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hobicakess · 27 days

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RED CHOPSTICKS | 2

SUMMARY: . The Min Brothers were fucking insane

PAIRING: Ganster!yoongi x reader / Law enforcement!AugustD x fem! reader

RATING: 18+ (I am not a babysitter. You're in control of what you consume)

CONTENT WARNING: porn with HELLA plot violence, plus sized reader , afro asian reader , dead bodies , blood , slight gore mention, stalking , twin rivalry , yandere, heavy angst, nonconsensual recording + photo taking , death threats towards innocent people, cheating, mc is very ... not smart! ( for the plot ofc ) , gang violence, reader not having a great relationship with law enforcement, reader has a criminal record ( don't we all? ) , murder , character death, guns, kidnapping ( kind of ) , e2l ( more like fuck buddies ) , hints to a robbery, SMUT hate fucking , clit / coochie smacking , bondage with a tie , overstimulation , degradation , gagging, car sex , bratty reader , dom!augustd , sub!reader , spanking , biting , spit mention, i hope that's all.

TAG LIST : @kooliv @princxssly82 @btsw1fe @princess-sunshyn @goldenmidnight @borahaerhy @itzz-me-duh @akiiron @thisladysperspective @kooliv @whenthebeatdrop-beatdrop @jenniexjenny @bashbri @cherryjenie

A/N: this is my longest fic ive ever written! the amount of times ive scraped this and rewrote it should be illegal. i honestly didn't see it becoming this big all i wanted was for me to hunch the police 🫤 WELL HERE WE ARE NOW!!!

Looking a man in the eye and shooting him dead was never on your bucket list of things to do. You always wanted to go to Hawaii and lounge around in a tropical setting, or a picnic in front of the Eiffel Tower but you simply weren't normal enough for that.

You were at your mailbox boredly flicking through the bills and useless advertised telegrams when a bright yellow envelope caught your eye.

You tuck the rest of the envelopes under your arm— using the acrylic nail on your index finger to open it. Slowly you began to remove the endless series of pictures. They all contained you and Yoongi together in multiple situations. One of you holding hands and walking into your apartment, the other of the two of you coming out of the car together. Your hair was disheveled, your hand tugging at the top of your dress, a wide smirk on Yoongi's face as his eyes looked directly into the camera fixing at his pants.

You swallow hard, heart beating a bass drum in your ears.

This is exactly what Yoongi warned you about in the beginning of your relationship.

“Y/N L/N?” You jumped shoving the photos into the envelope turning towards the voice. You are met with a man, his eyes a light shade of brown and his hair dark and curly.

“Who's asking?'' Clearing your throat, the grip on your once useless mail got tighter watching him dig into his pocket, pulling out his golden badge.

“Detective Kim Taehyung, I’d like to talk to you back at the station. Little birdy told me you know the whereabouts of Min Yoongi. Otherwise known as ‘Suga’.

You gulped, looking over his shoulder and seeing his partner leaning on the edge of his patrol car the ripped man throwing you a smile and wave. The bunny like smile didn’t even match his hulking figure.

“Well, your little birdy? Was wrong Mr. Kim have a good rest of your day.”

“Please don’t make this any harder Ms” You begin to walk away from the fed quickly, descending up the stairs of your home.

This is exactly what Yoongi didn't want.

“Y/N L/N you’re under arrest for the murders of Kim Hongjoon, Song Mingi, and Choi San"

At the Seoul police station, you were roughed up and thrown into a cold interrogation room. Rubbing your raw wrist throbbing from being bound too tight by the handcuffs you were unlawfully forced in. Groaning your head banged on the cool metal table. The names of any of the men Detective Kim had listed didn't ring any of the bells inside your head. You had your petty crimes throughout your youth, but you were partially civil enough to not murder anybody. This was a tactic to get you to spill what you knew about your boyfriend, and his very illegal line of work. Hell, you didn’t really know anything but, in all honesty, you were ready to fold when he pulled his badge from his pocket. You and law enforcement never mixed well.

You hear the door open, making you sit up straight with a scowl deep on your face. "No one read me my rights."

He chuckled, his dark hair shiny in the low yellow lights. He turned, and your mouth dropped open. “I'll be sure to scold my officers.”

This man was a carbon copy of your Min Yoongi.

The only difference was that the scar on the left side of his face looked to have healed better and was faint. Unlike your boyfriends, whose scar was still an angry, bright shade of red, thick, and tissuey leaving him partially blind.

You knew your boyfriend had a brother. A brother who was in some type of higher up position working for him and covering his messy jobs. Though he rarely talked of him in greater detail, Yoongi had failed to let you know of his very identical twin. “You might catch flies Mrs. Y/n”, setting a large binder on the cold table and taking a seat in the wooden chair in front of you. You shut your mouth, mind running a million miles per hour.

“Seems like he doesn't talk about me much” A noise of disapproval left his lip. Lending you his hand, “Detective August, I requested your presence here in regard to my brother current whereabouts”

Your mouth turned into a thin line, and boy you really wished you knew. “I don’t know what you're talking about...” he hummed, cracking open the large binder skimming through it.

Your body stiff as he read off a file everything about you, “Your grades were decent in high school, though you dropped out suddenly in the middle of your senior year, you were homeless for a year after that, and you have a couple petty thief's and three assault charges”

He looked at you, nodding “You and my brother are a perfect match”

“My brother keeps many women around” he started leaning back into the chair, legs crossing “But you? He's kept you around for the longest, seven months?”

He whistled mockingly, “That's a world record. What makes you so special, huh?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, nails digging deep into your skin as your leg bounces with anxiety. He was pissing you off and the smirk told you he knew it. You could jump over the table and punch him for being an asshole cop and just for unfortunately sharing the same face of your absent boyfriend, but you didn't need another assault charge on another cop.

"And what the fuck does that have to do with me?”

“I always keep tabs on my little brother, always running around and making messes around the city"

So, you're his personal maid?" Watching his jaw clench you smile in satisfaction.

He harshly began to pull out batches of pictures, men whose faces you've seen before somewhere in your life. Till it clicked in your brain— all of these men have tried to make a pass at you over the past couple of months of you dealing with Yoongi romantically. The next handful of photos he pulled were them all laying in pools of their own blood.

"Very sloppy jobs done by yours truly."

Your stomach twisted in knots. You knew what Yoongi was capable of, but all of this for you? You swallow hard, letting a loud sigh leave your lips. "I haven't heard anything from him in 3 weeks he never tells me where he is, what he's doing, or when he's coming back”

August cursed under his breath, hand wiping down his face, "There's been radio silence for five days, were not even sure if he's in Korea anymore."

With that the worst possible scenarios flashed before your eyes, “Don’t worry, Mrs. Y/N, we’ll find him. It's not the first time this has happened”

“And how long was he missing?”

“A year and a half.”

You swallow hard, "And my murder charges?".

"They've suddenly been dropped. I'll be sure to remind my men to be less rough next time"

“Next time?”

The long months of being with Yoongi him disappearing on you wasn't rare. Being that he constantly let it be known that his line of work wasn't meant for you, and you didn't need to be involved. Three weeks has been the longest your lover has been gone. Three very long weeks with not even the smallest bit of news from Hoseok, his right-hand man. You were worried sick, but you knew your boyfriend was tough, and he always came back home to you.

Towel wrapped around your body, you sighed heavily, feeling yourself buzzing from the red wine you'd been consuming since you walked in the front door. It was near dark when Detectives Kim and Jeon dropped you off at home, apologizing for how forceful they were.

You didn't even know if you should have been talking to him and telling the man anything, but you just figured it was fine because he did cover a lot of Yoongi's ‘accidents.

After rubbing your body down with essential oils, you jump at the sound of the phone ringing. The caller ID stating ‘unknown' made you immediately press the green answer and put it on speaker phone, “Hello?

“Don’t you miss me, doll?” You stiffened hearing his voice for the first time in weeks made your body feel like jello. “You mad at me, princess?”

“Mad is an understatement.” glaring at the bright phone screen, “You're so cute when you frown” his words made your glare deepen, looking around your bedroom.

“Is there a fucking cam-” he cut you off. His voice was deeper than usual, all dark and serious, different from his usual playfulness. “I know you saw my brother today.”

“It's not like I had a choice” he clicked his tongue and mumbled shit over his breath and slightly ruffling like he was running his hands through his hair.

“I don’t want you seeing him again, he's a fuckin’ pig. You need to be more assertive. Hobi told me you folded as soon as Taehyung pulled out his badge”

You were at your breaking point, you haven't spoken in weeks and now he was trying to coach you?

“Oh fuck you Min Yoongi, our first conversion in weeks is this bullshit? I've been worried sick.” he stayed silent on the other end listening to you rant about everything. You weren't a dumbass. You knew that dealing with a gangster would come with extra baggage, but this was making your head hurt.

“Your killing innocent men for flirting with me? Then you might as well murder the 14 year old who gives me a free rose every monday”

“You think I won't?” blood running cold as a chill ran down your spin

"Yoongi can't be serious right now” His sigh was loud and frustrated, “Me killing six men for you isn't serious enough?”

“This is exactly why I didn’t want my brother around. Of course, he goes to you when I'm away. He’s already getting to your head and filling it with nonsense so he could have you to himself”

You scoff angrily, scuffing down your glass of wine. “You're so delusional, fuck you and your brother, I don't want anything to do with either of you anymore. Don't bother coming back here” he paused, then his laughter rang through the speakers like he was watching a comedy special.

“Youre hilarious, baby." he sighs and sniffs. “You know I can see you right? Been watching you since I left.”

Your eyes scan every corner of your bedroom. “You don't want me to come back and play with that pussy for you?”

“No.” You didn't answer just staring down at your clench thighs as his soft hum fills your ears, “You're not a good liar baby.”

“Fuck you Min Yoongi” he hummed, almost sounding like cats purr “I plan on fucking you.”

“l'll be home in two days, and I'm gonna make it up to you with this dick deep in your guts."

“I love you, and stop drinking so much your hangovers are the worst.” he hung up with that leaving you shunned to tears. Throwing your phone down you turn up the whole bottle of cheap wine.

Fuck you Min Yoongi

There were three things that you learned over the past 24 hours.

1. No matter where you went there were always people watching you.

Even your own house isn't safe. Yoongi somehow placed cameras in unknown places all throughout and his men were on your tail along with August and his lackeys.

2. Yoongi was so right about your hangovers.

Your head was thumping the moment you woke up in the morning, still you got ready for work.

3. The Min brothers were fucking insane.

Pulling on the detective's sleeve, you drag him outside the saloon. August had shown up today at your workplace asking around for you and causing a scene. Knowing how nosy and gossipy your coworkers and customers were, you'd be the hot topic for weeks, horrible for your lowkey reputation.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you ask when the two of you were furthest away from the shop and out of sight.

August stared you down, face blank. You hated that he shared the same face as your boyfriend, and he was just as handsome, but the way he carried himself was totally different from his brother.

While Yoongi was very loose and airy, August was tight and stiff with every movement. Despite that, both brothers had a very demanding and dominated aura, taking up space even in the largest room.

“ If you had to ask me something, a phone call or text would have been great. Instead of barging into my workplace like a madman”

He blinked once, twice, then again, looking behind you. You turn and see several people entering your job. He then gripped onto your forearm and dragged you into his chest. You fight against his grip, cursing him and complaining.

"What's going on? Are you crazy?"

"Listen woman" he hissed grip tightening as he shook you slightly. "My brother needs to tighten your leash before I have to."

You open your mouth to get ready to mouth back, but his look shut you right up. "Those pictures you got in the mail. Who do you think sent them?"

You swallow hard before gulping harshly, putting two and two together. He knew what was going to happen if you stayed in the saloon longer.

"Now be quiet and get in the car."

August was seated beside you in the drivers seat of the tinted Audi. You hated this, you wanted to sleep but everytime you dozed off August was there to flick you in the forehead claiming he wasn't going to carry you when the ride was over. You kept asking him when that time was coming and his answer was always a dry 'soon'.

"You have a very foul mouth for a lady," he grumbled, not even looking in your direction.

"And you're annoying. No wonder Yoongi doesn't like you”

He growled hands tightening on the steering wheel. “Me and my brothers relationship is hardly any of your business” With a roll of your eyes and a huff, you cross your arms.

“You two should have never made it my business." his eyes shifted towards you for the first time since getting put in the car. His eyes burning into the side of your head, but you kept your focus outside of the window, ignoring him. Your thigh began to bounce in anxiety as you got tired of his staring.

"Can you keep your eyes on the damn road?" You snapped at him. "You've spoke to my brother yesterday, no?"

"So what if I did." Looking back out the car window.

"You remind me of my brothers last whore. A dumb puppy." he said, you didn't even think when your hand raised smacking the clone of a man across the face. The raw sound of the skin colliding echoed throughout the car.

"You sound jealous of your little brother August." His face went through the most emotion you'd seen him show.

"Awe, poor August always in Yoongi's shadow, hoping and wishing to be just like him- ACK"

August foot slammed hard onto the break sending you forward, seat belt digging in your chest, head inches away from hitting the dashboard.

"Don't talk about shit you don't know about" his voice raises looking at you with slitted eyes. But you didn't have to know much to figure out that August was living in his brother's shadow. So you pressed on, acrylic nails tapping all over his buttons.

"Yoongi gets to do things without consequences while you pick up and clean up after. I'm sure you're tired, I know you wished you could make a mess and not clean it up for once."

“Get out.” and with that you opened the door, slamming it hard beginning your long walk down the dark road. Hearing the sound of the driver side door close your turn and see August. Giving him two middle fingers you grabbed your phone from your work pants, cursing as there was no cell service. You heard August behind walking steadily.

You must have misjudged the distance between you and him before you knew it you were lifted off the ground. Your phone is thrown to the ground and his shiny dress shoe is stomping on it. You claw at his back, kicking and screaming “You psycho! Put me down!”

A smack echoed through the trees. Your ass stings as you embarrassingly laid limp over the detective's shoulder. He walks both of you back to the car. There was no getting out of this situation and before, you knew it. You were thrown into the backseat of the car, an angry August looming over you.

You both were breathing heavy as you stared at each other, and before you knew it, he was smashing his lips onto yours. You should have screamed more, or headbutted him like Yoongi taught you, bit his tongue when it slipped inside your mouth, but you didn't.

You allowed him to put his tongue in your mouth. You allowed him to grope your chest as he grinded himself against your crotch and you let the moans slip from your mouth. High-pitched and whiny they were. When you two parted a thin line of spit followed his lips immediately latched hard onto your neck.

He was mumbling. You couldn't what he was saying with the way his hands roughly dragged your work pants down your ankles and rubbing you through your damp panties. Humorlessly he laughed,

“If this is the mess he would leave i wouldn't mind cleaning it”

"I wonder which one of you got the most attention growing up?" smirking as you egg him on further, making him bite your neck hard, you were sure there was blood leaking. "You run your pretty fucking mouth too much." Shoving your panties into your mouth roughly shoving your legs up to your chest.

Staring at your glistening folds he groans, slim fingers ghosting over your peeking clitoris. Your thighs quiver as his fingers sink into your wet hole, moaning against the damp fabric in your mouth. “I wonder what my brother would say if he knew how easy it was to get you spread open for me.”

Lewd sounds came from the bottom half of you as his curled fingers roughly fucked your insides, you were sure that the mess was leaking onto the dark interior of his car. He never looked away from your face, staring intensely into your eyes and every time you closed your his thumb would press directly on your swollen and sensitive clit. “You're gonna cum?” He asked obviously, telling from the way your thighs twitched and from the way you squeezed his fingers like they'd stolen something from you.

“Slut” he hissed, watching you fall apart in loud high pitched, pornographic moans. He didn't stop his movements until you were sobbing for him to stop, the buzz and sting in between your legs was simply too much to handle. “Tch...” he removed his finger from your insides smacking his palm against the wet flesh. His pants were hurriedly unbuttoned, and his hot flesh smacked onto your own.

When he sinks himself into you— gasping out loud nails digging into your palms. While Yoongi was long and curved at the tip like a dagger stabbing at your g spot, August was thick from bottom to top, feeling him throbbing inside you as he forced himself deep into your stomach. “This is why he kills for you, fuck...

His thrust rocked the car heavily as your moans and his occasional grunts filled the small space. Your noises muffled against the panties in your mouth, damp with your saliva. You could feel his thrust becoming sloppier and your stomach tightening. The grip on your neck loosened as he pulled you to kiss him. Your organisms crashed together as your thighs shook against his waist and he came deep inside your withering body. The two of you laid there breathing heavily as your eyes slowly began to drift shut. “If this is what gets you to shut up, I would've done it a long time ago.”

He huffs, swiping his fallen curls back as he moves to untie you, removing the cloth from your mouth as you limply laid. He wrapped his suit jacket around you and pulled up your pants still mumbling. “Sleep well, we've got 20 minutes left.”

You awoke with a yawn rolling over you blinked a couple times before remembering your night eyes popping open you wipe the sleep from them, blinking. “Goodmornin’ doll.”

Min Yoongi hovered over you with a gummy smirk causing you to gasp. Leaping up from your plaited position your arms wrapping around his neck. He hugs you back tucking his face into your neck, inhaling the sweet scent that always stuck to your skin. In that moment you forgot that you were supposed to be mad at the man too overwhelmed with his presence. He pulled back pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes were darker than usual. Sucken in from the weeks of lack of sleeping and you noticed how much thinner he was.

Then it hit you like a truck.

August, kidnapped? the car, his dick . . .

You were a dirty dog clinging to your boyfriend after getting your brains fucked out by his twin brother who he obviously dislikes.

You cry into his neck as he shushes you, he was way too calm about this and that was just the signs of a storm slowly but surely brewing. He lets you go softly, standing to his feet. Nodding at the clothes hanging on the dresser in front of you "Put those on and meet me downstairs." With a quick kiss he leaves you sniffing and alone.

Descending down the long staircase your bare feet pad against the cold tiles. You spot Yoongi and his men standing at the bottom. Yoongi watched you walk down hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket, cigarettes burning between his lips. He was quick to grab you when you finally hit the last set of stairs, arm snuggly wrapping around your waist as he walked you through the large house.

"Where are we Yoon?"

"Do you trust me?" He asked, as Namjoon opened the door to the outside. Your eyes widen in horror as you see what's behind the door.

He grabs your face to make you look him in the eyes as he asks you again more aggressively "Do you trust me Y/N?"

You sniff back tears looking the man you love in the eyes. "Yes. I do Yoongi."

He clicks his tongue staring at you a moment longer. "I don't believe you."

You let out a string of protests as he drags you outside, you stumbled falling to your knees. You hand smacking into the pool of blood. You gagged dry heaving as Yoongi scoffed at you snatching you back to your feet.

Blood staining the concrete ground as multiple bodies lay only inches away from you both. Their faces were covered with blood stained bags, and their hands and feet tied together. You could hear some sobbing and begging while others laid still more than likely dead.

You stood there shaking in fear as you watched Yoongi pull a gun from the waistband of his pants. While Namjoon and Hoseok pulled a squirming man in front of you. "You see, doll everything I do is for a reason."

"I tell you to stay out of my business for a reason"

"I tell you to keep Hobi at your side for a reason."

He clicked the silver weapon as he yanks the sheet of the man's head revealing August. His face was bruised and bloody as he stared from the gun to you. A humorless chuckle leaves his lips as he bows his head to the ground. "If you shoot me, our pact is done, and you'll never see the light of day or your slut again."

Verbally wincing when Yoongi knocks the butt his gun against his brother's face. August makes no sound head turning as he spits the blood from his mouth. Yoongi crouches down to his level, clicking his tongue as he hums. "I'm not gonna shoot you August what kind of little brother would I be?"

"Grab the runts." He tells his right hand men, bringing in Taehyung and Jungkook who struggled against them. "You see brother you think you're so smart because you got your little degree."

"But that doesn't mean shit." He stands to his full height turning towards. "There's a reason our father gave me his empire and not you. You're predictable and impulsive you think fucking my girl is going to send me over the edge and make me break our pact by ending your miserable life."

He laughs, "Well August... I'm not going to kill you no matter how much I'm burning too."

He turned towards you giving you a gummy smile. Not at all appropriate for the current circumstance you were in. "She is."

#bts x black reader #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #dee recs.#hoseok x reader #bts fic rec #bts series #bts ot7 #bts imagines #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #min yoongi x oc #mafia bts #ceo bts #bts angst #bts mafia au #bts fanfic

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zvaigzdelasas · 4 months

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[The Economist is Private UK Media]

Making someone do porridge (or “eat rice and beans”, to use the Korean expression) for expressing their political views is [...] not generally associated with [South Korea]. Yet Lee Yoon-seop, a South Korean poet, is currently languishing in prison for just this. The 68-year-old was sentenced to 14 months in November for threatening South Korea’s “existence and security”. His crime? Writing a poem in praise of the North.

The law used to prosecute Mr Lee, the National Security Act (nsa), is designed to protect South Korea from spies and traitors. But it also bans South Koreans from visiting or making contact with the North, reading or watching North Korean media or saying anything good about Kim Jong Un’s [...] regime. Though South Korea replaced its former military dictatorship with a democracy in 1987, such restrictions on free speech show that some of the generals’ autocratic tendencies endure.[...]

The NSA was modelled on a law designed to quash pro-independence activities during Japan’s occupation of Korea from 1910 to 1945. Since 2003 there have on average been more than 60 NSA prosecutions a year, often for pretty clear espionage cases. A businessman and an army officer were arrested for allegedly selling military secrets to North Korea. Soldiers in the South have been prosecuted under the act for endangering morale by distributing pro-North propaganda.

But the NSA is too often used to prosecute satirists and raid the homes and offices of leftists. Some cases have been ridiculous. Kim Myeong-soo, a PhD student, received six months in prison and a two-year suspended sentence for selling books on North Korea that were widely available in public libraries. A South Korean woman was given a two-year sentence, suspended for four years, for owning recordings of 14 North Korean songs.

This is not Mr Lee’s first offence. But the claim that the sexagenarian posed a threat to South Korea is absurd. His ode was published on a North Korean website. Access to such sites is banned by the NSA and forbidden from a South Korean IP address. [...] It consists of a list of South Korean problems that Mr Kim, in the poet’s view, would instantly solve given the chance.

Mr Lee’s real offence appears to have been believing his own nonsense. By contrast, police decided not to investigate a man under the draconian law for selling shirts with a smiling Mr Kim and the slogan “Walk a flowery path, comrade”. That was OK, officials said, because he was selling them to make a buck.

Worse, the issue points to a broader authoritarian tendency in the South. Its president, Yoon Suk-yeol, often demonises his political opponents by calling them “anti-state forces”, a phrase lifted directly from the NSA. Unfavourable press coverage is routinely labelled “fake news” and the offices of offending outlets have been raided. The administration and its allies have sued more press outfits for defamation—which in South Korea can be a crime even when the offending words are manifestly true—in Mr Yoon’s first 18 months in office than any of its three predecessors did in total.

Yet even a more liberal government would be unlikely to remove the NSA’s illiberal clauses. No administration has made a serious attempt to address it in 20 years. There is no significant political support for scrapping the law [...]. The current administration at least flirted with allowing South Koreans access to North Korean media, but recently abandoned the idea. [...]

Mr Yoon talks often about South Korea’s democratic values. They are at the heart of his pitch for the country to be a strategic link between East and West, developed and developing countries. For that reason alone he should take them more seriously. South Korea is undoubtedly a democracy, but not a terribly liberal one so long as it locks up old men for their dotty opinions. Reforming the NSA would be a better rebuttal to the sentiment Mr Lee expressed than banning it.

22 Jan 24

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batshit-auspol · 6 months

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Cairns being on batshit Auspol is so fucking insane to me. Living here I always feel like our existence isn't real to anyone outside of Cairns and then Holy Fuck Cairns is on FUCKING TUMBLR

November 2023: Cairns local government candidate and life coach Shane Cuthbert is forced to clarify that he is not a Nazi, after journalists notice the flag of Nazi-Germany appears prominently in the set dressing of a number of Cuthbert's life coaching videos.

Admitting that it was "not a good look" Cuthbert went on to explain "At the time, it was a shop that sold a bunch of old, cool stuff, and look I just thought it looked cool," before clarifying, "Not the flag. But just the background of the store and the colours and things like that."

Cuthbert apologised and told the national broadcaster that the videos had been removed from his YouTube channel, before being forced to apologise again, after the ABC pointed out there were still five videos featuring the flag on his channel, with Cuthbert calling it "another oversight".

An already infamous local figure, Shane's candidate website includes the clarification "... in the interests of transparency, I do have a criminal record and although it does not contain any serious offences, I have spent time in custody for breach of bail, evade police, resist arrest, drink driving, wilful damage and there are also entries for using an alias to book a flight in the name of Kermit Frog".

#cairns #australia #auspol

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radfemfox5 · 10 months

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Hi there - I'm trans and Jewish and I'd like to share my perspective on the "trans genocide" thing. I don't think we're experiencing active genocide in the US; that's definitely an extreme and offensive statement to make regarding what's happening. However, I do think that the increasing legislation attacking trans rights and autonomy as well as an increasingly polarized public view of trans people points to the potential for a worse situation that moves closer to genocide.

Now, personally, I live in a state where no laws limiting trans rights have passed. I was able to legally begin my medical transition when I was 15, I've never experienced transphobic violence, and the majority of people around me are supportive of my transition. My experience is similar to most other trans people in my area, with varying degrees of familial support.

But nation wide, we have seen an increase of trans people being murdered, and a massive increase in anti-trans legislation. This legislation aims to strip trans people of their autonomy and privacy. It seeks to put trans children in danger, remove information about what it is to be trans or queer from children's access, and enforce archaic ideas about what it means to be a man or woman.

Most of this is happening because right wing politicians can capitalize on moral outrage and fear to win votes. They're scapegoating trans people instead of trying to improve the lives of their constituents. This is kind of politician's thing, so it's not surprising in any way. However, when those policies successfully do win these politicians support, they'll have to make them more extreme. They'll want to make it illegal to exist as a trans person in public.

Now I'm not saying that that's genocide. I think we're an awfully long way off from trans people being mass arrested for being trans, and then murdered by the state. But we are in a rising climate of fear, and I don't think the trans people calling this the seventh stage of genocide are doing so out of bad faith. I think they're doing that because they are terrified of having their right to take life-saving medication, or have protection in the workplace, or be able to use a bathroom, or have children, or wear what they want to wear taken away. And they're terrified of those things because the bills on the table in states across the country put those rights in jeopardy. And if calling this a genocide makes people pay attention? I'm not super mad about it.

Hi, thank you for sharing your perspective on this. I appreciate it.

Your fear is primarily based on sensationalist headlines and interpretations of the law that are unfounded. I can assure you, you are not even in the early stages of a genocide.

But nation wide, we have seen an increase of trans people being murdered

In 2021, the Human Rights Campaign recorded 50 deaths of trans, nonbinary and GNC people.

In 2022, the HRC recorded 38 deaths (source). So. If we take these numbers at face value, that's a decrease of nearly 25% in one year, in a growing section of the population.

Taking these numbers and the size of the transgender population in the US (1.6 million), in 2021, trans people had a death rate of 3.1/100k, and in 2022, this dropped to 2.4. Again, the numbers provided by the HRC include nonbinary and GNC people, and accidental deaths.

Some of these aren't even murders or intentional homicides. They just say they were killed. I wouldn't consider these numbers reliable whatsoever, but they're the only estimate we have for now. There are so few trans deaths that they can fit on a single Wikipedia page, along with a little blurb about their life and who they were. It would be impossible to do something similar with victims of femicide, since there are too many to count. This page lists victims of femicide, only in Canada, only in 2022, and it is nearly as long as the Wikipedia page I listed above.

This is a perfect segue to my next point, which is to compare trans genocide to femicide, which is actually real. Women are killed so often that the UN has to categorize female murder victims as either killings (unnatural deaths), intentional homicides or gender-related killings (hate crimes, therefore considered in femicide statistics).

The intentional homicide rate for female victims in the US is 2.9/100k (data from 2021), and it is steadily increasing after having been on the decline since the mid-90s.

That only includes the pink and red circles shown in the UN's chart, not accidental deaths or unknown deaths like the HRC includes in their counts. Some countries have as many as 10.6/100k women die a year.

TL;DR: The murder rate for trans people in the US is not increasing, it is decreasing. This isn't indicative of a trans genocide in the slightest.

But nation wide, we have seen [...] a massive increase in anti-trans legislation.

As I was saying earlier, this idea stems from sensationalist headlines. It's concerning to me how widespread the misinformation about anti trans legislation really is, when house bills are publicly available online. You can literally do a quick Google search and find that most of these bills are nothing burgers.

Unfortunately, it's easier for you to just go on a website like translegislation.com and have them tell you what these bills say. I'll do some of the work for you and go through how these sites lie to you.

Alabama imposing criminal penalties on providers of trans healthcare? Sounds scary. Let's see what the source they linked, the HRC, has to say.

Ah. So it's specifically regarding transgender youth. As in, minors. This is after going through an insanely long title detailing how bad the bill is. The trans legislation tracker essentially lies by omission, implying that all trans healthcare is being criminalized.

Going to the bill in question, AL SB184, we can see that it actually acknowledges the existence of dysphoria in children.

However, they also acknowledge that this feeling may be fleeting, and that making permanent changes to a child's body solely on account of the child's personal sense of identity is unwise.

I won't go through every single bill here, as this post is already very long, but you get the idea. Feel free to send another ask if you would like me to look at specific bills.

Back to your ask: the way you speak of these bills shows that you've never read them for yourself or know how legislation works, since you're acting like it's the beginning of Armageddon.

This legislation aims to strip trans people of their autonomy and privacy. It seeks to put trans children in danger, remove information about what it is to be trans or queer from children's access, and enforce archaic ideas about what it means to be a man or woman.

I'm assuming by autonomy and privacy, you mean the choice to undergo medical transition and the bathroom/locker room/women's sports issue respectively.

Bills limiting "gender-affirming" care are focused on children, since puberty blockers like Lupron are now known to have very negative and permanent effects. The bills don't ban adults from choosing to take HRT. It's extremely profitable for doctors to continue to prescribe HRT and for surgeons to continue to recommend expensive plastic surgeries. Legislation won't go that route unless there's a massive shift in public perception.

The "Save Women's Sports Act" literally just limits participation in women's school sports to females only. That's it. The trans legislation tracker even acknowledges this.

Most of these bills are copy pasted from eachother, which is why they're all dubbed as "Save Women's Sports." Here's a snippet from HB61 in Ohio:

If someone's sex is brought into question, a simple blood test is all that's needed. Contrary to what the media may have led you to believe, there are no forcible genital inspections. No trans person is being forced to undress for this. Only 6 trans "girls" are affected by this in Ohio, out of 400k total athletes in girl's sports. So I'm not sure why this feels like a precursor to genocide to you.

remove information about what it is to be trans or queer from children's access,

Personally, I don't think children should be aware that medical transition is even a remote possibility unless they are in extreme psychological distress related to their sex. Even then, therapy is usually the best solution. I don't think the "Gender Unicorn," a surprisingly complex graphic created in part by an alleged violent rapist and groomer, should be used in classrooms to teach children about gender ideology. Gender ideology should be taught to college students who are better equipped to form their own opinion, not children who barely know how to read.

There are better, more useful things to push in our education curriculum, like compulsory comprehensive sex ed. That way, young men don't learn about sex through violent pornography, and young girls don't accidentally get pregnant without knowing what it means. This would also be a good time to teach them about sexual orientation. Leaving it up to the parents or focusing on abstinence evidently doesn't work.

enforce archaic ideas about what it means to be a man or woman.

The lack of self-awareness here is pretty astounding. The trans movement actively enforces these archaic ideas of gender by telling tomboys that they might actually be a boy. This implies that femininity is what makes womanhood, which is objectively untrue.

By telling masculine women that they are men and feminine men that they are women, you're literally enforcing the gender roles you say you're destroying.

They'll want to make it illegal to exist as a trans person in public.

You can speculate about this all you want, but you can't see laws limiting child transition and keeping sports sex-segregated as writing on the wall. We're not even close to that.

Now I'm not saying that that's genocide. I think we're an awfully long way off from trans people being mass arrested for being trans, and then murdered by the state.

I'm glad to hear you are moderately sane.

But we are in a rising climate of fear,

Your phrasing reminds me of US politics in the wake of 9/11. When people act out of fear, decisions are made in haste, and wars are started over made-up WMDs. Being fearful clouds your judgement.

Look around you. You're safe and accepted. The trans flag is flown almost everywhere in June. A trans woman won the NCAA National Champion title just last year. For International Women's Day, multiple companies featured trans women. Time Magazine featured many trans women as Women of the Year. Language is now inclusive, so women don't actually exist anymore. We're just uterus havers. This is all to cater to trans people.

Yeah. It's getting to be a bit much, isn't it? Don't you expect the least bit of pushback, especially from women? We aren't living in fear of some invisible boogeyman. We are angry at how rapidly our hard work has been undone.

We're pissed that after decades of feminist progress, we've regressed to being considered non-men once again.

and I don't think the trans people calling this the seventh stage of genocide are doing so out of bad faith. I think they're doing that because they are terrified of having their right to take life-saving medication, or have protection in the workplace, or be able to use a bathroom, or have children, or wear what they want to wear taken away.

Puberty blockers and HRT do not save lives. They actually haven't been proven to have a substantial enough effect on mental health to consider them an adequate treatment for gender dysphoria.

2. Trans people have the same basic human rights as any other human being.

3. Many places are adding gender-neutral bathrooms in order to accommodate the growing trans population. No one is checking your genitals at the door of a bathroom, no one cares that much. I care about girls being assaulted at school by boys in skirts and the school boards covering it up in the name of trans acceptance (x).

4. Trans people remove their own ability to have children by going on puberty blockers, HRT and even eventually physically castrating themselves. If you mean the ability to adopt or foster children, I don't know. Gay and lesbian couples still have a hard time adopting to this day, so progress can be made in that department.

To conclude this hodgepodge of various facts, screenshots and links, I'll leave you with this:

I fundamentally disagree with you that crying "genocide" is in any way helpful for your community. It's not. Most of Western society might have forgotten what genocide looks like or doesn't even know what the word means anymore, but you should know better as a Jew.

The attention trans people get from saying that they're going through a genocide is overwhelmingly negative from people on both ends of the political spectrum at this point. People are annoyed at trans people for making shit up, which ruins your movement's credibility.

When you have to lie to get someone's attention, you've already lost.

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linghxr · 10 months

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50+ fundamental crime, suspense, & mystery Cdrama vocab words

I'm currently watching 《模仿犯》, so I was inspired to put together this list of essential vocab for 犯罪剧/悬疑剧/推理剧. I tend to gravitate towards dramas that fall into these genres.

I've sorted the words into categories. These were determined by vibes only. Definitions are adapted from MDBG, my loyal companion for nearly 10 years.

The Case

案子 ànzi - case / law case / legal case / judicial case

案件 ànjiàn - case / instance

办案 bàn'àn - to handle a case

破案 pò'àn - to solve a case

报案 bào'àn - to report a case to the authorities

命案 mìng'àn - homicide case / murder case

作案 zuò'àn - to commit a crime

现场 xiànchǎng - the scene (of a crime, accident etc) / (on) the spot / (at) the site

证据 zhèngjù - evidence / proof / testimony

真相 zhēnxiàng - the truth about sth / the actual facts

The Investigation

厘清 líqīng - to clarify (the facts) / clarification

线索 xiànsuǒ - trail / clues / thread (of a story)

细节 xìjié - details / particulars

痕迹 hénjì - vestige / mark / trace

追踪 zhuīzōng - to follow a trail / to trace / to pursue

追问 zhuīwèn - to question closely / to investigate in detail / to examine minutely / to get to the heart of the matter

排除 páichú - to eliminate / to remove / to exclude / to rule out

嫌疑 xiányí - suspicion / to have suspicions

怀疑 huáiyí - to doubt (sth) / to be skeptical of / to have one's doubts / to harbor suspicions / to suspect that

跟踪 gēnzōng - to follow sb's tracks / to tail / to shadow / tracking

不对劲 búduìjìn - fishy / wrong / not right

隐瞒 yǐnmán - to conceal / to hide (a taboo subject) / to cover up the truth

The Victim

被害者 bèihàizhě - victim (of a wounding or murder)

受害者 shòuhàizhě - casualty / victim / those injured and wounded

幸存者 xìngcúnzhě - survivor

失踪 shīzōng - to be missing / to disappear / unaccounted for

消失 xiāoshī - to disappear / to fade away

绑架 bǎngjià - to kidnap / to abduct / to hijack / a kidnapping abduction / staking

遗体 yítǐ - remains (of a dead person)

尸体 shītǐ - dead body / corpse / carcass

拯救 zhěngjiù - to save / to rescue

寻人启事 xúnrénqǐshì - missing persons notice

The Perpetrator

嫌疑犯 xiányífàn - a suspect

嫌疑人 xiányírén - a suspect

歹徒 dǎitú - evildoer / malefactor / gangster / hoodlum

凶手 xiōngshǒu - murderer / assassin

一伙儿的 yìhuǒrde - in on it together

开枪 kāiqiāng - to open fire / to shoot a gun

鬼鬼祟祟 guǐguǐsuìsuì - sneaky / secretive / furtive

可疑 kěyí - suspicious / dubious

认罪 rènzuì - to admit guilt / to plead guilty

自首 zìshǒu - to give oneself up / to surrender (to the authorities)

下落 xiàluò - whereabouts / to drop / to fall

动机 dòngjī - motive / motivation

犯罪 fànzuì - to commit a crime / crime / offense

The Police

报警 bàojǐng - to sound an alarm / to report sth to the police

警察 jǐngchá - police / police officer

警方 jǐngfāng - police

警官 jǐngguān - constable / police officer

刑警 xíngjǐng - criminal police (abbr. for 刑事警察)

被捕 bèibǔ - to be arrested / under arrest

包围 bāowéi - to surround / to encircle / to hem in

监控 jiānkòng - to monitor

检查 jiǎnchá - inspection / to examine / to inspect

调查 diàochá - investigation / inquiry / to investigate

排查 páichá - to inspect / to investigate one by one

质问 zhìwèn - to question / to ask questions / to inquire / to bring to account / to interrogate

前科 qiánkē - criminal record / previous convictions

Bonus: Here's a list of dramas I have seen/am watching in these categories:

《想见你》 Someday or One Day

《开端》 Reset

《消失的孩子》 The Disappearing Child

《她和她的她》 Shards of Her

《镇魂》 Guardian

《模仿犯》 Copycat Killer

《不良执念清除师》 Oh No! Here Comes Trouble

Now go forth and enjoy some more dramas! I'm a slow watcher, so I add new shows to my watch list faster than I can finish them.

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thepastisalreadywritten · 10 months

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By Leslie Patrick

1 August 2023

Anne Boleyn (c. 1501 or 1507 – 19 May 1536), King Henry VIII's second queen, is often portrayed as a seductress and ultimately the woman responsible for changing the face of religion in England.

In reality, she was a fiercely intelligent and pious woman dedicated to education and religious reform.

But after her arrest and execution on false charges of adultery and incest in May 1536, Henry VIII was determined to forget her memory.

Her royal emblems were removed from palace walls, her sparkling jewels tucked away in dark coffers, and her precious books disappeared from the pages of time.

One of Boleyn’s books that has reappeared is the Book of Hours, a stunning prayer book, printed around 1527 with devotional texts designed to be read throughout the day, features hand-painted woodcuts — as well as a rare example of the queen’s own writing.

In the margins of one of the beautifully decorated pages, she penned a rhyming couplet followed by her signature:

“Remember me when you do pray, that hope doth lead from day to day, Anne Boleyn.”

The book vanished with Boleyn’s execution in 1536, then resurfaced around 1903 when it was acquired by the American millionaire William Waldorf Astor (31 March 1848 – 18 October 1919) after he purchased Hever Castle, Anne Boleyn’s childhood home in the English countryside.

The hiding place of the disgraced queen’s devotional tome had been a mystery for centuries, until recent research by a university student uncovered hidden signatures that helped trace its path through history.

The discovery

The book’s whereabouts in the 367 years between Boleyn’s death and its reemergence remained puzzling until 2020 when Kate McCaffrey, then a graduate student at the University of Kent working on her master’s thesis about Anne Boleyn’s Book of Hours, found something unexpected in the margins of the book.

“I noticed what appeared to be smudges to the naked eye,” recalls McCaffrey, assistant curator at Hever Castle since 2021.

Intrigued, she borrowed an industrial-strength ultraviolet light and set it up in the darkest room of Hever Castle.

Ultraviolet light is often used to examine historical documents because ink absorbs the ultraviolet wavelength, causing it to appear darker against the page when exposed.

“The words just came through. It was incredible to see them underneath the light, they were completely illuminated,” the curator recalls.

McCaffrey’s theory is that the words were erased during the late Victorian era when it was popular to cleanse marginalia from books or manuscripts.

But thanks to her extraordinary detective work, these erased words turned out to be the key that unlocked the tale of the book’s secret journey from certain destruction at the royal court to safety in the hands of a dedicated group of Boleyn’s supporters.

The guardians

Indeed, various pages throughout the text reveal the names and notations of a string of Kentish women — Elizabeth Hill, Elizabeth Shirley, Mary Cheke, Philippa Gage, and Mary West — who banded together to safeguard Anne's precious book and keep her memory alive.

While it’s unclear how the book was initially passed to these women, Anne Boleyn expert Natalie Grueninger suggests it was gifted by Anne to a woman named Elizabeth Hill.

Elizabeth grew up near Hever Castle, and her husband, Richard Hill, was sergeant of the King’s Cellar at Henry VIII’s court.

There are records of the Hill’s playing cards with the king, and there may have been a friendship between Elizabeth and the queen that prompted Boleyn to pass her prayer book on before her execution.

“This extended Kentish family kept the book safe following Anne’s demise, which was an incredibly brave and bold act considering it could have been considered treasonous,” says Grueninger, podcaster and author of the book The Final Year of Anne Boleyn.

Anne’s Book of Hours was passed between mothers, daughters, sisters, and nieces until the late sixteenth century, when the last name makes its appearance in its margins.

“This story is an example of the women in the family prioritizing loyalty, friendship, fidelity, and a personal connection to Anne,” says McCaffrey.

“The fact that the women have kept it safe is a really beautiful story of solidarity, community, and bravery.”

The book, currently on display at Hever Castle, is a touchstone of the enigma that was Anne Boleyn.

Castle historian and assistant curator Owen Emmerson points out that the book contains Anne’s DNA on the pages from where she touched and kissed it during her daily devotions.

“This was a really beloved possession of hers,” says Emmerson.

“Because of what happened to Anne Boleyn, we don’t have a vast amount of information in Anne’s own words. But the physical remnants of her use of the book, and the construction of that beautiful little couplet, have her identity in them.”

While Anne’s Book of Hours has finally found its way home, the research into this intriguing historical mystery is not yet over.

McCaffrey continues to chart the book’s provenance through the centuries to find out where it was hiding all this time.

The discovery of the inscriptions illuminates the book’s furtive journey, providing us with a glimpse into the controversy, loyalty, and fascination that Anne Boleyn has engendered for the past 500 years.

#Anne Boleyn #King Henry VIII #Book of Hours #William Waldorf Astor #Hever Castle #Kate McCaffrey #University of Kent #ultraviolet light #Natalie Grueninger #Owen Emmerson #Elizabeth Hill #Elizabeth Shirley #Mary Cheke #Philippa Gage #Mary West #The Tudors #House of Tudor #British Royal Family

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feralnumberfive · 2 years

Text

Who are The Kennedy Six?

I went back and screenshot the book Viktor was reading at the beginning of 3x02 and found something really, really, really, interesting you guys need to see

Here's the text version (Note: I will not be using Viktor's deadname and pronouns) and also man there are a few continuity and capitalization errors in this so I'm going to correct them:

The Kennedy Six is a group of Communists said to have orchestrated the assassination of John F. Kennedy, 35th President of The United States, on November 22nd, 1963.

Hargreeves, Viktor: A Soviet spy and founding member of The Kennedy Six, a group of Communist said to have orchestrated the assignation (Note: that is an error and is supposed to be "assassination") of John F. Kennedy, 35th President of The United States, on November 22nd, 1963. Though no date of birth is known, education and medical records place Viktor Hargreeves in Saint Petersburg, Russia, as early as 1947. Official reports released by the CIA, FBI, and U.S. Department of Defense provide evidence of Mr. Hargreeves' involvement in the establishment of Soviet Satellite States, during which time he is said to have [con]-tact with American Double Agent and-[cut off]- The Kennedy Six, Luther-[cut off]- [con?]-tent of their familial- (last word is mostly cut off ->) [mn/ed]

First part of Diego's is cut off: -Communist-[cut off]-the Cuban Government-[cut off]-[founding?]-member of The Kennedy Six, a group of Communist said to have orchestrated the assassination of John F. Kennedy, 35th President of The United States, on November 22nd, 1963. Once thought to be a [sleeper?] agent for the Cuban government who was smuggled into the country as a baby and [trained?] to become radicalized against the U.S. democracy from an early age, his true origin remains unknown due to a lack of official records of his birth or origin. The FBI can only officially place him in the United States as-

early as 1963. According to official reports from the CIA, he is believed to have been in communication and a disgraced former high-ranking intelligence officer for the Cuban government. It is rumored that he lost an eye in Cuba in a cigar attack as punishment for compromising an intelligence operation. His association with The Kennedy Six is believed to be on behalf of the Cuban government and their interest in removing Kennedy from office by whatever means necessary. While the FBI and other federal law enforcement agencies have been unable to prove this connection, unofficial reports place him in Cuba shortly before his arrival in Dallas and eventual rendezvous with his co-conspirators. His whereabouts to this day are unknown, though he is widely believed to be hiding in Cuba.

Hargreeves, Allison: As an American born civil agitator recruited by radical terror groups to infiltrate the American Civil Rights Movement in an attempt to disrupt and discredit the country's Federal Government. A hairdresser by trade, Allison Hargreeves sought ot use her position in local politics to lure John F. Kennedy to Texas, setting up the 35th President for assassination on November 22nd, 1963. Though any direct involvement with The Kennedy Six remains [the rest is unintelligible]

Number Five: Known only by his KGB Codename, Number Five is assumed to be the youngest member of The Kennedy Six, a group of Communist said to have orchestrated the assassination of John F. Kennedy, 35th President of The United States, on November 22nd, 1963. Though existing records remain seal (supposed to be "sealed") under the US Espionage Act, Number Five is widely known to have been handpicked by First Secretary of The USSR, Nikita Khrushcev, to recruit American citizens in the effort to collect sensitive political and military information as relating to The United States policy of Communist Containment. A Federal Grand Jury is issued an indictment for Number Five's arrest in December 1963. The indictment remains open.

Hargreeves, Klaus: A prominent religious leader of an influential cult movement and believed to be a member of The Kennedy Six, a group of Communist which is said to have orchestrated the assassination of John F. Kennedy, 35th President of The United States, on November 22nd, 1963. Initially believed to be a recruitment camp and training facility for potential religious movement-[cut off]-federal authorities-[cut off]-the latter was eve-[cut off]-was levied with-[cut off]-charges of n-[cut off]-[unintelligible]-cy fo [the rest is unintelligible except a few words at the end]-or how he first-[unintelligible]-The Kennedy Six, and his [whereabouts are?] unknown to this day.

Hargreeves, Luther: An American -[unintelligible] - boxer with connection -[unintelligible]-mafia crime families, and a [member of?] The Kennedy Six, a group of Communist which is said to have orchestrated the assassination of John F. Kennedy, 35th President of The United States, on November 22nd, 1963. According to reports from the -[unintelligible]- U.S. Department of Defense, [Mr.?] Hargreeves was an agent and known -[unintelligible]- Jack Ruby, and his involvement in The Kennedy Six is believed to be on behalf-[next paragraph is mostly cutoff]- A coordination of mutual interests shared between Soviets and the American mafia. Authorities remain in pursuit of him this day, though he was rumored to have perished in a robbery near his Argentinian hideout sometime in the mid 1980's.

They can't be The Hargreeves from this (the current at the time Sparrow 2019 timeline) timeline because they weren't born, this was in the 60s, and why would they have ended up in the 60s anyways? They obviously aren't our Hargreeves from the 60s either because of all the information in the text and the pictures of Five in a military uniform along with Luther and Klaus's mugshots. Unless this is the FBI lying to try to cover up and tie loose ends and create false identities because they failed to truly discover our Hargreeves identities back in the 60s? Have the Hargreeves been changed in the history books?

So, who the hell are these Hargreeves?

it's-it's just the FBI making them up....

#I just can't believe this holy shit #tua #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #tua s3 #tua spoilers #tua s3 spoilers #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #number five #five hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #hargreeves siblings #the kennedy six

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fluentmoviequoter · 5 months

Text

Undo It

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!SWAT!reader

Summary: You get abducted on your way home and won't talk to anyone after you're saved. Deacon vows to undo all the damage done to you.

Warnings: angst, descriptions of injury/threats/torture, SWAT!reader is abducted and held hostage, Deacon gets very protective, fluff.

Word Count: 5.2k+ words

A/N: One scene in this is inspired by Criminal Minds episode "Riding the Lightning" (1x14). I also don't know how to play poker, so I kinda rushed through that. This is completely self-indulgent; the idea came to my mind while watching season 3 of SWAT and I had to write it. Hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think! :)

Picture from Pinterest

“Two more women have been reported missing from central Los Angeles. The Los Angeles Police Department has not yet commented on whether the recent missing persons reports – of which there have been sixteen in as many days – are connected.”

Deacon mutes the television as Hicks enters.

“They’re all over us,” Hicks mutters. “But that’s not why I’m here. We got an anonymous tip from one of Luca’s neighbours. There’s a drug buy going down around the corner from his house. You up for it?”

“Who called in the tip? Same guy as last week?” Luca interjects.

“Probably.”

“We’re in. Worst-case scenario, it’s another false alarm,” Hondo says.

“That’s the worst-case scenario?” you repeat. “What’s your idea of a good case scenario, walking into the middle of a drug buy?”

“My arrest record is lookin’ a little thin. Let’s roll,” Hondo teases, patting your shoulder as he walks by.

You roll your eyes, smiling at Deacon as you fall in line behind him. Deacon puts himself on your team for the breach, and you find yourself tucked behind him as he enters a bedroom.

“L.A.P.D., on the ground!” he yells.

You follow him in, placing handcuffs on the two men inside. Hondo and Tan clear the other side of the house while Chris and Street enter from the back. No other suspects are inside, but there is a bathroom filled with drugs.

“Looks like you forgot to flush,” Hondo taunts as he raises a small plastic bag.

Once back in Black Betty, you remove your helmet and lean against Deacon’s side. You keep your head up, and the touch isn’t visible to Tan or Chris across from you, but Deacon welcomes it.

“Need a ride home?” Deacon asks as he offers a hand while you exit Black Betty.

“No, I’m going to walk. I could use the air. Thank you though,” you reply.

“It’s getting late,” Deacon argues.

“I’ll be okay, I promise, Deac.”

Deacon watches you go and considers following you to ensure you get home safe, yet when you promise to call Chris when you get home, he decides he’ll text you later to confirm everything is alright.

✯✯✯✯✯

The last block separating you from your house seems darker than usual. Speeding up, you reach for your back pocket to pull your phone out. None of your team members would mind staying on the phone until you get home, but your mind immediately goes to Deacon. He’d not only answer but probably be in his car before you finished telling him you were concerned or uneasy. Once your phone is in your hand, you watch as someone steps out of the shadows.

“Evening,” you mutter, nodding once as you step to the side.

“It’s a good one now,” he responds. “I’m Matt.”

You ignore him, but when his hand wraps around your arm, you turn quickly, throwing a punch against his jaw.

“Oh, I told you she’d put up a fight,” a second voice says before two hands land on you from behind.

“Night, night,” Matt says, holding his face as a cloth is pressed to your face.

You fight until everything goes dark, and as your head drops, you see your phone on the sidewalk. You know that Deacon will save you… or die trying.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey, Chris,” Deacon says as he answers the phone.

Chris says your name, sounding out of breath, before continuing, “Have you heard from her?”

“No. I offered to drive her home, but she wanted to walk. Why?”

“She didn’t call like she said she would. She always calls. And now she’s not answering my calls.”

Deacon takes a deep breath, rubbing his jaw as he attempts to deduce where you could be.

“Something’s wrong,” Chris adds.

“I know, I know. Call the team; I’ll drive by her house and meet you there. Hey, Chris,” he waits for her to hum to finish, “we’ll find her.”

Deacon is at your house faster than usual, slowing as he drives past your driveway. A small light is evident on the sidewalk, the only evidence of life in a strip without a streetlight. He parks, jumping out to run across the road and pick it up.

“No,” he whispers, looking at your phone.

What makes finding your phone abandoned on the side of the road worse, he thinks, is that his contact is open. You tried to call him, and based on the new crack across the screen, you needed help. You needed Deacon, and he wasn’t here.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Find anything?” Chris asks when Deacon walks in.

“Her phone,” Deacon answers, laying your phone on the table. “It was unlocked, lying on the sidewalk less than a block from her house.”

“The light-less dead zone?” Luca guesses.

Deacon nods, his jaw tightening as he confirms. He should have insisted on driving you home or been on the phone talking to you the whole time.

“I should’ve just gone with her,” Chris mutters.

“Don’t do that,” Street says, “we had no way of knowing something would happen. Any one of us could be blamed for this, but that won’t help us find her.”

Hondo nods but doesn’t say anything before Hicks rushes in.

“I didn’t see it until now,” he mumbles, opening the computer. “I don’t know how we missed it.”

20-David watches as he navigates to the missing persons' page, a collection of women gathered at the top. Hicks opens the most recent reports, and Chris exhales a sharp sigh.

“They are connected,” she says.

“Yeah,” Hicks answers. “Somehow, we missed the physical appearance connection. Our guys were so interested in the victimology that they probably never even looked at the pictures.”

“They look just like her,” Luca whispers. “It’s uncanny.”

“Do we have any ideas? Suspects? Leads?” Hondo asks. Hicks shakes his head, and Hondo slaps an open palm onto the table. “We can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

“I know that Hondo, but without an idea as to who, what, or why, we don’t have anything to go on. LA county is big, we can’t just start searching aimlessly.”

“First responders,” Deacon says, his eyes and his focus on the screen. “They all work as first responders. Firefighter, EMT, 911 operator. Every one of them. Where were they taken from?”

“Uh, within a mile of their homes,” Street reads. “Six of the six-seventeen, now, visited the Los Angeles county court to inquire about getting restraining orders.”

“Against?” Deacon asks.

Street clicks through the reports before looking up at Deacon. “Asher Nolan.”

“All six against the same guy,” Hondo begins, clicking his tongue, “that’s a lead.”

“I’ll get a warrant,” Hicks says, turning toward his office.

Deacon watches as your picture is added to their list. He knows the team only has 24 hours to find a real lead, or they risk never seeing you again.

“Don’t, Deacon,” Hondo says lowly, standing beside Deacon. “It’s not our fault, not your fault."

“I offered to drive her home, tried to insist, but she promised she would be safe.”

“You didn’t know, Deac, you couldn’t have helped her.”

“I could have!” Deacon drops his voice, looking away from your picture to admit, “She tried to call me. When I found her phone, my contact was open. If she had pressed it, or if I had called sooner, she might have been okay.”

“She will be.”

“She better.”

Deacon walks out, unable to look at your smiling face any longer. Hicks comes back quickly with a warrant, and Deacon tries to detach himself from the case. He can’t, not when it’s you.

✯✯✯✯✯

The clock in the room reads 11:58 p.m. It’s only been four hours since you left S.W.A.T. HQ, though it seems a distant memory. The door opens, and you are still against the bed you’re chained to.

“You know, I miss when you would talk to me,” Matt says, laying his hand across your throat. “What happened? I know you help people, so help yourself.”

He laughs at his dumb act, amused by the fact that he knows why you fell silent. Your skin burns against his touch, and the cough you want to release feels trapped in your throat. Faint bruises are barely visible in the bright light, but you know that the marks they’ve left are deeper than any bruises that may appear. Assuming you survive, of course.

“Since you’re giving me to cold shoulder,” Matt adds, dragging his hand across your collarbone to rest on your shoulder, “maybe I should return the favor.”

His other hand raises, covered in an oven mitt, as he reaches into a cooler and removes a large chunk of dry ice. You pull your lower lip between your teeth, determined not to scream. The ice meets the bare skin of your shoulder, though you’re unsure when he moved your sleeve. Alternating between burning and freezing, stabbing pain, you fight to remain conscious.

“Functional lessons,” the second man muses as he walks in. “I like it.”

An alarm goes off, and Matt and the man whose name you’ve yet to learn walk out. The ice is left against the skin of your upper arm, melting too slowly against you and the bed.

“I almost forgot,” Matt’s voice echoes before something pricks your arm and everything goes dark as the pain finally fades.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Cameras,” Street points out. “They know we’re here.”

“Then let’s show ‘em why,” Hondo says. “Chris, Tan, Luca, go right. Deacon, Street, you’re with me.”

When Deacon feels Street touch his shoulder, he lays his hand on Hondo’s. He wants to get in and get you out as quickly as possible. Many things could happen, too many variables, but Deacon is prepared to risk his life to save yours.

“Gun,” Hondo calls, pushing back against Deacon as they enter a hallway.

“Took you long enough. When my buddy said LAPD was incompetent, I didn’t realise I’d be able to get so much done before you found me,” Matt calls.

“Let’s talk about this,” Hondo yells. “There’s a chance to walk away from this.”

“You mean like Abby?” a second voice joins.

“24-David,” Chris’s voice crackles through the radio, “We got eyes on one.”

“30-David, we have eyes on one east of the front door,” David replies.

“Abby didn’t walk away, though,” Matt says before laughing.

“Neither did Chelsea, or Bailey.”

“Or that pretty little officer. They saved everyone except themselves.”

Deacon closes his eyes, taking a deep breath to stay calm when they bring you up.

“See, that’s where you messed up,” Hondo announces. “You took one of us. Surrender and maybe the DA will work with you, find the other girls and get a reduced sentence.”

“Or, what? Go down in a blaze of fire? Better than ice.”

Hondo peeks around the corner, aiming his weapon. “Last chance, Asher. Put the gun down.”

“Asher? Oh, you mean my boss. He said not to do that.”

Matt raises his gun, and Hondo takes the chance to fire. He rushes out while Deacon covers him.

“Where is she?” Hondo demands as he presses a hand to Matt’s wound, kicking his gun away.

“Frozen by now.”

Matt’s eyes close, and Hondo gestures toward the other hallway as he radios that one of the suspects is down. Deacon nods, leading Street into the hallway.

“Clear,” Deacon says, exiting a bedroom.

“Closet only,” Street informs, opening a door on the other side.

Deacon opens the last door and lowers his gun to his side before he rushes into the room. Street turns in the doorway, covering him.

“24-David, the second suspect is down. It’s not Asher,” Chris radios.

Street turns into the room, joining Deacon by the bed.

“Is that-“

“Dry ice,” Deacon finishes as he knocks it onto the floor.

He removes his glove to find your pulse, elevated but steady. Your skin is colder than it should be, and you don’t respond to Deacon’s prodding or whispered pleads.

“C’mon, come back to us,” Deacon tries again.

“Ambulances are here,” Street says.

You jerk harshly, and Deacon rolls onto the bed, raising you into a fireman’s carry before navigating through the hallways. He feels you continue moving against him, but all he can do is get you help and pray.

“We’ve got her,” the EMT says, helping to lower you onto the gurney. “Hit the sirens.”

“I’m coming with,” Deacon says, climbing into the ambulance.

Hicks appears at the door. “Go. She needs you, Deacon. Keep us updated.”

“Narcan?” one EMT suggests.

“No, at least not yet.” The ambulance lurches into motion as they strap an oxygen mask over your face. “Brain, I think, not drugs.”

They glance toward Deacon, who says, “I’m a trained medic, I get it. Just do your jobs, please.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon paces the waiting room for nearly an hour before sitting in a chair and letting his head hang toward his knees.

“Sergeant Kay?” a nurse asks.

Deacon’s head snaps up as he stands.

“The doctor is in her room now. Wants to talk to you.”

Deacon is silent as he walks down the hallways to reach your room. When he enters, seeing you hooked up to several machines and your arm wrapped tightly, his breath catches.

“I’m David Kay – Deacon,” he introduces, shaking the doctor’s hand.

“She owes you her life, Sergeant Kay. Much longer and the frostbite would have been incredibly severe.”

“And the tests?”

The doctor sighs, looking over at you before answering. “Yes, we ran several tests. MRI, CAT scan, and a few others. Her brain isn’t responding like it should.”

“Will she regain consciousness?” Deacon interrupts, his focus aimed at final answers.

“As far as I can tell, yes, sir, she will. When I say not responding like it should, I suppose I should reword. Her brain is responding, there’s no sign of a lack of oxygen or direct brain damage, but she may never recover fully, and will likely never be the same as the woman she was before. Her brain waves aren’t behaving like a woman of her age and health should be.”

“Thank you.”

Deacon shakes his hand and moves to the corner of your room, typing a short text to Hicks: Get down here when you can. This will be easier in person.

He knows it sounds like you’re dying, but the idea of never having the real you back seems just as dire.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your eyes blink open slowly against the harsh fluorescent lights. A man is standing above you, and you jerk backwards, pulling against the chain on your hand and the unseen weight holding you down. Prepared to defend yourself, you move to the edge of the bed and let the adrenaline numb your pain while fueling your fight.

“Doc, take a step back for me, please,” Deacon says calmly.

When you hear Deacon’s voice, your guard drops slightly, and your shoulders lose some tension as you locate Deacon. You watch Deacon while the doctor stops beside him, whispering something on his way out.

“She’s not herself, just try to give her space and time. Like I said, this may be temporary, or it may be her new normal,” the doctor reminds Deacon, unheard by you.

The hand that you pulled away from the doctor moves jerkily toward Deacon, and he glances down at your hand and the IV you ripped out. He turns and waves to a female nurse. He stands by your bed, and you watch him, tensing as the nurse touches you to insert a new IV.

“Do you want to be alone?” Deacon asks when the nurse exits.

You don’t speak or nod, but your hand moves closer to Deacon. He smiles, taking it as a yes, before sitting in the chair beside your bed. Deacon knows the doctors’ concern but would do anything to hear your voice again.

When a doctor walks by, you lean harshly against the rail on your bed, and Deacon realises you are uncomfortable around men. Although, for some unexpected reason, you seem fine with him. Deacon stands and closes the blinds on your window, and when it feels like he is the only other person in the world, you fall asleep. Deacon is concerned that you’ll be nervous around him, too, when you wake. Later, when you do wake, your eyes find him, and your body stays relaxed, proof that your relationship with Deacon was not impacted by whatever those monsters did to you.

He looks down at his phone to read a message from Hondo: We got a warrant and a location for Asher. You in?

Deacon apologises as he tells you he has to go. “The team is going after him, and I want to be there. I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

You don’t respond, but Deacon taps the edge of your bed as he leaves, only inches from your fingers. While he’s gone, you don’t sleep. The night passes, and by mid-day, when you’ve gone a whole day, 24 hours, without sleep, the nurses give you a dose of melatonin to help you relax. You drift off, falling asleep against your will, and your mind goes to Deacon.

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon is still gone when you wake, but there’s a computer sitting in the chair he previously occupied. You pull it onto the bed, catching the SD card that slides off the top. After you insert the chip and see only one video on it, you start it after looking out the door.

It’s the men who took you, Matt and the other one, standing over you, threatening you before growing bold enough to carry out some of their threats. When they start touching your throat and talking about your voice, you slam the computer closed and rip the memory card out.

Standing from the bed, you pull the IV cart with you to the cabinet. Your tattered clothes are still in the patient's belongings bag, but someone also brought your backpack from S.W.A.T. HQ. You look out the door again before changing and stay close to the heart rate monitor and IV cart. Once dressed and ready, you duck beside the door, waiting for a large enough group to walk by. When one appears, you rip your IV and pulse-ox off, falling into step behind them. You walk out unnoticed and set out without a real destination in mind. Sticking to the shadows, you find yourself in a familiar neighbourhood.

✯✯✯✯✯

When your heart rate plummets, the machine beeps, and several nurses abandon their stations to run into your room. They check the bathroom and the far side of the bed before finding your commander’s phone number.

“Hicks,” he answers.

“Commander Hicks, she’s gone.”

Hicks hangs up on the nurse but walks into the room less than ten minutes later. He looks through everything, noticing that your bag is gone and your IV was ripped out intentionally. Hoping to find something before your team comes back, Hicks opens the computer on your bed. While Hicks is searching, Deacon walks in with a small bag of your favourite snacks and a book to pass the time.

“Calm down, Deac, we’re gonna get answers,” Hicks begins.

“Where is she?” Deacon demands.

“I don’t know. The nurses called as soon as her heart rate stopped tracking, so she can’t be more than thirty minutes ahead of us.”

“I’m going to find her.”

“Deacon, stay with me. We’ll call in the team and-“

“I can’t; I think I need to be alone for now.”

Deacon leaves, setting the bag in his passenger seat and wishing it were you instead. He’s lost you twice in the last few days, and once he finds you, he will do everything in his power to keep you close forever.

Walking into his house, Deacon slows when he sees a pair of shoes under the rose bush in his front yard. He pulls his gun and demands the person come out slowly.

You slide toward him with your hands up and your eyes on him rather than his gun. When he sees your face, he holsters his gun quickly and squats to your level.

“Can I touch you?” he asks quietly.

You give your first answer since waking in the hospital: you nod.

Deacon helps you stand, keeping an arm around you as he leads you inside.

“Help yourself to anything, okay?” he offers as he closes the door. “You can shower, take clothes, whatever you need to be comfortable.”

You pull away from Deacon and disappear down his hallway. He hears the water turn on in his shower and pulls his phone out, his finger hovering over Hicks’ number before deciding to find out why you left the way you did.

When you reemerge, with wet hair and dressed in Deacon’s clothes, you join him in the kitchen and stand closer to him than he expected. He sets two cups before you: a mug of your favourite tea and a glass of ice water.

“Are you hungry?” Deacon asks. You shake your head, and Deacon adds, “Hey, you’re in charge right now. Whatever you want, whatever you say, goes.”

You pick up one of the glasses and look toward the couch. Deacon chuckles as he picks up the other, placing a hand on your back and leading you to the couch. Once you sit, you keep your free hand in your lap as you drink. Deacon wants to take your hand, hold it, and tell you how sorry he is, but you aren’t ready, as far as he can tell.

Suddenly, though, you turn toward him, and he recognizes the look in your eyes, shaking his head and chuckling before he begins talking. His voice has always been soothing to you, his presence like a safe house. You fall asleep to the sound of his voice, and your head falls onto his shoulder.

Deacon remains perfectly still throughout the evening as the sun sets, unwilling to disturb you, even at the cost of his comfort. His phone begins ringing in the kitchen, and he moves out from under you to answer. You wake when you feel his absence, looking around until you find him.

“Hey, Commander,” Deacon greets. “Yeah, I know… I’m worried, yeah.”

You stand and walk away silently. Deacon watches you, staring down the empty hallway as he says goodbye to Hicks.

Entering his bedroom, you find your backpack and pull the memory card out. You reappear with the small envelope containing it, and Deacon waits until you nod, wringing your fingers together, to take it. He finds his computer and inserts the card; his headphones are plugged in, and he decides to use them, unsure of what’s on the card.

Waiting, you stand beside the couch, holding your hands together. You can’t hear the video, but Deacon's facial expressions tell you which part he’s watching.

“Where’d all that fight go, huh?” Matt asks, pushing against your throat until you nearly lose consciousness.

You can’t fight back, and they’re enjoying it too much.

“You said one word and then nothing. What am I supposed to think? Maybe you don’t want to talk. Maybe you shouldn’t. That’s why we told the others. And we made sure they believed it before… well, you know.”

“They didn’t even scream,” the other man adds. “Silence is beautiful on women.”

“What if,” Matt begins, drawing a large blade from a case beside the bed. “We made sure you couldn’t talk again? Cops have to be able to use the radio, so at the least, we’ll know you can’t call for help.”

The blade lays against your throat, and your eyes close, silent but physically preparing to fight.

Deacon’s eyes slide to yours before returning to the screen briefly to close the computer. He moves to sit on the arm of the couch before you and looks up at you with big brown eyes. You want to talk to him so badly, but you can’t. Deacon raises his hands, and you don’t hesitate to lay yours in his. He rubs circles on the backs of your hands, your callouses and warmth melting together.

“Everything they said was wrong,” Deacon begins.

Deacon notices that you lean in toward him with each word he says. He stands slowly, concerned that his size or the proximity will overwhelm you, but you keep your hands in his and follow his eyes as he stands. With the new angle, Deacon can see the bruises forming around your neck, from your collarbone up to your jawline. Deacon’s hands raise to rest on your shoulders, bringing your hands along in his. His thumbs rest gently above your collarbone.

“What they said, what they did, was terrible.” And Deacon plans to undo every word and touch, even if it takes forever.

You lean into Deacon’s touch, trusting him with most of your weight as his phone rings again. He moves an arm around your shoulders, leaning back against the couch as he answers.

“Hicks. I only have a minute. She’s here, at my house. She’s safe… Yeah, I’ll keep an eye on her… See you then.”

“Thank you,” you whisper against Deacon’s chest, your voice rough after not using it.

His eyes widen as he wraps his other arm around you. “It’s no problem,” he promises.

You point to the bedroom, and Deacon nods before releasing you. He watches you walk away, and the echo of your voice wraps around him like a warm blanket.

✯✯✯✯✯

When Deacon rises for work the following morning, he has a message from Hicks inviting him to stay home with you if he needs or wants to. Walking into the kitchen, you’re standing in your own clothes with your backpack at your feet.

“Can I go with you?” you ask, voice barely audible.

Deacon doesn’t have the heart to tell you no, so he takes you back to work. As he walks to the car, he texts the team a quick heads-up that they may need to be quieter around you because you’ve been through a lot, and slow behaviour seems to be the key to making you comfortable. He hopes your new unease around men doesn’t extend to the other men who saved your life.

The team tries to follow Deacon’s advice, but when you hear an obnoxious yell from a beat cop, you tuck behind Deacon and grab his fingers. 20-David knew you had feelings for Deacon but seeing him be your safe space like this is a whole new element for them to witness.

✯✯✯✯✯

You, Deacon, and Hondo are watching Hicks interview Asher Nolan. They can’t tie him to any of the abductions, but he seems to know too much about some of the other women who were taken. Hicks is getting nowhere and is ready to walk out.

“I’ll go in,” you tell Hondo. “But only if you come with me,” you add quietly, looking at Deacon.

“She only goes in if I go too,” Deacon adds protectively, looking at Hondo.

As you walk in, Asher’s eyes find you.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he croons.

“Don’t look at her,” Deacon snaps.

Asher’s eyes move to Deacon long enough to ask, “Do you ever smile?”

“No.”

“Well, you should be with someone who smiles, sweetheart. Come closer and I’ll show you how nice my smile is,” he tells you.

“Tell us where the other women are,” Deacon demands.

“Oh, that kind of information needs to be earned, don’t you think? I have an idea, though, we play poker. You win, and I tell you what you want to know.”

“And if I win?”

“I get to smell her hair,” Asher answers, staring at you.

“No deal.”

You know you need the evidence. Finding the other women is the key to getting a conviction.

“Okay,” you say.

Looking over at Deacon, you hope your look conveys your thoughts: ‘Please win.’

You look at Deacon’s hand, hiding your smile when he tucks a card behind another to disguise his winning hand. The moment Asher shows his cards, asking you to come to his side, you let your lips raise slightly.

“Oh, looks like I missed a card,” Deacon deadpans, revealing his royal straight flush, all spades.

Asher slaps the table, his handcuffs creating a sharp echo. Deacon stands, and you follow, standing behind him.

“Mulholland Drive, by the dam,” Asher admits. As Deacon approaches the door, he says, “I’ll find a better place for you; the best for the last.”

Deacon tries to lunge for Asher, but you step between them and push Deacon out of the interview room.

“Thank you. For winning and keeping him away from me,” you whisper, your hands still pressed against Deacon’s chest.

“I’ll always protect you.”

Hicks steps out, asking to speak to Deacon, and you nod before walking the other way. Deacon meant it, and you know he will do anything to protect you.

✯✯✯✯✯

You enter the locker room, surprised to find it empty. Sitting on the bench before your locker, you drop your head into your hands. The quiet is nice but also allows your thoughts and memories to run rampant. One thought of Deacon silences the dangerous and painful thoughts, and you will your mind to remember what it was like to be held by him.

Deacon finds you waiting alone in the locker room and moves silently to join you. He sits beside you, and you turn toward him, taking his hand and tracing his fingers.

Your touch is magnetic, and Deacon never wants to let you go.

“I- I know you watched the video, but I want to talk about it. If that’s okay,” you begin, looking at Deacon’s hand.

“Of course.”

“They told me to stop talking, not to scream, and I listened. I’m sure they were lying, but they made me believe that last girl, Melissa, was still alive, so I thought – hoped – that if I listened, they’d let her live. Focus all of their time and energy on me, you know. Then they started touching my neck and pressuring me to talk. When I didn’t they started hurting me, choking me and laying knives across my neck before leaving.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know Hicks was at the hospital and found the computer, and I don’t know if they recorded it, but they threatened to pull my vocal cords out and put the knife in my mouth. Talking just- it felt like I was betraying her, I guess, even after I knew they were in custody.”

Deacon moves to his knees in front of you, keeping your hand in his as his other hand raises to cup your jaw. He ducks his head and kisses your neck, wiping away the memories of their touch with each gentle movement. When he reaches your jaw, you lower your chin and meet his lips, kissing him.

He knows this is real, not just something to distract you. He doesn’t, however, know that you know that, too. You have loved Deacon for a long time, and…

“Thinking of you kept me alive. You kept me alive, Deacon. I’ve been in love with you for years and being away from you made me realize just how much. I never want to be away from you again,” you confess, holding his hand and heart.

Deacon knows you will be uncomfortable around men for a while, but never around him. He vows to continue his mission of undoing their words and actions, but he will love every version of you along the way.

“They found Melissa, she’s still alive,” Hicks announces in the doorway.

As the door closes, Deacon kisses you again. You saved Melissa, he saved you, and now he knows it.

#david deacon kay x reader #david kay x reader #deacon kay x reader #david deacon kay #deacon kay #swat cbs #fem!reader

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

Text

Nymph Idol

Yan Church + "Incubus" Priest/Cult Reader [18+ Mdni]

Tw/Tags Religious Themes/Slight Trauma, implied underage drinking and dubious activities as a result (All parties are 18/19), Reader is G.N but mentioned to have a penis in some parts and is called "Mister" once. Reader (obviously) has no set features, but they do have a birthmark.

Faith had always been a unwavering staple in your life.

Raised by the people of your procreators' church; you were versed in literature beyond levels for those your age so you had voice to praise your Lord. Head of the youth choir, and the one chosen to begin prayer at dinner as you got older. Early on, the seeds of your influence on others sprouted during the primary years of your innocence. Walking into class that chilly winter morn, a classmate greeted you at the door, declaring their love to you with a letter in hand. They wanted to be the first, as your heart may have been lost somewhere in the clutter on your desk. Valentine's day - the day when those playground crushes could be seen as more and those holding passing stares could finally look you in the eye. A moment before, you never realized you had so many admirers. What could it have been that made so many look your way? You'd never know, not in this school - as once your parents found the notes in your bag you were shipped straight off to a school of the faith. And thus the cycle repeated.

For you, life was pretty much the same after the change. Go to school, study, help out the surrounding community as best you could. Outside of the little bubble you made for yourself, yet another flock of worshippers came to plate. They saw you as the silent, dedicated and hard working type - enamored by every word that came from your mouth. Even rejection fueled their desire as you let each person down with respectful and caring approach. They invited you to parties and hangouts, and while you never touched a drop of whatever they gave you - you agreed every time. Out in the real world, you came to the conclusion you were still that same sheltered child from years back. You'd neither kissed nor felt first love like those around you and in films you saw. You longed for the freedom of you, but the life of a priest was chosen for you before you were even born, and you had taken the vow of celibacy to heart.

You achieved your first taste of freedom at the end of highschool. To celebrate the graduating class, a nature retreat was scheduled. Seated between two of the most determined of your suitors - you could already tell this trip would change you for better or worse. Had the seats not been assigned, it would have been another hour before the bus took off with everyone dragging you around. These two were sure to win you in the end with their records and authority over their peers. One had been arrested and agreed to go to your school if the charges were dropped, the other forced with no benefit on their part - until they met you. Together, the pair grew close over their shared hatred of their environment, and become inseparable from their shared intrigued in you. When no one would look their way, you meet them with a smile whenever your paths crossed. So cute - just like an angel. The entire ride there, neither party removed their hand from your thigh.

"Wow, Y/n - your legs are really nice... You brought shorts with you right?"

"If you didn't, we have something you can put on."

The heat was instantaneous. Alone on a hot bus, your head swam from their gentle touches and praise. Noting the way you squirmed in your seat and squeezed the hem of your shirt over the source of your discomfort, they couldn't ignore you any longer. They were ready to suck you off right then and there under the cover of a blanket and let the whole class hear you sing. Alas, their fun was temporarily delayed by the arrival at your destination. You were the first off the bus with an express trip to the bathroom. Getting away from those two wasn't going to be as easy as you thought as they were your bunkmates.

Your only bunkmates.

Things started off harmlessly enough. Down at the lake, one would splash water at your shirt while the other whined that their bottoms were too lose. They'd complain about you wearing a shirt in the water, but you excused yourself due to the strange birthmark on your chest. They asked you to pick their outfits for the day, and snuck in your bed at night for nothing more than your warmth. As your days decreased, so went their subtlety. They'd stand in front of you in lines with the sole purpose of rubbing their ass against your crotch; their partner getting their share when you finally sat down and they sat in your lap. They'd walk around the cabin in nothing else but their underwear saying something about losing the towel tucked under your bed. When sleeping with you, one moaned so sweetly in your ear as their legs tangled with yours. Of all the nights they haunted your dreams, that was the first you woke with stained shorts.

Overtime you suspected they were finally giving up. They wore modest clothing, and you hardly ever saw them outside of activities or meals. You became alone due to them always sneaking out and in that solitude you committed acts of self pleasure you'd never done before. Your untaught hands felt like they'd been graced by touch of an angel as you chased your long awaited high - shooting ropes into the dainty fabric left under your pillow. The shame you beared for using their underwear mixed so perfectly into the pleasure that your vision went white as you came a second time. It wasn't long till the thing was soaked with so much of your release there wasn't any where for it to go, but your damp things. They left them there for that purpose, so it was okay - right? You'd rinse them and hand them to dry before anyone came back. It was one mistake that you could easily come back from.

"Well, well, well-"

Shit.

"The wait was longer than I'd like, but the results definitely make up for it. Come outside, "Mister Priest". We've been listening to you since you started and you're even cuter than I imagined. We'll treat you right."

You wanted to come up with an excuse or to at least be given the opportunity to clean up, but your mind was anywhere but your head at this point. They helped you fresh up partly by tongue-cleaning your navel and thighs with their tongue before leading you outside into the thick forest where their companion was waiting by the fire they'd built. They had two water bottles in their hands. One clear, and the other filled halfway with a dark liquid. The pair had stopped drinking for a while so your first kiss didn't taste like whiskey, but after both had explored the reigns of your mouth with their tongue it was back to gunning the alcohol. You drank a little too, or rather it was siphoned down your throat as they took turns spitting it in your mouth between kisses.

The rest of the night was a blur after that. You were talking about... something, but soon enough your cock was stuffed down one of their throats and all conversation was lost - your lifelong vows tarnished in one, sin-filled eve. Come morning, you woke with their numbers in your phone and their nude bodies against yours. Your head was killing you. Some water, and some gentle reassurance by your new lovers soothe the ache, and woke you to the world you now lived in. Drinking, having sex- What would they think? The people back home.... None of the people in your church did anything like this in their youth - as far as they'd tell. What were you supposed to do now?

"Baby...Relax. There's no harm in a little indulgence every now and then. You're still that same angel in our eyes. Horns just fit you a little better."

They.. They were right. You did have horns - presented in the lustful urges shunned and magnified by your upbringing. It wasn't you - it was a demon. That mark proved it. An insatiable beast. Your body was sensitive from the night prior yet you wanted more. To taste the flesh of anyone willing to give it to you. Slipping back into the covers - those believes were etched into your heart as you guided their heads down to the heat of your lust, mouths ready to please their new lord.

Life moved on after that. The goodbyes you shared with your lovers were more tearful than the nights you choked them half to unconscious only to lick their tears as they'd instructed. You saw each other on occasion, but moving to different parts of the country with no way to make visits permanent at the time shorted your hours together. When college began, they assured you their hearts would belong to you, and if you decided to seek out others they'd be fine with it. Their permission was not needed, but a nice gesture as you had already been scouting out your new playmate. The believes of the supernatural were strong in the new community, but faith prevailed. Show them a little proof and they'll take it that extra mile. Luckily for you, you had been born with all the evidence you needed.

"I try not to show this to everyone, but I know I can trust you now. I know you probably won't believe me, but it's the only excuse I have."

Taking off your shirt, their eyes always shoot to that birthmark on your chest, nestled on the skin of the cage shielding your heart. Some have described it as charred wings, others a crown of thorns. When you were in that stage of curiosity about the world around you, you always wondered what a hypothetical partner would think of it. Your first thoughts were fear or disgust, but the only thing you've ever seen on their faces is pure awe and need.

"I...was cursed by a demon at birth. My faith will always remain in the hands of God, but the effects of the devil's influence are relentless. I'm not strong enough to take care of it on my own... Will you help me?"

"..y-yes!"

With your charms, more eyes were drawn your way. Your lies kept your image clean. Day by day, it became easier for you to sneak your way in the beds and hearts of your peers. While your end goals were far from the realm of innocence, you still cared for this people and their well-being. It's what kept them crawling back -- following you after you graduated.

In priesthood, dozens came from all counters and backgrounds to see you in your prime. Many were old faces - awaiting the day you'd open your arms to them once more. If we're being honest here you've probably seen some of them during the weeks before. You never lied about your involvement with others, and if someone were to grow more jealous than you'd like them to be... they were taking care of before you had the chance to block them and move on. You still blocked them anyway, and messages from unfamiliar numbers claiming to be their families were deleted before you even knew about them.

In the eyes of your flock, you could do no wrong. An innocent member of the church, and a solider of their lord in need of their aid. Most have already abandoned their loyalty to that figure - use its name to raise your own. They whisper to those in the surrounding area about an idol that can teach them the true freedoms of life and erase loneliness from their hearts for the rest of their days. You're sure to give those brave and willing enough a private sermon they're sure to never forget. You finish every public prayer with a straight face and smile as you're serviced by your most loyal followers beneath the podium and your robes. A quick look underneath and you'll find whoever brought you to climax sharing the fruits of their labor with their neighbor through a sloppy kiss, savouring all you have to give. It took quite a while for you to detach your facial expression and sounds from such pleasure, but you've had years of practice by now. Your faithful pets and servants attempt to break that wall with every stroke and curve of their tongues fingers, or bodies - and you're more than welcome to let them try.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere smut #yandere harem

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macleod · 7 months

Text

I've seen a number of people on here proclaim that you should not, under no circumstances, take photos at a protest, but: Sharing photos of protests is a great way to amplify the impact of collective action, raise awareness on important issues, and encourage more people to participate.

But: We also have to keep in mind that surveillance is on the rise, including the use of facial recognition tech, which can put people at risk.

So here is a quick basic guide, courtesy of DigitalRightsWatchAU, to protecting people's biometric data when posting protest photos:

Conceal or obscure people’s faces in photos

Before you upload photos from protests to social media, remove biometric data by concealing or obscuring people’s faces and using proper communication channels.

Use Signal.

Signal is a great encrypted messaging app that protects your communications. It also has an in-built feature to blur out people’s faces.

We strongly recommend using Signal to communicate with people white protesting (and anytime, really!), and this added feature makes it easy to protect the identities of people in your photos.

Be selective – choose photos that don’t show people’s faces.

With some careful photography and curation, you can upload photos that capture the scale and energy of a protest without revealing sensitive information — no need to edit them!

Here are some ideas:

take photos at a distance, capturing the crowd rather than individual details of faces,

position yourself behind the march, showing only the backs of heads,

focus on signs, flags and other details to emphasise the protest vibe without showing people’s faces.

Remember it’s good practice to ask people before taking their photo whenever you can. You can also explain to them that you just want to get their sign or outfit but not their face – let them know you want to protect their privacy!

Extra tips:

Doing this does not remove the metadata from your image. Image metadata is generated automatically and usually includes details including the time, date, and GPS location, and information about the type of phone used – this can be used to pinpoint where you were and when. To easily remove metadata, take a screenshot on your device and delete the original.

For extra protection, delete the original photos that show people’s faces from your phone after you have made a version that obscures the faces. Even if you don’t intend to upload them online, if your device is compromised or unlocked and you have the originals sitting there, you’ve done all that work for nothing!

What about videos? Videos are trickier to edit to hide people’s faces and may require additional time, effort and software – this isn’t always possible while you’re on the go! We suggest focusing on minimising capturing faces in the first place when recording video footage.

Focus on harm minimisation rather than perfection. Taking protest photos without revealing people’s faces can be hard – there are a lot of people moving around which makes it difficult. The goal is to minimise sharing others’ biometric information as much as possible. Just try your best!

When you want to capture details: recording incidents

Recording incidents such as use of violence by law enforcement can be a powerful tool of accountability. It pays to be prepared.

Here are some tips from Melbourne Activist Legal Support on observing police at protests:

Record in landscape mode. It captures more of the scene.

Hold your device steady and move it slowly. Smooth, clear footage makes better evidence.

If taking your phone to an action, make sure you don’t take sensitive data with you.

Context is important. Recording moments before an arrest can be as important as the arrest itself.

Try to take clear steady images that capture the police officer’s badge name or ID number.

Don’t hinder an arrest when observing or you may end up arrested too.

Try not to narrate. Your recording may not capture key information if you’re speaking over it.

Police do not have the right to hinder you recording public interactions.

You can also check out the resources from Witness for in-depth guides to recording incidents to protect and uphold human rights. You can also get advice and tools from the National Justice Project’s CopWatch.

#protests #collective action #mine #links #protest #civil rights

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 5 days

Text

Reckoner: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: Your world is turned upside down when you get in trouble for something you didn't even do. The entire team is in uproar over this but Hotch says he will take care of it. Can he? Or are you doomed to live out the rest of your days in misery?

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

"Justice without force is powerless; force without justice is tyrannical." - Blaise Pascal

"How is your knee feeling?" you ask Spencer when you walk out of the elevator.

"Still hurts, but the brace you have around it is helping. I'm not moving it too much."

"I might not be a doctor in medicine but I know a thing or two."

You two walk into the bullpen where the rest of the team is. Derek, Emily, and Penelope are huddled around JJ who is showing them pictures on her phone.

"What are you guys looking at?" you ask and set your things on your desk.

"Pictures of Henry."

"My Godson? Let me see!" You and Spencer head over to her and admire the pictures of her son. "Look at his chubby cheeks. He's so cute. You guys are still bringing him over this weekend, right?"

"Yes. Will and I are very excited to go out of town."

"Well, don't worry. Spencer might be crippled but we can take care of him," you joke.

"Hey!"

You look up and see Hotch and Rossi in Hotch's office with an agent sent from the Witness Protection Program. Everyone knows it's Jack's birthday so it's especially hard on Hotch right now. The agent leaves promptly, leaving both older men to talk alone.

"How he is doing?" you ask and nod to your boss.

"How do you think?" Derek sighs. "That agent came by earlier to show him a video of Jack. It sucks but that's about as much as Hotch is gonna get for it."

"We're gonna catch Foyet before something bad happens," you promise.

"We should get to the briefing room," JJ announces and puts her phone away.

You're about to follow everyone when you see several Virginia police officers walk into the bullpen.

"Excuse me, where can I find SSA Y/N?"

"Right here. What can I do for you?" you ask and step forward.

"You're under arrest for the murders of Juan Lopez, John Dimateo, Chase Williams, Eric Price, Jeffrey--"

As the officer is speaking, he turns you around and handcuffs your wrists behind your back. Your gun and badge are still on your person which he also removes. He says two more names which makes a total of seven people he thinks you're responsible for. The entire bullpen is in chaos as Spencer and JJ protest against your involvement, Penelope is just confused and asking why, and Derek immediately gets Hotch and Rossi involved.

"Hotch! Rossi!" Derek yells.

Hotch looks through the window and sees you in handcuffs. He and Rossi are out of their seats and out of the office in record time.

"Excuse me, what is going on?"

"Who are you?" the officer who handcuffed you asks.

"I'm her superior. What is going on here?"

"She's being arrested for the murders of seven men."

"Hotch! I didn't do it!" you say but they're already pulling you away.

"Wait, where are you taking her?"

"Virginia Police Department for questioning."

"Hotch! Spencer!" you say as they practically drag you away.

For five seconds, no one can say anything. No one can believe what they just witnessed. You? Murder? You dedicate your life to helping others, not to end their lives. You've had so many bad things happen to you and by doing good, you think you're making up for the bad. Why would you go out and murder seven people? When would you have the time to? If you're not at work, you're at home with Spencer.

After those shocking five seconds, all hell breaks loose. Everyone starts talking over each other. What is going on? Who are these victims? There has to be some kind of mistake. Y/N would never murder anyone. They've got the wrong woman. Even people who are not on the team start whispering to each other.

"Everyone calm down," Hotch says loudly. He turns to Rossi who is trying to keep a confident face on. "Take the team with you to Long Island." He addresses the team. "Listen, I'm going to go down there and figure out what's going on. In the meantime, there is still a case going on that needs our attention. JJ and Rossi will brief you on the case. When I'm done, I'll fly up there on my own."

"Let me go with you," Spencer says.

"Spencer, I know how hard it is for you right now, but I need you with the team. I'm going to take care of it."

Everyone hates that they can't be there for you right now but they understand where Hotch is coming from. When Hotch was released from the hospital, they all wanted to take care of him but stayed with the team and worked on other cases. However, Hotch was bedridden. You're in fucking jail.

After Hotch leaves and the rest of the team is getting ready to fly to New York, Spencer is still stuck in his spot. He can't seem to move from it because all he is thinking about is you. He wants to cry. He wants to break down at the thought of you being all alone in that interrogation room. Derek does a double take and walks over to Spencer.

"She's going to be okay, man. They have the wrong person. We both know this."

Spencer has to believe this otherwise he doesn't know what he is going to do. Everyone piles into the briefing room but it's like they are zombies. No one knows how to act because your chair is empty. Spencer won't be able to concentrate on a word JJ says much less anyone else, but she begins the briefing.

"Last night, Ben Vanderwaal was killed in Commack, Long Island. He was shot at close range once in the heart, once in the head with a .22 caliber. They found hair and blood trances from Ben's wife, Heather."

"Not Heather?" Rossi asks.

"No, she's still missing and presumed dead. The caliber and placement of the bullets match that of two previous victims. The first is Rita Haslat. Eight months ago, she went missing from her home in New Jersey. Four weeks later, she was found in a trash bin."

JJ puts pictures of what Rita looked like before and after being found.

"She went from that to this in under three weeks? She's totally emaciated," Emily says.

"Ligature marks on her wrists and ankles indicate she was constrained." Derek looks over at Spencer to see him staring at the desk. "One in the heart, one in the head like Ben."

"It sounds more like an execution," Rossi says. "What about the third victim?"

"His name is Bill Levington. His appearance was certainly altered."

JJ allows the others to read about what happened to Bill. There's no way she's going to put those pictures on the screen. Spencer grabs the file and flips through it but he's not really reading it. He's only doing this so he doesn't get in trouble for not paying attention.

"His genitals are missing. Though the method of mutilation is different in each crime, there is clearly a signature. The question is, what?"

"In Ben's case, his hands were taken. Bill's genitals were taken. Rita was completely different. She was starved, tortured, and executed. There's no sign of postmortem mutilation," JJ says.

"Why would he take Heather and not simply kill her?"

"Maybe he hasn't and she's still alive," Derek says.

"The only thing concrete is the MO which depicts an efficient no-nonsense murder. We need to figure out what each act of mutilation means to the unsub or to the victim. Wheels up in twenty," Rossi announces.

He gets up, takes out a file from his inner jacket pocket, and places it in front of Spencer. The noise of the paper slapping the desk is enough to break Spencer out of his trance. He looks at the file and then up at Rossi.

"What's this?"

"You told us you were cleared to fly. You lied."

"Naughty boy," Emily chuckles.

"No, I didn't. I am a doctor, so technically, it wasn't a lie," Spencer stutters.

"What was it, then?" Penelope asks.

"Second opinion."

"You're my bitch now," she smiles and walks out of the briefing room. Everyone else walks out leaving Spencer alone with his thoughts. He allows his tears to fall now that he's alone. Penelope pauses when she hears him sniffle so she backtracks into the room. "Spence..."

"I'm fine," he sniffles and wipes his eyes.

"No, you're not. We're all not fine. She's going to be okay. Hotch is going to get her out of this."

"Yeah, I know," he whispers.

Hotch arrives at the Virginia Police Department sooner than he thought. He won't let you go down for something you never did. He's known you for around five years. He knows the kind of person you are, especially when you tackled him away from a car bomb and stayed by his side when he was stabbed by Foyet. He's not going to let anything happen to you.

The police department must know he was coming because they are on his ass as soon as he walks through the front door.

"You can't be here. You have no authority. This case isn't Federal," the arresting officer says.

"Like hell, I can't. I am her boss. She has rights."

"Which have been read to her. She hasn't lawyered up."

"There is a big misunderstanding here--"

"There is no misunderstanding. Y/N committed these crimes and didn't try to hide it very well."

"With what evidence?"

"Oh, we got a buttload of evidence and it all points to her. Sorry, but you're not on the case. I can't release that kind of information."

"I need to see her. I have a right to talk to her as her superior and as a lawyer."

The officer knows he's not going to win this argument so he decides to let it become his supervisor's problem.

"Be my guest."

The officer leads Hotch to where you are. They took you to one of the interrogation rooms as soon as you arrived, and you've been sitting here with an incompetent officer asking you questions. You're handcuffed to the desk even though you've shown no signs of being violent. You've complied with all of their rules but you haven't said a word to them. You know how interrogations work. You know how someone can incriminate themselves just by talking. You're going to let them get all their questions out before lawyering up.

"Care to explain to us why we found your DNA on all seven men?" No answer. "All seven men were murdered with different weapons that we traced back to your apartment. Your possession. Care to explain?" No answer. "My question is how did you manage to murder seven very fit and strong men that brutally? You're an FBI agent. You must know how to cover your tracks, no?"

"I want my lawyer."

The officer sighs and closes the file they have on you. He can't ask any more questions until your lawyer arrives. He chooses to leave the file there and exits the interrogation room. You immediately grab the file and look through it to see what they have. All seven men were brutally murdered like he said, but you didn't think it would be this bad. You're a strong woman but not strong enough to do this kind of damage.

Each man was killed with a different murder weapon--all that you recognize. They're items from your and Spencer's apartment. A kitchen knife that JJ gave you as a set for you moving into Spencer's apartment, a worn-down hammer you got from your parent's house to put up more shelves, one of your heels that Spencer got you as a present just because he loves you, the fire extinguisher you keep underneath the sink, the iron you keep in the bathroom, one of your phone chargers, and a box of Spencer's matches.

All of these items can come back to you since you're the one who bought them all besides the heels. Who are these men? Who actually killed them? They were all killed in close proximity to your home and work, so whoever killed them must be local to the area. Why frame you for the murders? What does this person or people get for framing you? There are a whole lot of questions that the police aren't asking.

It seems like all they see is murders, some DNA that belongs to you, so you must be the killer without asking the important questions. The door opens and you quickly close the file and return it to the spot in which you found it. You go back to the stoic look on your face but that drops when you see Hotch at the door.

"Hotch!" He closes the door to give you two some privacy even though you know someone is watching you. "I didn't do it. You have to believe me."

"I know. I believe you," he nods and sits across from you, "but someone did and they really want you to suffer for it."

"I've never even met these men in my life. I don't know who they are. How could I have murdered them? I practically live at the BAU."

"They say they have strong evidence against you but they're not saying what it is. I'm not your lawyer."

"How's Spencer?"

"As much as you'd expect him to be. He wanted to come here but the team is on a case on Long Island."

"Hotch, what do I do?" you sigh with tears in your eyes.

"I'm going to do everything I can to get you out of here. It's just a matter of time. You might be spending a few days with PD."

"Yeah. You should go to Long Island and help the team. Like you said, they're not gonna let me leave anytime soon. I'll probably still be here when you get back."

"I can stay here."

"Hotch, go help the team. People are dying. I'll be fine."

"Okay."

Hotch gets up to leave but you stop him before he can.

"Tell Spencer I am okay. My family has a lawyer I am going to use. Tell him I will be home soon."

"Alright."

As soon as Hotch leaves, your confident shell fades away. You're not sure if you're going to be okay. PD has their suspect in custody. They're not going to let you go easily.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds series rewrite #criminal minds season 5

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accord-vn · 4 months

Text

Subject: Archon Program Candidates

From: ██████

To: Flora Pearson <[email protected]>

Timestamp: 2088.09.24.6138

Dir. Pearson:

It took some time to process the data we've received from the Dept/Statistics request, and your patience in that matter is deeply appreciated. Our diligence has paid off, and we have narrowed to 54 potential candidates across the Republic. I've attached the full portfolio--note that among the 54, 7 in particular stand out. I've flagged these subjects accordingly. While a thorough examination of *all* prospective candidates is paramount for expedience and risk mitigation, the attached dossiers will surely speak for themselves with regards to their fit for the program.

Saklas

Raithe Desmont

b.2057.12.30 / 193cm / 66kg / B+

int-SYN/TRA compatibility: 83.25%

d-SYN/TRA compatibility: 57.29%

Minor irreversible microgravitational osteoporosis from offworld childhood

History of childhood asthma, no noted persistent chronic obstructive pulmonary disorders in adulthood

Existing psychiatric profile suggests an intense need for approval, acknowledgement

Medical records became publicly available when he was processed following the dismantling of Synesia

Immediate family:

- Estranged father, younger sister

- deceased mother

Census records indicate no other family or partner

Criminal records indicate a history of activism that ended following an arrest with no conviction

Church records confirm status as hylikos

Currently works an administrative role within the Automation Division of the Dept/Research

Evaluation:

Desmont's department shows fantastic efficiency and produces incredible results at the expense of high turnover rates. Exit interviews indicate that his aggressive and controlling management style is to blame, however the growth in his department was undeniable to his superiors. Were he not a hylikos, he would surely be head of the division by now.

Desmont's ego is thoroughly immodest, and his focus solely on the Material. He refuses to accept that he cannot rise above his position without aid from the Church.

His methodical yet aggressive nature and relatively high d-SYN/TRA compatibility score suggest that he would be an ideal candidate for the archon of kings.

Iao

Zoe Katab

b.2070.07.19 / 170cm / 70kg / A-

int-SYN/TRA compatibility: 95.66%

d-SYN/TRA compatibility: 71.90%

Several childhood hospitalizations for frequent upper and lower extremity fractures

History of self harm attributed to survivor's guilt/PTSD

Existing psychiatric profile indicates a need for control that stems from severe anxiety

Medical records became publicly available following her adoption as a ward of the state

Immediate family:

- deceased mother, father, sister

Census records indicate no other family or partner

Criminal records indicate that she was arrested for the murder of her parents, but ultimately found innocent

Church records confirm status as hylikos

Currently unemployed

Evaluation:

Katab's past indicates that she is capable of bloodshed yet more interested in the stability of total control. Behavioral reports from her childhood describe a deeply protective personality with recurring accusations of attempting to manipulate others.

Katab's exceptional d-SYN/TRA compatibility alongside her complex psychiatric profile indicate that she is an ideal archon candidate, with the most synergy with the archon of lordship.

Sabaoth

Sera ████

b.2060.10.30 / 180cm / 102kg / AB+

int-SYN/TRA compatibility: 98.92%

d-SYN/TRA compatibility: 89.01%

Significant medical records were removed from public record following her involvement in the destruction of the Caesarea

Existing psychiatric profile indicates a deeply emotionally disturbed individual

Immediate family:

- estranged mother, father

- aunt, living apart

Census records indicate no other family or partner

Criminal records indicate that she is currently convicted for criminal negligence, manslaughter, and practicing medicine without a license

Church records confirm status as hylikos

Currently imprisoned

Evaluation:

████ 's involvement has been previously confirmed, as she was sponsored by █████.

Nonetheless, ████ 's unprecedentedly high SYN/TRA compatibility, unique physiology, and damaged psyche suggest that she is an ideal archon candidate, such that she may be a possible match with the archon of deity.

Adonaios

Ash Ward

b.2074.08.16 / 175cm / 58kg / B-

int-SYN/TRA compatibility: 84.11%

d-SYN/TRA compatibility: 74.39%

Childhood history of malnourishment

Reports of several scars from infections secondary to insufficient wound care

Existing psychiatric profile indicate difficulty controlling anger

Medical records became publicly available upon becoming a ward of the state

Immediate family:

- deceased mother, father, uncle

Census records indicate no other family or partner

Criminal records indicate a predisposition to violence

Church records confirm status as hylikos

Currently a ward of the state

Evaluation:

Ward's behavioral reports indicate a tendency to lash out against authorities and classmates alike. He is quick to violence and has little patience for others.

His exceptional SYN/TRA compatibilities and temperament suggest a strong compatibility for the tyrant archon.

Elaios

Adrien Hein

b.2059.03.03 / 187cm / 40kg / O+

int-SYN/TRA compatibility: 74.29%

d-SYN/TRA compatibility: 52.63%

Bilateral below-knee amputation secondary to explosion during an attempted live-munitions terrorist attack

Existing psychiatric profile indicates severe anxiety bordering on paranoia

Medical records became public record upon arrest

Immediate family:

- deceased husband, son

- mother, father live apart

Census records indicate no other family or partner

Criminal records indicate that he has been convicted for terrorism, conspiracy, possession of illegal explosives, destruction of property

Church records confirm status as hylikos

Currently imprisoned

Evaluation:

Hein lost his husband and son in a riot started by immigrants protesting the stride of Stauros. He was radicalized by the experience and subsequently became involved with a group of nationalists. During an attempt to bomb a train station the explosives were improperly timed, resulting in the loss of both of Hein's legs.

His willingness to shed blood, loyalty to Stauros, and obsessive mental state make him an ideal candidate for the archon of jealousy.

Oraios

Surya Marit

b.2068.09.25 / 175cm / 68kg / B+

int-SYN/TRA compatibility: 88.04%

d-SYN/TRA compatibility: 73.43%

Minor broken bones in youth, negative growth plate abnormalities noted

Possible TBI secondary to concussion received during routine training though MRI/CT inconclusive

Existing psychiatric profile indicates an antisocial personality disorder diagnosis as well as a need for connection

Medical records became publicly available upon joining the ExoCorps

Immediate family:

- estranged brother, mother

- deceased mother

Census records indicate no other family or partner

Criminal records return no charges

Church records confirm status as hylikos

Currently unemployed

Evaluation:

Marit is an unusual individual. She was initially chosen to be a Cataphract though her surgery regimen was cut short by a traumatic head injury during a routine training exercise. This purportedly spawned a change in her behavior, at which point she was ejected from the ExoCorps.

Marit's fantastic SYN/TRA compatibility, her experience as a pilot, and her alienation from others make her a strong candidate for the archon of wealth.

Astaphaios

Elena Casaubon

b.2069.09.09 / 158cm / 53kg / O-

int-SYN/TRA compatibility: 63.14%

d-SYN/TRA compatibility: 47.69%

Irreversible microgravitational osteoporosis from offworld childhood

Existing psychiatric profile indicates obsessive tendencies and a thirst for the forbidden

Medical records not publicly available

Immediate family:

- absentee mother

- deceased father

Census records indicate no other family or partner

Criminal records return no charges

Church records confirm status as hylikos

Currently employed by the Dept/Research as a part of the Archon program

Evaluation:

Casaubon's participation was, of course, previously confirmed due to her connection to the Rite.

Casaubon's SYN/TRA compatibilities barely meet program minimums, and though her psychiatric profile does not indicate any particular affinity, the archon of wisdom will likely be the most fitting for her potential as a pilot.

Thank you for your patience,

██████

#accord #mecha #visual novel #character art #in universe text

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