#[[the reliable chemist]]

[themxtleycrew]

@theothervonkarmagirl

While Oboro had been told to take it easy, especially as she was in what she believed to be the final stretch of her pregnancy, even she could spend the day sitting on her butt. Occasionally she'd feel the odd kick in her stomach, her child growing more active within her womb. Even so, Oboro felt she could still brew a pot of tea without much issue, right?

They were enjoying some time in Izumo, Maria had brought Oboro along, Hinata had followed, and of course wherever Maria went, Clara and Midori followed. While everyone had been lounging about the Inn, it had begun to rain outside, prompting the need for some hot tea in this cold rain.

Thinking about it now, as she finally managed to get herself on her feet, maybe it would have been better to ask Midori or Hinata to brew the tea? She wouldn't dare as Maria or Clara to brew a pot.

Staggering along, clutching her belly, Oboro grabbed a pot and filled it with water, preparing to bring it to the fire in order to heat it up. She didn't even make it halfway when she dropped the pot, spilling the water on the tatami floor, a sharp pain shot through her as she reached for anything to hold onto for support. Instead, something grabbed her.

"Whoa! Hey, are you alright?" Hinata ask his fellow retainer, doing his best to keep her standing.

Oboro just responded with a pained groan as one hand grabbed onto his wrist and squeezed while the other remained on her belly.

"Th-the baby!" Oboro gasped. "I think... I think the baby's coming!"

And just then, the floor was soiled once more.

[theviceenforcer]

Team Fortress 2 - Meet the Additional Classes (RED)

Although the idea of additional classes in TF2 at this point is considered out of the question, imagine the possibilities and chaos more mercs would bring from the likes of the Civilian, Witch, Assistant *Miss Pauling* Janitor, Guard Dog and Chemist.

[themxtleycrew]

"..."

"The cakes are tasty, but I'd much rather have the chef."

"GAAAH! I COULD NEVER SAY THAT!!!"

[loganjameshowlett]

SAME AS IT EVER WAS

01: AND YOU MAY ASK YOURSELF (WELL, HOW DID I GET HERE?)

pairing: peter parker/mutant!reader summary: you tutor peter parker. you dodge a robbery. you get run over and are somehow unhurt. all in a day's work, i guess. word count: 4.1k+

series masterlist | next installment

You were beginning to regret promising your tutoring services to Professor Sorensen. 

The early morning sky was pink outside the library’s picture windows, and you stared wistfully as you spread your things out across one of the empty tables, wishing that you were still in bed. But Sorensen was maybe your favorite professor ever, and when she stopped you after class last week and asked you to tutor for the general education English classes in exchange for a meager pay and some extra points on your final essay, you didn’t have the heart to tell her no. 

You couldn’t imagine, though, what kind of linguistically-inept STEM major would be desperate enough for tutoring to schedule an appointment with you at eight o’clock on a Wednesday morning. You kind of wanted to beat them over the head with your laptop. Instead, you took a searing gulp of your coffee and opened your current required reading for Sorensen’s class. If you were going to be up this early, you might as well make some use of the time beyond tutoring. 

“Excuse me,” a voice calling your name cut through the otherwise silent main reading room of the library a few minutes later, and you looked up to find a tall boy with messy brown hair standing at the other side of your table. He had a frayed backpack slung over one shoulder, and a look of exhaustion in his brown eyes that was very familiar to you. “Am I in the right place for Professor Sorensen’s English tutoring?”

“Uh, yeah,” you nodded, shutting your book and briefly glancing down at the email from Sorensen open on your laptop to catch his name. “Peter Parker?” 

“That’s me,” he nodded, offering a small smile as he slid into the chair to the right of you. 

“So, you’re taking Beginnings of American Lit with Professor Liu, right?” you asked, checking the email once more. 

“Yeah. She’s kind of a tough grader, and if I don’t score an A on my next essay it’ll fuck with my GPA,” Peter explained, glancing over at you sheepishly as he dug through his bag, eventually producing a thin stack of rumpled papers. “I was hoping we could edit this one together? Maybe you’ll be able to explain what she’s looking for, ‘cause I really don’t know.” 

“Yeah, Liu is… particular, but not impossible,” you told him, reaching forward to slide the essay toward you. “Luckily, I’ve taken her twice, so I think I’ll be able to help.”

“Oh, thank god. I was starting to feel hopeless,” Peter said, and you couldn’t help but snort at the complete earnestness in his voice.  

“So, I take it you’re not a humanities major,” you observe, and Peter laughs, shaking his head. 

“Definitely not. I’m a chemistry major, actually. Science has always come easily to me, but writing not so much. S’why I put off taking my literature requirement until Junior year.”

“That’s what I did with my lab science requirement,” you said. “And now I’m struggling through a biology lab that might actually kill my GPA. Okay, so, your intro paragraph looks pretty good. Thesis is solid. I think your trouble is probably in the body– Liu is a real stickler for thorough analysis of quotes and citations. And by thorough, I mean extensive to the point of near-redundancy.” 

“Alright, I already know I’m gonna have to beef up the middle, in that case,” Peter sighed, taking the first page of his essay to look over the few line edits you had penned in with red ink. “Hey, about your biology lab. I can help, if you want. As a thank you for helping me with Liu’s class.” 

“Yeah? That’d be a lifesaver, honestly,” you said, raising your brow at him. “I don’t really know anyone in the department to help me find a reliable tutor. Not that I know you’re a reliable tutor. You could be a really shitty chemist, for all I know.” 

Peter let out a theatrical gasp, bringing a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “I’ll have you know that I’m a very good chemist. And, lucky for you, a perfectly average biologist. Good enough to get you to pass that lab with an A, I bet.” 

“Well, then, I’m gonna hold you to that, Mr. Parker.” 

“Just Peter’s fine. Mr. Parker makes me sound geriatric.” 

“Okay, Peter,” you hum. “Look, this quote you have at the top of this paragraph? It’ll be really easy to beef up your analysis if you introduce how it speaks on gender roles in American culture at the time. In fact, you could probably get a whole extra paragraph out of it, if you provide enough context.” 

“Would you mind writing that in the margin? I’ll forget otherwise,” Peter asked and you complied, writing the potential edit in small, neat letters next to the paragraph. “If you’re free Friday afternoon, we could go through some of your biology work.” 

“I actually am free then,” you said, eyes roaming over the last paragraph of his essay. You scribbled a few notes and line edits in, before stacking the pages neatly and sliding them back towards Peter. “Tell you what, you make the edits we talked about today, and we can go over the next version of your essay then, too, yeah? Make sure it’s up to Professor Liu’s standard?” 

“You’re an angel,” Peter said, glancing up from where he was absorbing your edits to shoot you a grin. “Hey, sorry to be so abrupt, but I gotta run. How does same spot, two o’clock on Friday sound?” 

“Works for me. Thanks for volunteering to help, Parker.” 

“ ‘Course. We should exchange numbers, in case anything comes up. I never check my email,” Peter said, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. He passed it along to you, the contacts page opened, and you entered your information, sending a text to yourself so you had his information in return. 

“See you Friday,” you smiled, handing the phone back to him. 

“Friday,” Peter confirmed, taking a few backward steps away from the table before turning around. He glanced over his shoulder once more, waving, before he disappeared into the hall. 

***

“God, this shift couldn’t be any fuckin’ slower,” Mickey groaned, dropping her head against the bodega’s countertop. Her red curls fanned all around her head, dripping over the edge of the counter. 

“Closing shift is always slow, Mick,” you reminded her, leaning against the wall with your arms folded over your chest. The thick of the after work rush had been over for about an hour, leaving the bodega deserted, aside from the two of you and Gary, the ancient orange bodega cat. 

“Dontcha ever just wish somethin’ interesting would happen around here?” she asked, picking her head up in order to blow a big pink bubble from her lips. 

“Interesting things happen in this city every day,” you countered. “Spider-Man fights some new fuckin’ loser every week, man, and that’s just him. Daredevil broke Mrs. Llewellyn’s kitchen window, like, four days ago.” 

“That shit’s not interesting anymore; you said it yourself, it happens every day,” Mickey said, stepping around the counter to pretend to organize the shelves. “Tell you what’d be interesting: if we found out who Daredevil or Spider-Man or any of the others are beneath the mask. And if not that, I’d settle for Daredevil crashing through my bedroom window tonight. That man is fine.” 

“How would you know? Nobody’s ever seen his face.” 

“He’s built, baby. That’s how I know,” Mickey scoffed. 

You shrugged. “I’d rather the cape types stay away from my bedroom window. Or my general vicinity. I’ve got enough going on between class and this job and tutoring without getting involved in one of their situations.” 

“Oh come on, you’re telling me the thought of some sexy superhero literally crashing into your life isn’t appealing at all?” 

“No, dude. I don’t want the drama. Or, I’m sorry, the adventure,” you doubled down. “You can have it.” 

“Amen,” Mickey nodded. “I hope Daredevil heard you say that somehow.” 

Before you could respond, the mostly quiet night was cut through with the sound of police sirens, loud and close and then fading slightly as they passed down the street. 

“Wonder what’s going on,” you murmured, craning your neck to follow the red and blue lights down the block. 

“Whatever it is, I hope a man in tights responds to it.”

“God, Mickey, you are incorrigible,” you groaned, turning away from the window and grasping the handle of the broom, looking for something to do. 

“Don’t use your fancy English major words on me, woman.” 

“Incorrigible is not a fancy–” you started, but were cut off by your phone ringing in your pocket, the specific song you assigned to Mr. Browne, your boss. 

“Hey, bossman, what’s up?” you asked, answering. Concern laced your voice; it wasn’t like Mr. Browne to call during closing shift. He trusted you and Mickey not to burn the place down, and his watching reruns of Jeopardy! time was basically sacred. 

“Honey, listen,” his gruff voice filtered through the speaker. “I want you and Mickey to close up and go on home now.” 

“What? Why? There’s still an hour until closing,” you asked, furrowing your brow. 

“I just saw on the news that there’s a robbery going down in the neighborhood, and I don’t need you girls getting caught up in any danger, okay?”

“Oh, guess that explains the police cars,” you said, more to yourself than to him. 

“You see? Lock up and get out of there,” he said, his voice firmer. “And no dilly-dallying, you hear? I got a bad feeling.” 

“Okay, Mr. Browne, you got it. We’ll close up now and go straight home,” you promised. 

“Good. Just feed Gary before you go.” 

“Will do. G’night, bossman,” you said, before hanging up the phone. 

“What’s that all about?” Mickey asked, brushing a piece of her wild hair away from her face. 

“Apparently those police cars that went by are responding to a robbery in the neighborhood,” you informed her. “Mr. Browne wants us to lock up and go home now before we get caught up in any of the trouble.”

“Must be my lucky day,” Mickey grinned. “You get the keys, I’ll feed Gar.” You did as she said, retrieving the keys, your jacket, and your bag from behind the counter. Already, you were lost in thoughts of going home and crashing immediately in bed. You had been out and about for over twelve hours that day already, and you were practically asleep on your feet. You had half a mind to walk down the block and thank the robbers for cutting your shift short. 

A minute later, the two of you were standing out on the sidewalk. You could hear shouts and the sirens as more police responded to the scene, even the drone of a news copter overhead. The robbery must be closer than you expected, and maybe a bigger problem than you were assuming, too. There was a bank two blocks down and one over; you wondered if it was all going down over there. 

“Alright, text me the minute you get home,” Mickey said sternly. 

“You, too,” you responded. The two of you lived in opposite directions, so you wouldn’t have the comfort of each other’s company on the walk home. 

“We’ll be fine,” Mickey responded with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I bet the neighborhood is safer than usual– bet nobody else will try shit with the place crawling with so many cops. But still text me when you get home, got it?” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She pulled you into a quick, tight hug before waving and heading down the block towards home. You turned in the opposite direction, back towards your apartment in Hell’s Kitchen. The night was cool for the beginning of October, and you pulled your flimsy zip-up tighter around your middle, hiding your hands deep in the pockets. Your head swam with all the things you needed to do for the week, wondering if you should get a jump on some of it with your newfound hour of free time, or actually give yourself a rest for once. You were leaning toward the former; if you hurried, you could probably finish the reading you started at the library before Peter showed up, and the corresponding question set. 

With that thought in mind, you cut through a nearby alley, shaving off a block from your walk. You wouldn’t normally, but you had a feeling that Mickey was right, the high concentration of cops in the area would deter any other criminals. Probably you’d be fine. You stuffed your earbuds in your ears and pressed play on whatever had last been going, lost in thought as you tried to plan the rest of your week around class and work shifts and your new tutoring session with Peter. 

As you cut through a second alley, bringing you just half a block from home, chin tucked in and head down against the wind, you didn’t hear the squeal of tires as they turned around a corner and sped down the street you were just on. You didn’t hear as they abruptly turned into the alley, doors scraping against a dumpster. The hair-raising screech of metal on metal finally cut through your music, and you turned around just in time to find a large, black SUV barrelling straight towards you. 

There was nowhere to go. The alley was hardly wider than the car itself, and fear or shock or some horrible mix of both at the sight of it coming toward you had rooted you to one spot on the wet asphalt. 

Fuck. I am about to die, you thought as you stared down the headlights, so bright you couldn’t see whoever was driving the thing. 

The next ten seconds– because, really, it couldn’t have been any longer than that– occurred in a blur. The impact, your body on the wet ground. Front right tire crushing over your torso, the back tire following half a second later. Vaguely, with the small part of your brain where synapses still seemed to be firing, you knew there must be immeasurable pain, but all you felt was cold and static. There were too many things happening at once, too many pains and thoughts all garbled together that you couldn’t feel or register any of it. 

You laid there, staring up at the dark, gusty sky, expecting death to collect you at any moment. When, after several minutes of slow blinking and shallow breathing, you were still alive, you figured you might have experienced a miracle. Maybe the tires had passed over you in just the right way to preserve your life? Not that you thought such a thing was possible. Getting crushed by a speeding SUV felt like a very final kind of thing. 

Slowly, your senses started coming back to you. Hearing first, as you registered sirens rushing past at the mouth of the alley. You grimaced, tensing as you waited for them to also cut down the alley and actually kill you this time, but they passed by without incident. The pain started next: a horrible, dull ache across your ribs and a sharper, prickling kind of hurt along your shoulder blades, but nothing like you thought you should have been experiencing. You were worried that it was still all a trick of the mind, that you’d muster up the courage to lift your head and look down to take stock of the damage and find your torso resembling roadkill more than anything human. But you couldn’t lay there forever, you reasoned, and so went to work testing appendages to see if they were in order. 

You wiggled your fingers and toes first, surprised, frankly, that you were able to do so. If you could wiggle your toes, everything below your ribs must still be connected to everything above your ribs. Good sign. You bent your arms at the elbow next, which reignited the flame of pain in your shoulder blades, but they moved fine otherwise. Bent your knees, turned your head from side to side. You were… okay, you concluded. Physically not dying in a dirty alley, at least. 

A jolt of effort, and you sat up all the way, despite the protest of pain across your ribs and shoulder blades. Looking down, you took stock of the dark tire track running across the front of your sweater, but more importantly, the very uncrushed nature of your ribs and internal organs. 

“How the fuck,” you muttered to yourself, brushing your hands tentatively down your front. The contact of your palms against your middle was like irritating a nasty bruise, but that was it. That was… impossible, you were pretty sure. Maybe you could gaslight yourself into believing it was if it had been some tiny, dinghy little car that had run you over, but it was a fucking monstrous SUV. 

Blinking, you reached back toward the wall behind you and used it to hoist yourself up onto your feet. A terrible panic was creeping up on you now, and you preferred to deal with that in the privacy of your bedroom, not on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. As you turned to stumble your way out of the alley, you noticed something else: the pavement beneath where you had fallen was crushed in a peculiar shape, almost like wings and six feet across. 

“What the fuck,” you said, louder this time. Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck. This situation was getting stranger by the second, and you were pretty sure you were about to experience a mental break, if you weren’t already. 

Maybe I actually am dead, and none of this is happening right now, you mused as the alley spat you back out on the street. Your feet headed in the direction of your apartment on their own accord, your mind caught up in bright headlights and wing shapes stamped into asphalt. A horrible headache was building behind your eyes, and all you wanted was to get to the safety of your own home, dead or not. 

The walk seemed to take an eternity in your dazed state, but eventually the familiar redbrick corner building that had been your home for the last two years loomed in front of you. You fumbled in your jacket pocket for your key, gripping it in your shaky fist as you punched in the key code to the front door. Up four flights of stairs, a fight with the apartment door as the lock rejected your key like always. You went through the motions in a dream state, so many thoughts tumbling through your head, but none of them sticking. Before opening the door, you shucked off your sweater and balled it up in your arms, in case either of your roommates were up and about. You really had no idea how you’d be able to explain the tire tracks across the front. 

Inside, the lights were dim and a Bob’s Burgers rerun was playing at low-volume on the little television. An electric blue pixie cut shot up over the back of the couch at the sound of the opening door. 

“You’re home early,” your cousin, Winona, called to you. “What’s the deal?” 

“Uh…robbery. Down the block. Mr. Browne wanted us to leave early to be, um, safe,” you stammered out, toeing your shoes off at the door. Each subtle movement sent more pain lancing through your ribs, and you struggled to keep a straight, unbothered face. 

Winona wasn’t convinced. After living together for two years and knowing you since birth, she was familiar with all of your little idiosyncrasies. She could tell when you were just a little irritated, so of course she could tell when you… well, when whatever the fuck just happened, happened to you. Her thick, dark brows drew in until they met at the center, brown eyes narrowing as she scrutinized you. 

“What’s going on with you?” Your cousin was not one to beat around the bush. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, skirting around the question.

“Somethin’s wrong with our girl?” a sleepy voice called from the other end of the couch. A second later, Odie’s head of wild brown waves popped up over the back of the couch. Winona’s best friend since grade school and your other roommate, she was extremely protective over you. Always had been, since she met you when you started freshman year at Midtown High and she and Winona were seniors. 

“There’s nothing wrong,” you huffed. Even that extra expansion of your lungs caused the pain to flare. “I’m just tired. It was a long day.”

Winona frowned at you, clearly disbelieving. “I made lasagna earlier. You hungry?” 

“Ate a bunch of junk at work with Mick. But I’ll bring some with me for lunch tomorrow,” you promised, and wrenched open your bedroom door and disappeared behind it before either of them could question you further. You pressed yourself against the door once it was closed, then jumped away quickly as the action sent an explosion of pain through your shoulder blades. You’d forgotten about it that fast. 

“Fuck,” you whispered, closing your eyes against the burning of tears suddenly threatening to come. “Oh, god. What the fuck. What the fuck.” 

What was even the next move? You couldn’t very well go out there and tell Winona you’d been crushed by an SUV earlier in the night. Nothing about your current state would corroborate the claim, why would she, or anyone else, believe you? And honestly, that was the least of your worries. More pressing issues: why weren’t you crushed by the SUV? Why weren’t you fucking dead? What was up with the weird, wing-shaped damage in the street below you? What had actually happened in that alley?

Something was deeply, deeply not right. You could feel the wrongness of it all buzzing through every inch of your body. You knew that the feeling would overwhelm you if you let it, and you were dangerously close to just sinking to the floor and letting it take you. 

Your phone buzzed in your back pocket. Opening your eyes, you fished it out and brought the too-bright screen to your eyes. 

Make it home okay? The text from Mickey read. 

No, you wanted to say. Got hit by a fucking car but somehow I think that might be the least of my problems. I think something’s really wrong. 

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard, but of course you didn’t type it. You shot off a text confirming that you did– because really, you supposed, you did get home okay in some sense of the word– and asked if she did, too. 

After Mickey texted back that she did get home safe, you set about the task of peeling off your uniform. Every movement hurt like a bitch, and you reminded yourself every five seconds that you should be grateful for the pain. You didn’t even have a single broken bone. You weren’t dead. You could handle some aches and bruising. 

You worked your jeans off first, then your shirt and bra, heaping them in the corner of your room and plucking a random t-shirt and pajama shorts out of your drawer. Before pulling on the t-shirt, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror tucked in the corner. As you suspected, a thick line of bruises was already purpling along your ribs, the width of a car tire. You sighed, turning to see how far they stretched on either side and paused when your back came into view. 

Two thick lines of what looked like red, irritated scar tissue traced along the lines of your shoulder blades. It looked as though someone had surgically cut them open, and recently. You brought a hand to your mouth, suppressing the gasp threatening to worm its way out. You felt like all the crap you ate at work was about to make a reappearance. 

Those certainly hadn’t been there this morning. You would know: you stood naked in front of this very mirror after your shower, sleepily trying to pick out your outfit. The skin of your back had been smooth, unscarred. Obviously. You would have remembered if you had gone through something that would have resulted in scars like this. 

“Okay, no,” you muttered, throwing the t-shirt over your head as quickly as possible in your bruised, hurting state. This was all too much to deal with in one night, you decided suddenly. You were tired and hurting and you had a busy fucking day tomorrow, damn it. 

You pulled your blankets back and turned off the light, climbing gingerly into bed. Maybe if you were lucky, you would wake up in the morning to all of this having been some wild fucking nightmare. Not that you were ever that lucky.

[gay-disabled-characters-showdown]

LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 3, Wave 2, Poll 9

A character being totally canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included. 

Check out the other polls in this wave and prior here.

Lan Wangji-The Untamed / Mo Dao Zu Shi

Qualifications:

Canonically gay, pretty heavily coded as autistic (esp in the show)

Additional qualifications by @lovewanxian : I would like to add that Lan Wangji also has extremely extensive scarring on his back from getting whipped 33 times and spent an extended amount of time bedridden because of it

Propaganda:

He's an absolute badass - in a series full of morally ambiguous or outright immoral characters, he's one of the only people around to consistently show he's reliable, honorable and strong. Some examples include Lan Wangji defending Wei Wuxian, his love interest and eventual husband, against his own clan and other clans because WWX went against their rules and tried to save innocent people, or LWJ raising WWX's adopted son for years and being a great father and mentor to him. While LWJ isn't *technically* canonically autistic, (not that this word would exist in the setting), he has flat affect, fixates on rules and his difficulty in understanding people's emotions is explicitly brought up and a minor plot point.

Wylan Van Eck-Six of Crows

Qualifications:

Wylan has dyslexia (heavily implied, but not outright said bc setting) and is gay,

Dyslexic and gay!

They are in a adorable m/m relationship, and also have severe dyslexia to the point that (when eight) he could not read or write despite formal education

Wylan is gay and dyslexic!

Propaganda:

Wylan and Jesper have the absolute cutest relationship. Also, Wylan has dyslexia. I don't think it was outright said, but that was heavily implied. It just couldn't be set out loud for the sake of maintaining the fantasy setting. He's such a good character, and is primarily known for his skill with explosives, not his struggles with reading and writing. The other protagonists also never judge him for it, and the only character who does is the kind of person 90% of readers want to kill by the end of the series.

His boyfriend Jesper helped him fake being able to read so they could beat Wylan's shitty dad.

- He's incredibly sweet - But can also be ok with murder sometimes, like when killing unconscious people wasn't good - so just wake them up. - He was thrown out of the house and his father tried to kill him, because of said dyslexia, but managed to survive. Then rebelled against his father and with the help of friends took down his empire - He is very talented at the flute. And can draw very well, along with being a great chemist and demolition experts (hired for making flash bombs and other cool shit-) - Helps break into a world-class prison, then blushes the entire time because the person he's pared with keeps flirting with him - Asks his (eventual boyfriend) if he's into guys. Then immediately gets flustered when Jesper picks it up - Is very rich heir (due to shenanigans) and there's a one-off line about this sweet bean kind of being a sugar daddy- (just gives his boyfriend money to do stocks with, to stop him from gambling) - Supports his boyfriend throughout his gambling addiction and tries to help him overcome it

Wylan is dyslexic and because of this written off as stupid by his father. However, he is actually a genius, especially with chemicals, and he uses his genius and his new band of misfit friends to take his father down and read him for filth in front of a whole bunch of important people. He is good at making things explode. He also nabs himself a hot boyfriend in the process so good for him!

The qualifications and propaganda paragraphs correspond, @wisheduponastar is the third submitter.

[mollysunder]

The State of Shimmer Production in Zaun

When Jayce and Vi raided Silco's Shimmer Refinery they really showed that they didn't know how to actually handle Shimer. I'm not talking on a socioeconomic level, or even Hextech vs Shimmer (chemtech), I mean they don't know where it comes from. The way Vi tears apart the central machinery of the refinery show its.

At first it looks like she did a good job just breaking every glass and pipe on their, but if you look closer, she missed something critical.

1It's the giant mass that's holstered right above. This mass of flesh is the actual source for Shimmer that the Refinery had been using. Sure it looks like a sagging lump of dead flesh, but that actually seems to be it's normal color.

We've seen a mass like this before, in the Cannery. While Vander was captured, we're shown Shimmer being produced by one of Silco's chemists.

Up close, you can see the same grey flesh masses found in the refinery, sitting in their own liquid, are being used at a smaller scale in the Cannery. The larger mass was literally pumping on its own, though I'm not sure if it's with the aid of heat or gas. Nevertheless, we can see that these are the actual sources that Shimmer is harvested from, and Vi missed it. Well, more like the whole team missed it. They just left it there instead of confiscating it.

But where did these masses even come from? The answer itself is easy, it's Rio. The explanation is a little complicated.

We already know that long term exposure to Shimmer causes Shimmer addicts to develop growths, like the ones Huck has. These growths pulse with bright pink veins, likely producing some poorer quality strain of Shimmer to sustain the growth itself, but this process is somehow isolated to the growth and not the rest of Huck's internal biology. If anything it looks as though the mass is feeding off of Huck.

The only living organism that could possibly produce masses of the size used in the Shimmer Refinery that produce Shimmer in a consistent quality is Rio.

Initially, I assumed that Singed kept Rio alive because Rio was the source of Shimmer, but I had it backwards. Singed didn't keep Rio alive because Rio made Shimmer, he kept Rio alive because of how Rio could 'survive' Shimmer.

Rio is literally a giant aoxotl, a species best known for it's regenerative abilities, where they can lose limbs and regrow them like it's nothing in the right conditions. Singed kept Rio alive (aoxotls only live 15 years in captivity) using Shimmer harvested from it's original source, the purple cave flowers, because with Rio, Singed has a reliable biological medium that he can harvest these Shimmer producing masses from.

You could even argue that with the hinted at parasitic nature of Shimmer, new strains of Shimmer, like the ones produced by Rio, are impacted by the biological traits of the host body. This could explain how Shimmer is such an effective treatment for fatal conditions.

But what does this all mean? Well, for one, it proves Vi and Jayce really went into the raid more blind than we already thought. They were able to identify the mechanical heart, which can be fixed or replaced, but not the more critical biological source, and thus failed to truly immobilize production. Even worse for them, both still don't know anything about Rio, the only one in Piltover who does know is Viktor.

Even if Vi could guess that those Shimmer masses were important, I doubt she could have done anything effective. From what we could see in the first season, these masses don't require any medical appartus to keep functioning, they already appear self-sustaining outside a host. Any equipment around them seem to function to stimulate excess Shimmer production.

And if we return to the Cannery, we can see that the Shimmer veins, these sinew-like byproducts of Shimmer production are still hearty and alive. After the explosion and massive fire that engulfed the Canney over 7-10 years ago in the story, the Shimmer veins not only remained, but have expanded through rock, ruble and the chemical pollutants in Zaun, thick and alive. What would stabbing or smashing it actually do?

In some shots they really look as though they're surrounding the cast, especially Jinx. Whatever surgery that was done to Rio, she was probably given a more 'refined' version. The kind where the Shimmer and whatever guides it's nature better integrated into her system compared to long term users that are being drained by it.

Part of me wonders that as another 'successful' mutant like Rio, can she produce excess Shimmer in the right conditions. Could she draw it from herself in secret to give to allies, or withold it Queen of the Damned style. I wonder what traits her strain of Shimmer might give to users.

Tldr: When Jayce and Vi raided the Shimmer Refinery, they missed a biological factor that's the center of Shimmer production. As long as Singed still has the cave flowers and Rio, Zaun still has Shimmer. Also, all Shimmer users that have been exposed to large enough quantity can to some degree produce Shimmer, but it's not always a well integrated process, so Jinx is likely a real success in Shimmer hybridization.

[themxtleycrew]

"Well the fact is, it would certainly free you of any inhibitions, so it wouldn't prevent you from saying what you want to say but... the side effects are making you incredibly susceptible to suggestion, almost like you'd be inebriated. It would be very easy for people to take advantage of you. Midori can't risk that happening to you Ms. Caeldori."

"...Mama does refer to alcohol as 'liquid courage'... but somehow I think we'd have the same problem."

@themxtleycrew

“Those wont be necessary.” Although maybe she can suggest them to mother to help her out. Still…

“What about the inhibition potion? Its saying something to someone im struggling with. Whats the worst that can be said?”

[letheology]

Presenting: the two sequencer OC's that have been slowly forming in my brain over the course of the past couple of months. Because I cant stop making sequencers I guess!!

The Keen-eyed Chemist - Kelly Connolly

Chemist and sometimes nurse at the Grand Geode, Kelly's jobs are numerous and wide-ranging. He prepares medicines. He tests incoming food shipments for poisons. He invented a method to check the colour of fabrics to ensure his fellow Sequencers' outfits are actually matching because everyone on this damn island sees in shades of gold. Oh, and he invented HRT for his daughter. It's well-known that before the Sequence, he had been a grifter selling fake cure-alls, but those days are far behind him. In the Dawn Machine's radiance, he has learned to thrive rather than merely survive, and his habit of making silly little potions developed into actual skill as a scientist. Kelly joined the New Sequence nearly two decades ago after a chance meeting with @zeebreezin's Laurence. He needed to flee London, he needed a reliable job, and he needed support for his daughter. The Sequence promised that, and more. He's never looked back.

The Affable Ensign - Bríd Connolly

Bríd is Kelly's daughter, first and foremost. She was raised on the Grand Geode from a young age, and as far as she's concerned, it's been lovely. She's bubbly and curious and always happy to help. She's tried out a lot of jobs at the Geode so far, and she hasn't found her place yet, but she's sure she'll figure it out eventually! Next on her list: a term serving aboard Captain Trieu's ship and then a visit to London.

[tinyozlion]

Gundam Wing: Minutia and Trivia

On my long and winding way down research rabbit holes, I often stumble on bits and pieces of trivia that I find quite interesting, but don't really fit anywhere in my usual commentary on Gundam canon and are far too niche and inconsequential to merit a post of their own. HOWEVER. Since I know in my heart that you, dear reader, are also the sort of person for whom background details of the absolute least consequential variety are a source of delight and inspiration, I am compiling some of my discoveries here, and perhaps if I find more, there will be follow up posts. This one happens to be, in a very loose sense, mostly about Romefeller, OZ, and its Special Eyebrow People, because that is where my brain worms are currently converging. Here is my collection of useless trivia. I lay them at your feet like weird pebbles. Look at them. They're neat.

1. The Daily Kingdom Newspaper

It's quite likely that this has already been done, but in the grand spirit of this blog, I have decided to take the path of highest effort for the stupidest reason, and transcribed this paper. This page of After Colony news, ostensibly from July 14th, A.C. 195, appears to be reporting on events that happened towards the end of World War II. It's apparently been a slow news day for the Sanc Kingdom press for several centuries. I found myself getting kind of wrapped up in the stories and was disappointed I couldn't turn the page and find out what happened next. (I mean, I know what happened next, broadly speaking.) Of particular interest were Henri and Camille Dreyfus, Swiss chemists who made a lot of innovations during both world wars. ...They were also apparently noted OZ supporters? Well, what can you expect from a big industrial supplier of*checks notes* acetyl intermediates.

2. The OZ doggy

Pictured below: Treize's well-heeled hunting pet

and a dog is there too *BA-DUM tsch!*

This spotty and behaved hound is a real breed of hunting dog, the German Short-haired Pointer, or GSP! Did you know this, dear reader? I did not know this. This is new Dog Lore to me.

from the wiki: "It is a pointer and retriever, an upland bird dog, and water dog. The GSP can be used for hunting larger and more dangerous game. It is an excellent swimmer but also works well in rough terrain. It is tenacious, tireless, hardy, and reliable. German Shorthaired Pointers are proficient with many different types of game and sport, including trailing, retrieving, and pointing pheasant, quail, grouse, waterfowl, raccoons, opossum, and even deer."

Seems like a perfect bird-hunting companion for Mr. Treize. She'll probably go retrieve the beautiful red phoenix he murdered. I've decided she's named Oscar (after the Rose of Versailles) and she is a very good girl. Braver Oscar! Braver Hund!

3. Luxembourg Castle

This is Treize's abandoned Disney castle in Luxembourg. I owe the background artists of this scene an apology, for in my heart I assumed this was a random assemblage of spare castle-parts they found at Ludwig II's rummage sale. Reader, I was wrong:

THIS is Schloss Viandin, a restored castle in Luxembourg. Look at this place, it's gorgeous! You can hardly tell there's a secret mobile suit bunker in the basement. Frankly, I'm jealous I'm not being confined there, Treize! Stop sulking in the catacombs and go relax in the pretty princess bed until you feel better. Gaze upon the signed picture of Patrick Swayze; let him inspire you.

4. Romefeller's Secret

This one comes to us from the Battlefield of Pacifists manga, which, I've learned, is pretty good actually. (I mean it's not GOOD good, but it contains some interesting stuff). Now, come: I am taking you with me on this journey:

I feel extremely vindicated knowing that there's semi-canonical support for my theory that the Romefeller aristobrats are Austrian. I knew it. I KNEW IT. According to this manga, Romefeller was officially founded in Vienna-- the wording is a little ambiguous in this translation, but if Romefeller had members joining it in 1862, then it had to have existed in some form since then-- which means that the "Glorious Year" of 1956 is something other than its founding date. So what exactly happened in 1956? As I am a hack and fraud, and have been one all my life, I have looked to wikipedia for guidance. Mostly what was happening was the Cold War, colonialism, uprisings, Elvis, research and debate over artificial intelligence, both the hard drive disk and the snooze-button alarm clock being invented, Japan joining the UN, and wait what's this--

COMPUTER, ENHANCE:

...My god...

It's all coming together.

Eurovision is a plot by Romefeller.

The evidence is all here. There is simply no other conclusion we can come to.

--For this, and many other reasons that are well beyond the scope of a fandom blog, you should probably boycott them.

I rest my case.

5. The Romefeller Coat of Arms

I'm no vexillologist, and my heraldic experience is limited to adoptable pixel dragons, but what I am is an insane person with too much time on their hands. And so, to the best of my ability, I have blazoned the Romefeller coat of arms:

Supporters: Two Unicorns Rampant 

Crown: Purpur Crown of Peerage or Lord of Parliament  

Escutcheon: Heater with Two Engrailed Wedge Top - party per pale (halved vertically)

Blazon: Sinister (Right): Argent, Bend Sinister Sanguine; Dexter (Left): Bleu Celeste, Charged with a Ringed (or Celtic) Cross Argent 

Motto Scroll: UPRTUN or UPRTVN

--I don't know what UPRTVN is meant to stand for, but there are truly SO many ways you could play Latin Mad Libs and get a reasonable-sounding answer. At a stab, knowing Romefeller's priorities and values, I would guess it probably contains a, you know, "Unity/Peace/Rule/Tradition/Victory/Necessity", "Unity Through The Rule of Tradition Is Our Victory", or some such deeply worrying thing. Take your pick really.

6. "Herbst" / "Autumn"

The Rilke poem Treize quotes in "Frozen Teardrop" is not terribly difficult to find online, but if you're not sure what you're looking for it can be difficult because he has multiple poems about Autumn, and Autumn Day is perhaps better known; also the internet is absolutely filthy riddled with despicable bots and farmed content that has lost its attributions, so you do have to dig to find where different translations have come from (bless this very Web 1.0 page for carrying on the lord's work in basic html). Here is the original in German, and two complimenting translations:

Herbst -Rainer Maria Rilke Die Blätter fallen, fallen wie von weit als welkten in den Himmeln ferne Gärten; sie fallen mit verneinender Gebärde. Und in den Nächten fällt die schwere Erde aus allen Sternen in die Einsamkeit. Wir alle fallen. Diese Hand da fällt. Und sieh dir andre an: es ist in allen. Und doch ist Einer, welcher dieses Fallen unendlich sanft in seinen Händen hält.

This translation by Horst A. Scholz (linked here so I don't get into trouble) is the most spare and one-to-one translation into English I've found-- I always appreciate having a comparison between the very literal meanings and a more creative reconstruction when I'm reading translated poetry.

Meanwhile on the other end of the spectrum, this translation by Robert Bly is very freeform and agnostic; for my own purposes, I think the use of "Space" instead of "Heaven" happens to fit nicely with the themes of Gundam:

Autumn -translation by Robert Bly The leaves are falling, falling as if from far up, as if orchards were dying high in space. Each leaf falls as if it were motioning "no." And tonight the heavy earth is falling away from all other stars in the loneliness. We're all falling. This hand here is falling. And look at the other one. It's in them all. And yet there is Someone, whose hands infinitely calm, holding up all this falling.

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

The Phoenix and the Crow

part nineteen

pairing: kaz brekker x fem!reader

genre: neutral

el's thoughts: 19!! my brain isn't understanding haha hope you enjoy!

series masterlist

Y/N made a sound of disgust, her contempt for the Fjerdan clear, and the Zemeni man next to the inferni stopped fidgeting, his mouth falling slightly ajar. Kaz, however, didn’t seem surprised. If anything, he looked pleased.

“I can give you something better,” said Kaz.

Doubt and suspicion swam in Matthias’ eyes. “There is nothing else I want.”

“I can make you druskelle again.”

“Are you a magician, then? A wej sprite who grants wishes? I’m superstitious, not stupid.”

“You can be both, you know, but that’s hardly the point.” Kaz slipped a gloved hand into his dark coat. “Here,” he said. And gave a piece of paper to the inferni. She brought the paper up to his face for him to read. The document was written in Kerch and Fjerdan. Matthias’ eyes scanned over the paper that had statements of a release due in his favor. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “What evidence?” 

Kaz leaned back in his chair. “It seems Nina Zenik has recanted her statements. She will face charges of perjury.”

“Perjury? How long will you serve for that, Zenik?”

“Two months,” she said quietly.

“Two months?” Matthias laughed cruelly, his body twitching as if he’d been poisoned.

The others watched him with some concern. 

“Just how crazy is he?” Jesper asked, fingers drumming on the pearl handles of his precious revolvers. 

Y/N shrugged. “He’s not what I’d call reliable, but he’s all we’ve got apparently.”

Once Matthias got over his laughing fit he cleared his throat. “She can’t be trusted, you know,” he said to Kaz. “Whatever secrets you hope to gain from Bo Yul-Bayur, she’ll turn them over to Ravka.”

Y/N clenched her fists, but before she could say anything Kaz jumped to the defence. “Let me worry about that, Helvar. You do your part, and the secrets of Yul-Bayur and jurda parem will be in the hands of the people best equipped to make sure they stay rumors.”

Y/N eyed Kaz cautiously as she wondered who he planned on handing the drug and chemist over to. There are things that he has kept in the dark and she knew it would come to sneak up on them later if he didn’t bring it to light. 

After a bit more of going back and forth Matthias finally agreed to Kaz’s terms. 

“We’re going to untie you,” said Kaz. “I hope prison hasn’t robbed you of all your manners or good sense.”

Matthias nodded and Y/N pulled out a knife to cut him free of the ropes that binded him. “I believe you know Nina,” Kaz continued. “The lovely girl freeing you is Y/N L/N, our own personal Ravkan soldier and the best in the trade. Jesper Fahey is our sharpshooter, Zemeni-born but try not to hold it against him, and this is Wylan, the best demolitions expert in the Barrel.”

A rag tag group who had taken the world by storm while they helped save it from the darkest of shadows. Now challenged to take on the biggest heist of their lives. None of them entirely prepared for what came next but they all had their motives. Righteous and good-willed or greedy and selfish, they all had one goal and they hoped it’d be strong enough to hold them together.

“Besides, Wylan isn’t just good with the flint and fuss. He’s our insurance.” Kaz spoke while avoiding eye contact with Y/N.

“Against what?” Nina asked.

“Meet Wylan Van Eck,” said Kaz Brekker as the boy’s cheeks flooded crimson. “Jan Van Eck’s son and our guarantee on four million kruge.”

Jesper stared at Wylan. “You’re a Councilman’s kid? I mean that explains everything… Why didn’t you tell me?” His eyes had grown soft and filled with hurt. 

Wylan was red-faced and mortified. Nina looked stunned and irritated. The Fjerdan just seemed confused. Kaz appeared utterly pleased with himself. Y/N glared hard at the side of Dirtyhand’s face.

Wylan’s mouth opened and closed, his throat working. “You knew?” he asked Kaz miserably.

Kaz leaned back in his chair, one knee bent, his bad leg stretched out before him. “Why do you think I’ve been keeping you around?”

“I’m good at demo.”

“You’re passable at demo. You’re excellent at hostage.”

That was cruel, but that was Kaz. And the Barrel was a far rougher teacher than Kaz could ever be. At least this explained why Kaz had been coddling Wylan and brought him on an insanely important job.

The plan in Y/N’s head tilted sideways. Wylan was a hostage. Van Eck was paying Kaz for this heist. He lied to her. Not directly, but he withheld the information. 

The bastard continued to make his point of Wylan not really being fit for this line of work. Jesper sat silently with a dazed look in his eyes while Wylan looked like a kicked puppy. Y/N felt uneasy about the whole situation. 

“Since Wylan has seen the Ice Court with his very own eyes,” Kaz spoke, “he can keep you honest, Helvar.”

The Fjerdan scowled furiously, and Wylan looked a little ill.

“Don’t worry,” Nina said. “The glower isn’t lethal.”

Kaz tapped his cane on the polished wood floor. “Take out your pen and proper paper, Wylan. Let’s put Helvar to work.”

Wylan reached into the satchel that sat between the sharpshooter and himself. He pulled out a slender roll of butcher’s paper followed by a metal case that held an expensive-looking pen and ink set. 

“Start talking,” Kaz said to the Fjerdan. “It’s time to pay the rent.”

Matthias directed his furious gaze at Kaz. Definitely a mighty glower. It was almost fun to watch him pit it against Kaz’s sharklike stare.

Finally, the Fjerdan shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “The concentric circles, like the rings of a tree.” The words came slowly, as if speaking each one was causing him pain.

The merchling and Fjerdan went back and forth on describing the Ice Court, each one fact checking and correcting the other. They explained each level of defence and the coordinating colored protical. Where the prison cells were and where they’d most likely find Bo Yul-Bayur.

“Hringkalla is coming up,” Nina said suddenly.

“Be silent,” Matthias snapped.

“Pray, don’t,” said Kaz.

“Hringkalla. It’s the Day of Listening, when the new druskelle are initiated on the White Island.” Y/N spoke up.

Matthias’ knuckles flexed white. “You have no right to speak of those things. They’re holy.”

“They’re facts. The Fjerdan royals throw a huge party with guests from all over the world, and plenty of the entertainment comesstraight from Ketterdam.”

“Entertainment?” Kaz asked.

“Actors, dancers, a Komedie Brute troupe, and the best talent from the pleasure houses of West Stave.” 

“I thought Fjerdans didn’t go in for that sort of thing,” said Jesper.

Nina’s lips quirked. “You’ve never seen Fjerdan soldiers on the Staves?”

“I meant when they’re at home,” Jesper said.

“It’s the one day a year they all stop acting so miserable and actually let themselves have a good time,” Nina replied. “Besides, “only the druskelle live like monks.”

Matthias and the heartrender kept going back and forth, each picking and poking with their words, trying to get a reaction out of each other. Y/N rolled her eyes at the pair in both annoyance and a teasing manner.

“When does this party take place?” Kaz interrupted.

“It’s seasonal,” Nina said, “on the spring equinox.”

“Two weeks from today.” noted Y/N.

Kaz cocked his head to one side, his eyes focused on something in the distance.

“Scheming face,” Jesper whispered to Y/N.

She nodded. “Definitely.”

Kaz inquired about the White Rose sending any delegations. Nina replied, saying she didn’t know anything.

Kaz leaned back. “What’s the easiest way to steal a man’s wallet?”

“Knife to the throat?” Y/N asked.

“Gun to the back?” said Jesper.

“Poison in his cup?” suggested Nina.

“You’re all horrible,” said Matthias.

Kaz rolled his eyes. “The easiest way to steal a man’s wallet is to tell him you’re going to steal his watch. You take his attention and direct it to where you want it to go.” He continued to explain how Hringkalla will do the job for them. They’ll take advantage of the chaos that is hosting such a large gathering of people. “They can’t be looking everywhere at once.” He started to construct his plan of them sneaking into the prison as criminals. 

“Let me get this straight,” said Jesper. “You want us to let the Fjerdans lock us up in jail. Isn’t that what we’re always trying to avoid?”

“Criminal identities are slippery. It’s one of the perks of being a member of the troublemaking class. They’ll be counting heads at the prison gate, looking at names and crimes, not checking passports or examining embassy seals.”

“Because no one wants to go to pricon,” Jesper said.

Nina rubbed her hands over her wrists, “I don’t want to be locked up in a Fjerdan cell.” Y/N nodded her agreement. 

Kaz flicked his sleeve, and two slender rods of metal appeared between his fingers. They danced over his knuckles then vanished once more. 

“Lockpicks?” Y/N asked.

“You let me take care of the cells,” said Kaz.

“Hit where the mark isn’t looking,” mused the inferni.

“That’s right,” nodded Kaz. “And the Ice Court is like any other mark, one big white pigeon ready for the plucking.”

Anticipation mixed with fear and excitement settled in the room as Y/N looked around at the other crows. 

Matthias folded his huge arms and said, “You have no idea what you’re up against.”

“But you do, Helvar. I want you working on the plan of the Ice Court every minute until we sail. Mo detail is too small or inconsequential. I’ll be checking on you regularly.”

Y/N traced her fingers over the rough sketch Wylan drew out. “It really does look like the rings of a tree.”

“No,” said Kaz. “It looks like a target.”

[themxtleycrew]

Midori grabs Clara and Caledori by the back of their collars and lifts both girls up. Effortlessly.

"No more fighting! Or Midori will get mad!"

@theothervonkarmagirl @naive-petals

[tobiasdrake]

If we go back to your "Wizards are Scientists" idea, what's a scientific way of explaining what the Witch's Road is, and what kind of scientists are each of the witches in Agatha's dysfunctional coven?

I'm not sure it really maps 1 for 1 because the physics of a magical world operate by different properties.

Divination, for instance, has few scientific practices associated with it but only because we lack reliable mechanisms by which to explore it. If we could, we absolutely would. Meteorology is the closest existing science to Lilia.

Jen's a chemist. Easy. Potion brewing is a real thing that we do in real life. Her trial was literally just making an antitoxin.

...I'm honestly not sure what Alice's particular field is. We've seen Jen engage in magical botany. Agatha's basically a battery, in a sense. A non-eco-friendly one.

The Road itself seems to be an extradimensional space with a quantum entrance that exists and doesn't exist at all points of space until observed to be present, through a particular mechanism of observation.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

🌕 Blood Moon: Chapter One

Blood Moon: Blood Moon: You have been defying nature, and perhaps, even the Gods. After returning to life because of Tony Stark’s sacrifice, all humans now have a designation: alpha, beta, or omega. Angry at the fate you’ve been given, you decide that you will do anything to ensure that your fate is in your own hands. You’ll soon find out that it is never a good idea to tamper with fate, especially when one man makes it his mission to ensure that you understand that you can try to out-fly your destiny, but fate will eventually catch up to you.

Warnings: Language.

To Note: A/B/O Universe Post Snap, Zemo x NAMEDFemale!Reader, Timeline Of Events Is More Spread Out (Weeks Rather Than Days) To Fit Plot Line.

Word Count: ~4.0k

Masterlist | Next

When the snap happened, you were one of the ones who dissolved to ash. It was hard to decide if you were the unlucky one, or if you were lucky that you hadn’t spent five years knowing that half of human life had disappeared. Time hadn’t passed for you when you had been gone. But something had happened in that blink of an eye, and when you returned, everything had changed, even human biology.

You had known you were fighting a losing battle, but perseverance had pulled through before, so you had stood by your friends. Standing by them was the least you could do after everything they had done for you since the ousting of Hydra in Shield. You had been a simple chemist, working on different types of chemical compounds and conducting research for Shield.

Disgust.

You had been disgusted with yourself upon learning that everything you had been working towards was being used by Hydra. You were young, inexperienced in the work field, and fresh out of college, but you knew chemistry. Hydra exploited that.

So, when you got back and were thrown into a world that had advanced in age and now worked under a new biological society, you took matters into your own hands and refused to follow any other fate than what you decided. No one was going to take the power of choice away from you.

No one.

Your micropipette was as steady as your gaze while you pressed half a milliliter of compound into the base of your latest experiment. Batch 336 showed promise of extending the effects of your OS-163 serum. At the moment, the OS-291 suppression lasted eight hours. Compared to how you first started out, it was pretty impressive considering you were doing this all by yourself.

Initially, the side effects had been mood swings, weight gain, nausea, headache, and migraines. Clinically speaking, it was pretty bad. While the serum lasted several days, and at one point, an entire week, dealing with the side effects was too much to handle, considering you were hiding this project from everyone.

The physical effects were terrible, and your friends were bound to notice.

So OS-71 had been scrapped for OS-80, a more reliable serum that reduced the treatment time but lessened the side effects. But you were a perfectionist and wouldn’t be satisfied until you had the perfect serum. It was a give and take project.

If you reduced the side effects, the treatment didn’t last as long, and vice versa.

Treatment every twelve hours wasn’t the end of the world. It was like taking pills or vitamins… you just couldn’t run the risk of forgetting. Missing a dose wasn’t the end of the world, but noses were a lot sharper than they used to be.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed a stirring rod and mixed the base and compound together until the mixtures slowly dissolved into one clear one. Further progress. You just couldn’t get rid of the acrid medicinal smell that wafted from the seemingly harmless liquid. It was far from harmless and, if injected into anyone other than its intended group, could do a lot of damage.

Setting the stirring rod aside, you grabbed the beaker and brought it near your nose to take a whiff. Still smelled like chemicals with a hint of progestin, but not nearly as noxious as it used to. Further testing would see if the treatment time had been extended. Taking the beaker, you rolled over to your vent hood and stoppered it before moving the vent hood closed.

You glanced at the clock; it was after seven in the evening. Few people would be out and about in the building, but the city nightlife was only just starting. Your stomach was telling you that it was hungry, so dinner was your next plan.

Cleaning up your lab from the day’s work, you put everything away and turned off the lights before switching your lab coat for your tailored jacket Tony had insisted he buy you. Well, if you were to be honest, he had insisted on buying you everything after Shield had fallen. He had taken you in like you were a little sister to him, and had even set up this amazing lab for you so you could use your skills to do good.

Now you used the lab to honor his name, and as much as you disliked the brand names on your clothes, you couldn’t help but wear them because he had gotten them for you. It was all sorts of messed up, considering the secrets you had kept from him and the fact that you had harbored Bucky, Sam, and Steve when they had been on the run.

You had been a terrible sister to him, but he had never kicked you out. You knew you disappointed him with your close relationship with Bucky, but Tony had seen you as family.

Walking out of the lab, you meandered down the silent hallway of your lab and stood in front of the elevator. It was a Wednesday night; Bucky was probably at that restaurant with Yori, having dinner as usual. As private and gruff as he was, you don’t think he would mind if you popped by for a visit.

You went and found the nearest subway and rode it across the city and to Brooklyn before popping up on the streets and walking the rest of the way to Izzy. Upon entering the restaurant, you waved at Leah, the server who seemed to live in the restaurant, before walking over to Bucky and Yori, who were already at their seats.

“Room for one more?” you questioned lightly.

“Diana! Sit, sit!” Yori called cheerfully. You flashed him a smile before pulling out the seat next to Bucky.

“Brooding as usual, Bucky? It won’t kill you to smile, you know,” you commented to him while boosting yourself up into your seat. Leah came over with a cup of tea, and you thanked her before turning back to Bucky.

“Hello to you too, Di,” Bucky grumbled, flashing you a wolfish smile before resuming his naturally vacant face.

“That was not a smile,” you huffed at him before looking him up and down with a raised eyebrow. “When was the last time you got laid?”

Yori snorted and slapped Bucky on the back.

“Too long!” you received another bitch face from Bucky as Yori chortled.

“You know I’m serious about that, right?” you reminded him. “You’re an alpha. That sort of thing is supposed to be a stress relief, isn’t it?”

“That’s a lot of talk coming from a beta who doesn’t have to deal with the hormones. What do you have to worry about? Betas don’t get the hormonal fluctuations alphas and omegas do,” Bucky snorted, grabbing his beer and taking a drink. “I get headaches from the concentration of hormones.”

“You have to be the only alpha in the world that actually complains about being an alpha,” you said dryly, ignoring the comment about not suffering from the hormonal effects of a heat. “You have the pick of the pack, and probably the entire attention of every lone omega in the city…”

“Which isn’t that many since they’re so rare…” Bucky chipped in. You ignored him.

“Why are you still punishing yourself?” He gave you a look that was full of self-loathing and didn’t counter your words. “You still seeing Dr. Raynor?”

“You still using medicine as perfume? How many times do I tell you to spend less time in your lab…” You glared at each other.

“Okay, you two, don’t argue,” Yori interceded. “But Diana is right, James, you should go on a date.”

“No, no—“ he and Yori got into it while Leah dropped off a bowl of your favorite soup. While you quietly ate, your two friends provided comic relief from the daily stresses of your life. Bucky’s comment about you always smelling like medicine wasn’t unusual, but it was a painful reminder of how far you would go to live a normal life, a life Tony said he wanted you to live.

Slurping up the broth of your soup, you heard a noise of triumph from Yori, and one of Bucky’s signature sighs. Sounds like Bucky now has a date.

“Pot meet kettle James?” you quipped underneath your breath. Bucky glared at you.

Batch-336 was a success, so it was now OS-336. You were down to two injections a day and feeling more confident about your work. You were close to figuring out how to extend the treatment times, but more research into that had to be put on hold. You were once again being asked for assistance.

Sam was not happy that Bucky had shown up, and when you appeared, he was livid. But you had also gotten good at dishing out resting bitch faces. You simply fluttered by with your bag over your shoulder and ignored the protests pouring from Sam’s mouth.

It had been a long flight to Munich, especially with a man who had a staring problem and another who was in denial that Bucky and you had tagged along. In your defense, you were going after terrorists who were way too strong to be regular humans. Sam wasn’t happy with you, especially with you tagging along since you weren’t the most skilled with weapons and hand-to-hand combat.

It was probably his alpha personality. They were protective and instinctually tried to work alone. Having two working on one problem was bound to cause problems, and at the very least, cause them to butt heads like they were.

You just sat back and crossed your arms, looking between the two of them in amusement as their passive-aggressive comments and ignoring reached an all-time high.

“How long could they keep that up?” Joaquin asked as he came to sit next to you. He was a beta that worked closely with Sam and was helping him track down the Flag Smashers.

“Longer than you might think,” you answered in amusement. “What exactly were we doing out here?”

“Intel on the Flag Smashers,”

“I figured as such, but why so much effort?”

“We think they might be Steve strong,” he explained. Your face darkened, and you chewed your lip. Someone had cracked the serum to make more super soldiers?

“That would pose a problem, and one Sam wouldn’t be able to solve by himself.”

“Then how do we solve it?” You leaned back in your seat, your brain working over the possibilities.

“I don’t know.” You responded, before closing your eyes. You then tacked on one last word. “Yet.”

Several hours later you were flying low over Munich, and by low, you meant like two hundred feet from the ground, the belly of the plane just hovering over the treetops.

“Are you two just going to stare at each other?” you asked, your arms crossed over your chest. Bucky and Sam didn’t move a muscle from their staring contest. Sam finally got up and went to grab his goggles.

“So what was our plan?” Bucky asked as he followed Sam. Sam continued to ignore Bucky.

“Of all the juvenile things…” you muttered underneath your breath.

“Great. So no plan,”

“Thirty seconds!” Joaquin called from where he was standing at the jump door.

“Enjoy your ride, Buck,”

“Nah, you can’t call me that,”

“Steve called you Buck,”

“Steve knew me longer, and Steve had a plan.” Huffing at how petty the two alphas were being in the moment, you stood up from your seat and made sure that your jetpack was secured around your body. Then you pulled out your navigation glasses and slipped them on your face.

Even at that point, the two were still arguing, so you walked over to Joaquin, who was looking at you with wide eyes.

“Leave a job to an alpha and nothing will get done,” you told him before glancing back at the arguing men. “Are you two eggheads coming?”

At your words, and that the sound had come from the back end of the plane, Sam and Bucky glanced at you. They did double takes.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Sam erupted. “Di what are you doing!?”

“Getting shit done while you two are arguing!” you snapped before stepping out of the plane and dropping through the air. The jetpack picked up your fast rate of descent and fired up, slowing your fall down until you were hovering in the air.

“Friday, set coordinates and pull up on view screen.” A blinking line appeared on the screen of your glasses.

“Done. Is there anything else I can do for you, Miss Phillips?”

“I’m set, thanks Friday.”

“Of course, have a good day.” From there, you twisted and angled your body, shooting in the direction of the line. There was a building in the distance. That had to be where you were going. You started slowing down and descended to the forest floor.

Your boots hit the forest floor and while you turned off the jetpack with your watch, Red Wing floated down to where you stood and let out a trill.

“I’m fine, Little Red,” you told the small machine before turning in the direction of the warehouse and following the blinking line on your glasses.

“You were supposed to stay on the plane, Diana,” Sam’s voice chirped from Red Wing.

“And we were supposed to be covert,” you sass back, stepping over a rotted log. Red Wing flew up close to you and let out a beep. Then a small compartment opened to reveal an earpiece. You took it and slipped it into your ear. “Finally coming around?”

“Don’t have much of a choice at this point,” Sam growled in your ear. “You jumped out of the freaking plane! If you weren’t a beta, I’d spank your ass for putting yourself in danger like that!”

“And if I was an alpha?”

“I’d still spank your ass!” So spanking either way, you could take that, since he had no discrimination over your designation.

“Face it Sam, if this is what we think it is, you need me… unless you or Bucky went back to college and got an advance degree in Chemistry.” You shot back.

“I get it, stop sounding so damn smug,” Sam answered. “I don’t want you in the crossfire, Di.”

“I’m not here to be turned into Swiss cheese, Sam. I’m here to do what I’m good at, nothing more.” You explained to him as you picked your way across the forest. “Super soldiers—they shouldn’t exist. They can’t exist.”

“… Meet me at the back of the warehouse,” Sam muttered.

“Copy,” you answered, your eyes settling on the building. “Is Barnes here or did he not jump?”

“You jumped out of the plane, you think he was going to stay on the damn plane knowing what you had just launched yourself into?”

“May I remind you that while I am not as well trained as you two are, I am far from defenseless?” You retorted while continuing your hike. Red Wing seemed to be content to keep watch.

Stealthily making your way to the back of the warehouse, you climbed through a broken window and dropped to the concrete floor. Your glasses automatically did a scan of the surroundings and you could see several people walking around at the opposite side of the warehouse. They were carrying big boxes that no human was strong enough to lift like they weighed a feather.

While you were further scoping out the activity, Bucky and Sam started bickering to themselves. Rolling your eyes at the two men who, might you add, were grown adults and alphas, continued their quips, you slinked your way over.

“Are you two princesses done flashing tiaras or should I come back another time?” you questioned them, giving them both looks. “There’s multiple people, and they’re jacked on something. I’m going to head in for a better look.”

“What? Di— get back here!” Ignoring the hissed calls from the two men, you took a side route and peeked around a metal wall to get a look at the truck. They were loading something onto it, but the question was what.

You got a chance to get closer when you heard metal clatter across concrete. What were those boys doing!? No time to contemplate why they had their heads up their asses. Darting forwards, you slipped underneath the carriage of the semi and got a hold of the pipes and chains. Feet ran past where you were hidden and the truck started up.

“Di, there’s an eighth person, hostage, we’re in pursuit. What’s your status?” Sam questioned.

“Hanging around,” you spoke as the trunk started trundling along. You glanced down at the ground as gravel and dirt passed. “What makes you think it’s a hostage?”

“They’re hidden in the back, hunkered down.” Sam answered. You could hear the wind flying by him as he flew. “Buck’s in pursuit.”

“You know he hates it when you call him that.”

“He has a general hate for everything.” Well, that was mostly true. Adjusting your grip on the truck, you heard Bucky let out a swear and then crunch of metal.

“Bucky?” you called, hearing the sounds of fighting and grunting.

“I’m a little busy right now!” He yelled back. Leaning your head back, you could see several shapes standing on the roof of the truck, holding what had to be Bucky.

“Clearly,” you muttered before carefully moving yourself further down the underside of the carriage. “Need some bac—“

“No!” Both Sam and Bucky yelled. You huffed and then saw Red Wing zip in and fire several rounds at one of the people. The little flying robot didn’t get very many rounds in before being snatched out of the air and broken in half.

You watched pieces get thrown and reacted. Your jetpack flared to life and, twisting out from under the truck, you snatched the pieces of Red Wing out of the air before they hit the road. Shooting back into the air, Sam passed you and dove straight for the person who snapped Red Wing in half.

“Good of you to join the fight, Sam!”

Holding the pieces of metal and machinery to your chest, you kept an even pace as you flew along the two trucks barreling down the road. Bucky and Sam were getting their asses handed to them, since every single person they were fighting had extra strength.

“Bucky, single out!” You called before angling your shoulders and shooting down towards the truck. Bucky, who managed to get free, kicked one of the people away from the fighting. You shot downwards and with a hearty kick, nailed the guy in the chest, sending him flying off the side of the truck and onto the road to be left behind.

Spiraling upwards, you circled back to fly with the trucks once more, and noticed that a helicopter had arrived, and John Walker of all people, was hanging off of it.

“Who invited egghead and baby duck!?” You shouted over the chaos as the two men joined the fight. Bucky was knocked off, but managed to catch the side of the truck, his vibranium fingers digging into the metal.

“Hell should I know!” Bucky snarled back as the second truck went to smash him against the one he was clinging to. Sam dived and swiped him out of the way, but the two hit the ground and started rolling.

“Alphas,” you snorted, turning your head back to the two men that joined the fight. You were losing this one, and fast. One of the two men got kicked off the truck, so diving, you grabbed the back of his tact shirt and stopped him from hitting the ground.

Since you had Red Wing tucked underneath your other arm, it was hard to stay stable, and you dropped. Managing to hold the weight distribution, your feet hit the ground, and you both stumbled at a run. You let him go and continued to run before jumping back in the air, hearing a ‘thank you’ from behind.

Backtracking to where Bucky and Sam had fallen, you found the two walking along the road, bickering once more.

“Is it even possible for you two to spend five minutes together without bickering?” you questioned them as you let your feet hit the road and turned your jetpack off.

“No,” they both replied. Sam glanced at you, then at the wrecked pieces of Red Wing you still held, but said nothing. The three of you fell in line and continued walking.

“How did they do it, Di?” You glanced at Sam.

“Someone had to have cracked the code, it was bound to happen. People want to be strong, they want to have security, and in this world, with that serum, they can,” you answered as a car carrying Walker and Lemar pulled up beside you.

“So that didn’t go as planned, huh?” Walker stated. The three of you ignored him and kept walking. “Okay. Let’s keep going. Look, at least we know what we’re up against now, huh? And we’re pretty sure it’s one of the Big Three, so…”

“Aliens, androids, or wizards?”

“That’s a universal thing now?” you questioned with your nose scrunched. Bucky grunted at you.

“Pretty sure.”

“There’s no such thing as wizards.” Bucky spoke up.

“Then it’s aliens, or androids…”

“Or Super Soldiers.” Sam interjected.

“Shit. Super Soldiers, for real?” Lemar questioned as Walker took a moment to think about what that meant.

“Yeah, why do you think Rocket is with us. For shits and giggles?” you snorted and rolled your eyes.

“Wow. All right, well, then we gotta work together.” Walker finally chipped in.

“That’s not happening.”

“I think we stand a much better chance if we all just…”

“Just ’cause you carry that shield, it doesn’t mean you’re Captain America.” Now they were getting into it with Walker and Lemar? Was picking fights with other alphas all they were good for?

“Look, I’ve done the work, okay?”

“You ever jump on top of a grenade?”

“We really gonna go there?” You asked Bucky, giving him a look.

“Yeah. Actually, I have. Four times. It’s a thing I do with my helmet. It’s a reinforced helmet. It’s a long story, but, any… Look, it’s 20 miles to the airport. You guys need a ride. Guys. Gary, stop. Get in. I don’t think you need to be dragging a beta all over the back country of Germany.”

Your eye twitched at the mention of your designation and insinuation of being a female beta who, in theory, was weaker. Sam and Bucky looked at you and you shrugged at them. They relented to the offer of a ride and you ended up sandwiched between Bucky and Sam.

“Okay, so we’ve got eight Super Soldiers on a bulk supply run. Why?” Walker mused out loud.

“They say their mission is to get things back to the way it was during The Blip.”

“And how was that exactly?” You questioned, leaning back and crossing your arms.

“Maybe they’re just trying to help.” Sam added.

“They had a funny way of showing it.”

“Don’t start,” you huffed, raising a finger at each of them.

“That serum doesn’t exactly have a great track record.” Walker said before inching his head at Bucky. “No offense.”

“We need to figure out where they’re going. How’d you track ’em here? The Flag Smashers?” Sam broached.

“Uh, no, we didn’t track them, we tracked you, uh, through Redwing.” Lemar spoke up from where he had been sitting quietly.

“You hacked my tech?” Sam said, obviously hurt that they would do such a thing.

“Sorry. It’s not exactly hacking. It’s government property. Kind of the government.” You stared at Walker, your gaze matching Bucky’s. “Do they always just stare like that?”

“You get used to it.”

“Are we making you uncomfortable?” You queried, keeping your face devoid of emotion. Walker’s blue eyes met yours.

“Actually, you kind of are.”

“Get over it.”

Date Published: No idea.

Last Edit: 4/29/24

Masterlist | Next

[themxtleycrew]

Midori throws some tiny fishies into the wagon for the cats to nom. "Be careful, I hear they can bring bad luck."

Clara was pulling a wagon. Something was wiggling inside...

"Don't tell anyone. I mean it."

Clara pulled back the cloth and 20 black cats looked up! "I'm taking them back home. Just for today. You understand."

[the-commonplace-book]

For the ship chart maybe you could do Victoria/Prudence or maybe Arthur/ Sally? Honestly love the level of analysis you put into these asks

Send me a ship for the ship bingo chart: Arthur Hastings / Sally Boyle ( We Happy Few )

Arthur and Sally you say? >:) Oh do I have Thoughts™ about Arthur and Sally (anon I’d like to give you a kiss on the mouth for sending them in) 

I’ve talked about Arthur and Sally before and this will come as no surprise to folks who were around last year when I was still in the throws of my first We Happy Few kick: I don’t ship Arthur and Sally and I think it’s good that they parted ways. I’ll talk about the one exception context in which I do ship them later, but for now let me elaborate on why in most scenarios Sally and Arthur absolutely do NOT work together. 

There’s a lot of appeal in the childhood friends, reunited and falling in love, trope at a first glance with Arthur and Sally, but in many ways their past and their respective unwillingness to let go of it is their downfall. Their arc plays perfectly into the narrative themes of We Happy Few. Their perceptions of each other are based on how they thought of each other as teenagers, not who they are as adults - or even who they really were as teenagers. 

Let’s look first at Sally. 

when we're together we're unstoppable. arthur and sally. sir galahad and the lady of the lake. the two musketeers  (Sally Note: Arthur!) i wanted to much to say, help, i've got a bloody baby. but he was so awful all i could get out was sorry sorry i'm sorry, and i want to help you and who even knows if he heard any of it. (Sally Note: Arthur!)

She is desperate for his approval because she respects his opinion, which makes it hurt so much more when he fails to give it. She imagines he’s right, whatever he says about her, because of course he is. She continues to bat her eyes and ask him for things because she knows he can’t say no, but she also continues to take shit from him because she really believes he has the best intentions. She thinks of him as kind and reliable, someone she can trust no matter what, and she does genuinely take advantage of that at times. Moreover, she struggles to accept that he has nuance beyond that and that he honestly had a nasty side that doesn’t line up with her image of him

When Verloc, or Byng, or any other man belittles her she blames patriarchy. When Arthur belittles her, she blames herself. She sees Arthur as smart, kind, and willing to help her with all her needs at the drop of a hat. But is he? Is he really? 

Is Arthur kind? No. Maybe he had more kindness in him as a teen, but Arthur is self-serving and avoids taking blame by painting himself as a victim of circumstance. He always has. Will Arthur help her no matter what? In the end, no. Because helping her came in conflict with point A about his own self-preservation. 

Speaking of Arthur, let’s take a look at how he thinks of Sally. 

She was being all lovely and slipped-the-surly-bonds-of-Earth Sally, only even more so, and then she said she was mates with Sir Robert B, or more than mates I suppose, and from then on all I could think about was that horrible night. (Arthur Note: And Then There Was Sally) The thing is, I don't trust her. She was always so wonderful when she was there, but a girl like Sally always has so many better places to be, and better people to be with, or worse people that she prefers anyway for some reason. And sometimes she'd just hide in Percy's old room in the attic and not come down. Who knows what's going on with her now? (Arthur Note: And Then There Was Sally) I should have said, "How have you been all these years, Sally? You ran off into the night with nothing, and now you're some sort of brilliant chemist. How did you survive? I wish I could have helped you. It would be nice to be friends again." Instead of all those dreadful things. (Arthur Line during The Faraday Cage) What if she is utterly sincere? What if she honestly does want me, and love me,  and need me? Do I have utterly no faith left in anyone? And she'd survive and I'd get killed. A girl like her shipwrecks, and the next day she's drinking margaritas under palm leaves. Yours truly is shark bait. (Arthur Note: I Am An Awful Person, But)

Arthur views Sally as being confident, flirtatious, always in control. While there is some truth to the notion that she uses men for her own gain, Arthur doesn’t ever take the time to examine why or understand the nuance of her choices. Instead he slut shames her for it. He gets upset at her for her “relationship” with Gen. Byng despite them having not spoken in fourteen years and despite the two of them having never had a relationship. As if he expected her to stay celibate for years just because he had a crush (he’d never say that, but it’s how he acts towards her) Arthur has always liked Sally, but Sally only finally decides she likes him when he can do something for her. Of course, Arthur being Arthur with his inability to accept blame without a caveat that shifts it elsewhere, doesn’t truly acknowledge that he is doing the exact same thing. He only seeks Sally out for help with the Letter of Transit. Everything comes back around to that. 

Then there’s the elephant in the room: What happened with Sally and Mr. Hastings

Arthur, in some capacity, blames Sally for what happened, even if he intellectually understands it wasn’t her fault. Sally, similarly, understands to a degree that it wasn’t her fault, but she still blames herself for it. 

what was i supposed to tell his dad, "no, you're practically my stepfather"? that would have gone over brillo. (Sally Note: Arthur!)

It doesn’t matter that her being sixteen made it legal. The fact is that Sally was young, barely of legal age, and staying with the Hastings after her entire family died. She had nowhere else to go. Mr. Hastings might not have been physically forceful, but it was coercion and he was absolutely 100% at fault. Sally has internal conflict about the whole incident and it makes sense. If she blames herself then it means she was in control, and Sally feels most secure when she’s in control.

Arthur has his own internal conflict about it. On some level he understands it wasn’t her fault (“I don't hate you, in the strangest way you're completely innocent.”) but he still yells at her about it when they reunite. He still lets it color his perception of her. His mum had died and he found his best friend (who he had a crush on) in his mum’s old bed with his dad. That had to have done a number on his psyche. 

I always used to wonder, if I'd run out the door after her, that day, what would have happened to us. Would we still be friends? Or was the magic all in my head? Who am I kidding? 16-year-old-me would never have had the courage to leave home!   (Arthur Note: I Am An Awful Person, But)

We don’t know whether this is something Arthur actually used to wonder, or if he’s just saying that now, but regardless there is an acknowledgement that at sixteen, he chose to stay with his dad. He didn’t run after Sally. And thanks to Joy, he never took the time to actually process what happened. Not until the events of the game. So he yells at her, he asks her why, despite knowing (to a degree) that she isn’t the person he should be asking that. But his dad is dead, and Sally’s here in front of him apologizing. So isn’t it easier to blame her? 

But what if…?

There’s this longing between them for their friendship to be renewed, but without accepting that they’ve both grown and changed as people (perhaps for the worse) and without acknowledging the past, there’s no hope for a future between them. Those barriers have to be broken down first. Sally was willing to try. Arthur wasn’t. Arthur believes that she chose her own convenience over leaving with him. Sally believes that Arthur left despite knowing she had a baby. 

Did Arthur hear her and just choose not to remember? Or did he really not hear her? We don’t know.

 Each character is an unreliable narrator in their act. Though I personally think he really didn’t hear her, I can’t imagine it changing anything. We know from Arthur’s act that he thought of Sally as surely having been less of a ‘loose woman’ in the past decade  (the “I haven't had sex with anyone in ten years! And if I did, it wouldn't be with that man.” line about Byng that we only get in Act I). He was faced with the reality of Sally and Verloc’s relationship in Haworth Labs via old notes, but it’s much harder to ignore a baby. A tangible result of her having had sex with someone. Arthur has an image he wants so desperate for Sally to fit, and she keeps contradicting it, but he just keeps hoping and trying. I could very easily see him responding to this news with a snarky comment about how she should ask her baby’s father for help or her good friend the General, if they’re not one in the same. (Gwen is very much Verloc’s baby is but Arthur doesn’t know that).

Despite how much they care about each other, and despite how much they may mutually wonder how things could have gone differently, even if they had an opportunity to sit down and have a proper conversation later, it would take a lot of time to be in a place where they could rebuild their friendship, and a romantic relationship would be toxic as hell if they weren’t intentional about making it healthy. Arthur doesn’t trust Sally as far as he can throw her and Sally isn’t exactly trustworthy. They’re both incredibly self-serving and both of them are incapable of acknowledging fault in any meaningful way. Arthur is awful to Sally and Sally takes it to heart, resulting in a horrid amount of negative self-talk about things she shouldn’t be blaming herself for, while she continues to ignore the problems she does have.

Arthur’s distrust, Sally’s fear of being trapped by a man, the mutual fear of the other person walking away, etc. etc. As much as I like the idea of them being in a healthy relationship down the line, it’s highly unlikely under most circumstances because they’re a wreck. It’s good that Arthur and Sally parted ways in We Happy Few. They both needed to let go of the past, and letting go of each other was a crucial step in that process.

The one exception in which I do ship them:

If it’s not clear yet, I’m in no way an Arthur apologist or a Sally apologist. I think they’re both messed up people who have a lot of growing to do, but I do have one context in which I ship them.

First of all, they would need a lot of time, a lot of personal growth, and a lot of intentional rebuilding of trust. They would have to learn to let go of their assumptions about each other and accept each other as they truly are. 

However, if they were able to take those steps, I could see them getting together a few years down the road once they’ve sorted themselves out as individuals and set new, healthier foundations for their relationship platonically. There may be room for a touch of romance after a decade or so.

Under the conditions that they’ve reached this healthier place in their lives, I think they would actually work well together. Arthur is the epitome of a male-wife and Sally is a working woman. He’s always admired her brilliance and finds it admirable how well she’s done for herself. He would support her in her career and she would support him in his, whatever that might be.

I think they balance each other out really well, too. Arthur is so caught up in what’s right and wrong. He sees people as either “good” or “bad” in most cases, where Sally sees everyone as being in that grey space between. This can cause conflict, but it can also cause growth if they take the time to listen to each other. Arthur needs someone to help him question that worldview. 

Sally sees people as tools for the most part. Most people (not all, but most) are means to an end in her eyes, and I think Arthur could help her challenge that in herself and try to be a better person simply for the sake of human decency. 

They have a shared love of literature and fashion, and admire each other in so many ways. Arthur admires her determination, intellect, and cleverness. Sally admires his wit, kindness, and ingenuity. While in the game they hold these things up as impossible ideals that don’t leave room for flaw, these opinions aren’t entire unfounded, and I think given time, trust, and honesty they could really help each other to be better versions of themselves. 

Also Arthur helping take care of Gwen is just soft. 

They wouldn't have an explosive romance. It would instead be the slowest of slow burns with a lot of hiccups along the way. It would begin with reconciliation and would take years of rebuilding trust and friendship. I could see them growing closer again over the years until one day they realize that Arthur comes over for dinner every night. He sleeps over on the couch more often than not. He’s practically living here already, so why not just move in? So the spare bedroom becomes Arthur’s room. Gwen’s a tween by now and is at that age where she’s meddling in other people’s love lives and thinks she knows what’s best for everyone. She’s thrilled at the idea of Uncle Arthur moving in. By her reckoning he and her mum are already a couple. It’s a while before Arthur and Sally acknowledge that that’s what they’ve become.

They’ve been walking side-by-side through life for years now and one day realize they’ve been holding hands along the way. 

For the art, I decided to draw them about 30 years down the line in the 90s ♥

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk :)  I’ll make a separate (shorter certainly) post for Prudence and Victoria. (edit: here it is!)

[ryzomeriseup]

Rant incoming.

This is for all the losers out there who cry, "we can't undo capitalism because I need my medicine to live 😡" "How will you plan for every possible contingency of the future?"

Allow me to talk about what I know. You don't need capitalism, you need supply. All your medicines were developed with public funding and merely centralized and trademarked under capitalism.

Making medicine is actually quite easy. Look, this is the Merck Index:

My copy is quite old, but it is kept current by the Royal Society of Chemistry. You open this bad boy up and it sites the source of the original documents for isolating, synthesizing, testing for the drug. There's even patients referenced.

One of those tells you how to isolate it from animal glands, neat. Chemists and pharmacists and doctors and researchers will still exist after capitalism. They will still want to help people. We can still do these things without a cost incentive.

Uh oh, now you need a delivery mechanism. That's where this puppy comes in:

I can make you these tablets. You can find old, reliable tablet presses for sale all over.

This isn't that hard! I think a lot of people just want an excuse to never challenge their beliefs or behaviors. They're worried that if they try they might fail.

Look outside your window, does it look like capitalism is a success? No, it is failing all around you. It is failing you. You deserve so much better and I hope we can make a better, brighter, more healthy world in the future, together.

🫶