s dead, his next-of-kin will be asked. Only then are Seb and Julia legally allowed to publicly share and showcase the Pippa and Thomas’ pictures. And Seb is a professional photographer! He should know that!

Have you ever seen prank shows? Like even the ones on YouTube. Have you noticed at the end of some videos, there would be a part where the filmers would approach the person who was pranked and ask if they could use their footage in the video. That’s Informed Consent. They need to ask permission to use a person’s footage in a video or if they need to blur out the person’s face for privacy. Seb and Julia even showed a picture of a dead man for chrissakes! Remember the outcry when that YouTuber posted a video of a suicide victim in Japan???

The Japanese interviewer was right to disapprove of their methods because even though there was a clause in the Terms of Agreement, the prank (because isn’t that what that whole show they did was?) or experiment still resulted with someone killing themself (yes I know it was murder, but the world doesn't know it). They can possibly still be held liable for causing Thomas to kill himself the same way a prankster can be held liable if their victim dies from a prank because of this thing in Law called the Eggshell Rule or Eggshell Plaintiff.

What this means is that a defendant is liable for any injuries caused by the defendant’s actions, regardless of how unforeseeable or uncommon the plaintiff’s reactions to the defendant’s actions are. So for example, there is a scary prank where the prankster jumps out of the bushes and terrifies people. One of them turns out to have a heart condition, suffers a heart attack, and dies. Regardless of the victim’s frailty, the prankster can be held liable for exacerbating the condition and causing the victim’s death. Likewise in the movie, they can say that Seb and Julia, by orchestrating the whole thing and making Thomas see his girlfriend cheating on him, could have caused him to become broken-hearted and kill himself. Therefore, Seb and Julia can be liable for Thomas’ death.

And then here’s the kicker! The famous photographer and his wife, a famous model, both suddenly end up blind AFTER their big art show where they displayed Pippa’s scandal. And not by accident. No. This was obviously surgically done. And NOBODY suspected foul play?? Nobody thought about revenge?? Nobody thought it strange how their blindness was clearly done with a surgical/medical precision nor suspected the couple’s subject, Pippa, who they thoroughly humiliated, who also worked as an optometrist technician at a lab that has the machines that could cause that kind of blindness??? And they're both still alive! They can easily tell the police who did it!

It should have been way too easy for the police to know that it was foul play. Blood tests can tell that Seb and Julia had been drugged. How they were blinded can be traced to the optometry lab. Pippa would be the easiest main suspect due to her connection to them with revenge as the main motivation after they humiliated her in that art show.

And yes, I agree that what Seb and Julia did was wrong. They used Pippa and Thomas, and then murdered Thomas so they can have some juicy story to tell!

Even so, what happened to Ethical Codes in the medical field? What happened to the Hippocratic Oath? Non-maleficience rule? “Do No Harm”? Pippa should have been slammed with, idk, medical malpractice or something, after using her knowledge of the LASIK machine and using it to permanently blind people (which is an actual fear real people have about LASIK surgery), have her license revoked, be fired from her job, and possibly serve jail time. Why is she walking free all willy-nilly and still being allowed to continue stalking Seb and Julia?

I’ll admit though that maybe I’m being more harsh towards Pippa because I myself used to be a Board Certified medical professional (my license expired last year because I hadn't been working in that field for a while) and because of that, her actions angered and horrified me more.

Normally, we as an audience are made to root for the main character or hero, but I found it difficult to do so because Pippa herself is a terrible person. She's a pervert and a creep. She was obsessed with the lives of other people, stalked them, and even went as far as committing crimes in order to fuel her obsession - trespassing, breaking and entering, destruction of private property.

And my goodness this actually makes me think of a few Ben Hardy stans who are like this. Well, idk if going to Ben's school so that she can get a copy of a school film he was in can be considered a crime, but it's still fucking creepy.

Pippa’s got that Savior Complex where she tries to rescue this poor neglected wife from her horrible cheating husband (the same one she herself wants to fuck because she’s obsessed with him). And then when it all goes south, she immediately turns around and blames THOMAS of all people because “he started it”. Like, so what if he did?? He still had enough maturity to realize when they were taking it too far, and decided to stop with the stalking. He told her to stop multiple times but she was too blinded by her obsession and lust for a man that she doesn’t even know.

AND THEN!! She stalked a grieving husband (I know we know that was a lie but Pippa didn't know that) and proceeded to cheat on her boyfriend with said grieving husband. And frankly, I don’t understand why she’s so vengeful about Thomas’ death considering how easily she forgot him so that she could cheat on him. Like. Who knows, maybe he still would’ve killed himself regardless of the poisoned drink because the last thing he saw was his girlfriend cheating on him with the man she’d been obsessed with for the past idk how long. Even in the scene after Thomas died, there was a momentary grief where Pippa was all “it’s my fault Thomas died” but it was all too brief and immediately after she went back to obsessing and asking about Seb. And they want me to believe that she’d want to avenge Thomas’ death? No. I think she blinded Seb and Julia because she was angry at being called out for her obsession. For being told that she was wrong to go that far. It wasn’t about her “love” for Thomas. It was about how humiliated she was about being wrong.

Can you believe that Pippa gave this whole speech with the fable about being content with what you have and not to try to be greedy by wanting more and then she just immediately DOES THE OPPOSITE OF THE MORAL by cheating on her boyfriend because she wanted more aka Seb???

The more that I think about it, I feel like the true villain of the movie is Pippa herself. Her obsession with Seb is what started the whole thing. If she had been able to keep a healthy distance, none of that would’ve happened to begin with. There would be no fights over how far things were going. Seb would have no scandal to tell. She worsened Thomas’ insecurities of not being enough for her, making him go to great lengths just to try to please her. Poor Thomas. He truly deserved better.

Pippa also has awful friends. Instead of stamping down the creepy behavior, they’re giving tips on how to listen in on other people’s private conversations! And then later try to excuse her cheating on Thomas. And then help with her obsession AGAIN.

Acting-wise, I felt that Natasha, Ben, and Justice were incredible and I loved them. I love how conflicted Ben played Seb and how you can see it in his eyes. My favorite scene was the one where Seb and Julia had that confrontation over the wine where Seb asks if she ever felt guilty and Julia just stares right back and stares him down. Natasha was brilliant as Julie pretending to be all friendly and vulnerable with Pippa. Justice was very emotional and I love the scenes where he was horrified at how far Pippa was taking everything. For me, Sydney was the weakest one at acting. While there were some okay parts, her face can be really stiff at some points, like during the sex scenes.

Overall, I thought the movie to be quite thought-provoking especially in this day and age where people can find the most intimate details of another person’s life so easily, be that through Carrd, Instagram stories, Facebook feeds, and other social media sites. It makes you think about parasocial relationships, how people can be so obsessed about people that they’ve never even met, and how that obsession can easily grow into something dangerous that can ruin lives. Good movie, terrible last act. Too much sex for my taste, but then it wouldn’t be called an erotic movie.

Outside of the movie, I really love the chemistry between the four of them. I love watching their interviews and seeing how they interact with each other.

Last but not the least, I know this may be random but my brain likes to zoom in on the weirdest things. How on earth did Pippa manage to get Seb on top of that operating table?? No offense but Pippa is fucking tiny. Seb’s like twice her size and mostly muscle AND unconscious. Like ??? Sorry but that threw me off so much it’s ridiculous.

#ben hardy #natasha liu bordizzo #justice smith #sydney sweeney

[nancypullen]

Melons and Murders

We didn't do anything special on the 4th of July. Because only 30-something percent of Tennesseans are vaccinated and the Delta variant is unpredictable, we're still avoiding crowds. It sucks because I really want to enjoy a ballgame or a concert. Downtown Nashville broke a previous record by hosting an estimated 400,000 drunken idiots for an Independence Day celebration. What could possibly go wrong there, right? So we stayed home, grilled some brats, and watched tv while our neighborhood lit up like a combat zone. It was insane. After all of that grumpy complaining, I'm actually here to pay tribute to summer food. As far as I'm concerned, the absolute QUEEN of the summer is the Sugar Kiss melon.

This melon will change your life. I've never tasted anything so good. Don't be deceived into thinking this is just a cantaloupe. This is magic in your mouth. This melon tastes like it's been injected with vanilla and sugar. They're only in season for a brief part of the summer and we eat about three a week. Not even kidding. We get ours at Publix, even though I've seen and purchased them elsewhere, the Publix melons seem to be at peak freshness. I don't know if Kroger warehouses theirs before they're in stores or what, but the Publix melons are superior. You'll spot Sugar Kiss melons right away, wrapped in their distinctive blue mesh and set apart from the other cantaloupe. Get one (no, seriously, get two) and you can thank me later. It wouldn't be summer without watermelon. I buy one every Saturday, chunk it up and keep it in a big, lidded tub in the frig. When I come in from working in the yard, hot and sweaty, a couple of pieces of chilled watermelon cools me down faster than anything I could drink. Mickey says the same thing. It's always sad toward the end of summer when watermelon becomes scarce. I have some heirloom seeds from my Grandma Ethel's watermelon patch that I treasure, and I haven't had the courage to plant them. How silly is that? I'd hate to get my hopes up and have some stupid pest ruin everything. Anyyywhooo...back to watermelon. Aside from just eating it straight, I'm addicted to this combo.

Day after day, I drop chunks of watermelon into a bowl, sprinkle some feta and a bit of chopped, fresh mint leaves, then top it with a quick squeeze of lime, just a little. Holy moley, I hear angels sing when I eat this. The super sweet melon, the salty feta, the zing from the mint and the lime - it's everything a summer dish should be. It doesn't hurt my feelings that it's really pretty to look at too. Know what else I'm addicted to? Breakfast salads. I love breakfast, it's my favorite meal of the day. I would be content to eat a hearty breakfast and then just nibble for the rest of the day. Normally I'll dice up tomato and onion and get it sizzling in a skillet, then I'll throw in some riced broccoli.

Once that's cooked through, I season and scramble two eggs and pour that in - a few stirs with a spatula and I've got a bowlful of veggie eggs and a yummy breakfast. If you're so inclined and can spare the calories, add cheese or bacon or whatever floats your boat. It's delicious, low in calories and fat, offers plenty of protein and fiber, and will keep you full all day. Winner. Lately I've been throwing together a flavorful salad...spring greens, a quarter of an avocado, a tablespoon of feta, and a tablespoon of crumbled bacon. Super simple.

Then I spritz a pan with a little olive oil and fry an egg. I season it like crazy and plop it right on top of the salad.

When I cut through the egg it releases the warm, yummy yolk as a dressing and coats everything. It's a delicious, healthy breakfast. The mister and I are still working the Weight Watchers thing. It's so stinkin' easy and NOTHING is off limits. I'm on the Purple Plan because I don't like to log things, so I have a bazillion "free" foods but only 16 points a day. The items that cost me are fatty things like mayo and butter. As long as I eat clean and whole foods (even whole grain pasta is zero points for me!) I can finish every day with points to spare. A grilled chicken breast with roasted broccoli and sweet potato is a zero point meal. How simple is that? Of course, that doesn't mean I don't have treats. It didn't take me long to figure out that a macaron is just two points and totally worth it. I'm down 21 pounds and it's been embarrassingly easy to do. It's been a slow drip, pretty much a pound a week, but it's the easiest diet I've ever been on and I think I've tried them all. Sorry, I rambled. I promised melons and murder. The murder part is really more of a question for you. It's no secret that I'm a true crime junkie. My DVR history is frightening- Snapped, Cold Justice, etc. My reading list looks like I'm either planning or solving a murder. But I'm new to true crime podcasts. When I'm at my desk I like to listen to a murder or two, usually tuning into a Dateline series (the Mommy Doomsday episodes will blow your mind). I'm in the market for other podcasts though, so I'm asking for your favorites. You don't have to answer here, you can always send suggestions to [email protected] - no need to create a Tumblr profile or any of that. Hit me with your favorites, My Favorite Murder? Anatomy of a Murder? Crime Junkie? Sword & Scale? Do tell! Gotta' go. It's time for me to trot out to the garden and pick more cucumbers and have a chat with the birds and squirrels. Summer is in full swing and I intend to enjoy these days. Besides, if I don't go out and get sweaty, I can't justify eating more melon. I have an agenda. I hope you're having some fun with your day. Stir up some giggles, even if you're just laughing at yourself. I used to write jokes on Post-It notes and leave them on the doors of bathroom stalls at work. I wonder how many pantsless people chuckled ? Go spread some sunshine and make sure you get some on yourself. Stay safe, stay well, stay sunny. XOXO - Nanccy

[hetamavi]

The History Behind “Useless Italy”

Introduction

This post will go into detail on the World War II era history behind the stereotypes that defines Italy’s character and his relationship with Germany. Both during and after covering the history, I’ll go into how Italy’s character reflects that history and point out some inaccuracies in regards to him and his relationship with Germany (Spoilers: There’s a lot). The point of this post isn’t to condemn Hetalia, it’s to inform the people reading this post. The core of the series, and even the name, come from how useless Italy is portrayed as. When consuming this sort of content, I think the actual background behind it is worth knowing. Hetalia is a lighthearted series in large part about stereotypes, but stereotypes can have some very not lighthearted origins. It’s also true that if you’re a Hetalia fan, and you never really look into this history, you’ve been massively misinformed. Hetalia can serve as inspiration to look more into history, but it is not to be treated as a legitimate source for learning history. 

One extra note. For most of this post, in regards to Hetalia, I’ll be talking about Italy as in the titular character who represents northern Italy and not Romano. I will briefly bring up Romano as well, but his existence doesn’t detract from anything said here. 

Translated panels are taken both from Hetarchive and the Tokyopop translation of volume 1.

The Historical Background

Italy’s character seems to largely be based on stereotypes that Italy’s blunders during World War II were a result of character flaws such as cowardice on the part of Italian soldiers. Factually, however, these stereotypes don’t seem to hold much truth to them. This isn’t something I’ll spend too much time going into detail on, but the actual reasons Italy struggled during WWII has to do with factors such as its involvement in wars in Spain and Africa which came before WWII, lack of resources, and lacking in industrialization. Before even entering the war, it was understood that Italy wouldn’t be prepared for a major war until 1943.

Adding onto the practical reasons mentioned above, Italians really didn’t want to enter the war.

“In fact, few Italians – including Mussolini and Ciano – had much taste for either the war or their ally, and the Italians continued to build fortifications in the Tyrol and contest German influence in the Balkans.” (Understanding Defeat: Reappraising Italy’s Role in World War II)  

So why would Italy get involved regardless of all these factors? Fascists leaders such as Mussolini were imperialists who wanted Italy to maximize its status and power within Europe. After Germany had successfully invaded Paris, it looked as if there were an opening for Italy to join in, have a series of quick victories, and then get a share of the success. That political calculus certainly sounded more appealing than potentially allowing only Germany to reap the benefits of the win, leaving a neutral Italy’s future uncertain under German hegemony. So despite the lack of resources, the outdated equipment, and the hesitant Italian public, they entered the war.

To say Germany and Italy’s relationship within Hetalia has some inaccuracies to how Germans and Italians actually interacted throughout the war would be an understatement. In a quote from “Of Myths and Men: Rommel and the Italians in North Africa, 1940-1942”, the relationship is described. “There is no question that the Germans looked down on their ally as racially inferior and friction between the two was endemic and pervasive; Vice Admiral Nomura noted ‘rivalries between Italian and Germans everywhere’ during his trip through the Balkans in late 1942.” There is an abundance of information and quotes supporting this claim, including a German general’s, Christian Eckhard, attempt to explain the friction. His explanation was that Germans held contempt for their allies because Italians knew of the superiority of the Germans and were insubordinate in reaction to that knowledge.

A quote from a German commander and noted Italophile, Albert Kesselring, is “The Italian is easily contented. He actually has only three fashionable passions – coffee, cigarettes, and women.” Another quote from this same commander is that Italians are likable “if one is not repelled by his naturally inherent attributes which are in sharp contrast with the characteristics of people from the North”. Kesselring would later be indicted for his involvement in the Ardeatine massacre which took the lives of 335 Italians (put a pin in that, I’m coming back to it later).

As evidenced by the already described friction, the contempt wasn’t one sided and the Italians were well aware of the hostility and racism towards them. “Count Ciano continually complained in his diary, and popular writers like Aldo Lualdi leave no doubt, that Italy’s German ally was not ‘simpatico’ (‘likable’).” (Of Myths and Men: Rommel and the Italians in North Africa, 1940-1942 )

The racism towards Italians at the time directly relates to the image of them as having been cowardly during the war. German commanders were prone to blaming Italians for whatever failures they endured, whether giving them the blame was warranted or not. Erwin Rommel, also known as the “Desert Fox”, was one notable commander who made a habit out of this. “Rommel increasingly blamed the Italians for his woes, and his disdain reflected the attitude of the German high command. Easily caricatured, Italian soldiers in fact showed flashes of ferocity and tactical competence in North Africa, particularly in infantry skirmishes.” (An Army at Dawn: The War in North Africa, 1942-1943).

Alongside bigotry and finger pointing occurring on the Axis side, both Allied (most notably British) and German propaganda overstated German competence. “The tendency to attribute Axis successes to the Germans and failures to the Italians seems to have its roots in the conviction that Rommel was a genius who could do no wrong, and the belief that Italians were subject to excessive Latin nervousness and made pitiful soldiers. It is thus normal to dismiss as loss of nerve Graziani’s request for permission to retreat in late 1940, even though a retreat seems to have been what was needed. At the same time, Anglo-American writers tend to depict Rommel’s various retreats as evidence of military genius.”  (Understanding Defeat: Reappraising Italy’s Role in World War II)

These interpretations benefited both sides propaganda wise. “Perhaps Faldella was correct to see the myth of Rommel as necessary to allow the English to rationalize their defeats as due to the presence of a genial enemy commander rather than to the valor of German and Italian troops. And the Rommel myth also serves the Germans, who can blame the Italians for their own errors and pusillanimity, even though German commanders such as Paulus and Kesselring found Rommel less than an ideal army commander.” (Understanding Defeat: Reappraising Italy’s Role in World War II). 

"We have a very daring and skillful opponent against us, and, may I say across the havoc of war, a great general."

- Winston Churchill on Erwin Rommel

With all that said, this section would be incomplete without talking about the Cold War and how the image of the German military, particularly figures like Rommel, as brilliant and super competent, especially compared to their Italian ally, has been prevalent for so long. After the end of WWII and around the beginning of the Cold War, West Germany was seen as a desirable ally against the Soviet Union (having already fought against them) and the conditions for that to happen involved the rehabilitation of the image of the German military, giving German senior military officials more control over the narrative concerning the events that took place during the war. This also led to the myth of the clean Wehrmacht, the idea that the German military had no culpability in the war crimes that had occurred. Bringing back Kesselring and the massacre he had a role in which resulted in a trial held against him by the British, he was one such war criminal who had his image rehabilitated and there was public sympathy for him, including from Winston Churchill. After initially receiving the death penalty and then having that punishment reduced to life imprisonment, he was released in 1952 despite protests in Italy. Another convicted commander, Max Simon, would have a similar fate to Kesselring in that he was released despite his role in the  Marzabotto massacre which took the lives of at least 770 Italians.

Summarizing everything up, the Italians were not prepared for a major war and it was known at the time they wouldn’t have been ready until at least 1943. Despite that, what seemed to be the increasing chance of a Germany victory upon the defeat of France led to Italy entering the war in order to not be left in the dust of potential German hegemony. Alongside being not prepared and being on the receiving end of bigotry, the reputation surrounding Italy’s performance in the war was further damaged by propaganda occurring on both sides that exaggerated German competence and the Cold War making it beneficial for British and Americans to allow biased (often including racially biased) German senior officials to have a major role in defining the narrative concerning what happened during the war.

Italy in Hetalia

Italy’s personification gives the racial biases and misinterpretations against Italians a face and then puts him next to the super competent Germany. Germany is focused and serious. Italy is easily distracted. Germany is tough and brave. Italy couldn’t even endure a cat licking him. Italy is cowardly and incapable of keeping secret information a secret when pressured. Germany is strong-willed and will keep important information a secret no matter what he’s put through. Germany can also tie his shoes. Italy can’t.

Germany is reliable. The name of the series is literally “Useless Italy”.

Putting aside their individual characteristics, as mentioned above, Germany and Italy’s very romanticized relationship within Hetalia isn’t exactly accurate to what took place between the two countries in real life. In Hetalia, the two share a genuine and very close friendship. There’s even Buon San Valentino which showed Germany being willing to enter a romantic relationship with Italy when he misunderstood some friendly gestures on Italy’s part.

Mixed in with those feelings, Germany takes on an almost paternal role towards Italy which further places emphasis on the difference in competence between the two. This goes as far as having Germany having specific instructions for how Italy should be taken care of which he gives to the Allies when they capture Italy. In return, Italy admires Germany, not just for his clear competence, but for his ability to do even things as basic as tie his own shoes.

Here’s where Romano comes in because he is a completely different story when it comes to his relationship with Germany. He hates Germany and he made that clear from the moment they met. However, Romano disliking Germany doesn’t suddenly make Italy’s fondness of Germany make any more sense given the history (especially since Italy represents the half that was occupied where events like the Marzabotto massacre took place).

Conclusion

When consuming media such as Hetalia where the characters are meant to have some relation to real life events, it’s important to understand what you are consuming might not actually reflect reality. What I’ve covered here isn’t the only case of Hetalia not being accurate. But Italy and his characterization as useless in the given historical context (Word War II) was at one point a major feature of the series. Italy was the face of Hetalia and his relationship with Germany was also a significant part of the series. Those facts are what make this specific case of inaccuracy something worth talking about.  There is an addition I need to make before closing this out. A lot of this post covers historical information that can almost make fascist Italy seem like another victim of Nazi Germany above all else. And clearly, there were some ways in which Italy was victimized, But Mussolini and other fascists leaders had imperialist ambitions which was motivation for Italy’s involvement in the war. With those ambitions and Italy’s involvement in not only World War II, but the wars preceding it, (the sames ones that were partly why Italy wasn’t prepared for a major war) came war crimes in the countries that were invaded. Just like how it’s untrue that the average Italian was a coward and subject to “Latin nervousness”, it’s also untrue that Italy was harmless.

#hetalia #aph italy #aph germany #hws italy #hws germany #historical hetalia

[cosleia]

Jeeyon Answer Meme

I did a meme on Twitter, made by a user named Jeeyon, where you answer really weird questions...except I answered each question as a different Star Wars character. See if you can guess who is who.

1. What is your favorite thing to smell that's neither perfume nor your body's natural scent?

The second-best thing I ever smelled were wildflowers, lush and purple, beautiful as they bobbed on long stems in the gentle breeze. The best, though…well. It doesn’t matter. I’ll never smell either of them again.

2. Horses: y/n? Defend your answer.

Look, when you’re on a planet with animals that are ridden, you ride those animals. You do what the locals do. That’s how you make contacts and gain trust. Would I say I particularly LIKE animals? No. I don’t care about children, either. No—no, put that down! *heavy sigh*

3. If you could be perpetually youthful in mind and body but it meant outliving everyone you love, would you do it?

I want to say yes. I should say yes. There’s so much work left, and if I could maintain my health longer, I could do more…but.

But.

I’ve just lost so much, so many, already.

Don’t tell anyone. I have to be strong.

4. What was a superstition you made up and slowly, over time, ended up believing?

All I do is bring pain to the people I love. The galaxy can’t afford my mistakes anymore. I have to take myself out of the equation.

That’s what I told myself, and I even believed it…but deep down, I knew I was afraid. It took a true hero to make me face that.

5. What sounds do you hear often in passing that cheer you up?

The Falcon makes good noises. The hyperdrive especially, but even the proximity alarm…it all reminds me of those early days with Han. Nothing’s perfect, but after literal enslavement on a mudball planet, that time was idyllic.

And Han was the best friend I’ve ever had.

6. A minor god grants you a boon: either the gift of being able to grow gills to breathe and swim great depths underwater, or to grow wings and fly to great heights. You can go about as fast as you would at a full sprint. What good deed did you receive the boon for, and do you take gills or wings?

Oh gosh, a boon? Just for being a decent human being?? I don’t know, could I even accept? …pretend I have to? Ugh, okay…well…being able to fly would be amazing, but I mean, I don’t want to discount BREATHING UNDERWATER, like, can you imagine?? And oh I’m supposed to say what I did to get the boon too, I don’t even know, in the stories you can get a boon for setting an animal free from a trap or returning something that was lost, so maybe something like that. But I don’t know, it should be something really special, right? Something…

…like what a hero would do. Something…

Oh, I am NOT, shut up!

…yes, I did do that…

Fine…

Okay, I’m going to pick flying. You’re more likely to need me to save your ass again in the air than in the ocean. *laughs*

7. Every wild animal you see within an eight block radius of your home now has a taste for human flesh. How screwed are you?

How convenient for me. I have plenty of humans around. This way, my snacks will come right to me.

8. You meet and fall in love with someone who falls in love with you in turn, but the cost is you never have a clean break when you take a shit ever again. Is it worth it?

To love—and to be loved back? Totally worth it. I’ll cram some TP up there, I don’t care. Sure it’ll make being in the cockpit uncomfortable sometimes, but what kind of pilot can’t fly under pressure?

9. If you could be any of your houseplants, which would you be? If you don't have houseplants, choose a bivalve instead.

What a pointless question! I don’t have time for this. Back to your stations immediately.

10. In Bo Burnham's comedy special Inside, the opening song includes the line, "I'm sorry I've been gone, but look I made you some content/Daddy made you your favorite, open wide." What are you opening wide for? You are opening your mouth only. You are not opening your mouth for a body part. [Note: That disclaimer SLAYED ME]

*squeals unintelligibly, gesturing toward Frog Lady’s eggs*

11. You wake up with a worn leather pouch under your pillow. When you unwind the frayed cord cinched around its neck, you see that it is full of teeth. Somehow you know you are meant to plant them in fertile soil. What kind of teeth are they, and what crop do you harvest?

The teeth are from a comb, and when I plant them they grow a rooster, and when he crows you feel it in your teeth. Well, that’s what it seems like would happen, anyway. Just a feeling.

12. There's a spider in your home that brings you a crisp, newly minted $5 every day at 5:40PM, but also every day at an undetermined time between 1 and 2AM, on two randomly selected days of the week, screams directly in your ear with the volume and lung capacity of an opera singer. Do you let the spider keep living inside, or do you take it outside to a nice garden somewhere?

I do not comply with natural law. I make my own law. This spider will bow before me. My new apprentice.

13. While you're trying out a new recipe, you fuck up and summon a demon instead. What were you trying to cook? Which demon do you summon with your errors?

Well, hello there. I suppose my lunch shall have to wait. Would you be interested in helping me commit war crimes?

14. If you could transform all of your hair to a different, hairlike-but-not-hair substance, what would it be?

Uhhh, gonna have to stick with my hair, I think. No offense to anyone. I just already know how to deal with hair. (Plus…my hair’s pretty great)

15. You're checking the ingredients of a new affordable skincare product that's really working wonders for you, and the first one listed is "ACTIVE INGREDIENT 3.6% HUMAN BLOOD." Do you keep using it?

ABSOLUTELY NOT. I would bring this outrage to the Senate immediately. No one should suffer for others’ gain.

16. You travel to see a beloved friend of many years, but the more time you spend with them, the more they seem a little off, like you're looking at a picture of your friend through a window pane. When you ask them about it they reply cheerfully, "Oh yeah I'm a homunculus constructed in the image of your friend. I have all their memories and bodily conditions. For all intents and purposes, I'm a later edition of your friend, but the person you knew as your friend isn't here anymore. Where do you want to eat dinner tonight?" What restaurant do you choose?

I know you’re not Fives. I held Fives as he died. We may all look alike, but we’re not all the same.

17. If you could shrink or grow to ride any non-horse animal like a horse, which animal would you choose?

Oh, that would be useful, especially the shrinking part, to get into tighter spaces. But then I’d want to be normal again later. Or bigger, so people would be less likely to cheat me. Oh, yes, I suppose I do have the lightsaber now, don’t I?

18. During an evening stroll you find an adorable, bright blue beetle the size of a pencil eraser. When you go over to investigate, it calls you the rudest thing you've ever been called in your entire life. What do you do?

What?? That’s just—what??? I think I’d be too shocked to respond at first. But everyone has their reasons for doing things I guess. Maybe if we talked about it we could come to an understanding. If not, I’d just go on my way.

#star wars #my writing #not tagging the characters because that would be telling! #some of these are better than others haha

[secondhand-trash]

The Usual

@shinsoubowl​ Week Day 3 (Prompt: coffee shop)

A/N: I’m so excited for this prompt uwu

Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi x reader

Description: Shinsou was by no means a coffe drinker. But if it meant that he could see the cute barrista who worked at the coffe shop by the corner, he would gladly pour that disgusting cup of liquid down his throat every day.

(guest starring the pikachu boy uwu)

Word count: 2131

Playlist:

Earth Angel(Will You Be Mine)//The Penguins

Coffee Breath//Sofia Mills

Cherry Wine//Hozier

-

The small bell hanging on the door frame chimed as Shinsou pushed the glass door open, the strong aroma of coffee immediately filled his sense as he walked in.

He first came to this small coffee shop by the corner of the agency he was working at a few months ago when he was asked to get a cup of coffee for his boss on his way to work. It was a cozy shop, the light shining in through the tall windows and plants sitting by every corner. There was only one barista by the counter when he walked in and the barista immediately greeted him with a bright smile as he walked up.

“Good morning! What can I get for you?”

“Er...” Shinsou looked at the message his boss sent him and winced at how specific the order was, “Can I have a tall caramel latte with double shots of espresso, one extra pump of hazelnut syrup, skim milk and a thin layer of foam for takeout please?”

He felt bad for all the extra requirements and was fully expecting the barista to gave him a look but instead of that, they laughed and the sound made his heart skip a beat. “Would you happen to be working in that pro-hero agency down the block?”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “Yeah, I suppose very few customers would give such a long order except from our boss so it must be quite obvious.”

“Oh, trust me, his regular orders are far from being the most complicated ones we’ve gotten.” the barista said with a smile, “Anything for you?”

“Well...”

“We have a new blend of roast that just came in yesterday, would you like to try that?”

Shinsou had no intention to get anything for himself originally but something about that barista’s lovely smile clouded his judgment and before he knew it, he was walking out of the shop with two cups in head. Since that day, he had quickly become a regular at the coffee shop, stopping by each morning before work.

For the record, Shinsou hated the taste of coffee.

Perhaps it was the unhealthy habit of drinking black coffee as an energy drink back when he was studying in UA, but Shinsou could not help but scrunched in disgust at the bitter hue of that dark liquid. He tried adding heaps of sugar and milk to it but it did not make the drink any more appealing to him. How some people genuinely like the taste of it, he could never understand.

But something about that coffee shop made him want to go back day after day and it did not take him long to see just why that was the case.

“Morning!” you perked up from the counter as you caught the vivid shade of purple at the door from the corner of your eye.

Shinsou smiled. You were always so energetic each morning and seeing you made it just a bit easier for him to get through another day of hectic work. “Morning.”

“Should I get you your usual or do you want to try something new?”

“The usual would be fine,” he yawned before continuing, “I would be down if there’s something you recommend though.”

You quirked a brow upwards at the hero’s tired expression, “You look exhausted, even more so than usual. How much sleep did you get last night?”

“None.”

You gasped and sent him an exaggerated glare, he grinned apologetically in response. You picked up on Shinsou’s sleep deprivation very quickly since he started showing up, seeing as how he had drifted off to sleep several times while waiting for his order. “What have I said about-”

“Getting more rest. I know, I know.” he sighed, “I really tried, I swear. But villains don’t wait till you got 8 hours of sleep per day to start crimes.”

“I swear, you’re gonna get a sudden cardiac death one day at this rate.” you rolled your eyes as he laughed.

“Aw, you’re worried about me. That’s cute.”

“Don’t laugh, I’m being serious.” you glared at him before resorting to a soft sigh, “Can I get you a double shot to wake you up?”

Just the faint memory of the bitterness was enough to send him war flashbacks to when he used to stay up all night for catching up to school work after training. In all honesty, he would really much rather stick to the more tolerable taste of latte that he normally get but you were suggesting that to help him, how was he supposed to say no to that concerned look in your eyes?

“Of course.”

Shinsou cursed himself for not having a back bone as he squeezed his eyes tight the moment he tasted the strong coffee on his tongue.

“Are you planning to make a move on that cute guy who looked like he haven’t slept in ten years at all? Because I swear he is only here for you and I can tell that you are always being extra nice to him. It infuriates me that none of you are doing anything about it.”

You looked at your colleague as you tied the knot of the apron on your back. “What? I treat every customer the same!”

She clicked her tongue as she slammed her locker shut, “I don’t hear you gushing about other customers.”

You blushed and tried to brush her off, “I do not gush about him.”

“Oh, so not only were you gushing, you were also doing it without any awareness.”

“Just stop it,” you pretended to fix your hair in front of the mirror instead of looking at your friend as she snickered, “the coffee is not gonna brew itself if we stay here at the back.”

“Keep denying it, it’s not gonna change the truth.” she smirked as she yelled after you escaped to the store front.

You were still thinking about what she said to you when you were setting up the register. Were you being extra nice to Shinsou? Well, he was one of the nicer customers around. Literally every person who worked at the shop had their own favourite customer so it wasn’t that abnormal for you to act just a little bit differently in front of him. Right? Right?

“Daydreaming at work? That’s unlike you.”

You let out a soft yelp as the sudden voice startled you. You looked up with wide eyes as Shinsou stared at you with a crooked grin. He was one of the nicer customers you had here, and it didn’t hurt that he was also one of the more good-looking ones either. You felt warmth spreading from the tip of your ears to your cheeks at the realization that he was standing there while you thought of him. “You’re here earlier than usual.”

Despite not knowing the true cause, he did picked up on the faint blush on your face. Assuming that you were embarrassed from being startled, he couldn’t help but widening his grin at how adorable you looked.

“Got some work I have to finish before the day starts so I need to get back to the agency earlier.” he sighed as he felt the rumbling in his stomach, “I regret skipping breakfast for it though.”

“Oh,” you frowned at his lack of care for his body, “your usual?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Sitting on a bar stool as he waited for his order, Shinsou was scrolling through his phone when he saw you put a brown paper bag in front of him.

“What is this?” he asked and picked it up. The bag was hot under his touch and he could smell a faint sweetness as he held it.

“A muffin.”

He tilted his head in confusion, “I did not order that?”

“It’s on me,” you smiled as you watched him peeking into the bag curiously, “no way in hell am I going to let you go to work with an empty stomach.”

Part of him wanted to tell you that he could not take it but the way you cared about his well-being filled him with joy and the pastry smelled so good. “You’re a god-sent.” he said as he hummed in content after biting into the warm muffin.

“Anything for my favourite customer.”

He wasn’t sure if the sweetness of the cake could compare to your words, the idea that he was at least somewhat special to you sent his heart pounding furiously in his chest.

You waved at him before he left and watched as Shinsou’s frame disappeared from your sight. You pressed your cold hand to your face and shivered as your heated face came in contact with the icy fingers. Your friend who was talking to you in the back room earlier leaned against the counter, “You looked flushed, what happened?”

“That man had no business looking that good in the early morning-” you paused as you realized what you just said and your friend gave you a cheeky grin, “oh my god, I do gush about him.”

She snorted as your eyes widened, “I told you so.”

“Let me repeat myself,” Shinsou stared at the blonde who was having the widest grin on his face, “why are you here?”

“Since our agencies are working on the same case together, I think it’d be nice if we catch up!” Kaminari said through his toothy smile. Shinsou was aware that he would be working with his UA school mate for the coming days since he got a heads up from his boss but he was not expecting to find Chargebolt waiting outside his apartment as he made way to work this morning.

“And waiting outside someone’s house is definitely a normal way to do that.” Shinsou said dryly but his friend didn’t seem to pick up on the sarcasm as he continued babbling on about the time they spent in UA as they walked.

“Hey!” you were wiping the counter when Shinsou walked in with someone by his side, “You brought a friend!”

“He’s not my-”

“Kaminari Denki, or Chargebolt as you will. It’s a pleasure.” you reached out and shook his extended hand as Shinsou clenched his jaw. “Is this the one you were-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Shinsou quickly cut him off before he kept running that large mouth of his, “I’ll have the usual.”

You smiled as you marked down his order and handed him the change, “One tall latte, coming right up.”

“What?” Kaminari looked at his friend and furrowed his eyebrows, “But you-”

“Don’t say it.”

“-hate coffee.”

Shinsou wanted nothing more than to slap the blonde for saying what he had been trying to hide in front of you for so long. He was filled with dread and embarassment as your eye widened in shock, “What?”

“It’s nothing-”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you nearly screamed at how bad you felt for basically assuming that he would want coffee, “I just thought you like coffee since it’s what you get the first time you were here and you actually hated it?”

“It’s fine! I’m the one who asked for-”

“No you did not! I thought you could not make your mind up so I took you not refusing my recommendation as a ‘yes’-”

“I could have said something-”

“We also have tea, you know? I could have gotten you tea!”

“It’s fine! Really, I’m here to see you anyways-” Shinsou stopped mid scream as he realized what he just said. You flailing hands froze mid-air as his words settled in your mind.

“Oh.” your voice softened as you finally got what he was implying, “Oh.”

“Yeah, so it’s ok. Really.” Shinsou said as heat spread all across his face and he sent a sharp glare towards Kaminari who just avoided his accusing gaze.

“Well, I still feel bad. Can I make it up to you?” you shyly looked away as he looked at your face that was as flushed as his own, “I know this really nice cat cafe, we can go there? You do like cats, right?”

“Love them, actually.” Shinsou smiled and it made your heart flutter, “That sounds great. Pick you up when you get off?”

“Sure. Tonight at 6?”

“Tonight at 6.”

Kaminari’s eyes flicked between the two of you as you just stood there and sheepishly glance at each other occasionally in silence. “So... Technically, I did a good thing right?”

“Shut up.”

“Ok. Sorry.”

#bnha imagines #shinsou x reader #shinsoubowl #shinsoubowl week 2019 #shinsou hitoshi #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #shinsou imagine #boku no hero academia

[savannah-lim]

Hell’s Dell’s || Savannah & Marley

Timing: Current Parties: @savannah-lim and @detectivedreameater Location: Dell’s Tavern Content: Panic (Mara fear gas), Clowns (Vague description), Head Trauma

Savannah had needed to process so much during her time in White Crest that sometimes she forgot to sit back and take a deep and careful examination of it. She was almost used to the town to the point of desensitisation, which alone should have frightened her. What had begun as a simple missing persons investigation into Agent Sterling had turned into an exploration of an entirely new world, one she didn’t want to give up entirely too easily. If she was honest, maybe that’s why she hadn’t submitted a final report on Agent Sterling’s case yet, why she kept finding more cases to dive into. If anything had managed to shock her recently, it had been the Dullahan. Stryder had known all about it, explained it away as something all White Cresters should know about, and even managed to defend her excitement about seeing it in a way Savannah understood on a deep and personal level. If not for that explanation, Savannah wasn’t sure she’d have invited Stryder out for drinks at all. “What are you having?” she asked as they found a booth, taking off her jacket and folding it neatly beside her. 

Savannah Lim was a mystery to Marley. She had watched the destruction of the Dullahan, watched Marley fawn over him-- listened to her explain what was going on, and she’d still invited Marley out for a drink. And, more importantly, not reported her. Marley should have been more concerned about citizens when they were being attacked, but she just couldn’t help it-- the pull of their fear was too good to pass up. It was like she’d been hypnotized, realy. But here she was now, standing outside of Dell’s, heading in to get a drink with a normal human FBI agent who believed in the supernatural somehow. And she wanted to talk about creepy things. How could Marley pass that up? “Tequila lime,” she answered, removing her own jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair. “So...how’re you liking White Crest so far?”

"Tequila Lime?" Savannah repeated, considering that as an option before nodding. She usually didn't dive right into the spirits, but what the hell. It sounded good. "We'll get two of those. There's a Dutch beer that tastes like Tequila. It sounds awful, but it's actually really good. I wonder if they have it." It probably said a lot about her that most of her socialising involved alcohol. "Would you think I was crazy if I said I actually like it?" she answered, but then again, considering her last conversation with Marley, she figured her tolerance for someone enjoying the dark and bizarre was pretty high. "It's never boring. There's always something interesting to explore. The trade-off is that it's terrifying." She shrugged. "Did you always live here, or did you move here?" 

“I’m a simple girl with simple tastes,” Marley shrugged, even though nothing in that statement was true. “There is? Huh, that sounds like just my type of beer.” She wasn’t normally a big beer drinker-- it wasn’t worth it, seeing as it took too much beer to get her even a little buzzed-- but she’d make an exception for one that tasted like tequila. If it tasted good enough, she’d have to tell Anita about it. The thought twisted something in her stomach and she furrowed her brow, focusing back on Savannah. “What? Oh-- yeah. Nope, never a boring day here. Especially in our line of work,” she played idly with the napkin on the table in front of her, “And no, you’re not crazy. I like it here, too, because of that reason. Or, well-- I used to.” And maybe she still did, but lately the town had taken more from her than it had given, and it still left an empty feeling in her gut. “I moved here about five years ago. I used to be in New York. Worked for the NYPD for a little bit before I got transferred to Albany of all places. It was so boring there, so one day I just...moved.” She took the drink gratefully when the waiter returned with their refreshments and took a long sip. “What made you join the FBI? That’s a pretty dedicated career.”

"Whatever makes you happy," Savannah answered. She didn't think it particularly mattered what someone's preferred drink was unless they were sipping on the blood or orphans or something. In White Crest, that was probably someone’s dietary requirement. “I’ll ask at the bar if they have it after this round.” But as much as she enjoyed alcohol, this wasn’t what they’d come here to talk about. Savannah’s interest had been piqued by their encounter with the Dullahan, and in Savannah’s world, that simply meant she had to find out more. “I like puzzles,” she answered in response to Marley’s question. “I like solving things. I liked crime shows. The X-Files came out when I was in college. My parents always expected me to go into something traditional and professional and I didn’t want to be a doctor or an accountant. So, here we are.” She sipped her drink, looking across the booth at Marley. “What about you? Judging by what you said at the restaurant before, I think we have something similar in us that just makes us tick.”

Marley perked up a bit at Savannah’s answer. She loved puzzles as well. Any kind, actually. She loved jigsaw puzzles and puzzle boxes and mystery games and escape rooms. Except, lately, they’d begun to frustrate her. She couldn’t concentrate enough to figure them out, she no longer had the patience to deal with them. Still, the thought of having someone else to do them with piqued her interest. “Oh, god, me too. So much. I watched all those true crime shows as a kid and read about the shit all the time. All the other kids thought it was too gruesome or whatever, but I loved it.” Unlike she’d ever loved anything else. Was it just because of her species, or would she love these stories even without it? Knowing Savannah did, and knowing she was human, gave Marley that small hope that maybe it would still be true. “X-Files wasn’t just my mystery awakening, it’s also when I realized I liked both boys and girls. Oh, the things I’d do for Dana Scully,” she sighed wistfully, stirring the ice in her drink. “I think we do, too. I don’t often meet a lot of people who are into the macabre the way I am.”

Savannah couldn’t hold in her laugh, a dry but good-natured one. “Oh, the true crime shows. Don’t get me started. My mom thought I was a troubled child because of how often she caught me in the middle of some documentary about Jack The Ripper or The Zodiac Killer.” In hindsight, they were probably too mature for her at the age she’d started watching them, but even as a child, it was fascinating to her. “Oh, you’re bisexual too?” Savannah said. They had a great deal in common, it seemed, and Savannah found herself glad she’d reserved judgement. “I think Scully and Mulder were my ideal threesome,” she snickered. “Hell, maybe still are.” She lifted her drink giving Marley a small toast. “You ever meet Kavanagh when was still a Medical Examiner? She’s the closest I’ve come to finding someone who approaches these topics in a similar way in this town.” 

“My favorites were the cold case files and the ones about the weird, little known serial killers,” Marley pointed out, “or the FBI’s top most wanted.” Even the other mara in her community had found her obsession with the macabre morbid. A lot of them found it rather disturbing, even, which she’d never understood-- they were creatures of fear, how could they really find anything that morbid? “Actually, I’m pan,” she pointed out, stirring her drink. “But yeah. Unfortunately,” she chuckled back, shaking her head. She knew she had more attraction to women than men, but she couldn’t deny the fact that she was attracted to some men. “See, I love me a good lay in bed, but I’ve never been one for threesomes. I prefer having the other person all to myself. Guess that’s a possessive thing or something.” Or it was the foster kid in her who grew up with no possessions of her own. She sat back a little, folding her arms. “You mean Kadaver? Yeah, I’ve met her,” she grumbled, “if by ‘approaching’ you mean completely denying, then sure, yeah-- she’s close.”

“Do you like Unsolved Mysteries?” Savannah asked, diving easily into the conversation. “Oh, Netflix has a new series coming out about The Yorkshire Ripper. It’s a British Case from the seventies.” She gave a small nod, correcting herself. “Oh, I’m sorry. I guess you could say I am as well. I’m just old. That label wasn’t as well-known when I was coming to terms with my sexuality. I just go with what I’m used to.” Apparently, they were already getting candid tonight. “I usually have a few more drinks in me before things get this personal,” she snickered. She’d meant the threesome comment more glib, less literal, but she let the conversation move along. It didn’t seem like Marley had any fondness for Regan, but Savannah supposed she wasn’t everyone’s taste. “I just mean that she’s very blunt, direct, discusses dark topics very matter-of-factly. Some people don’t like that.” Savannah must have been the strange one, because she found it refreshing. Regan was someone she didn’t have to try and be ‘normal’ with. “Was it just living here that made you believe in the less traditional explanations of the things that happen here, or something specific?”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Marley nodded, enjoying the ease with which she could slide into this conversation. It was relaxing and didn’t require a lot of effort, something she was finding harder and harder to do the more her mind slipped from her. She took another long sip of her drink and felt a little wave of dizziness come over her, but she blinked it away. “No worries. I”m kinda iffy on labels but when people ask that’s usually what I say,” she shrugged, rubbing her eyes under her glasses. “I don’t think you’re that much older than me, are you?” She tapped her glass. “Oh, uh-- if this is too personal, we can talk about something else. I’m just sorta--” she waved her hand in the air-- “desensitised to this stuff.” The topic circled back to Kavanagh and Marley frowned, choosing not to respond, just nodding simply. But Savannah’s last question threw her for a small loop-- what did she do here? Did she tell her the truth, that Marley wasn’t human and had known about most of this stuff for most of her life? Or did she lie and keep her secret to herself? Was Savannah dangerous? Or could she trust her? Marley swallowed, reached up to rub her eyes again. “Well, it’s kind of complicated--” she started, but when she looked up, she sucked in a breath as her eyes locked with Savannah’s and her abilities transformed the booth around them into Savannah’s worst fears.

“How old are you? What, thirty-five? I’ve got ten years on you. That’s long enough for there to be at least a little cultural difference,” Savannah answered. “Oh. I’m not--it doesn’t bother me. I just wasn’t expecting it.” Her parents’ jaws would have hit the ground if they’d known she was talking about threesomes in a public space with an almost-stranger. She was looking forward to the answer to her question about how Marley had come to know about the supernatural, but it never came. It started with her mother appearing in the booth with them, ranting about how much of a failure she was. Savannah stared at her, looking back to Marley. “Can you--sorry, can you see her…?” she asked, as more faces appeared around the table; her father, her siblings, her ex, each proceeding to angrily and aggressively tell her of all her failings. “Stop it. Can you--can you just shut up?!” Savannah’s heart was beating faster. They were laughing at her, their features contorting unpleasantly and cartoonishly, exaggerated into impossible shapes, their skin tone being replaced by clown make-up, their laughter being replaced by maniacal cackling. “STOP!”

Marley felt her blood turn to ice as the fear from Savannah began to fill her up. It was intoxicating. She didn’t want to stop. The world around them fell away and all that they were left with were distorted faces and angry voices. Everything turned black and white. Savannah’s heart was racing, Marley could hear it. It echoed all around them. Her fear consuming them both. How long had it been since she’d properly fed like this? She didn’t want to stop. But then, a voice cut through her mind. It ricocheted all around her head and broke the glass in her mind. STOP! Marley fell backwards from the darkness and suddenly she saw Deirdre, writhing on the ground below her. And then it was Lydia, and then it was every other person she’d tortured like this. She blinked, but the visions wouldn’t go away. Savannah’s fears sat next to them in the booth. “I--” she stuttered, threw her sunglasses off and pressed her palms to her eyes. “I’m sorry! I’m trying, I’m sorry!” She didn’t want this. She didn’t want to hurt people like this anymore. 

Savannah didn't even know she was talking to Marley. She just yelled at the unknown entities around them who were flooding her system with panic and dread. Her whole body was somehow hot and cold at the same time. People around them were starting to stare, chatter amongst themselves. Plates shattered as a server dropped them to the ground in shock. "What are you doing?!" She demanded, breathing rapid and palms coated in sweat as she tried to swat the apparitions away. Marley was doing this. She didn’t know how, but she was too terrified to think clearly. Her heart hammered so rapidly that it hurt. “Get off me!”

Stop it, stop it, she needed to stop it. Marley pressed her palms hard enough into her eyes to feel pain, nails digging into the sides of her head. “Stop it, stop it, stop it!” she shouted at herself, shaking her head. They needed to get out of there. She needed to get out of there. People were staring, she could hear them whispering. She spun in her spot to try and look around and suddenly more people were screaming. Inhaling sharply, Marley stood from the booth and stumbled out. “I’m sorry!” she stuttered at Savannah, reaching out for her. But the other woman was shouting at her and looking at her with those eyes-- those terrified, painful eyes. Marley swallowed thickly and looked away. “I-- fuck. I’m sorry, I’ll leave, I’m--” she turned quickly and slammed into someone, one of the waiters that had come over to check on them. He looked down into her eyes and suddenly he was crumbling to the ground as well. Marley backed away into the table, knocking over her glass. She didn’t want this. She’d never wanted this. She turned-- and she ran.

Savannah had no idea what was happening. She hadn’t known Marley had been the one doing this until she’d answered her, but Savannah was too busy panicking to register what that meant. People were staring, watching the poor woman freak out over something they couldn’t see, or perhaps being confronted with their own deepest fears suddenly and without explanation. Marley just kept apologizing, over and over, and Savannah could barely comprehend the words. The visions vanished, almost as soon as they’d appeared, leaving Savannah clutching her chest. “M-Marley--?” she tried to ask, but the other woman was gone. “What… what the hell?” 

#paras #with: marley

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

JKR 2: BRC 1

Joker x Reader

Word Count: 1921

Summary: You love him, that much is obvious, but now Wayne is being flirty suddenly.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Alas, the much awaited sequel to JKR. At some point I got an ask for a sequel, but I literally cannot find it, so … Here it is! There will be more posting randomly as I get it out. Unlike my other series, I’ve got nothing like an outline, so I have no idea how long this is gonna be or when I’m gonna be posting it.

One of your favorite parts of being a mercenary was the fact that it was extremely rare for you to have to be a functioning human on Monday mornings. It was a perk you hadn’t really expected, but you absolutely loved sleeping in while the rest of the world crawled out of bed to begin another shitty work week. That alone almost made it worth it to put up with all the nonsense you handled day to day. And since you’d gotten involved with the joker, you’d even gotten to enjoy the addition of a warm body next to yours seeing how he shared your philosophy on those mornings. 

So when you woke up naturally one Monday morning several months since agreeing to work with Joker, you were more than a little annoyed. The irritation was only slightly alleviated when you started to really observe your surroundings and realized that Joker was currently playing big spoon with you and clinging to you like a child with a beloved toy. That, at least, was a sweet bonus to waking this early. A little smile formed on your face despite yourself. You could feel his breath on your bare shoulder, softly puffing every now and then in his sleep; the rhythm of it could almost put you to sleep.

And then your bladder made itself known. 

The annoyance promptly came roaring back.

Getting out of bed was a whole little challenge in and of itself due to the way he was clinging to you, but you somehow managed to escape without waking him. When you glanced back at the bed and saw the fearsome Clown Prince of Crime cuddled up to your pillow and snuggled under your covers, your heart gave a hard thump. Try as you might, it was steadily becoming harder to deny that you’d somehow developed feelings–real, deep feelings–for the madman. Every day you tried not to think about it because of how unlikely it was for him to reciprocate, but seeing him so vulnerable–without makeup and with green hair so faded it was almost completely back to its normal dishwater blond–made some part of you swoon. He trusted you enough to be so unguarded, and that was enough for you … mostly. Part of you still craved someone to talk seriously with, but you were content enough even without it. Or so you told yourself.

Sighing, you shook off the emotions and picked up his grey, patterned shirt from the day before. Problems for another day, you supposed.

Once your bodily functions were taken care of, you quietly stalked your way into the kitchen. Clearly, you weren’t going back to sleep anytime soon, so you might as well make a coffee. Maybe that would somehow help you tame your unwelcome feelings.

Clearly the answer was a big, fat “No,” since, as you were returning to the bedroom, you got distracted with how cut he was while you were in the doorway, mug clasped between your hands. You allowed yourself a moment to enjoy the peaceful atmosphere and pretend that the two of you were just normal people.

Then, true to Gotham’s nature, it all came shattering down when you heard the telltale scratching of someone picking a lock. Specifically the lock on your front door. The switch in your mindset to Business Mode was instantaneous. Your world seemed to sharpen as you slowly eased the bedroom door closed; it would be quite bad if your suspicion about the intruder was true and he saw your houseguest. Your hand tightened around the mug, ready to throw the scalding liquid in an instant if threatened.

An angry scoff left your lips when you recognized the head of brown hair that peaked inside your apartment once the door was unlocked. “You’re really making me regret my decision against getting a guard dog, Mr. Wayne.”

You absolutely hated how dashing his ensuing smirk made him. “As busy as you are? Probably not the best idea.” Unlike the last time he broke in, he wasn’t dressed like he came from a trust fund soiree; instead, he was in a more casual ensemble of dark jeans, a dark shirt, and a leather jacket with red trim.

“Any particular reason you’re breaking into my home today or were you just hoping I was still asleep so you could peep?”

“I have to say no. That’s not exactly my style.” A thump from the bedroom halted whatever excuse he had for this breaking and entering episode.

Your heart gave its second hard thump for the morning, this one out of fear instead of love. Leveling Wayne with a harsh glare, you ordered, “Stay put.”

“Of course.”

Mug still clenched in your hand, you quickly retreated back to the bedroom. Based off the sight that greeted you, you could only assume that the noise was Joker grabbing his pants off the chair and inadvertently throwing the knife from his pocket into the floor. “You good?” you asked the obviously-groggy man.

“I heard voices. What’s going on?”

“Don’t you normally hear voices?” you teased in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“No. And you know that,” he deadpanned. His tongue started flicking as his irritation aggravated the tick.

“I’ve got an unwelcome guest again,” you stated, deciding that blunt was probably better than finesse.”

“Wayne?”

“Yes, so you’re going to stay here while I deal with him.”

“Should I be … jealous?”

“Fuck no. Can’t stand the bastard.” Well that was a bit of a lie. As much as the richboy infuriated you, he also acted as a constant source of amusement. “But I don’t want him knowing anything else about me if I can avoid it. Be a good boy and stay here, and I’ll let you have your wicked way with me later.”

“You’ll let me do that anyway.” He was right and he knew it. There was a long pause as you stared each other down. You could practically see his brain working over his options until he finally exhaled heavily. “Fine. I’m too tired for this, anyway.”

For once, his exhaustion worked to your advantage instead of making him intolerable. “Thank you. I’ll be back in a few.”

“I await with bated breath.”

The Joker handled, you slunk back out to deal with the unmasked Batman; part of you realized that Gotham City Police would love to be in your position. Both men, vulnerable with identities out in the open? They’d probably kill for it. You, however, were just tired of today already.

When you returned to the living room, Bruce had once again made himself at home on your couch. “Boyfriend?” he questioned, eyebrow raised.

“Something like that.”

“He’s got interesting taste,” he commented with a little gesture towards your body.

You raised an eyebrow. Sure, it wasn’t exactly your style, but, “You’re one to talk. Enough of the questions, Mr. Wayne. Why are you here?”

“I need a date for a gala I have to go to tonight.”

Your eyebrows now shot up almost to your scalp. “And you came to me? First off, I don’t like you, so what the fuck? Second, you don’t like me, so what the fuck? Third, do you honestly expect me to believe that you couldn’t get a date? And for that matter–”

“Relax, Y/N. I’m hiring you for a job. I need a distraction, and I hear you’re the best.”

“Awfully short notice. What if I don’t have anything to wear?”

“Already have that handled. Come by my penthouse at six.”

“And payment?”

“Half now, half after. Check your bank account; money’s already there.”

“You’re damn sure that I’m gonna do this, aren’t you.”

“You’re curious, you want to know what I’m up to, and you always get the job done if you’re being paid for it.” He was smirking again and heading for the door as he said that. “See you tonight.”

“Bastard,” you spat at the door the second it was closed. Already, you wanted nothing more than to crawl in bed and stay there for the rest of the day and it was only …  8:13 according to the clock on the wall.

Resigned to your fate for the coming evening, you retreated back to the bedroom. This time, you didn’t even pause to admire your lover’s form splayed across the bed. You did notice that his eyes were staring at you as you approached, though, and gave him a small smile.

“Got a job tonight with the hunky rich boy, huh?” he teased while rolling onto his stomach and kicking his feet up like a girl in a movie about a slumber party. “Am I just not, uh, doin’ it for ya anymore, dollface?”

“Fucker didn’t exactly give me much of a choice, did he?” you sniped right back. “Scoot over; you’re in my spot.” 

His response was to flop back over onto his back and pat his lap. “You’re mine now, remember? I was a proper gentleman and hid away while you talked to your suitor.”

“He is not–” You were cut off by him tugging you down to straddle him. “My suitor,” you finished, doing your best to sit on him with some modicum of dignity.

“Oh, you don’t have to lie to me, sweetheart. He’s quite, uh, dreamy.” He cackled. “Any chance you could convince him to join us in here sometime?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Sorry, J. I don’t think he’d go for it.” Especially considering the whole nemesis thing … “You’re just stuck with me, I’m afraid.”

“Ah well, have fun for the both of us, my dear,” he shrugged. His fingers suddenly halted their attempts to unbutton your (his?) shirt; alarmingly, you hadn’t even noticed him doing that. “Why did Brucy know what it is you do for a living anyway?”

Fortunately, you knew that question was likely to come up months ago, so you’d long ago thought of an excuse. “Did a job cleaning up one of those trust fund brigade’s messes after a particularly nasty party–”

“Ooh!”

“–and that apparently got me on his radar.”

“Never a dull day for a mercenary.”

“Or a madman,” you teased right back. “But be that as it may, I’m gonna enjoy having you all to myself until I have to go to that stupid party.”

“Never a dull day, indeed!” he cheered. “But for real, you gotta get a video or somethin’ if you fuck him tonight.���

You rolled your eyes even as you tugged at his boxers. It was an interesting thought. While you had first priority on the Joker when he was off the clock and a serious case of feelings for the clown, you were under no illusions that this was an exclusive thing. Physically, you sated each other easily. Emotionally, you were all the Joker needed (or wanted, for that matter), but he wasn’t crazy enough to think that he satisfied all of your needs. The whole comforting thing specifically was a weakness of his. You’d discussed all this (excluding the whole love issue) months ago at your insistence since you had no desire to earn the Joker’s wrath by having an affair.

Shoving all that aside, you just scoffed. “That man is infuriating.”

“And he has a crush on you. I can tell. We madmen have a … sixth sense for these things. Besides, the flirting was painfully obvious even from in here.”

“I’m not fucking Bruce Wayne.”

“Right. You’re fucking me!” Another hysterical cackle.

“Well …” you grinned, “I’m about to be, anyway.”

#joker x reader #the joker x reader #heath ledger joker x reader #batman x reader #batman imagine #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #sellyoursoulforarequest

[tarithenurse]

The good Villain - 1

Pairing: Loki x Reader (eventually) Content for series: Murder, crime, violence, angst, lots of gore, sadness, trauma, innuendos, sexual themes (maybe even detailed - we’ll see), political undertones (not a lot), Avengers, Guardians, Captains, Asgardians (of sorts), loneliness, desperation, humour (attempts, at least), friends in unlikely places.  A/N: Based on the prompt “You’re the villain and you know that you just want the ‘good guys’ to understand why”. Let’s just say that a loooot will happen, but I hope to keep it relatively short. ​

 1

…   Reader   …

The translation is delayed by a second, but long enough for the Terran to scrunch her eyebrows in concern. “On a scale from zero to ten, where ten is the worst imaginable…how bad is the pain?”

Right now, you can remember a lot of different injuries and neither they nor the current one are anywhere close to real agony. That kind of pain, the kind that takes over your body in a rush until there is nothing else, they are rarely physical in origin unlike the thumping ache in your arm.

“Three,” you answer, bending to study the odd angle of the limb, “can you heal it?”

She seems puzzled by the question even as she makes note on a chart before ripping off the paper and sends you on the way with it to something, she calls an “Ex Ray”. What is it now if not a ray? Deciding not to worry about that for now, you follow the line on the floor she has told you to follow.

…   Loki   …

The conference room is eerily silent as each Avenger studies the files Carol Danvers has sent. Now and then someone sighs, or Romanova whistles softly as a way to express that she (for once) is impressed – although not in a positive way. Everyone on the team has seen their share of horrors, created at the hands of criminals and maniacs alike. Very, very rarely have they gotten close to something of this level of cruelty.

“Don’t….don’t check out ‘ny o’the appendixes,” Stark croaks with a shudder.

Mortals, Loki rolls his eyes, always so weak. Scrolling rapidly through the data, he reaches the part they have been warned about. Images, perfectly sharp and with small descriptive texts and arrows to help the person studying the information in case it proves difficult to identify what is what. His stomach churns, bubbling threateningly until he can taste the sour tang in the back of his mouth. By the ancients.

“Carol thinks it…she…the killer’s here?” The normally brave Wilson appears ashen as he closes the device.

“Yeah, hopping from planet to planet…” Rogers pauses briefly before completing the sentence, “killing and burning children and anyone who gets in the way…”

Not even I committed such atrocities. It is of little comfort, of course, for the Asgardian to have found someone more hated than himself. Still, he cannot help but wonder what demented reasoning is causing the Betan to inflict such madness, although he is loathing to grant her evil ways the benefit of the doubt.

“Why kids and why those kids?”

There is no answer for Barnes’ question, though, so it is added to the list of information they need to obtain while hunting down the villainous female.

 …   Reader   …

Considering the primitive methods of healing (well, anything), it seems improbable to you that Terrans have managed to not just survive but thrive for as long as they have. The healers have done the best they could after you refused surgery. Now your arm has been set, fixed, and wrapped in in a clumsy cast that will prove an additional challenge in and of itself – however, you are already plotting how to improve the situation with a few upgrades of your own.

As you navigate the crowded streets of the city, you keep an eye out for the reason you are here: Leeches. Soul Leeches, to be exact. Once a respectable commander of the Rescue Forces of Sirius Beta, your first encounter with the invasive species had almost wiped out your entire crew because their manner of proliferating is…sneaky. Even now, the terror-fueled respect has your skin crawling as shadows turn into monsters dressed up as innocent charades.

And here? Oh, this is a playground for the Leeches. Adults and younglings mingling closely, all with empty eyes glued to little screens or their ears filled by sound-emitting devices. Hermits drifting in a sea of people. Not that you are overly sociable yourself, but unfortunately that type of numb behaviour makes it a lot harder to identify the victims, the Leeches, and those untouched.

First things first, though. You need a place to crash and reconsider your course of action. The planet holds other dangers, such as the non-automated vehicle. What other planets still use manual transportation devices? It’s ridiculous!

 …   Loki   …

Despite the black umbrella, Loki’s trouser-legs are drenched. The rain is carpet bombing the asphalt, bouncing back up with the dirt and grime of the busy city. Still, the only way the horrible weather affects the hustle and bustle of the citizens is merely by making them marginally grumpier, their own umbrellas becoming improvised weapons if someone moves too slowly through the downpour. No one pays attention to the God of Mischief and Chaos as he stands by the mouth of the alley.

Blind fools. As opposed to his brother who has come to adore the Midgardians, Loki rarely considers them anything but dimwitted bordering on useless. It is no wonder, then, that they are continuing through their life without paying attention to the danger lurker among them.

Since Danvers brought the case to the Avengers, newly including him, the Betan has been working quite efficiently. She has struck at random, already killing four children and most of their families. In one instance the infant brother had been spared – left outside the neighbour’s door as though the murderer suddenly had grown a conscience. Impossible. Sympathy and conscience is lost, worn away by the callous acts rather than the other way around. But what could explain why the baby was spared, then?

“Get outta ‘ere!”

The angry voice makes the slender man turn to find the origin, spotting a small grocer yelling at someone. Fist raised, a broom grabbed hard in the other hand, he appears to be more of a threat than his victim is willing to take on although instincts clash for an instant – wanting to escape attention while simultaneously unwilling to risk the wrath of the weather (a task that seems paradoxical with the sea-coloured hair).

Tilting the umbrella slightly, it is possible to observe the dash from one inadequate shelter to the other. She. Few males on this planet move as this person does especially when encumbered with a cast on one arm and a heavy laden grocer’s bag on the other. Just as the woman reaches the corner at the opposite end of the intersection, her stride falters as if controlled by an outside force and her body turns. As if in slow motion, inhumanely black eyes lock onto the small shape of a child who is following closely behind the parents and the mouth twitches to avoid contorting into a sneer…but the next second the woman slips around the corner while the oblivious family continues.

Coincidences do happen, just like accidents do. Sometimes. Thriving on chaos, however, means that Loki is intimately aware of how rare true randomness is.

The sleek phone presses softly against his ear, and he finds himself to be holding the breath until the dialing tone is broken.

“What’s up, reindeer games?”

“I believe I’ve seen our killer.”

#loki x reader #Loki fanfiction #Loki mcu #Loki x you #Loki Avenger #loki odinson #reader insert #reader #Loki #Mcu #mcu Fanfiction #The good Villain #Prompt #Mcu Fanfic #Avengers #Crime and mystery #more tags to come

[pokii-jonas]

Accepting Deceit: Chapter 2

Last Chapter          Next Chapter

AO3

(QUICK NOTE: i’m so happy you guys are enjoying this so far!!! I wasn’t expecting so many people to like it, considering it’s my first fic! thank you so much!)

WARNINGS: food mentions, talk of unhealthy thinness, depressive thoughts, angst, sympathetic deceit, fighting

(i'm bad at warnings, so i tried my best to think of what i should warn against. please tell me if i missed something!)

Virgil immediately regretted closing the door.

Complete darkness filled the room, and Virgil was afraid of taking any step forward, least he stumble and fall.

Not to mention the dark. He hated the dark.

As if sensing his anxiousness, Deceit slowly leaned over and turned on his light.

The room was suddenly bathed in a soft, yellow light that left only the very corners of the room in the dark. Pictures of Thomas’s life filled one wall, with everything from his happiest to his darkest moments. In the corner of the room sat an aged piano that had been well cared for and had definitely seen a lot of use in the past, but now sat covered in a layer of dust. The closet hung open, revealing Deceit’s usual outfit along with a variety of dress shirts, waistcoats, and sweats. The bookshelf contained all of Thomas’s favorite books, along with a few original works.

Looking around, he couldn’t help but see how similar to Patton’s room it was, if just slightly less cluttered.

His eyes then traveled to the bed. Disheveled and worn, it seemed to have been used a lot. The bedside table next to it had a TV and the light that was currently supplying the room a soft glow.

Deceit was on the floor, and Virgil was instantly taken aback.

He was far worse off than Logan has previously stated.

His eyes were bloodshot and swollen with dark circles underneath. His skin was pale and his scales dull. His bones were popping out of his skin, turning Deceit’s usual jovial and mischievous facial features into those of pain and suffering. He was leaning against his bed frame and wrapped up in many blankets, attempting to hide his frail body that was shaking uncontrollably.

It wasn’t working.

Within seconds of spotting Deceit, Virgil was on the floor with him.

“Woah, you’re worse off than I thought.” Virgil said, trying to chuckle, but his eyes revealed his fear and concern.

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you’re me.” Deceit whispered and Virgil had to strain to hear him, even though they were only about one foot apart from one another.

Virgil pursed his lips.

“Why are you on the floor?” he asked as normally as he could manage.

“I… fell.” he said, getting even quieter. His eyes closed as a cold chill passed through his body.

“That’s okay. Let me help you get back into bed, okay?” Virgil asked gently.

Deceit nodded and Virgil put his arms under the other and picking up his thin body far too easily. Virgil could feel the bones of the other jutting out as he placed him into the bed.

Deceit curled into a tight ball and let Virgil cover him in more blankets and adjust his pillows.

Deceit didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t know why he let Virgil in. He didn’t know why Virgil cared about him. He didn’t know why anyone cared about him. He was just… a snake.

Deceit felt a sob escape his body as he began crying.

Why was he here, why was he worrying everyone, why did Thomas need him, why didn’t he just disappear, why was he crying, why was he alive, why-

The thoughts that had been tormenting him all these months abruptly froze when Virgil suddenly laid behind Deceit and threw his arms around him, cuddling and hugging the hurting, sobbing, broken side.

Deceit’s sobs slowly dispersed and his breathing evened as he reveled in the warmth the other body emitted. Slowly felt his eyes close, as he fell asleep for the first time in days. Virgil, still hugging Deceit, sighed contently as he pressed his forehead into the sides back and let his eyes close, also getting some much deserved rest.

***

Logan looked down the corridor as Virgil entered Deceit’s room and closed the door behind him.

Logan let out a sigh of relief, thankful that Virgil was doing what he had planned to do that night. He figured Virgil would be better at comforting Deceit than he would.

Logan looked down at the book he had brought to offer Deceit as a sort of “peace offering,” if you would. It was a well worn, but cared for copy of ‘The Murder of Roger Ackroyd.’ A favorite of Logan’s. He always did enjoy detective stories, and this one in particular had really catered to his tastes.

Logan turned around to head back to his room, hesitating slightly to look back down the corridor towards Deceit’s room.

‘They’ll be fine by themselves. No need to get involved.’ he reminded himself and started to walk back towards his room.

“Really Roman? You have to work now?” Logan heard being shouted behind the door to Roman’s room.

“It’s an amazing idea! If I don’t work on it now I’ll forget it, and that would be the true crime! Thomas can sleep later!”

“Yeah, you always say that, don’t you? Well fine, you work on your stupid project. See if I care when you come running back to me at 3 in the morning!”

The door to Roman’s room swung open as Remy stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

“You’ll see! This is my best idea yet!” Roman shouted through the door, not seeming phased by Remy’s anger.

Remy growled, but stopped when he saw Logan.

“Hey.” Remy said, anger and fury still filling his voice.

“Hello.” Logan responded cautiously, not wanting to further anger him.

They looked at each other a moment before Logan cleared his throat and said, “Another fight?”

“Pfft, yeah I know, what a shock.” Remy replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Isn’t this the third one this week?” Logan asked, though he already knew the answer.

Remy only glared in response and pushed his way past Logan, opening the door to Logan’s room and letting himself in.

Logan followed and found Remy sitting in his usual chair in the corner of the room. Knowing the routine, Logan moved to sit down at the edge of his bed like usual.

Once Logan settled into his spot, Remy got straight to his point.

“I could punch him, I swear. Maybe then he’d finally sleep.” Remy said viciously.

Logan remained unfazed.

“What was the idea this time? Another original character?” Logan asked.

Remy rubbed his eyes, which Logan knew to mean yes.

“I get he has an idea, but does he really need to push me away and act like he’s more important than me? What’s his deal! He acts like we’re not even togeth-I mean…” he stopped himself and started to blush furiously.

He did this every time. Every time Roman went on one of his creative outbursts when he should be letting Thomas sleep, Remy would get upset and vent to Logan. Why Logan? He wasn’t entirely sure, but he hypothesized it was because he would agree with him from a logical viewpoint that Thomas needs to sleep.

Then, he would proceed to get all tongue tied about his feelings toward Roman, often forgetting he isn’t actually dating Roman except in his dreams.

Remy often got confused between dreams and reality, mixing them up and getting confused when told otherwise.

Logan sighed and pushed his glasses up.

“Why don’t you just tell Roman you have feelings for him?” he asked, already knowing the answer he’d get.

“It’s harder than it sounds! Sure, to you it’s ‘simply conveying information to one another’ or whatever, but there’s way more to it then that!” Remy exclaimed, jumping up and moving his arms out dramatically.

‘He’s been spending too much time with Roman.’ Logan thought to himself.

“Besides, telling him my feelings doesn’t mean anything if he doesn’t reciprocate them back.” he continued, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Feelings, the bane of my existence.” Logan mumbled to himself before straightening himself out and addressing Remy.

“What else am I to say? We’ve had this conversation precisely eleven times now and it always ends the same way.”

Remy looked at Logan as if he wanted to retaliate, but instead he sighed and sunk back into his chair, curling his legs up to his chest.

“I know, you’re right. I just… I can’t tell him. Not right now.”

They both went quiet as they heard Roman singing down the hallway, still keeping Thomas wide awake.

“Especially not now!” Remy exclaimed as his annoyance at Roman ran through him, dampened slightly by the strange love he held for Roman.

Logan just couldn’t comprehend his counterparts anymore.

***

Patton was humming quietly to himself as he tidied his room. Not something he did often, but in times of worry he tended to find himself sorting through his room and organizing.

‘Logan would be proud.’ he thought, smiling at the thought of his logical complement.

‘Then again, maybe he wouldn’t approve as much since it’s so late at night.’

He smothered a yawn and straightened up, listening for Roman.

‘Yeah, he’s still up.’ he thought as he heard a few bars of Sing Sweet Nightingale make its way into his room.

Patton chuckled. Roman was worse than him sometimes.

He could only imagine how annoyed Remy was just now. He was already hard enough on Virgil, but he was even worse when it came to Roman.

Patton walked over to his bed and went to lie down when he heard people talking outside.

He paused a minute, curiosity of who was still awake at this hour beating his desire to preserve the privacy of whoever it was.

He slowly tiptoed over to his door and pressed his ear against the crack.

“Just tell him how you feel, Remy.” he heard Logan say.

“Yeah… Maybe later.” Remy said.

“I still don’t understand why you’re so hesitant. Roman loves romance. He’ll be dating his sword soon enough if no one comes forward.”

Remy laughed and said, “Yeah yeah.”

Logan wished Remy a good night, which got a small, annoyed laugh from Remy who was probably thinking about Roman who was currently keeping them all awake in the other room.

Patton waited a minute and then tiptoed back to his bed, lying down and covering himself with his blankets.

He chuckled and smiled as he thought about the confession he’d just overheard.

‘Remy and Roman, huh?’ he thought and felt the warmth inside him grow.

‘I love my children… Including Dee.’ he felt the warmth inside him twinge at the thought of Deceit being alone in his room all this time and no one had questioned it.

Patton turned to his other side and closed his eyes.

‘I hope he’s okay.’ was his last thought before he fell asleep.

***

Virgil and Deceit were both roused from their deep slumber when they felt Thomas wake up.

Virgil still had his arms wrapped around Deceit, who was curled up in the same ball as when they had fallen asleep, but he had at least stopped shaking.

Virgil looked over at Deceit who was looking at Virgil’s hand on his waist.

Feeling his face go red, Virgil unwrapped himself from Deceit and pushed himself up into a sitting position. Deceit rolled over to face Virgil, still not getting up from his lying down position.

They looked at each other for a moment, before Deceit looked down at his hands.

“You doing okay?” Virgil asked the other, voice husky from the deep sleep that hadn’t fully worn off yet.

Deceit didn’t answer. He simply moved closer to Virgil and wrapped his arms around the others waist.

Virgil was only slightly shocked at this behavior, as it wasn’t how Dee usually conducted himself. However, Deceit hadn’t been acting the same way as he used too, hence the worry towards him to begin with.

Neither noticed the slight blush that spread across both of their faces as Deceit put his head on Virgil’s leg.

Vigil started to play with Deceit’s hair. An action he himself enjoyed Patton doing as it brought him some comfort, and he figured Deceit could use some of that right about now.

Deceit responded to Virgil’s touch by curling up closer to the other and closing his eyes.

They sat there like that for some time, simply enjoying the company of one another.

Eventually, Deceit just had to ask something that had been itching at him this whole time.

“Why do you all care?” he said quietly, voice still raw and a bit dry, causing his words to come out scratchy.

He cleared his throat.

“I mean, I’m the-” he paused briefly to cough.

“I’m the villain. No one should care…” he trailed off, lost in thought.

Virgil’s hands stopped combing through Deceit’s hair briefly, the shock of hearing how Deceit viewed himself and how he thought the others viewed him trying to register. He looked down at Dee’s head on his lap and smiled when he saw that his bags had decreased considerably since the night before.

“Look, I know we’ve all had our issues in the past. We never been there for you and it sucks being the bad guy. I’ve been there.”

Deceit looked up at the other’s face and saw his eyes unfocused, staring at the opposite wall.

“But trust me, disappearing doesn’t really work.” Virgil’s eyes refocused and looked down at Deceit, who was still looking up at him. Virgil smiled.

“There’s always going to be at least one idiot who comes after you.” Virgil finished, winking down at Deceit.

Deceit felt a light blush on his cheeks and gave a small smile back towards Virgil before taking a deep breath and attempting to sit up himself.

As soon as his head lifted off of the other’s leg, he felt the world shift around him, making him dizzy and causing his vision to blackout.

He continued sitting up despite the dizziness and leaned his head against his backboard, clamping his eyes shut and inhaling sharply at the pain sitting up had caused.

“Woah, slow down there Dee!” Virgil exclaimed, startled at the sudden movement of Deceit, who had turned an even paler shade as the blood rushed out of his face.

Virgil stood up and readjusted Deceit back down into a lying position, whos sight slowly returned as his head stopped spinning.

Virgil put some blankets on top of him and adjusted his pillows before sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Sorry about that.” Deceit mumbled quietly, embarrassed at how weak he had become over what? Not fitting in? He felt ridiculous.

He wasn’t supposed to fit in. Virgil had tried to tell him otherwise, but Deceit couldn’t see how else he could be seen. How would he be able to help Thomas if he wasn’t the bad guy?

Virgil smiled at Deceit, not knowing that his words hadn’t reached him.

“You haven’t eaten in a while, right? Why don’t I make us something for breakfast?” Virgil asked him, still smiling.

Deceit couldn’t help but smile at the other, even though he felt undeserving of his attention, let alone the genuine smile he was giving him.

“Sure.” he replied.

“Okay then. I’ll be back in a minute. You better not lock that door behind me.” Virgil said while standing up, looking over his shoulder at the other with his last remark.

“Fine, but only as long as you don’t let anyone else come in.” Deceit said, coughing and wincing at the pain speaking so much had caused.

Virgil nodded in agreement and walked over to the door.

“I’ll bring some water and tea as well.” he said, smirking at Deceit before leaving and closing the door behind him.

***

After closing the door, Virgil paused for a second, listening to see if Deceit would lock him out. After a minute and no sound being made behind the door, Virgil relaxed and walked down the hallway, making his way toward the kitchen.

He couldn’t help the twang of sadness that went through his body when he thought about how long Dee must have been suffering for. He couldn’t understand why he didn’t tell them all sooner.

‘It’s not like you’re the best example of opening up either.’ he thought.

Entering the kitchen, he saw Logan making a cup of coffee.

“Patton and Roman not up yet?” Virgil asked, walking over to the fridge.

“No. I’m afraid Roman had a rather late night.” Logan said, clearly tired.

“Ahh… So you were with Remy.” Virgil said and nodded in understanding, patting Logan’s shoulder.

“Yes. As per usual.” Logan said, turning and leaning against the counter, taking a sip of his coffee.

Virgil went around the kitchen, making scrambled eggs and toast for him and Deceit. He put on water for tea and finally turned to look at Logan, who was watching him.

‘“I’m the villain.”’ Deceit’s words suddenly made their way into Virgil’s thoughts.

“What is Deceit’s function in Thomas’s mind?” Virgil blurted out, taking Logan by shock.

After a moment, Logan finally responded.

“That depends on what you mean by your use of the term ‘function,’ however I can only assume you are asking if he brings more to the figurative table than just deceit.”

Virgil nodded and Logan set down his coffee cup, crossing his arms across his chest after adjusting his glasses.

“Put simply, Deceit acts as a form of a mental filter for Thomas. Anything he thinks will upset Thomas and hurt him, he will keep a secret from him as long as possible, or at least until he believes Thomas can handle the truth. He sees what we don’t see, recognizes the lies and truths in Thomas’s life. He is the embodiment of self preservation.”

Logan picked back up his coffee mug, letting this information sink in.

The more Virgil thought about it, the more it made sense. They knew that Deceit, despite his name, could tell the truth just as the other sides could tell lies.

Deceit wasn’t Deceit’s whole purpose, though of course deceit played a big role in his job. His job which was to protect Thomas… just like the rest of them.

Virgil turned away from Logan and closed his eyes, putting his hands on the counter and leaning into it. His mind flashed with images of Deceit, unable to even stand properly, all because…

‘“... I’m the villain. No one should care…”’

Virgil felt his stomach clench as he recalled all the awful things they had said to him. The awful things they had called him.

‘The awful things you’ve called him.’ he thought.

This is all of their faults.

‘“Who said I want to be alive?”’

Virgil felt tears spring into his eyes.

‘This is all his fault.’ he realized as the kettle began to whistle and the toaster dinged.

TAGLIST:

@hghrules  @the-doctor-demigod-wizard  @asexualsinner  @unisaurioamorfo

#sympathetic deceit #thomas sanders #fanfic #roman sanders #roman #virgil sanders #virgil #deceit sanders #deceit #logan sanders #logan #patton sanders #patton #remy sanders #remy #logicality #anxceit #anxciet #angst #sanders sides #accepting deceit

[shirtlesssammy]

4x07: It’s the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester

We’ve already recapped the closest episode to a Thanksgiving episode Supernatural has so we thought we’d pick another holiday episode this week. Since Cas and Sam’s friendship is getting a little more screen time this season, we thought we’d go back to the beginning and recap the episode where they meet. Yay!

Then:

This badass graced our screens for the first time.

Now:

Ah, Halloween. A young mother comes home loaded down with a literal bucket of candy. Her husband wants to taste test for quality control, but she shoos him away. She then heads upstairs to give their baby a bath --the husband coming in a minute. First, he needs to sneak in a few pieces of candy!

After eating a piece, the husband starts to gag, and finds a razor lodged in his mouth. He starts coughing up blood and razors and dies on the kitchen floor just in time for his wife and baby to find him.

One Day Before Halloween

Agents Sam and Dean are interviewing, Mrs. Wallace, the victim’s wife. Dean finds a hexbag. Sam asks about enemies her husband might have had.

Back at their hotel, Sam is researching the contents of the hexbag. Dean is scarfing down candy (razors or not, I agree with your plan, Dean!). Neither brother can find a reason for Luke Wallace’s death.

At a Halloween party (no booze=lame), Jenny and Tracy, who are clearly rivaling for one dude’s attention (NOT WORTH IT), arrive to assess the lameness. Tracy decides to liven the festivities up by bobbing for apples. Jenny follows, only she gets stuck under the water while it starts to boil and she dies a horrible burning death that I can’t imagine.

Later, Sam and Dean arrive at the crime scene. Dean is gross. Sam finds a hexbag.

While researching the second death, Sam discovers that this might be part of a spell. “Three blood sacrifices over three days, the last before midnight on the final day of the final harvest.” This spell is summoning a demon. Samhain to be exact. (My headcanon is that they mispronounce Samhain because they’re in a completely different universe than ours.) This ritual can only take place once every 600 years. This year just happens to be that year. Of Course! When Samhain rises, every evil and bad thing Sam and Dean fight will rise with him.

On a stakeout, Dean continues to eat his Hell stress away.

While he’s complaining to Sam on the phone, he watches Tracy walk up to the Wallace house. Son of a bitch.

This is A Look:

Sam finds some dirt on Tracy. She’s been suspended from school in the past for an altercation with a teacher. They head to the school.

In the art room, Dean sees horrific masks that clearly remind him of Hell. “Bring back memories?” Sam asks. OUCH. Sam was just talking about high school though (of which Dean didn’t really get to experience and didn’t finish.) Don, the art teacher, comes in and the brothers ask about their altercation. “I was only trying to rap with her about her work.” Far out, man. But really, it seems that Tracy’s art was getting a bit too violent for school appropriate work. Cryptic symbols and gory drawings. The brothers wonder where Tracy is now, and Don reveals that she lives in an apartment.

Later, the boys reconvene at their motel. Tracy is AWOL. A little trick or treater is eager for candy.

Dean ate it all. Then he fat shames the poor kid. The kid has a death stare to end all death stares so I think he’s winning. (Natasha: #TeamKidAstronaut)

Sam forges ahead of Dean and finds an intruder in their room.

“Who are you?!”

“Sam! Sam, wait! It’s Castiel.”

(I just love that both Sam and Mary got to meet Cas the same way --with guns drawn and Dean rushing over to stop them.)

There’s Bunny Colvin another angel there as well, but Dean doesn’t know him.

Sam is SUCH A CUTE BEAN meeting Cas. He’s so flustered and excited. And Cas just poops all over his excitement.

He calls him the boy with the demon blood and congratulates him on stopping his “extracurricular activities.” He then asks Dean if they’ve stopped the rising of Samhain. They haven’t. And now the witch is wise to them. Cas found a hexbag in their room.

AAGGHH, Cas is foreign and formal and he doesn’t even look at Dean (haha, they’ll have plenty of time to stare and stare at each other in the next scene.) Cas informs the brothers that the rising of Samhain will break one of the 66 seals. It must be stopped.

For Posterity:

Uriel, the other angel, is a specialist and he’s here to destroy the town. Dean is incredulous. They can’t destroy this town. Cas is thinking big picture though --destroy the town, save humanity.

Dean’s got to stare think on that.

Sam is incredulous too. “No, you can’t do this, you’re angels, I mean aren’t you supposed to – You’re supposed to show mercy.” Lol, Sam, welcome to the reality of angels on Supernatural. It is a bit crushing to watch Sam’s faith get burnt a bit here. Dean then pulls out the Free Will big guns and asks Cas, “You’ve never questioned a crap order, huh? What are you both, just a couple of hammers?” Cas bites back with a rhetorical question about John Winchester. Dean’s digging his heels in though. If they’re going to destroy this town, they’re going to destroy Sam and Dean along with it.

Cas acquiesces.

Dean and Sam emerge to find Baby egged. BABY. Heads will roll for this, I swear to god. (Uh, #TeamKidAstronaut?)

In the car, Sam contemplates the hex bag and confronts his disappointment with the righteously dickish reality of angels. Dean urges Sam to not abandon his faith. (Dean Bean!) Sam gently absorbs this moment of brotherly insight and then realizes that the charred bone in the hex bag was cooked by an industrial heat source. Moment. Over.

At the school's art room they narrow the bone char down to the kiln and find a heavily locked drawer in the teacher's desk. In the drawer they find a bowl of children's bones. Blegh.

Meanwhile, Castiel and Uriel hang out in a park, Uriel casually dropping insults to humanity so fast it's like he's on an I HATE HUMANS game show.

Cas admonishes Uriel for maligning God's favored creations and counsels him to settle down and wait to see what happens with Dean and Sam. Uriel proposes yoinking the Winchesters elsewhere before blowing the town straight to Hell, but Cas tells him they need to follow their “true orders,” whatever those are.

On Halloween night, costumed children walk past creepy garden displays while within one very normal looking house, the girl from earlier is held captive in the basement of the witch/teacher's house. He creepily draws his knife down her breast (ew), raising his arm for the killing blow (jerk), when his chest gets riddled with holes. It's the Winchesters! Yay! They save the totally innocent girl, who backs away and begins to...sneer at her dead witch brother on the floor. Before the Winchesters can kill her she power blasts them across the room and presumably holds onto their guts (or their balls?) while she monologues.

While she works a spell to bring Samhain into the world, Sam smears blood over his face and that of his brother's. Is it the latest facial trend? Time will tell. The floor splits open and black demon fog emerges. It gives Sam and Dean the miss and then swoops into Don’s dead body.

“My love,” the witch greets Samhain with a kiss (me: gags at the incestual overtones). He greets her with, “You've aged.” EXCUSE ME, MOTHERFUCKER?

Samhain clearly isn’t one for loving reunions because he immediately snaps her neck and surveys his surroundings. It's time to PAR-TAY. He stares at Dean and Sam, who lie still on the floor, and then shambles past them. After he leaves, Dean asks Sam about the blood. It turns out, Sam gave them both a nice blood mask because masks are what people used to use to hide from Samhain. Nice work, Sam! As an added bonus, that blood mask should also keep away the bunnies. (You're welcome, Dean?) Samhain stumbles through town, past unsuspecting costumed children. Dean and Sam race for the cemetery to head him off.

Sam proposes whipping out his super magic psychic mojo to fight Samhain. Dean begs him to not use his power, handing off Ruby's knife instead.

At the crypt, the not-mourning-their-friend-at-all teens throw their Halloween party when they hear a noise. It's definitely not the cops, unless the cops are six feet tall, undead, and covered in blood. Samhain locks the confused kids into the vault and walks away again without a word. Oooookay. And then behind them, the vaults begin to rattle. The dead are coming out. Sort of. They pull kids into the vaults like sand worms and shoot out viscera, blood canon-style. Dean finds them, shoots out the lock, and joins the party - I mean, saves the kids.

It’s zombie dance off time, baby.

Sam heads off to fight Samhain, who tries and fails to power blast Sam.

They engage in fisticuffs, a demon’s favorite way to hold an ultimate battle. Sam uses his powers to suck the demon essence from Samhain and send him back to Hell, but Samhain's strong. He advances, step by step. It's slow enough that Dean has time to head upstairs and witness his brother mind-whammy the demon straight back to Hell. Err....awkward.

Samhain filters back down to Hell, leaving the Winchesters to shoot sad puppy eyes at each other instead.

The next day, they pack up and get ready to leave. Uriel zaps in to rub salt in the wound, and tells Sam that he was told not to use his powers. Sam tells Uriel that his powers saved the town, thank you very much. Uriel uses his wings to flap about 4 feet across the room so that he lands right in front of Sam's face. DRAMA LLAMA ALERT. Uriel threatens to annihilate Sam as soon as Heaven doesn't need him anymore. “As for your brother,” Uriel advises Sam, he should “climb off that high horse of his.” Sam should ask Dean about what he remembers from Hell. (Us, in a chorus: we wish we couldn't feel a damn thing.)

At the same playground where Cas and Uriel observed humanity, Dean sits contemplatively on the park bench.

Cas appears on the other bench and Dean gives him a less-than-warm welcome. “You're here for the I told you so.” Nope. In fact, Cas tells Dean that their true orders weren't to stop the summoning of Samhain. Instead, their orders were to do whatever Dean and Sam told them to do.

“It was a test to see how you might perform under battlefield conditions.” Dean loves this revelation (not). He defiantly tells Cas that he saved the town – including the kids playing in front of them. And that's enough for him.

Cas reveals that he was praying for Dean and Sam to save the town. “These people – they're all my father's creations. They're works of art.” With the Samhain seal broken, they're one step closer to Hell for everyone on Earth and Cas and Dean share a knowing moment about the reality of Hell's horrors. “Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?” Cas asks. “I'm not a...hammer, as you say. I have questions. I have doubts. I don't know what is right and what is wrong anymore.” He tells Dean the coming months will continue to test him. It's clear they'll test Cas as well. Cas flaps out.

What in the Sam-Quotes is this?

It’s Halloween, man.

Those little dudes are scary. Small hands.

Yeah, well, if you were a six-hundred-year-old hag and you could pick any costume to come back in, wouldn't you go for a hot cheerleader? I would, hmm…

For us, every day is Halloween.

You're angels! You're supposed to show mercy.

There's nothing more dangerous than some a-hole who thinks he's on a holy mission.

Babe Ruth's a dick but baseball's still a beautiful game.

Zombie ghost orgy, huh? Well, that's it. I'm torching everybody.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn 4x07 #it's the great pumpkin sam winchester #dean winchester #sam winchester #Hippie Castiel #cas #uriel #supernatural season 4

[anything-advice-blog]

There's something seriously wrong with me (and my friend.

A little background first. I’ve been verbally and sometimes physically abused by my mother for my whole life. It’ll be so ironic if people here say the abuse contributed to my actions, cause everyone I have ever told didn’t take the abuse seriously and tried to downplay it since it was mostly verbal.

It’s only now occurring to me that this issue started when I was very young. Even when I was 8 years old the pretend play with my animal toys sometimes included torture, death and violence. Some really vivid memories involve a plastic lion torturing and killing an equally plastic fawn and a rat plushie that I stabbed with a needle. It never occurred to me I was doing anything wrong. And at that age I had never been exposed to any media that wasn’t appropriate for my age.

Like every other kid I was scared of PG13 horror movies and had a borderline phobia of human skeletons for most of my early childhood. Then at 10 something really disturbing began to happen. I started having fantasies about fictional characters I made up in my head being tortured via drowning and suffocation. I remember the characters were inspired from the gladiator movies I watched with my grandparents but inspiration for the torture didn’t come from anything I had witnessed. And I didn’t think it was disturbing cause I was young and it didn’t take up so much of my alone time.

At 11 those fantasies had largely dissipated and I of course was less affected by PG 13 horror movies, but another disturbing thing came up. It all started as I was researching something for history homework. With the related results I came upon some articles on Middle Ages torture devices and I read everything there was to read about them because I found it fascinating. I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong because I reasoned it was part of history. Then, through the related results that came with the searches for medieval torture devices, I stumbled into the world of porn. Since it came up as a related search the porn was medieval themed (duh) but also torture themed. They were pics and illustrated comics (not real life people or actors) featuring naked women being tied up, raped and tortured. It was at that moment that I started to suspect I was doing something wrong and that something was wrong with me.

Then at 12 I got my first phone and I was able to browse the internet unsupervised and for longer times. Of course I kept seeing these comics and images and I even went to the websites. On these websites the adds claimed the comics were technically illegal but I don’t know if it’s true. The people on the website forums were atrocious and obviously men who had really sick fantasies about raping women. I often entertained the thought of signing up on one of the websites, going undercover as a guy and asking the men if what they were saying were just fantasies.

And so till the age of 16 I kept seeing these comics, I didn’t masturbate to them (I’ve never masturbated) and I thought the people who did were really disgusting. To me, my behaviour was exactly how someone would be fascinated with horror movies, nothing erotic. Though the fact of the comics being banned still worries me. Then again many horror movies were banned by entire countries…..

From 16 I also regularly checked out a shock website that features many real torture, suicide, crime and execution videos from people like ISIS and drug lords. From what I gather the videos are either submitted directly to the website or they’re quickly snatched from other internet platforms like youtube before they get taken down for their graphic content. The website gets into legal battles constantly and is holding on to the identity of ‘legal’ by a thread. Like the porn websites, the people there are sick. There’s no indication that they get off to the stuff but they are pessimistic, heartless, white supremacist conspiracy theorists with no compassion. Some of them I would say seriously have the potential to be the next mass shooter. And it is at this point that I wonder if I’m the only sane person in the world who’s interested in this stuff? I mean one good thing the website did is give me a better idea of what goes on in the world that the cops don’t release to the public.

At 17 I actually stopped seeing any illustrated porn and moved on to real porn. It took me a while to get over the disgust and even longer to turn on the sound. My tastes in real life porn don’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary, and when I stumble upon something that is clearly rape or abuse it disgusts me.

I’ve never really watched/viewed porn regularly. Sometimes I went months without seeing it and only went back to it when I was bored. Now I’ve decided I want to quit porn because of the amount of damage it does to viewers and participants.

Anyways, my porn preferences never translated into real life. I never wanted to rape or torture anyone.

Within the past year I admitted my ‘interests’ to my best friend who reacted surprisingly well and in turn revealed her own twisted fantasies. She had loving parents but had to undergo many surgeries and hospital stays throughout her life because of a medical condition. She told me when she was only 6 years old she fantasized about herself being raped with surgical instruments on an operating table. She swears she was never sexually or physically abused.

I mean on top of all this I realized I was bisexual within the past year. I’m immune to homophobia coming from religion because I’m an atheist and so it’s the people who actually attempt a scientific discussion that get me down. Like there’s the common idea that messed up childhoods create lgbt people and that most of them have perverted, twisted minds, and even though I never see statistics supporting it, it does make me wonder.

At this point in time I’m paranoid about my search history. Cause I’ve come across all types of porn be it intentional or accidentally. I even searched on illustrated child porn to see if it even was real. Of course when I saw it was real I was disgusted and never searched on it again. I’ve even gone to blogs that people were reporting for pedophilia and bestiality just to see if what people were saying was true. I’m scared that some time in my life I’ll get arrested for this. In fact I’ll never consider telling any of this to a councillor or therapist or help line because I’m scared they’ll be obliged to tell the authorities.

Sometimes I wonder if my lifelong abuse has contributed to this twisted side of me. I hope it has, because if it hasn’t then that means perfectly normal people would have this possibility. I don’t even know how to classify my actions. Twisted? Immoral? Uncommon? A relatively common thing that many people aren’t willing to admit?

More than being scared for myself though I’m scared of what effect the porn I’ve seen is having on other people and impressionable tweens who might not be so rational and sane. I marvel at how the severity of my actions didn’t enter my head until I turned 15. I guess I should be glad that I didn’t turn into a dangerous person.

I think I’m a good person, I know the difference between right and wrong, I have empathy for people and I’m one of the kindest people I know. And ever since I first viewed porn I developed a critical attitude to sex, relationships and porn usage that I still carry with me. I don’t know man, I guess I just want someone to tell me that I’m not the only sane person who has these preferences and experiences.

Hello,

First of all, I want to say that we’re not professionals here so we can’t diagnose or even speculate about whether the abuse you’ve suffered has contributed to this situation. In order to get that type of advice or information, you would have to visit a professional. So let’s tackle that part first. I’m not sure where you live or what the laws are there but for the most part, the basic rule when it comes to psychologists is that everything remains confidential unless you’re a risk to yourself or someone else. Or, if you’re a minor and there is abuse taking place. In this case, you explicitly state that you’re repulsed by the idea of acting on any of these desires or fantasies, meaning that a psychologist wouldn’t have grounds for breaking confidentiality. But again, check the laws specific to where you live. If you do wish to seek help, my best advice to you is to look for someone whose area of expertise is in trauma or sex and meet with them to discuss your needs. If you have to change professionals a few times to find the right one, don’t get discouraged. Sometimes it takes a little trial and error to find the right person.

I can’t really comment on the normalcy of your behaviour or interests because again, I’m not a professional. However, I can say that it’s a good sign that you don’t have any interest in participating in any violent events. Do you search these things out of interest or are you aroused by them? Because those are two very different motivations that can indicate different things. In terms of helping yourself, I would suggest blocking all of the websites that you would normally visit and perhaps even consider turning on the safe search option on your internet to limit the type of things that you can search for. These are just some preliminary steps that you can take but I would highly recommend visiting a professional to seek some help, especially if this is something that you’re concerned about and wish to address.

-Livia

#aab #anything-advice-blog #anything advice blog #advice #advice blog #submission #answered #livia #tw rape #trigger warning rape

[kaibutsushidousha]

Artbook Data - Climax Inference

Content warning for fish gore, I guess.

The great stage where the whole crime is laid bare, the Climax Inference, has captivated players with its artworks by the famous Masaharu Shimizu. 

Masaharu Shimizu’s introduction: Shimizu here as always. I’m considering making a snazzy as heck Instagram to post the best of gourmet, fashion and cute selfies. I hope you see it! 

Masaharu Shimizu’s profile: Game creator and illustrator. Main character designer for Ginga Ninkyouden and Choujin Heiki Zeroigar. His timeless artstyle earned the support of the hardcore game fans and the works he was on are essential pieces of the gaming history.

General comments:

Original character expressions: As I already said before for every game, the drawings on the Climax Inference are images on the protagonist’s inner thoughts, so the character design here doesn’t need to perfectly true to the main story. These are the best work conditions I could ever wish for. On the other hand, since I have to base their expressions on how the protagonist is supposed to be imagining this situations, it takes me forever to decide what should I go with. Whenever people say “Doesn’t that means you can do whatever you want with the characters!?” when I bring up the “protagonist’s inner thoughts” point, I have no words to deny it (laughs). 

Since the theme for V3 is Psychocool, V3′s facial expressions as a whole are more restrained than DanganRonpa 1  and DanganRonpa 2. I read some opinions that they were more plain that in the previous games, but I actually did them like that on purpose, because if I don’t, I can’t stop laughing at them... Anyways, everyone has their different opinion on what the perfect balance between serious and goofy is, so art is hard.

Tricks to show the murder gimmicks: Since V3 had many points where I can explain the murder gimmick with an overhead or a sidescroller perspective drawing, I think they all turned out pretty easy to understand. I guess chapter 2′s trick was the most complicated one...

Character distinction: The higher-ups told me to always draw the villain (culprit) as the gray man, but I thought that was overdone, so and gave them a bluer tone to match the Psychocool style. Blue colors lower appetite, so I think that with this our fans can enjoy the game without having to eat.

Adding scenes you don’t see in the main story: Here, like in the other games, the Climax Inference was produced alongside with the main story. I had to work without knowing anything about what the CGs the main story are using looked like. Every animation and composition was made trusting only my animalistic instincts. But otherwise, I guess Spike Chunsoft leaving me in the dark about the CGs gives me the good kind of pressure and anxiety.

Panelization and animation: The main thing to keep in mind is that the Climax Inference has to work as a quiz, so I always have to keep what’s going on easy to understand. The next thing on the priority list is to include lots of cute, crazy and bloodthristy scene to stir the player’s emotions.

Favorite part: Obviously, everything!

Comments by chapter:

Chapter 1: Amami-kun dying as early as chapter 1 really caught me by surprise. Since his character was a big ball of questions marks, I thought he was going to survive until the end. But not doing what I expect is the Dangan spirit. Chapter 1 is always the hardest to work on because I’m still not used to the new characters. It’s so full of people and I’m complaining “Ggggggggg... I can’t fit everyone in this panel” all the time... All... the... time...

Chapter 2: I couldn’t use a texture for Toujou-san’s tiara, so drawing it literally killed me. As someone who never misses a documentary about fishes eating people (most of them are disappointing though. At least show sparkly the bones looks when they get exposed, damn it!), the part where the piranhas, my personal heroes, were on the loose made my day. They even got a little video. The way the piranhas respond immediately to schedule change in the magic is so professional.

Chapter 3: When someone holds a katana, they do katana poses even if no one is watching, am I right? That’s a normal thing to do, right? Too bad I barely couldn’t draw Shinguuji-kun with his own appearance, I think he was one of my favorites from this game... When I first saw his nutty design, I immediately thought “This guy is killing somebody”, and look at that, I was right...

Chapter 4: Aside from the 8-bit sprites we have in the game, I had no drawing references for the avatars, so I decided just to draw little faces on their base models, resulting in what you saw. Since I decided to save chapter 4 for last in the production order, I ran out of time... Drawing this one was quite a rush job, but since I’m fond of the chibi artstyle, so it was fun.

Chapter 5: Never overwork yourself like I did drawing Ouma-kun all the time... He is so cute, can take a hit from his fighting partner like a champ, and died young. Ouma’s so damn metal! I know this may sound a little, just a little, a tiny bit ill-tasted, but don’t you want to see what a person squished by a hydraulic press looks like? I would love to see a video of a person turning into something like an Enoshima Jianbing... 

Ah, I feel so good after a nice flush of the toilet. Huh? “Was this comment about Ouma being shirtless”? What, you can’t fool me... I know you’re thiking something dirty, huff, huff, (*´ Д `), aren’t you? I didn’t undress him because I wanted to! I was just doing my job!

Chapter 6: The unexpected chapter 6!? I had no idea we were going to have one until halfway through my work. I mean, it’s obvious we would have a chapter 6, we always have, but when I was asked about it, I said “Huh... What chapter 6?”. I immediately reread my contract in confusion and there said I was going to do chapter 6. I didn’t remember this at all. (My memory was sure that my job covered only chapters 1 to 5.) (;・ω・)

I was terrified at the thought that I had gone senile. It was not hard because it was pretty much a rehash of chapter 1, but until I read that to know, I was sweating and shaking at the idea that I would get the game delayed. My answer to the question of how is Shinguuji eating the spaghetti is magic.

#artbook translations #masaharu shimizu #climax inference