#'i think if circumstances were a butterfly effect different we would not have gotten quite this bad.'

[eclipsecrowned]

stares at fandom discourse most of you are oblivious to. rotates towards you all.

my m0ash did not kick the baby.

i am not putting it up for debate. if he kicked a kid, it's lift in the next one. but he's not out here just punting toddlers to show he's a mustache twirling supervillain. it's not like he means to be evil in his own mind as i see him.

he still has some boundaries he will not cross. some semblance of self and choice despite his surface level apathy.

killing a man in front of his child? well, that needed doing, it's tragic the child is there, but it is not his fault. it was a complication in the plan. he couldn't put it off any longer. he's not sorry, but he does feel a little more rage towards a dead man that his son was there. kicking the child? no. it is not the child's fault, the child did not ask to be there. even for all his hatred towards the ruling class, kicking a literal child is taking it too far.

it doesn't absolve him, of course. his internal thought processes as i play him establish that. he blames the man he kills for the trauma incurred by that child, but not himself for actually being the agent of said trauma by stabbing a man in front the child. it's always someone else. they should have known better. not his fault.

[beardrabbles]

rock solid bonds.        pt. one

characters: zhongli, female reader, gimel ( geo hypostasis )

warnings: none

word count: 3,858 ( it’s LONG, y’all, sorry )

notes: first thing tossed into the genshin fandom is zhongli because i’m weak. so very weak. i know this idea is strange, but i’m running with it. this will have many parts, just not sure how many. anywho! :D hey. how’s it going? nice to meet’cha. oh!! also. i don’t have a beta reader, so there may be typos i’ve missed. oof.

You had made this trip several times before, and you assumed that this trip would be no different. You skirted around small packs of curious hilichurl, scooped up seashells from the many beaches you followed and swam through the clear, blue waters of Guyun Stone Forest until — finally — you reached the island you had been visiting over the course of several months.

The moment your water-logged feet touched solid ground rather than loose sand, you felt it — the faint traces of a low, constant vibration. It was a steady buzzing, except where the intensity would pulse every now and again, like a living heartbeat.

‘ It’s here, ’ you thought, ‘ good. ’

You hurried to rest against the crumbling wall of the ruins where the hypostasis often lingered, allowing yourself a moment to dry off and rummage through your supplies. No matter how routine this was, you knew you couldn’t become complacent. You could handle the stubborn bundle of geo, no problem, but you knew it never hurt to be prepared.

From your bag, you pulled out a wrapped bundle of fried fish and a single, elegant vial of a bright yellow liquid. You sloshed the liquid around, recalling the last time you’d been overconfident and forgone making the geo dampening potion. You had returned home that day with several more bruises the usual, and so you had firmly reminded yourself at you would prepare some, even if it had meant several days worth of butterfly chasing.

“You got lucky last time. Saw you learned a new move, but I’m smart. I learned.” You lifted the stopper out of the vial and knocked back the contents. The effects were immediate. You didn’t look it, but you felt thicker, sturdier, more centered. You hoped that was the effect of the potion, anyway. Nothing would sour your mood more than to realize the person you’d hired to make the potion had fouled it up.

Shrugging, you placed the empty vial into your pack, gulped down several bites of fried fish, then left your pack tucked up against the wall and behind a mess of tangled roots. Your hands moved next to the handle of your weapon, which peeked out from over your shoulder. With a heave, you brought out the claymore you so adored. It was nicked in places and scuffed in others, yet you found you were too attached. It had gotten you through too many battles, and it felt wrong to abandon it.

“Alright, we’ve got this. Just a few more months of this, and we can——!” Your self-given peptalk was cut short when you glanced around the wall and found that the hypostasis wasn’t alone. Choking on your own words, you quickly ducked back into the hiding. “Dammit! Someone’s already here.”

You set your claymore aside and pressed your hands to the wall, using it to lean around and peek.

“Huh.  .  .” Strange. Nearly every time you found the raw elemental, it had its defenses up. Even as it seemingly napped in place, it surrounded itself in solid, almost unbreakable basalt. Now, in front of this tall stranger, it was nothing more than its small, brightly glowing core. It bobbed and spun, giving off the sunshine-bright disposition of a puppy.

It was almost cute.

Interesting as the hypostasis was in this form, you found yourself drawn to the stranger interacting with it. Slender but strong, standing tall and straight, with a single hand that wove through the air around the exposed core. From where you stood, you couldn’t quite tell who he was, but something about him felt familiar.

‘ I’ve seen him before. ’ The earthen tones of his clothes and hair, the elegance and the poise. You were certain you had seen someone similar making their way through the streets of the harbor before. And, in his wake, came dreamy sighs and low purrs of admiration from all manner of people. The name eluded you, mostly because you didn’t care. He was a stranger, and you had no reason to acknowledge him until now.

“Why does it look like he’s playing with it?” You huffed through your nose, feeling thoroughly irritated that your chance to mine precious gems from the hypostasis had been squandered.

Without meaning to, you let out a groan of frustration.

The elemental core gave a sudden jolt, it’s small form jerking away from the man. In an instant, it wrapped itself in its armor, dark basalt etched with shimmering lines of gold appearing in large, even chunks. You gasped and ducked back for a second time, your heart rapidly beating against your chest. It didn’t know you were there. It couldn’t! You weren’t that loud, were you?

“Moron!” You scolded yourself and made to snatch your pack up when a voice, smooth and deep, reached you.

“I know you’re there.”

You stopped and stood still, as if that would render you completely untraceable. Breath held, but heart still hammering, you waited.

“It would benefit you greatly to come out of hiding.” The voice continued, calm and even.

Something about the voice made you reluctant to run. Shuddering and setting aside your things, you willingly stepped out from behind the crumbling ruins. Hands up and empty, you first revealed that you were unarmed. Harmless. Totally harmless.

“Ah, there you are.” There was a hint of satisfaction in the man’s tone, but you hardly paid attention. Your focus was intent on the sensation soaking through the soles of your boots. The vibration from earlier wasn’t as calm as it had been, the heartbeat-like thrum from earlier replaced with an anxious tattoo that traveled through your legs and up into your chest. You found yourself catching your breath, a horrible feeling welling inside your ribcage.

“Am I causing that?” Your own voice was soft and feeble and sincere. The man approached at a slow but steady clip, until he stood a mere foot away. His arms were folded behind him, making him appear even more refined up close.

“I wasn’t expecting you to realize your mistake so quickly. Good. I wasn’t looking forward to explaining it.” He arched a single brow. “Might I ask your name?”

“Uh.  .  .” You shook yourself from your mounting guilt and lowered your hands. He was polite, but you could tell from the sharp look in his amber eyes that he didn’t approve of your presence, and rightfully so. Still, you didn’t want to deny him your name when he had yet to force you off the island. You muttered your name, and he let out a thoughtful hum before repeating it.

Never had you heard your own name on a voice that alluring. It balanced on a fine line between heavenly and sinful, and you wished deeply that he would never, ever say it again. It sounded too good, and your heart already had its share of problems to deal with at the moment, shame being one of them.

“Seen you around the harbor before, but I can’t remember your name.” You gently prompted him to give his own name in return, hoping it wouldn’t be seen as rude. The corner of his lips turned up a fraction, but that hint of a smile didn’t last long.

“I am Zhongli. Under different circumstances, I would say it was a pleasure to meet you.” Still scolding, still disapproving. You shrank under his gaze, but still found it in you to speak in turn.

“I’ve never seen it out of its armor for that long before.” You observed.

“I wonder why that is.  .  .” Zhongli turned to face the elemental, his broad shoulders rising and lowering with a heavy sigh. Guilt punched you in the gut again.

“I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong!” You didn’t mean to raise your voice, but you had never once been convinced that your mining had been detrimental to the hypostasis.

“It cannot speak for itself, so you were lead to believe that your harvesting was harmless.” Zhongli mused as he ventured towards the elemental again. “That is understandable. But now that you are aware, now that you feel the effect your presence has on it, are you willing to change?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but were stopped but a sudden thought.

For the sake of a voiceless, sentient being, were you willing to change? Yes.        Were you able? No.

You hurried to follow Zhongli and weren’t the least bit surprised when the hypostasis kept its distance, basalt armor quaking with fear. You stopped your advance, keeping well behind Zhongli.

“I can’t.”

“Oh?” He didn’t turn his attention to you, but kept it intent on the elemental. He lifted a gloved hand, the palm resting carefully along the surface of one cube of armor. “That is a shame. I was hoping you’d be agreeable.”

“No, it’s — it’s not that I don’t want to. I want to! I didn’t know it was.  .  .”

“Capable of feelings?”

You nodded despite knowing he couldn’t see you.

“All things feel, all things remember. The lack of a voice does not make one unworthy of thoughts or memories, good or bad.” Zhongli smoothed his hand over the armor of the hypostasis. “It remembers. You are quite brutal.”

“I’m sorry.” You directed this to the hypostasis rather than him. “I didn’t know.”

“And yet you blatantly refuse to change your behavior?” Zhongli’s sharp gaze landed on you again.

“I have an obligation! I’m bound to my word.” Your hackles rose for a moment, but were lowered again soon after. “I have a contract.”

At this, Zhongli came to face you. “A contract?”

“I don’t know why I should tell you.” Your stubbornness reared its ugly head in that moment. Arms crossed, you waited for him to coldly dismiss you. Instead, he folded his arms behind his back and cooly stared you down.

“Contracts are, for better or worse, binding. I understand that, when broken, there can be dire consequences. Is this an official contract?” He wondered. You wanted to hold firm to your refusal to speak of it, but the man’s calm nature made it difficult.

Shifting uneasily, you gave another nod.

“Yes.”

“Are you barred from discussing the terms of the contract with people unrelated to the contract itself?” Each question was asked quickly and sharply, as if practiced. You frowned, moreso out of thought than offense.

“I don’t think so. No one’s ever told me I’m not allowed.”

“Then, please, indulge me. What about this contract requires you to mine as often as you do?”

“You want the long version or the short version?” You reached up to rub at the space between your eyebrows, mounting stress threatening to bring forward a headache.

“Whichever you’re more comfortable with.”

“If you say so. My family’s in a tight spot, yeah? We owe some people a lot of money, but most of the people involved are too old, too frail or too inexperienced to go out and earn the mora we need. The people that are hounding us thought, hey, let’s get the daughter to go out and find these precious materials. No one can pass up on free labor, right? I work for them, I slowly whittle away at the debt my family’s worked up for the last few years.” You shrugged casually to hide the fact that the contract was draining you of your free time and, apparently, your morals.

Zhongli frowned, a wrinkle knitting his brows together.

“What are the exact terms on your contract?” He asked, ignoring a nudge against his shoulder from the hypostasis.

“There are quite a few, but the one causing me the most trouble right now is the fact that I need to come here every day and pick out the prithiva from your friend there.” You didn’t miss the shudder in the rocks or the way the hypostasis fled yet again, putting space between you and itself. Zhongli motioned for the hypostasis to calm, but the trembling remained.

“I need the terms as they were worded the day the contract was made.” Zhongli requested firmly this time.

“Three prithiva gems, whole and unblemished, every day for a year. Even if it means getting the slivers and asking someone to do their alchemy-thing on it, I gotta get those gems.”

Zhongli’s stern gaze softened as he motioned for the hypostasis to come nearer.

“That’s all?”

“When it comes to this fella, yeah. I just need the gems.” This time, you were the one to step away from the coming hypostasis. It was clear you had scarred the creature, and you weren’t about to disrespect it in front of this man, who so clearly cherished the living geo.

“You aren’t required to fight and take it?” He continued.

“They never said I did, but it was the only way I could think to fulfill the terms.” You slumped in place and let out a little whine. “Don’t tell me I could have just asked for it.”

“Did you consider the possibility?” Zhongli quipped.

“No! I didn’t think it could understand people!” You stressed with a growl. Zhongli chuckled, the sound taking you aback.

“It doesn’t understand language, but it understands intent. Come here.” The command was subtle, but you felt compelled to obey. Cautiously, you took to Zhongli’s side. His taller frame shadowed yours, and you swore you caught the scent of sun-warmed stones and hints of glaze lilies as an errant ocean breeze whorled past. “Put your hand out, like me.”

You hesitated, and he took note of this.

“Be calm. If you’re afraid, it will know.” He coaxed you, sounding far gentler than he had since calling you out of your hiding spot.

“I’m not afraid,” you corrected, “I feel bad.”

“As deserving as the feeling is, you can make it right if it is your intent to.” Zhongli pointed out. You sucked in a breath, nodded once, then held your hand out. The hypostasis shuddered again and bobbed backwards. Zhongli frowned like a disapproving father and clicked his tongue. “I understand that she’s been cruel, but I believe her when she says she was unaware of how sentient you are. If we are to make amends, the effort needs to be mutual on both parts. As long as I am here, neither of you will come to harm.”

The hypostasis twitched and the armor around it lowered for a moment, but it was fleeting. In a small fit of hope, you drew closer and placed your hand against the glimmering armor. The protective chunks of rock snapped back into place around its dim core, spun rapidly in the air, then sunk down into the ground where all that remained were spider-web cracks that glowed as warm and bright as the sun.

You stood there, hand out and mouth agape.

“It ran away!”

Zhongli lowered his head for a moment. “This was not the result I imagined, but it is progress.”

You lowered your hand and rolled your eyes.

“How is that progress?” You snapped. Zhongli didn’t so much as flinch at your aggression, but sported a knowing smile that irritated your further.

“Gimel let you near without attacking out of instinct. I would say that counts as progress, small step as it is.” He spoke assuredly, and you supposed he had a point.

“Gimel?”

“It has a name. It may work in your favor to remember it.” Zhongli added.

“Yeah, well — what am I supposed to do now? I can’t go back empty-handed.” You grumbled and turned away, stalking back to the spot where you had stashed your bag. The effects of the potion you had drank earlier had begun to ware off, leaving you feeling oddly light and slightly off-balance. That, coupled with your plummeting mood, made you want to leave behind the island and hope that your contract wasn’t seen as broken.

Behind you, you heard the steady click of boots as Zhongli followed behind you.

“I have an offer.” He stopped when you did, and he didn’t miss the flicker of confusion and wariness in your eyes when you spun around.

“What kind of offer?” You were like a cornered animal, and you wondered if he had sensed your growing worry since Gimel had disappeared. You weren’t desperate yet, but that may have been because you had yet to fail in completing your end of the contract. The consequences were unknown, but you were sure you would regret returning to Liyue Harbor without the gems you were asked to retrieve. Still, you were concerned, and you knew it was hard to hide when you fidgeted the way you did.

“A contract.”

“No.”

“One that won’t break the conditions of the contract you’re currently bound to.” He continued in spite of your quick refusal. You crossed your arms and wrinkled your nose, but it only caused him to smile again. “Don’t be stubborn, girl.”

You scowled and felt a rare flare of anger rise, but he interrupted you with a shake of his head and a raise of his closed hand. Long, slender fingers unfurled, revealing a small handful of pristine prithiva topaz gemstones. It wasn’t out of greed that you lunged forward, but a deep desire to protect yourself and your family. You didn’t grab the gems, of course. It wouldn’t do to anger this man after he had shown you patience, but you wouldn’t deny that it was a tempting sight to see him holding the gems out for you to take.

You whetted your lips with a quick swipe of your tongue and spoke past the sandpaper feeling in your throat.

“What are your terms?” You croaked.

“You return to this place every day, unarmed and alone, to spend time with Gimel. In return, you will be rewarded with the gems required of you. As it’s clear they didn’t specify how you acquire them, it will not interfere with the terms of your current contract.” He raised both brows this time and held the gems out further. Your fingers twitched as you reached, but you didn’t take them.

“That’s all you want out of me?”

“We are merely acquaintances, but I hardly find it worthwhile to trick you into a dishonest contract. My terms are as simple as they sound. You cease hostilities against Gimel and attempt to right your wrongs, and you will have your gems. I only ask for a few hours spent here, nothing more. I can’t expect you to wrap your entire life around this one task.” He reached out to take one of your hands, turning the palm up. His touch was gentle and didn’t contest with your own freewill, but you let him do as he pleased.

His thumb uncurled your your fingers, followed the deep lines in your palm and smoothed over your wrist. Your cheeks burned, but you blamed the glaring sun overhead. He was only being kind, you told yourself.

“If I accept these, does that mean I accept the contract?”

“I’m afraid so.” He stepped closer, head and voice low. His dark hair framed his stoic expression, yet his hand on yours remained kind. “Your answer?”

You swallowed hard, weighed your options, then peered up into those vivid, autumn-tinted eyes. “Will you be here too?”

You weren’t sure what prompted such a question, but it seemed to catch him as off-guard as well. He blinked and pulled back for a moment. “Is this an amendment?”

“No,” you shook your head and dared to laugh, “just a request. I don’t think Gimel will trust me on my own, not at first.”

“Its trust will be be earned by your own merits, not because I am here.” Zhongli informed you stiffly.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just think — maybe it would help if I observed you for a little while, maybe a few days. I can see how better to approach, then you can leave us be.” You tilted your head. “Is that unreasonable?”

“I.  .  . suppose it’s not. You are willing to learn, at least, and I cannot fault you for that. Very well. Starting tomorrow, I will accompany you for three days. After that, you are expected to use what you’ve learned on your own.” He closed his fingers around the gemstones and twisted his wrist, readying himself to drop them into your waiting hand. “Has your answer changed?”

You shook your head. “No, I planned to accept before.”

“Then we’re in agreement? You are aware of what will happen if you break the contract?” He warned. You nodded.

“I’m aware, trust me.” You wiggled your fingers impatiently. Zhongli placed the gems into your hand one at time, being sure not to chip or scratch them.

“Then it is done. I won’t be truly satisfied until you’ve signed a physical contract and we’ve made it official, but I will hold onto your word for the time being.” He helped your hand close around the gems, both of his own hands wrapped tightly around your clenched digits. “Find me at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor later tonight, and we can document our arrangement.”

“Sure thing, boss.” You pulled your hand away, the sensation of the gems in your grasp bringing you far more ease than you were happy with. To be so dependent on them made you nauseous, but Zhongli’s willingness to help made it a little less so. Although, you couldn’t help but to wonder why he was so quick to help. “Why are you doing this for me?”

“Is it not human nature to want to help?”

“I guess, but.  .  . there aren’t many that are as open and willing as you are. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. It’s just unexpected. I didn’t think today would end the way it would.” You squirreled away the gems in your satchel, slung it over your shoulders, then affixed your claymore onto your back.

“Are you disappointed?” Zhongli calmly watched you pack up, head tilted slightly.

“Not at all.” You spared him a smile, a weight gradually lifting off your heart and shoulders. “I was annoyed at first, but I’m glad we got to meet, Mr. Zhongli.”

Another peel of soft laughter left the man, but it was hidden behind the side of his hand. “Then I will readily admit that I wasn’t expecting you to say that. I’m relieved you were so willing to cooperate, and.  .  . I am glad we had the chance to meet as well.”

You bounced once on the tips of your feet and gave him a mock salute. “Guess that means I’ll be seein’ you later! I’m going to pass these gems on, then I’ll pop by your place to sign my life away!”

You didn’t address the crinkle in his face at your jest, but you did snicker as you fled the island. Only when you were well out of sight did Gimel return, its core open to the air and nudging against Zhongli’s elbow.

The archon reached back to give the hypostasis a gentle stroke, but his eyes remained in the direction you had wandered off in.

“I have a feeling that our time with her will be very interesting.”

[ninwrites]

Shadowhunters 3x16: On Clary’s Actions and the  Consequences For Those Around Her

No, I cannot confirm that there is actually anything coherent here. Just my rambling thoughts, collected as well as I could. For the record, I don’t hate Clary, I just don’t think that the writers consider the impact of her actions on the people around her and I’m getting more than just a little tired of it. Please read at your own discretion.

Also, shout-out to @magnusbicon for encouraging this & @izzybabewoods for the inbox message that started it all. you’re enablers in the very best day and this wouldn’t exist without you.

Here’s the thing.

 In season one, the majority of Clary’s arc was quite self-centred. And that’s fine. For all intents and purposes, she is the main protagonist, and the reason we’re introduced to the rest of these characters - the Lightwoods, Simon, Magnus, Valentine, even the Clave - is through Clary’s connection and interactions with them. As the audience, we’re following her into this new world, and it’s as she learns things that we become aware of them too – we’re not just watching her go on this journey, in a way, we’re going on it too. If Clary wasn’t at the focus of the season, we’d miss out on important knowledge that helps with our understanding of the shadow world and the characters that inhabit it – because it is quite a large and complex world.

 Then comes season two. Jocelyn comes back, who – as much as I adore Luke – is mostly concerned with Clary, and rightfully so. This is her daughter, who she chose to keep in the dark about the shadow world, there’s a lot there to catch up on and to mend between them, and Clary needs somebody who she (supposedly) will listen to, to counteract her rash and impulsive behaviour, because as much as she’d love to think that she knows everything, Clary at this point really has no idea what world she’s come into. There’s a part of her that has already made up her mind about the shadow world, about Downworlders and Shadowhunters and her role here, and whether it’s right or wrong takes the backseat, leaving the season’s arc as the driving force. Or, rather, her part in it. Because – and here’s the bit that frustrates me the most – the character arcs, the desires of others, their hopes and goals and wishes all fall second, or third or somewhere closer to last, to whatever Clary wants. Despite not actually being brought up as a Shadowhunter, she manages to sustain quite the assumption that she is the most important person in the room, and therefore, that whatever she wants comes first.

 Sometimes, this is a good thing. Often, the line is blurred.

 Her intentions often come from a good place, with the consequences falling short because of her impulsivity more than an inherent ill-will. Look at Simon – he’s still in the show, yay! Only … he did die. I’m not saying that I would have done any differently, but from a factual standpoint – it is Clary’s desire to have her best friend back that turned him into a vampire, and by a tenuous, albeit valid thread, it is because of Clary that Simon was coerced and manipulated by Camille; homeless; all of the back and forth mess with Raphael; got turned into a Daylighter; got coerced into joining the Seelie Queen’s court; turned Heidi – and we all know how that turned out; got the mark of Cain; lost his mother; bit his sister; lost the mark of Cain. I’m sure there’s more that I can’t remember, but again, I’m not saying that Clary is the sole person at fault here. However, I am saying that all of this is – per the butterfly effect – because she didn’t think about the consequences past not wanting to lose her best friend. Additionally, I’d argue that through most of the above, Simon didn’t have the support from Clary that he deserved, or that she should have given. In that respect, the relationship between them feels awfully one-sided, and has since the first episode. There are moments, of course, but they’re becoming even fewer and further in-between.

 I could probably write a whole thing on Clary’s relationships with people she supposedly cares about (*cough* Luke *cough*), but I’m getting off point. I want to talk about 3x16 in particular.

 Firstly, the rune power. Maybe it’s just me - though I have a sense it’s not - but Clary’s rune power is getting a few miles north of the city of Absolutely Fucking Ridiculous, and veering towards Overused/Abused county.

 (Does that metaphor make sense? I have no idea).

 Anyway. Being able to just suddenly make a portal to Edom that doesn’t just summon Lilith, but literally pulls her from Edom – from essentially the cage that Asmodeus put her in using Magnus’ magic, which has already been hinted to as just as powerful, if not more, than a Greater Demon – without any resistance? Really? Seems a bit unrealistic to me. Because, either this means that Clary is actually an Angel, for all of the power that she apparently wields, or that she’s more powerful than Magnus, and actual Greater Demons. I personally chalk it up to convenience from the perspective of the writers, but that’s just me. Back to the rune – the idea that Clary has this power at all is already a bit of a stretch, especially with how willy-nilly the writers are when it comes to using it, but now it’s reached a point that is just nonsensical. No Shadowhunter is this powerful, not even the great Clary Fray.

 Then, there’s the part where Clary is the first Shadowhunter to possess this power, as far as we know; there is nobody that has the prior knowledge to train her, so again – for the sake of convenience, I’m sure – it’s something that apparently just comes to her as naturally as breathing. Which – okay. Fine. They don’t exactly have time to show a montage of her learning how to deliberately create these runes. I get that. But that doesn’t mean they have to render this power unreasonable. Creating portals? Cool. Realistic. I don’t actually mind that, even if I think it got a little to Clary’s head. The sunlight rune? Pretty cool, I won’t lie. I liked how that came about – there was a heightened emotion to the moment, it made sense that a rune would manifest under such stressful circumstances. But Clary just deciding that, because she wants this rune to exist, it instantly will? It will work, just by the strength of, what, her willpower? I know it’s quite strong, but this logic isn’t. It’s ridiculous. It doesn’t make sense. It’s cheating for the sake of an easy plot, without minding the six-feet deep holes left behind.

 Now, I’d also contend that as helpful as this power is, it doesn’t magically fix everything around her. Sometimes, it makes things worse. Such as during 3x16.

 The biggest thing that pissed me off about Clary in 3x16 is the fact that she decided they all had to do whatever they could to get rid of this rune, because she was sick of it and couldn’t handle it, so that must mean that everybody else has to turn all of their attention and focus towards her, regardless of whatever they were doing before. And what are we told this is prompted by? Her snapping at Simon; (which, by the way, wasn’t as harsh as I think we were supposed to believe. Clary going through PMS probably would have resulted in the same reaction. It was snappy, and angry, and a little rude, but not … evil. Simon looked more shocked than anything. Maybe if she’d snapped at everyone, it would be more believable. But like a lot of this episode, this felt a little bit like a cop-out.)

 Mere steps from this conversation, Magnus was lying unconscious because of magic that wasn’t his, that he’d sold his apartment for, because he didn’t feel like he was worth being alive, worth existing, without his magic, that his magic was all that made him special – which, he’d sacrificed for Jace, no less. Granted, Clary likely wouldn’t have known about how Magnus felt about losing his magic, but I do find it hard to believe that she wouldn’t have even realised that losing it at all would have been an incredible trauma for Magnus.

 Then again, it does feel like Clary only cares about Magnus when it suits her. It’s harsh, but I sometimes wonder if she’d care more if Magnus had died, or if she’d just be upset because she’d lost a resource. This mostly stems from how she’s written, I’ll admit, but it’s still how I feel.

 And I think canon backs me up here. After all, look at what Magnus has gone through at the end of 3A and into 3B alone.

 He sacrificed his magic to Asmodeus, the man who abused and emotionally manipulated him, who probably made him commit heinous acts, of which murder I’m sure wasn’t off the table, all after having to grovel and endure soul-crushing humiliation at the hands of aforementioned abuser, who he most likely had gotten comfortable with the idea of never seeing again, all to save Jace from Lilith’s control (only to return to see the love of his life bleeding out with no way of saving him – I don’t blame this on Clary, but it is a factor that has affected Magnus. How could it not?) After Magnus returns, mortal, mundane, barely half of the man he used to be – his feelings, not mine – he’s ostracised by Lorenzo and ignored by the rest of the warlocks from Lorenzo’s command, excluding Catarina, his only friend at this point. Just there, he’s given up everything for Jace, and whilst it’s possible that Clary doesn’t know, it seems a little far-fetched to assume that Jace wouldn’t tell her. If he did, it seems a bit unfair for Clary not to consider that, but then, there’s almost an assumption that sacrifices made for people that Clary explicitly loves – Jace – matter more than the people who made the sacrifice.

 Then, because he felt so empty and lost without his magic, Magnus had to forego his pride and dignity to ask for Lorenzo’s help – his mortal enemy, basically, who has always disliked Magnus – selling his apartment in the process, his home, only to then be rejected by the magic, resulting in him having to give it up to not die. Because of that, he has to go through the process of losing magic again, even if it’s not quite the same as his own, which would have teared his mental health to shreds, and completely destroyed any progress he’d made towards feeling better, feeling more like himself. Now, I do believe that Magnus understood the weight of the transplant and all of the ways it could go wrong, which just makes this even more painful, because he felt that dying was a better alternative to not having his magic – if it weren’t for Alec, and Catarina, and Madzie, I don’t think Magnus would have had the strength to give Lorenzo’s magic back. Yes, there’s an argument to be made that he only did it for Alec, but I personally think it was Alec’s insistence that he couldn’t lose Magnus – wouldn’t, lose him - that prompted Magnus into remembering that they were people out there who cared for him, and loved him, even if it’s impossible for him to understand why. Depression warps a person’s perception of themselves anyway; add on all of the trauma Magnus has undergone, and in such a short period of time, and it makes sense that he’d find it easier to do this for somebody else, than for himself. I don’t think this makes his decision or his reasoning any less valid, but I’m getting a little off topic here.

 Magnus doesn’t know who he is without his magic, and in this episode especially, but not solely, it doesn’t feel like Clary cares – because without his magic, he can’t help her, and if somebody can’t help her, they cease to matter.

 (Again, this is my perception.)

 Speaking of people who only matter if they can help Clary – let’s talk about Cain. ‘Cause I haven’t seen a lot of discussion on him, and I feel like he deserves the attention.

 Cain has lived with this guilt of succumbing to Lilith’s manipulation and killing his own brother for longer than I think it’s possible for us, as the audience, and the characters of the show to understand. You can see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice – he carries this burden with him, and it’s suffocating. Inescapable. He couldn’t get rid of his mark, so cruelly named after him, and now he’s stuck living in a sewer, living off rats, because he’s dreadfully invincible. I have no doubt that he still felt Lilith’s hold on him, like a shadow, constantly creeping around him, that sensation that there’s something over his shoulder, something behind him ready to attack, but there’s not, there never is, it’s just him and his guilt and the sick crawl of Lilith’s voice taking hold of him, the drowning ache that never leaves, because if he’d been stronger, his brother might not have died.

 The last thing he wanted – or needed – was to see Lilith again.

 I can’t even imagine how that would have felt. Seeing the woman who destroyed you, knowing that nothing could ever keep her locked away, that there was no cage that she couldn’t break out of – he probably felt her power leaking out, creeping under his skin, whispering to him even as the direction of her voice was focused on the others. From the moment she addressed him, she had him hooked. Just as he knew she would. Because he warned them – he told them he wouldn’t do it. The only reason he helped was Simon – because he related to Simon, because he could see the guilt in Simon and knew that was no way to live, because he wanted to save Simon from suffering a fate as bad as his own. Cain trusted Simon. Because Simon trusted Clary. And now, he’s stuck with his abuser, because the plan failed just as he’d told them it would, because once again, Clary only thought about what she could gain out of this, and not how it would affect anybody else.

 Because when Clary wants to jump, she doesn’t take the time to notice who could be supporting her fall.

 You know who often has to take the fall for Clary’s actions? Alec.

 I cannot see the actions of this episode as anything less than taking advantage of the fragile situation that Alec was in, for Clary to get what she wanted. The love of his life – and I refuse to believe that Clary doesn’t recognise that, for all of my complaints I don’t think she’s actually stupid – was lying unconscious in the infirmary, and really, none of them could be certain that he’d be okay, that there wouldn’t be further consequences when he woke up. Because, again – he was unconscious!! And Clary, honestly thought – hey, there’s this rune tying me to my psychotic sibling and it’s torturing me so instead of formulating an actual plan and thinking through options to get rid of it, I’m just going to go ahead and summon the mother of demons, to get rid of it for me, and darn the consequences. Never mind the fact that the Head of the Institute has yet to hear of this plan, let alone sanction it - he’s too busy worrying about the health and well-being of his unconscious boyfriend, so why bother him about it and get clearance on a dangerous mission like this, when we could just, go ahead and do it anyway.

 (Because even in this fragile state, Alec never would have sanctioned it.)

 Clary doesn’t take a second to think about the consequences this could have on Alec, and she never really has when it comes to missions; the only thing she has ever considered is how it can benefit her. Stealing the mortal cup from the Institute? Sure, why not. It’s super dangerous and can be turned into a weapon if in the wrong hands, and is locked away for a reason, but rules are made to be broken, right? Season one, whilst frustrating, could be brushed off as Clary just not quite understanding the power structure – sure, Jace did, and he should have done more about making it clear to her as opposed to just going along with her plans because he was thinking with his stele, but again, season one.

 And, sure, there’s that bit in 2x10 where Alec has spent the entire night searching for Magnus’ body in the Institute because, despite his best wishes, he can’t deny the possibility that Magnus is one of Valentine’s Downworlder victims, and Clary remembered that they portalled in – cause, Magnus made the portal, as far as I can remember – but she lost him after that, and hadn’t even thought since then about his whereabouts, or his safety, or even considered that he might have DIED. But, you know. Season two.

 This is season three. The second half, for that matter. And Clary is still thinking with herself in mind first, without even a second to regard how it affects others. If the Clave find out that Shadowhunters under Alec’s supervision took a traitor’s weapon, adjusted it so that it was capable of electrocution and used it to trap a Greater Demon – and Lilith, at that – only for her to end up escaping, all whilst he was preoccupied with his warlock boyfriend/technically making threats to the High Warlock which could, if Lorenzo was so inclined, damage relations between the Institute and the High Warlock – well. To say that they wouldn’t be impressed would be quite the understatement. He could lose his title over this. And then what? Who is going to save their asses from suspension/the silent city then? To be quite crude; if the Clave find out about this, and then pair that with Alec and Isabelle’s investigation into Project: Heavenly Fire, Alec would be fucked. They wouldn’t give him the Institute after that, and he certainly would no longer retain the reputation he spent so long building back up after his not-wedding. I don’t know if Alec would care that much about his reputation, he seems quite content with just doing what he wants and letting people’s opinions be exactly that – their opinions. Of no matter to him.

 However, that doesn’t automatically make them go away. There would still be people dying to see Alec fail, to see him crash and burn, to talk shit behind his back because of their own feelings towards decisions he’s made, both in power and before it.

 Clary doesn’t think about any of that – about anything, really, that doesn’t involve her. And it’s fucking exhausting. I want to like Clary, so badly, because she is a badass character and there’s a lot to admire about her. But I can’t love her when she’s so selfish that other characters are consistently suffering because of it. When sacrifices are made and her response is to completely disregard them in favour of achieving something that she wants. When episode, after episode – season after season – she’s allowed to just do whatever she wants without care to the consequences and how it affects others.

 Clary could be a fantastic, game-changing character. As it is, she feels more like a petulant child who throws a tantrum when she can’t get what she wants, and refuses to listen when she’s told something that she doesn’t want to hear.

 I hope my opinion of her improves over the season. But I won’t be holding my breath.

[haberdashing]

You know that post about how Hogwarts being mandatory for pureblood wizards/witches during Deathly Hallows means that the school would have a ton of older homeschoolers attending for the first time and also a bunch of them would be Weasleys?

And how said post more or less says “this is a great excuse to make a bunch of Weasley OCs”?

...well, I made a bunch of Weasley OCs. Details under the cut because long post is long.

Fair warning: it’s been a while since I’ve read Harry Potter, so it’s possible some of these details may not 100% fit with canon.

The Weasley family branch I’ve invented is tentatively related through their father being Arthur Weasley’s younger brother (though I might change the details of their Weasley connection, idk). They live near the English/Scottish border and until Deathly Hallows time were all homeschooled because between getting to King’s Cross and getting all the school supplies Hogwarts says each student has to bring, going would mean spending rather a lot of money that they didn’t generally have to spare.

There are probably a few siblings who are old enough that the Hogwarts mandate doesn’t apply to them, but I haven’t figured out anything about them yet, so I’ll focus on the ones who do end up going to Hogwarts, at least for one year: Lance, Morgan, Gwen, Penelope, and Callie.

Lance’s full name is Lancelot, and he doesn’t really care whether you call him by his full name or just by Lance. He’s strong, determined, and very much a rule-follower except when the rules are blatantly wrong, which of course is the case rather often in Deathly Hallows Hogwarts. He’s a Quidditch whiz, usually gravitating towards the position of Keeper. He’s not terribly fond of formal studying, and having it forced upon him doesn’t help, but he makes it work. He’s very much protective of his younger siblings, and during his time at Hogwarts he extends that protection to any and all Weasley relatives, though Ginny makes it clear quickly enough that it’s not necessary to treat her the same way. He’s the kind of person who might have made a good Prefect, under different circumstances.

Morgan’s name isn’t short for anything, and they didn’t pick it solely because of the Arthurian legend connection, but, well, that connection certainly didn’t hurt either. They’re on the scrawny side, making them looking even younger than they actually are. They’re a smart one, but they’re more likely to apply that intellect on experiments of their own invention than on, you know, homework. They’re fascinated with the rules of magic, and especially with what happens when magic goes awry. They’re independent, introverted, and wildly inventive. There’s no one area of magic that they prefer, because they like to dabble in all of them, mixing and matching as their latest big idea requires. Morgan probably would get along with Fred and George, or at least would be open to collaborating with them, if only as an excuse to justify some of their wilder experiment ideas.

Gwen and Penelope are twins--fraternal twins, specifically. Gwen’s the older of the two by a whopping nine minutes, and likes to lord that (and her extra inch and a half of height) over Penelope. Every once in a while the two of them like to claim that they’re identical twins and watch the befuddled expressions of those trying to reconcile that claim with how they don’t look much alike, especially by Weasley standards.

Gwen’s full name is Gwendolyn. She doesn’t much care if you call her Gwendolyn or just Gwen, but she does insist that if you use a nickname for her it be Gwen rather than Lyn, because as it happens her mother’s name is Lynn and she’d rather not go by her mother’s name, thanks. She’s a shy one, good at blending in and being a wallflower but not so good at actually, well, standing out from the crowd, though part of her wants that, wants to be the center of attention rather than being perpetually in the background. She’s very adaptable, though, and good at judging the scene in front of her and acting accordingly, and she’s got a great memory to boot. She's fond of potion-making, of how nice and predictable it is when you follow the rules.

Penelope, on the other hand, is significantly more outgoing than her twin sister. The only people allowed to call her Penny are her siblings, and even then she usually rolls her eyes. She’s a social butterfly, good at making friends of all shapes and sizes, and she’s got a huge heart. She’s almost as good at Quidditch as her brother, though she’s more of a Chaser or Seeker. She’s also got a green thumb, excelling at taking care of plants both magical and mundane.

Callie is the youngest of the family. Her full name is Calypso, but she hates it with a passion. She’s outspoken with a wicked temper and isn’t afraid of backing up insults with a few choice hexes. She’s a rebellious soul, and while she’s the baby of the family, she hates being babied, hates being reminded of her youth. In a different age, she would have loved taking Defense Against the Dark Arts. As it is, she’s not terribly interested in any of her classes, and it shows in her grades, which are lackluster at best.

Morgan, Penelope, and Callie look exactly as you’d expect a Weasley to look, with bright red hair and skin covered in freckles. Lance’s hair is closer to strawberry blonde than outright red, but he’s still clearly a Weasley at a glance. Gwen, on the other hand, takes after her blonde, freckle-less mother, with hair more blonde than red and the freckles on her pale skin being few and far between.

When the Hogwarts mandate comes, Lance is sixteen, Morgan is fourteen, Gwen and Penelope are thirteen, and Callie is eleven. They all end up as Gryffindors, but the Sorting Hat takes longer to decide on that for some of them than others. (Lance and Callie get proclaimed Gryffindors with the hat barely touching their head; Gwen is briefly considered for Slytherin, but turns it down immediately; Morgan gets considered more seriously for Ravenclaw, and Penelope for Hufflepuff, but in the end, Gryffindor still wins out.)

The whole family would be seen as “blood traitors”--living in a sparsely-populated area where there are only so many people around to connect with, this branch of the Weasley family has gotten close to neighbors both magical and Muggle, and are thus well aware that Muggles and Muggleborns are people no worse than pureblooded wizards like themselves, and that not having magic doesn’t mean a person can’t be valuable or skilled in other ways. How each member of the family acts to further their views and assist the resistance, however, varies from individual to individual.

Lance spends the first month or two following the rules, even when it hurts him to do so, even when he knows that they’re wrong, because he has a long-term plan in mind, and said plan requires being a rule-follower at all times. Once his reputation as a good and obedient student was firmly established, he would occasionally use that reputation to try and keep those fighting the resistance more directly out of trouble. (”You said Brian was out in the halls past curfew last night, up to no good? Well, that can’t be right, because he was with me in the Gryffindor common room all night--we were cramming for that big Charms test we have coming up, I can probably dig up the notes we went through together if you want...”) It doesn’t always work, but it works often enough to be worthwhile.

Morgan’s experiments become mostly directed towards practical matters that they could then share to help others fight the good fight. Some are straightforward enough, spells that harm others in new and exciting ways that might be enough to throw off an opponent, but Morgan’s pet project is working on a spell to change hair colors. Given that red hair, Weasleys, Gryffindors, and blood traitors have become largely synonymous in the eyes of the current Hogwarts administration, being able to change one’s hair color at a moment’s notice has more practical applications than one might initially assume. The hard part, is turns out, isn’t making a spell to change hair colors, but making a spell to change hair colors without some horrible side effects kicking in along the way. After a few months and several trips to the nurse, however, they figure it out and spread the information to everyone they think they can trust.

Gwen uses her largely non-Weasley appearance, her talents for adapting to strange situations and blending into the background, and the spare Slytherin robe that’s been tucked away inside the Gryffindor common room all year with nobody able or willing to explain how it got there, to occasionally go undercover and see what information she can pick up when people aren’t quite as guarded as they normally would be towards a Gryffindor Weasley. While she uses several fake names for these missions, one she uses a few times is her mother’s maiden name of Hendry; the Hendry family is largely Hufflepuff, when they attend Hogwarts at all, but there are enough exceptions to that rule that a Hendry Slytherin isn’t entirely implausible.

Penelope does a few minor things to directly resist Hogwarts’ administrations, like tearing down posters that are barely-disguised Death Eater propaganda pieces, but perhaps more important is her role in comforting and reassuring other students who are worried about what lies ahead. She tells every distraught student that things aren’t as bad as they seem, that everything’s going to be okay, even when Penelope herself is very much unsure of the validity of those statements.

Callie speaks her mind, getting into loud arguments about the rights of Muggles and Muggleborns whenever she’s given the opportunity to do so, and some of those arguments turn into outright fights, exchanges of words turning into exchanges of spells. She also doesn’t even bother to pretend to follow rules that she disagrees with, even when it’s clear that she’ll be caught if she breaks them. Callie spends a lot of time in detention as a result, but she doesn’t mind; in fact, it’s something she prides herself on.

During the Battle of Hogwarts, Lance, Callie, or both lose their lives. If it’s Lance, it’s because he gets in the way of a spell launched at a younger Weasley, whether that be one of his siblings or a more distant relative, willing to protect them even at the cost of his own life. If it’s Callie, she dies as she lived, fighting with all her might for what she believes is right, doing her best to prove that she’s more than just a weak little kid, and willing to face whatever consequences await her for doing so.

[miraculouspaon]

One is One and One

This is a one-shot I started writing for (good lord) Miraculous Remix 2017, before I was reassigned to a different author, and it’s been sitting in my WIP folder ever since. Now that I’m in love with Bunnix, I’ve finally found the inspiration to finish it. It is based on @isadorator‘s amazing time ≠ water AU, in which the duplicate Ladybugs and Alix Kubdels do not vanish at the end of Timebreaker. Enjoy!

Mostafa Kubdel looked at the two math exams laid out in front of him.

Alix Kubdel: A-

Artemis Kubdel: D+

Mostafa was no stranger to the occasional poor grade, of course. His children had always been smart, but they weren't perfect, and sometimes they had difficulty focusing on their schoolwork in favor of whatever their current obsession was. He preferred to deal with it in a kind but firm manner: extracurriculars were suspended, tutors were hired, and distractions were removed until the next grade showed a marked improvement. Afterwards, things went back to normal.

Mostafa wasn't sure what normal was anymore.

“Artemis,” he said, looking down at his daughter, “can you tell me what happened here?”

Artemis shrugged. “Guess I'm not very good at math,” she said dismissively.

“You've always excelled at it before.”

“No, Alix always excelled at it. This is the first math exam I’ve ever taken.” She was looking her father right in the eye now, daring him to contradict her.

It wasn't that Mostafa wasn't brave enough to answer that dare. He just honestly didn't know what his daughter needed to hear right now, that she was different from her sister or that she was the same.

“Regardless,” he said, avoiding the existential elephant in the room for now, “your homework and quizzes in the subject have been exemplary so far.”

“Just say it,” Artemis snapped. “Say, ‘If Alix can do it, you can do it’. Say I must not have tried. That's what Mrs. Bustier thinks.”

“She said that?”

“No,” Artemis admitted. “But she was thinking it.”

Mostafa sighed. “I don't expect you to be the same as your sister,” he said, and Artemis’ face fell. So that was the wrong answer, then. “After all, you are under a great deal more stress than she is,” her father continued. Your sister does not have half the country loudly and publicly denying her personhood. I cannot imagine what that must be like for you.”

“Oh.” Artemis shrugged again. “Could be worse, I guess.”

Mostafa put the exams down on his desk and pulled his daughter into a tight hug. After a moment she hugged him back just as tightly.

“Tell me what to do, Artemis,” her father whispered. “Tell me what you need.”

“I don't know,” Artemis mumbled into her father’s scarf. “Sometimes everything's fine and sometimes all I can think about is going back to how everything used to be, you know?”

“If only it were in my power to give that to you,” her father murmured. “Perhaps… perhaps it has been selfish of me, to try and bend an entire country to my will. Perhaps it doesn't matter how many court cases I win for you, if you are still so unhappy.”

“I'm not,” Artemis insisted. “Really, it's just… it was just a stupid one-time thing. I'll do better on the next test.”

“I spoke with my brother last night.”

“Uncle Kamal?”

Mostafa nodded. “He thinks there might be a place for me at the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities, if I want it.”

“Dad, no! You can't quit your job at the Louvre, you've wanted to work there since you were a kid!”

“In Cairo, you and Alix would just be normal twins. People wouldn't know, the way everyone does here, about the… unorthodox circumstances surrounding your existence. Doesn't that sound nice?”

It did, actually. As much as Artemis loved Paris, as much as she'd miss her friends, she knew she'd never stop missing what she could never get back. Maybe a new place, a fresh start…

“People would figure it out,” she said quietly. “Maybe not at first, but eventually someone would look us up and find out. And then it would just be this all over again, wouldn't it?”

Her father frowned. “Your uncle thought that was a possibility as well. He thought…”

“What?”

Mostafa sighed. “I wasn't going to bring it up at all, his suggestion, I hate the idea, but perhaps it should be your decision, not mine. Your uncle thought perhaps you could live with his family for a while.”

Artemis stared. “Without you,” she said. “Just me. Without Jamal. Without Alix.”

“Artemis, you are my daughter and I hate the thought of sending you away. Tell me you hate the idea of going and I will never mention it again. But if you tell me you'd be happier, I will listen.”

Artemis was silent for a moment. “Can I think about it?” she finally asked, her voice small.

Her father kissed the top of her head. “Of course.”

~~~

“Was he mad?” Alix asked, as her sister entered their room.

Artemis shook her head. “Worse. Worried.”

“Ugh, I hate that,” Alix groaned. “It was a dumb fluke, you'll do better on the next one. We've gotten bad grades before. Why does everything have to be an issue now?” Artemis flopped down on her bed and didn’t answer. “It… it was a fluke, right?”

Artemis shrugged. “Maybe.”

“So no,” Alix said, crossing her arms. “Who was it? What did they say?”

Artemis rolled her eyes. “I don’t need you to beat people up for me, I’m still perfectly capable of doing that myself.”

Alix sat down at the edge of her sister’s bed. “Come on, what happened?”

Artemis sighed. “Kim asked me out. And don’t go bothering him about it, he was totally cool when I said no.”

Alix frowned, confused. “But Kim knows we’re-”

“No,” Artemis interrupted, “he knows you’re ace. My sexuality, apparently, is still up for debate.”

“Oh.” Alix hesitated. “So that’s why you got a D? You were upset because Kim asked you out?”

“I was upset because I wanted to say yes.”

Alix blinked. “You can say yes if you want. If you want to date, that’s-”

“I don’t want to date! I just want to be different from you!” Artemis covered her mouth, horrified. “Shit, I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry, I’m not mad at you, I just…” Artemis groaned in frustration. “Everyone thinks me being my own person is the same as me being different from you. What if I’m never different enough for them?”

Alix hesitated for a moment, then sat down on the bed, scooted next to her sister and put an arm around her shoulders. “Fuck ‘em,” she said. “We’re awesome. If we’re always really similar, that’s just twice as much awesome for the world.”

The corner of Artemis’ mouth picked up in a half-grin. “Thanks.”

In the first minutes, hours, days of Artemis’ creation, Alix and Artemis were in the uncanny habit of doing things in perfect unison. They’d speak as one, down to the exact timing and inflection, they’d turn or shake their heads or scoff as one. Eventually, though, after a week or so, these incidents became less and less frequent. The differences in the way people treated them began to add up, random circumstances compounded in what Jamal kept referring to, not unironically, as the Butterfly Effect, until finally the incidents stopped almost completely.

Almost.

In one casual motion, unconsidered and unintentional, Alix and Artemas each reached into their respective pockets and pulled out their twin pocket watches. They looked at each other, surprised, then burst out laughing.

“Do you ever want to just go back?” Alix asked her sister.

“All the time. You?”

Alix shrugged. “I got off lucky, I guess. It’s so dumb. How did everyone decide I’m the real one? I’m not any more real than you are.”

“People are dumb,” Artemis said.

“People are dumb in Cairo, too,” Alix said hesitantly.

Artemis stared at her sister. “Dad told you?”

“No. But I heard Uncle Kamal called. It wasn’t hard to guess why. Don’t go.”

Artemis went tense. “Why not? I’d get a fresh start. You’d get to go back to the way things were.”

“I don’t want to go back,” Alix said softly.

“Really?”

“It’s fine that you do, I don’t blame you, but this…” Alix took a moment to collect her thoughts. “I used to feel so alone sometimes. We used to feel so alone. And now we have each other.”

“Ah.” Artemis nodded slowly. “I guess I did use to feel lonely a lot, even before… us. And it’s been a whole other level of lonely, the way everyone looks at me now, but… yeah, it’s less lonely with you around.”

Alix hesitated. “Will you punch me if I say I love you? Ow!” Alix rubbed her arm, but Artemis was grinning even as she dropped her fist, and Alix grinned back. “Oh, whatever, it was worth it. You know you love me, too.”

“Gross,” Artemis said, sticking her tongue out. “Fine, I won’t go. Obviously you’d be an emotional wreck without me.”

“Obviously. Can’t have that.”

“We have a reputation to maintain.”

“Yep.” Alix leaned her head on her sister’s shoulder, and a moment later felt the weight of Artemis’ head over hers. They sighed as one, content.

[bunnywire]

Under the Stars | Draco x Reader

A/N : Ok so I’ve been working on this one for a while but i think its kinda cute also Y/N is Your Name so yeah. This is also kind of basic but I though it was kind of cute, but feel free to leave suggestions and feedback :)

Summary : In Astronomy class you get paired up with Draco, your friendly acquaintances but you wonder how the project will turn out and if the two of you will even get along.

Fandom : Harry Potter

Word Count : 1,574

Strange, how someone who came off as mean and arrogant would take anything such as Astronomy seriously. Well correction, he didn’t take it 100% seriously, but even this spoilt slytherin prince had no other choice. Draco openly expressed how he would rather be doing anything apart from staring at the stars and learning about the planets, especially since muggles also learnt this. You were a fellow Slytherin and heard all sorts of stories about how his parents got him this, and he was aloud to have that. This just caused you to roll your eyes, you didn't dislike Draco and you had gotten to know him a little especially since it was your 5th year at Hogwarts.

After you had stared through your telescope for what felt like forever Professor Sinistra announced that you had to get into pairs and do a project on constellations together. You immediately didn't like where this was going, you weren't Harry Potter or Draco Malfoy status but you were not a loner, though unfortunately none of your close friends were in this class with you. You tried to swallow down your nerves and did a quick scan of the room, you saw Parvati, Susan, Padma or even Neville as potential partners. As everyone was about to move Sinistra told you all to sit down as she would be choosing  partners. You heard Draco mumble to Blaise about how ridiculous this was and a classic “my father will hear about this”. You quietly giggled to yourself as Professor Sinistra was sorting everyone into partners before you here her call your name, you snap up.

“Y/N, Y/N you will be paired up with …”

You feel your stomach swimming and you can feel yourself tense up a little.

“Draco”

You turn to your right making eye contact with your new partner, breathing out as you had forgotten to while Professor Sinistra was calling your name. You could see that others were defiantly not happy, poor Neville got stuck with Lavender and you were just grateful you weren't her partner. You went to sit with Draco as you could tell he was not keen on moving.

“Hey” you started after half a minute of silence.

“Hey” Draco replied

“This whole choosing partners thing is a little unnecessary” you continue  

“Yeah, but I guess we have to otherwise we’ll unleash all kinds of curses upon us” he lightly laughs

You giggle in response Professor Sinistra could be quite strict at times and you found Draco’s humour towards the project somewhat promising.

You began to research for the remainder of the lesson trying to find what time the constellation is most visible and what it means. Even though Draco didn’t seem keen on the projects he also did some of the research to your surprise and you both decided because you both wanted to do well that the two of you would have to do some more work outside of class.

The next couple of weeks was much more fun than you ever would have expected even if you two were in the library or common room together at least twice a week. With this constant spending time together the both of you began to open up to each other and became friends under these unlikely circumstances. Draco had told you about the stress he receives form his father pressuring him to do really well on his all his classes and O.W.L’s so you offered to help him study which practically doubled the time you both spent together.

Now a little over 4 weeks later in Astronomy you were perfecting and finishing your project and you would now consider Draco a close friend because of this project. The final project is due in 4 days on Monday but you still needed to look at the constellation through a telescope and to take down some final notes. The both of you didn’t want to go to the library as many of the other groups were their because they had partners in different houses. You could have worked on it in the common room too but you had already and you both needed a change of scenery. You went out and sat on the edge of the forbidden forest near the great lake to get a clear view of the sky. You could have probably gone to the astronomy tower but you could get a better view of the constellation from the grounds. Draco and you walked down together with a telescope, some notebooks and quills and your wands, telling him about your day and Draco easily listening to you. When you reached the edge of the forbidden forest that almost links to the great lake you stop and begin to set up while Draco tells you about his day. You sit patiently listening and waiting with him for the sky to turn dark taking notes on the weather and position of the sun incase it effected the view of the constellation. While waiting for the night to come around Draco and you sat by the lake against a tree eating some pink coconut ice and just enjoying each others company. You had noticed that you had slowly and slightly moved closer to him, this caught you mid giggle and caused you to immediately  stop and get butterflies in your stomach.

You weren’t going to deny the fact you had thought about it, because you had and did but all these feeling and jitters were new and unknown till now. You could feel Draco looking at you due to your sudden silence, you smiled to yourself hoping to throw him off. You bit your lip a little all these different thoughts and ideas flying around like hundreds of fireflies trapped in a jar.

“Y/N?” Draco asks “You alright?” finishing a little concerned

“uhhhhh…” you jump “I umm, fine. Yeah” the words spurt out, realising what you said didn’t make sense and sheepishly look towards the sunset in front of you.

“What?” he asks clearly confused “That was absolute gibberish, are you sure your ok?” sounding even more concerned than earlier

“Yeah, sorry” you reply, “that was a bit of nonsense wasn’t it?” you giggle. You turn to your right and get lost in the reflection of the sunset in Draco’s misty grey eyes, his silverly blond hair falling loosely and neatly around his face. You let out a gentle sigh he looked so peaceful, not concerned about his parents or school and the pressure they both provided, it made you happy. Draco then catches you staring and you begin to fill with embarrassment, no way you let this happen you think to yourself. “Y/N, I want to tell you something” he starts, you turn to Draco, oh no all the fireflies of your thoughts about the two of you have now turned dark and are looking for a place to hide burying themselves. Nerves and panic start to sink in, you are preparing yourself to run away not even worried about the project. You stand up ready, so you can run away but Draco grabs your arm “please, just hear me out” he pleads. He then also stand up “Y/N, I’m so glad we have become such close friends and I’m sorry this didn’t happen sooner, I guess its my fault for always being so cold.” His hand still around your wrist and both staring at each other Draco continues “But now I think we should stop this, I don’t want to be friends with you anymore” you gasp for air but cant find it, your eyes begin to water as he talks to you. “No no please don’t cry, it’s not bad, I just…” he is searching for the words he just cant find, the first tear falls to ground under the cover of the dark sky and the stars. “Please no I… Y/N I love you” the words fall out from Draco and take you a second to process

“but… you… us?” you mumble confused

“I know I’m sorry, I’m not the best with expressing my feelings and I got nervous” Draco replies and you can hear the sympathy in his voice “I’m sorry”.

You wipe the tears from your face “Oh Draco” you start, the fireflies are back all these things you want to say “I… I love you too” it feels so natural to say, a weight lifted off your shoulders. Draco stands there almost in disbelief that you actually like him back, stars cloaking the night sky shimming above the both of you. Still so many things you want to say and tell him all these thoughts and feelings, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer fluttering your eyes closed. Your lips touch his, they’re soft, it’s gentle and only lasts a few seconds but feels like forever but also as if time itself has stoped. Pulling away you don’t even believe what has just happened but it’s real and you are so happy it is. You smile at him and he smiles back barely enough light to see but just enough. The two of you finish up the project and headed back towards Hogwarts and Draco had his arm around your waist and all the way back to the common room left a thousand kisses on your head. You will never forget how the stars looked that night.

[sparklycitrus]

Virtus Principalis - Charity (Part 2 of 2)

Remember guys, this is the seven deadly sins. It’s not (just) about our boys being badass motherfuckers, but about them being bad.

I may also have gone a bit off theme but whatever. XD

Virtus Principalis

V. Caritas

(part one here)

The shower, like Q described, is cold and perfectly adequate. Bond scrubs until all signs of blood and dirt and tropical insect bits have been washed away. His camo, however, is a lost cause, so he chucks everything behind a shrub and goes back in as nude as his born day. The Quartermaster did ask, after all, and Bond is not one who disappoints.

Q has moved from his spot on the floor to the threadbare couch. His laptop, sans the thick cable, is perched on the rickety coffee table amidst a large spread of Colombian pesos. A loaded Walther (Q’s) sits to the side, along with some loose bullets, a butterfly switchblade, and box of Cuban cigars. Bond strides over, unabashed, and settles down on the couch. The fabric isn't the smoothest thing rubbing against his bare ass, but Bond’s sat in way worse, and the achieved effect is certainly worth the discomfort.

“There!” Q announces, a bit too loudly. Bond does not miss the furtive look thrown his way before the other resolutely returns to the laptop screen. “Now the Colombian government can’t possibly complain that we've never stuck our necks out for them. Really, every time someone moves a bit of refined coca off grid the entire region goes into fits. And they wonder why we prefer to keep tabs from afar.”

Bond makes a noncommittal noise. His attention has wandered to the cigar box, once he saw the Bolivar brand on the open lid. He distinctly remembers the last time he’s had a good smoke: it was in the backroom of a colonial hotel in Morocco. There were no less than three different guns pointed at his head at the time, but the only thing Bond could focus on then was the heady flavor of the Montecriso No.2 flooding his senses. The experience was regrettably cut short when he had to go out guns blazing. Would've been a remarkably successful mission otherwise.

He reaches for a stick, sliding it under his nose to take in the rich, loamy aroma. An appreciative hum escapes his throat. Beside him Q makes an interruptive noise. Bond looks over, just in time to see a guillotine cutter and a large butane lighter thrust his way.

Bond quirks an eyebrow. “I didn't know you smoke these.”

“I don’t,” Q replies. “The cutter came with the box and the lighter I stripped from a dead body. I doubt he’ll be missing it.”

“Where’s the body now?”

“Somewhere out back. Keeping your clothes company, I imagine. Why are you naked?”

“I clearly remember you asked me to be.”

“Let me rephrase: why have you decided to sit next to me, naked? This couch can’t be too comfortable, not to mention the health implications.”

To provoke you. Isn't it obvious? But Bond doesn't answer, instead he snips off the cigar tip, sniffing deeply once more before lighting it. The drag he takes in is deliberately slow. He knows Q is watching intently while pretending not to. Bond grins. He proceeds to stretch, arching his back and jutting his hips out so that his abs and half-hard erection are on prominent display.  

“Would you rather I sit on top of you naked?” he says.

He’s expecting the scoff but not the laugh that follows. It’s a nice sound, soft and lilting, and Bond feels an overwhelming desire to make it happen again. Q shakes his head, hands instinctively returning to the keyboard. But Bond can see the bright green eyes dancing mischievously even as he refocuses on the screen.

“As much as I enjoy the absurdity of that image, no, thank you, 007. Not my type of thing to unwind with, you see, and completely inappropriate for the current circumstance.”

It has only now gotten inappropriate? Bond chuckles at the thought, then asks, as nonchalantly as he can manage: “Oh? And what, exactly, is your type of thing?”

“Do you really want to know?”

There’s a pause when they turn to assess each other. Q is biting his lip, clearly debating whether to give a real answer. Bond waits, until the other man finally lets out a half-defeated sigh, subsequently closes the laptop and moves it off the table.

“Well, considering extraction is not for another six hours,” Q stands up, cracking the stiff joints of his hands and neck. “I suppose we have time.”

There are things that Bond expects the Quartermaster to dabble in, both as an inquisitive genius and as a member of a deadly organization with literal and figurative blood on his hands. The sheer amount of legal substances the man must've consumed to brave the flight down is already questionable, not to mention their mission has gone on for the past 40 hours with minimal breaks. In truth both of them should be using the precious time they've given to sleep. Instead Bond is sinking in the exquisite slow rush of a Royal Corona, watching his skinny, strait-laced Quartermaster walk toward him holding a brick of pure cocaine like an ordinary mail parcel.

“They aren't going to miss that either?” Bond quips, recalling their previous banter.

“This whole place will be burned down once we leave,” Q shrugs. “Right after they confiscate the valuables and deposit whatever is needed to keep the heads of state securely in power. Hardly something they’ll notice,” he gestured to the large stack of identical bags leaning against the opposite wall. “And even if they do, it’s not like they can openly declare a kilo of cocaine have simply gone ‘missing.’”

“Plan to do all that by yourself?”

Q laughs, the same melodious cadence, and Bond again is confronted with how much he desires it. “A kilo? In under six hours? You know, I've gone on a few binges in my life but, that may be just a tad too much for one person.”

Bond only smiles blandly in return. He relaxes into the couch, a comfortable haze surrounds him as he watches Q slash open the plastic wrap with the switchblade. The spilled white powder blankets the spread of pesos with a pure, crystallized sheen. Q makes a sweep of the notes, scattering them all over while making a clearing on the table. Bond stares.

“What?” the voice is indignant as Q meets his gaze. “No one claims a coke habit is tidy.”

“I see that it’s far from your first rodeo.”

Q answers him with a rude gesture. He then cuts a small amount with the back of the knife, making a neat, narrow line. A 50 mil note quickly becomes a rolled tube with practiced ease. “Bond,” he tsks. “Did you genuinely think those 60-hour shifts are pulled off on the mere merits of Earl Grey?”

He doesn't wait for a response before leaning down to rail the line. A rapturous look soon envelopes his features, and the satisfied sound coming out of that lush mouth sets Bond’s blood on fire. There’s a spot of white hovering just above the thin red lips. Without thinking Bond reaches over, swipes up the bit, and puts it into his own mouth.

It’s some damn fine coke, alright, Bond thinks as the numbness travels up his tongue. The look Q shoots him is positively filthy, and Bond suddenly has the urge to throw the coltish man onto the floor and fuck him, slow and deep. His body reacts at the thought and he makes no moves to hide it. It sounds heavenly in any case.

“Would you like some?” Q asks. His eyes are still lucid and the flush is very faint. Got a tolerance, Bond notes, as another neat line is cut onto the smooth tabletop.

“Not my vice of choice,” he declines, shaking his head.

“Ah, right. Liver failure. Always a pleasant way to go.”

“It’s not nice to judge others’ habits, Quartermaster, when you've just inhaled a gram of pure coke and it’s evidently not enough.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, 007,” Q’s narrows his eyes. “One, I wasn't judging, merely making an observation. And two, please, that was only half a gram, which makes this…”

He bends over and the second line disappears into the paper tube. “…the full amount and quite sufficient, thank you very m – oh!”

Q falls back against the couch with a moan, eyelids fluttering rapidly as the effect kicks in full force. Long, trembling fingers run through the dark curls, traveling down the elegant neck to pull ineffectively at the loose shirt buttons. Bond instinctively reaches out, but before he can touch any exposed skin Q slaps his hands away. He abruptly rolls over, bodily onto the agent, then clumsily deposits himself right into Bond’s lap.

“I’ll have you know, that certain stimulants tend to exacerbate my need to keep myself...busy,” the Quartermaster says as he rubs himself against Bond’s naked torso. The half-finished cigar is plucked from lax fingers and dropped onto the table, and Bond, for a moment, harbors a ludicrous thought to lament the loss. “And I believe, as an elite agent of MI6, it’s your solemn duty to protect your superior from committing any international cybercrime that could potentially endanger the integrity of the entire agency, simply out of boredom.”

“And how do you propose I do that?” Bond smirks. He pulls the man closer, hands sliding up the shirt to finally touch warm skin. Q hovers precariously above him, face flushed and pupil dilated and still covered in someone else’s blood, and Bond has never seen him look more beautiful.

“Oh, you’re a clever and capable man, 007,” Q whispers, lips gently brushing against Bond’s own. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

end

(I erased all my browser history after this because leaving ‘how to snort cocaine’ and ‘drug routes in Colombia’ in your Google search is just not an ideal thing to do.)

Other parts of the ‘sins’ collection: Chastity; Kindness.

[ewshannon]

I Love My Mother's Killer

Photo by: E. W. Shannon (c) 2020

I Love My Mother's Killer

by

E.W. Shannon

At three a.m. on a Sunday morning, through a glass door, I saw mother take her last breath. The ICU doctor warned it wouldn't be a long drawn out process, but I think even the nurse and the respiratory therapist were a bit surprised at how quickly she stopped. Stopped being alive. Stopped being Mabel Harper. Stopped being Mom and Grandma. I was a little shocked at how fast she went from being my mother to being 'the body,' almost as if I could see the tether between her and the ethereal part of the universe sever in front of me.

I stood outside, in my hospital booties, gown, gloves, hair cover, mask, and face shield while they removed her breathing tube. Her nurse, Vanessa, looked up at me when she realized how quick death had come. She came out of the room, took a deep breath, and gave me the news. "I'm sorry Mr. Harper, she's already gone." She paused to let me process and perhaps breakdown. When it became obvious, I wasn't going to go into hysterics, she continued. "Just let the respiratory therapist come out and then you can go in."

"No, that's okay." I started taking off the protective gear and felt guilty at having wasted it just to stand in a hallway. Talking to strangers has never been a strength of mine and the circumstance of my mother's death, or I guess any death, made it even worse. All the autistic tics and traits I had worked so hard on to lessen or get rid of came back like somebody poured them over me from a bucket. The stutter, the inability to look someone in the face, the sweating, all descended upon me at once. "I-I-I-Is there a-a-a-anything else y-y-y-you need from me?"

Vanessa placed a hand on my arm. Even through my shirt and the gown and her glove, I could still feel her warmth. "You want to sit down?"

"N-n-n-n-no, I-I-I-I'll b-b-be okay. I just need to go d-d-d-d-do a b-b-breathing exerc-c-c-c-ise." On top of all the sweating and stuttering I had unconsciously begun crying and hadn't even realized it.

"Okay. Um, no, there's nothing else we need right now from you. We'll call the mortuary and they'll be in contact with you." She half looked at me with pity and half with awe. For months now her world had been a constant dialogue about COVID; for over a week she had seen me as a competent sane man, and now a certified medical freak stood in front of her coming apart at the seams. Having an evolving medical curiosity in front of her must have been a nice change of pace from the pandemic.

"Thank you for e-e-everything."

"No problem. Sorry for your loss." She patted my arm again and I felt her shift internally. Her voice changed into a hospital administrator to catch my attention. "Make sure you leave the face mask on until you leave the building and use hand sanitizer as you exit this unit, as well as when you exit the building downstairs.

"Thank you."

She went back into my mother's room and pulled a curtain across the glass door.

I don't remember leaving the unit, how I got downstairs and exited, how I found my car in the parking garage, or if I ever used any hand sanitizer. I just remember sobbing with my head leaned against the steering wheel, my tears snaking their way through the Chevy emblem before falling into my lap. Eventually I started the car and headed home. At first, I tried to craft what I would say to my daughters, Lily and Layla, but found I could either drive or work on a speech for my girls, but not both. So, I just drove and let my subconscious wander and it wasn't long before it took me back to that innocent day less than a month ago.

It's so stupid really. As a family we had been so careful to self-isolate as a group; it felt like Swiss Family Robinson, but with Wi-Fi. A drive-by birthday party for a seven-year-old is what started the death knell for mother. A boy named Asher, a friend of Lily's, stood in the driveway as, one by one, friends (and their obliging parents) stopped and sang Happy Birthday, hooked a gift bag onto a six foot metal pole usually used for skimming a pool, and then waited for the little boy to yell out "Thank you!" showing off all the open spaces in his mouth where teeth had fallen out as he grinned like an idiot.

The thought of giving Lily a list of rules never occurred to anyone. Her ten-year-old sister held only a tentative grasp on the word 'pandemic.' To Layla it meant the bully she'd acquired at the beginning of the year was now null and void, she could go to class in questionable states of dress at the dining room table, she was no longer the weird kid who ate hummus and sprouts sandwiches alone in the cafeteria, and, most importantly to her, she got to sleep in for an extra hour.

Lily, however, was quite different. Every teacher's report we'd gotten on her included the phrase "social butterfly" or some variation of "very verbal." In every group picture from school, Lily grabbed the focus by placing herself dead center, usually with half the students looking at her rather than the camera. Since birth she had always been everybody’s friend and greeted everyone with a hug. I always imagine her studying Layla and seeing how heavy and dour she was and deciding to be the complete opposite.

So, there we were on a warm day in May, I drove, my wife, Joy, sat up front with me, and my mother sat between Layla and Lily in the back seat. I don't know why I put the car in park that day as we sang and put our bag on the pole. Remembering the 'clunk' of the doors unlocking sometimes wakes me up at night. I can vividly remember the bright green bow falling off the bag and how fast Lily had been at getting out of her booster seat and out of the car. Before my wife or I could comprehend what was happening, she had picked up the bow off the asphalt, playfully stuck it to Asher's forehead, and hugged him. No mask, no gloves, no ridiculous two-foot wide piece of plexiglass like at the grocery store, just two children doing what you want children to do, being caring, thoughtful, kind, unreserved, and picking up their litter.

I wouldn't say our family has any real germaphobes, but we did exercise a bit of caution as the tallies of deaths and infections continued their upward trajectory on the news. Joy and I had surrendered to the idea of life with COVID rather than life after COVID. My wife still went to the grocery store with the girls in tow. My mother made them each twenty masks with different patterns, each girl getting their name embroidered in one of the corners, so instead of telling them they 'had' to wear a mask we just had to say, "Go pick out a special mask to go with your outfit." Of course, they weren't wearing masks that day, as we weren't supposed to be near anyone.

When Lily got back into the car and buckled herself into her booster seat, a noticeable silence that accompanied her. Joy broke the hush. "Here Lily, put some hand sanitizer on." She then covered Lily's little hands with ten pumps of hand gel from a Costco-sized container.

I looked back at Lily's glistening dripping hands and whispered in my wife's ear, "Unless you're going to pump it down her nose and throat, the damage is done."

She turned back around in her seat, put a single pump of hand gel on her own hands and took a deep breath as she nervously rubbed it in. "Yeah, you're right. I mean, what are the odds?" She shrugged her shoulders and gave me an unconvincing smile.

The next day Joy sent an email to Asher's mother to ask, with the utmost of political correctness, if their family might be harboring a deadly contagion. The reply came back quick assuring us that we had nothing to worry about and asking if we might be harboring a deadly contagion. "Remember when these emails were about kids biting and organizing bake sales," I asked her after reading the reply.

The day after that I caught my wife typing in 'how many days for covid symptoms after possible infection.' Before she could press 'enter' I answered her, "Two to fourteen days." She pressed 'enter' anyway and then let out a sigh with her head resting in her hands. "Told ya so."

"It might have updated since you looked." Her tense reply made me get up and massage her shoulders.

"It'll be okay. None of us are sick. Mom's been fine since she moved in after her hip surgery. Worst case, we get sick and we get over it." I tried my best to fill the statement with confidence, but the tiny bit of doubt I let slip by was all she heard. I looked across the foyer and saw Lily in my mother's room, sitting in her lap having a story read to her, and hoped I was right.

Two more days went by and then Joy woke up with flu-like symptoms, achy, fever, a slight cough, but nothing too alarming. The next day Layla woke with similar symptoms, but not as extreme. We tried to go through a drive-up testing site, but once my wife saw the line, she gave the order to turn back. "It's like Schrödinger’s cat, let’s just hope we only have to open two boxes," she said. They each had symptoms for three days and then they cleared. My wife attributed their miraculous recovery to the vegan diet she had put the family on the previous year. I gave more credit to luck.

Day twelve I woke to the sound of a duck on fire quacking from downstairs, at least that's what it sounded like to me. I found my mother in her chair coughing and felt her hot clammy head. "Get dressed Mom, we're going to the hospital." She didn't answer, just shook her head, and shuffled over to her closet. A few hours later she became a patient in the special COVID ward of our local hospital.

A few days later I got a call from Vanessa, just starting the night shift, telling me they had transferred my mother to the ICU and asking if she had a living will. While having a living will makes you feel prepared for death, when somebody outside your family asks to see it, it's the most ominous feeling ever.

Two lights away from the entrance to our neighborhood, in the small hours of the morning with a few of my mother's effects in a hospital bag on the floorboard, I pulled the car over into a 7-Eleven parking lot and vomited all over a Japanese Boxwood. It wasn't a virus causing me to hurl, but a thought, a window into the future. Someday Lily will look back on this, maybe she'll come across one of those masks with my mother's embroidery on it, maybe she'll just remember waking up to the horrible news, but at some point she might make the connection to the bow on Asher's head and her grandmother dying.

[txzolbayar]

Information, Computing, and the Future HW9

1) (a) The Observer Effect: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZDmi8SnxURM

(b) This video starts off by explaining about the observer effect being related to Quantum Mechanics. Giving the audience the example of waves and particles while also stating how reality shows us what we believe. Explaining about the time when scientists tested for particles, they would get particles. In contrast, when they tested for waves, they would get waves. The presenter of the video states that the observer effect is reality agreeing with what the observer believes. He ends the video by saying that people should always think positive in any circumstance as it will give the reality of a positive outcome. 

(c) I really enjoyed this 10-minute video because it really helped in my understanding of the observer effect. Also, it gave good examples for everyone to use to think positively to get positive results. In the presence of the COVID-19 pandemic, this is a good way to think about life. 

(a) The Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TQKELOE9eY4

(b) This video is quite informative and is from a good source, Ted Talk. It explains that the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle states that you can never simultaneously know the exact position and the exact speed of an object. This is explained with the usage of particles and waves. We can measure the momentum of a wave by calculating its wavelengths. However, we cannot do the same with particles. To get a particle with both position and momentum, we need to mix them by having a graph with waves in a small area. However, this causes issues. If you wanted to know the position better, you would need to add more waves. But, this causes a momentum uncertainty. In contrast, if you wanted to know the momentum better, you would need a bigger wave packet. However, this causes a bigger position uncertainty. 

(c) This video was thorough and straight to the point. It also included a nice graphical example to help in understanding. The principle may seem hard to understand but the more times I rewatched the video, the better I understood. 

(a) Quantum Tunneling: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9g0CYhy-Xow

(b) This video starts by stating what quantum tunneling is exactly. It states that quantum tunneling is when an electron passes through a potential barrier. These electrons have wave and particle-like properties. It explains that the tunnel effect is when a quantum object is sent on a thick barrier, it bounces off. However, when the thickness of the barrier decreases, the object may sometimes get through and allows for more tunneling to occur. The thinner the barrier, the more likely the object is to pass through. One cool thing that is mentioned is usage of Scanning Tunneling Microscopes, which is an instrument used for imaging surfaces at the atomic level. This microscope uses a metal made from quantum atoms and electrons. If we approach a thin tip electrically powered, it has the ability to tear the electrons from the metal by tunnel effect. 

(c) This mechanical phenomenon was quite hard to understand at first. However, this video does a good job in helping understanding and how the effect is used in technology. 

(a) The Butterfly Effect: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G2xFJUSLEv8

(b) This video starts off by explaining what the butterfly effect is. It states that the theory behind the butterfly effect is that a small change in one state can result in a large difference in a leter state. It speaks on Edward Lorenz, a mathematician and meteorologist, who came up with the theory when finding out that a small change in a weather predictor tool could form many large changes in the forecast. The video is quite good in giving historical real life events as examples of the butterfly effect. One of those examples was the people who missed work at the World Trade Center on September 11th of 2001. This simple and common thing like not showing up to work one day possibly saved the lives of these people.     

(c) This video was very well made with all the historical examples that really helps in understanding this theory. While the butterfly effect is a simple theory, it holds a lot of value. Everyone, including myself, can relate to it. By thinking about how certain things could have been very different with the path you chose. It really makes you question your decision-making at times. It reminds me of the time that I got in a car accident on a side road as I was trying to beat the traffic on the freeway. Now that I think about it, if I had just gotten on the freeway instead of trying to rush home, I would have prevented the car accident from happening. 

(a) External perturbations: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VjP90rwpBwU

(b) I couldn’t find a video online that was of quality related to this spoilsport of prediction. However, I found a video that explained the Lorenz attractor to the most basic level. I think this is quite important and relates a great deal to external perturbations. The video explains that Lorenz found three simplified equations used to model convections with only three variables that change overtime. When the equations are set, calculated, and then graph by a 3-dimensional computer, the position of the first point is arbitrary. However, the positions that follow are based on its previous position. The video shows that the points never appear on the same spot twice. This form has the shape of a mathematical infinity symbol. When an experiment of placing 100 different points at random positions occurs in the video, the form eventually leads to Lorenz attractor after many iterations. However, the points of the three equations never meet. This shows that the small differences in their starting positions lead to big differences in the future. 

(c) This video is short and sweet. However, it is so valuable and helped me grasp the ideology behind the Lorenz attractor in a mathematical and scientific way. 

(a) Existentialism: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H_tgqj9MU8M

(b) This video starts off by noting the philosophers that laid the foundation for existentialism. The basic meaning is that existence of oneself precedes essence. In other words, we as individuals have to create our own lives, values, and selves. It states that existentialism doesn’t really believe in the existence of god and fate. It is the understanding that what happens to someone is solely up to them. There is no destiny in life. Everything is based on your choice. Some existentialists believe we live in a senseless world with never having the answer to what the meaning of life is. However, existentialism doesn’t really mean that everyone is living a meaningless life. It is about the responsibilities we have to follow through with the choices we make to go down a certain path. 

(c) To be honest, before watching this video, I never truly understood what existentialism meant. However, I have a good understanding of it now. This video does a good job of explaining with a nice graphical presentation in a short period of time. 

(a) The care horizon: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nfkqCv3Rd_g

(b) I couldn’t find a video with the title of just “care horizon” after looking online. However, I decided to search with the topic as “time value of money” to get a somewhat related information on it. This video starts off by asking if you would rather have $100 now or $200 sometime in the future. It states to answer that question intelligently, you would need to know the time of when you will receive the $200 and the interest rate of it. It states that time is money and the value of money depends on time. Given the time of 2 years and 10% interest to receive the $200, calculations indicate that you would receive $165.29. This is a $65.29 increase than receiving $100 now. However, if the question asked was would you rather have $100 now or $100 in two years. There would be a decrease in money in those two years.  

(c) I liked this video because it was concise, articulate, and clear in understanding. Macroeconomics is quite interesting to me but I never had a good understanding of it. This video definitely helps in my understanding of it. 

2) The Observer Effect: This theory can be very useful for Deepfakes. Many people may assume Deepfakes as this negative and threatening technology tool. However, if you were to view it in a more positive outlook, the tool could be used with a lot of benefits.

The Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle: In terms of uncertainty, I think with how new Deepfake technology is, it is quite uncertain about the future of it. Especially with the detection of it, uncertainty is an understatement. However, having a bigger dataset with a high performing graphics card and algorithm is the only way of lowering this uncertainty.

Quantum Tunneling: It is quite hard to compare this theory to my project topic. However, just like how thinner the barrier, the more likely a tunneling could occur. The more dataset you work with, the better chance you have at Deepfake creation and detection. 

The Butterfly Effect: I think this theory can be used in most topics. In Deepfakes, a small difference could have a big impact in the quality of it. Especially in the creation of one, a couple of more iterations through the dataset will make a big difference in the outcome. 

External perturbations: Similar to the butterfly effect, when a dataset is trained to a deepfake video, the points depend on its previous point to be able to calculate the results. 

Existentialism: Deepfakes relate to this theory in the way that the usage and detection of it is dependent on the choices of researchers and developers. It is the responsibility of these people to make sure we are able to prevent the malicious use of it. 

The care horizon: This theory may not relate too greatly to my project topic. However, it would be hard to estimate how much money and time will go into the research of Deepfake, considering the fact that it is quite a new technology with a lot of unknown circumstances.

3) 

5 years - Research and development of Deepfake detectors will be pushed by corporations and governments to stop the malicious usage of it.

10 years - More legal consequences will be created by the judicial system to prevent the malicious usage of Deepfakes and protect the privacy of online users.

20 years - The advancements of Deepfakes will allow for quicker iterations and more quality in picture, especially with the movement and tendencies of a human.

50 years - The usage of Deepfakes in videos and pictures could be more recurred as there will be more advancements in it and allows creators to edit the product without having actual people there.   

100 years - The idea of virtual humans will become more apparent and more advanced with the help of Deepfakes.

200 years - The development and implementation of virtual humans that can interact like a real human being will be popular. 

1,000 years - The ability to detect and stop malicious intentions for Deepfakes will be highly developed.

10,000 years - Deepfakes could be used in security and identification of individuals. Could be useful for the legal and justice system.

1,000,000 years - Deepfakes will be everywhere. However, with quite a good identification and detection system, it will be easy to identify the malicious and fake ones. 

4) Asimov’s “The Last Question” is quite entertaining and definitely sparks a food for thought. To many people, the ability of computers becoming too “smart” is quite a scary thought. In terms of singularity concept, it always reminds me of the quote, “a computer is only as smart as the human that created it.” However, humans are not perfect. We make mistakes. Computerized technology when given a task, usually performs it with high accuracy compared to humans. So, I truly believe in and fear the singularity concept. After researching and reading about Kurzweil’s views on singularity, it has definitely sparked my interest and I plan on giving his book, “The Singularity Is Near,” a read sometime soon. I agree with Kurzweil’s views in a way due to the endless advancements in technology. We already see that computers can perform certain tasks better than a human. This supports his ideology of machine intelligence becoming smarter than humans. The more I read about Ray Kurzweil on a personal level, the more I seemed to agree with his beliefs. He is agnostic about the existence of a soul and I sometimes have the thought of this as well. I like how he was able to reverse his diabetes through a strict diet and medical help. It definitely shows how improvements made in the medical field through technology have helped save many lives and allowed for longer lives. 

5) This week I started working on the creation of my powerpoint slides. I have a list of references that I will use in my research that will help me in figuring out my information to tell. My main focus for this week was the positive impact Deepfake technology can have. I believe that it is important to note the optimistic educational view on Deepfake rather than just giving my audience the dangers of it. 

https://artificialintelligence-news.com/2019/08/05/dont-believe-your-eyes-exploring-the-positives-and-negatives-of-deepfakes/

The above article is a good one that explores the positive features of Deepfake technology and will be useful for my project presentation.

Along with the research, I have started on my tutorial of creating a Deepfake video using deepfacelab. I currently have trained my video through 30,000 iterations. The below image shows the face of singer Freddie Mercury on a clip from a movie based on his band called Bohemian Rhapsody. 

6) 

Slide 1 - Title Page with name, topic title, class number

Slide 2 - Introduction to Deepfake

Slide 3 - What exactly is Deepfake?

Slide 4 - Examples of popular Deepfakes

Slide 5 - How Deepfakes are created?

Slide 6 - How Deepfakes are created? (continued)

Slide 7 - How Deepfakes are created? (continued)

Slide 8 - The dangers of Deepfakes

Slide 9 - The legal consequences of Deepfakes

Slide 10 - The detection of Deepfakes

Slide 11 - The steps being taken in the detection process

Slide 12 - The steps being taken in the detection process (continued)

Slide 13 - The deepfake I have created 

Slide 14 - The deepfake I have created (continued)

Slide 15 - The deepfake I have created (continued)

Slide 16 - The deepfake I have created (continued)

Slide 17 - The future of Deepfake 

Slide 18 - Conclusion

Slide 19 - References

Slide 20 - Questions

[stevedonnellyfaith-blog]

Family Gatherings (Post 118) 12-2-15

About two months ago Pam's mother Barb let me know about that Pam's Aunt Patty was planning a family reunion for the Saturday after Thanksgiving and asked us if we would be able to make it down.  I told her we would attend as my social calendar is as empty as the state of Wyoming in a spring snow storm.  I think my next semi-firm appointment is my brother's retirement from the Navy this spring. I don't count the plant Christmas party because really that is business.  

I will probably attend that as well, as my office mate has solemnly promised me that he will not twerk this year.  Several people have offered to provide me with video clips of his outstanding performance last year, but I am a "no twerking none of the time" type of guy.  Anyway I guess I have a few things I will be going to this holiday season, but a trip down to Maryland sounded like a good way for Natalie to get to meet more of Pam's family than she has gotten to see since we migrated back East.

Although Abby had made plans to spend Thanksgiving with her friend Tyler in New York City, she arranged her schedule so that she could catch a bus down to Baltimore on Friday morning.  As usual, she had everything about her week in New York and the transit south to meet up with the rest of the family planned down to a tee.  Nicholas also performed to his consistent level of planning efficiency by forgetting to ask off from work at O'Reilly's Auto Parts but that was serendipitous for me as his oversight freed me from having to kennel the two dogs that my middle children conned me into allowing them to purchase nearly two years ago.  One of the two critters is actually lying on my legs and gnawing on a raw hide product as I am typing.

So everything about the trip to Maryland went smoothly unless you count the text message that I got almost immediately after leaving my Ohio house. It was from Tyler who let me know Abby's schedule because Abby had left her phone accidentally in Tyler's dormitory room and was headed to Baltimore incommunicado - something no normal person has considered doing on purpose since 2005.  Unfortunately for Abby, I had goofed off that morning and slept in late enough so that my vector was trailing her now silent arrival into the greater Baltimore area by several hours.  Luckily, Barb was able to coordinate an effective meetup without the need of cellular communication.  I wasn't all that disturbed as the rendezvous was in broad daylight at the White Marsh park-and-drive which, in no way, resembles the hood.

Stephen, Natalie and I arrived at Barb's house a few hours later to find Abby and Denny, Pam's father, binge watching some type of post zombie apocalypse martial arts cable series of which I had never heard.  Abby had planned to stay at the house with Denny, Barb, Pam's brother and his son.  She wanted to do what she could to cheer up Denny who was recovering from shoulder surgery and has been feeling out of sorts.  In retirement Denny likes to keep busy but physical activity does not mix well with a shoulder sling.  My father-in-law looked quite pleased to have his granddaughter handy for watching what looked to me to be the modern equivalent of a spaghetti western.

The rest of us, on the other hand, were scheduled to stay with Pam's uncle Johnnie, a retired probation officer who lives alone in the old house that his father had built for the family fifty or sixty years previous.  Johnnie gets a kick out of Natalie and Abby, but was quite satisfied to have at least one of them under his roof, which is located about twenty minutes away and within a couple of minutes' drive of the family plot where Pam is buried along with her grandparents.  We met up with Johnnie at one of Pam's sisters' houses located another twenty minutes from Pam's folk's house in another direction entirely.  Pam's Baltimore-centric immediate family does a Friday night post-Thanksgiving left-over pot luck that was quite enjoyable.  Plates cleared, we trailed behind Uncle Johnnie, or UJ as the kids call him, back towards his Hanover, MD abode after the dinner broke up.

I stayed up a while talking with him after Natalie shuffled off to her guest bedroom.  Stephen and I were sleeping in the living room.  I enjoy talking to Johnnie as he and I share many interests.  His politics are more conservative than mine and he prefers the Latin Mass only while I am more Catholic with respect to my Catholic masses, but we both share a love for military history.  With regard to the Civil War, he likes the gentility of the Gray while I prefer the idealism of the Blue.  I am forever a Yankee in all respects other than baseball, but Johnnie and I appreciate each other's opinion.  We also share an unspoken camaraderie as circumstances have turned both of our lives into sometimes lonely but not morose slogs in the footprints of those who have preceded us towards and though the veil to eternal life.

We woke up relatively late, breakfasted and made a quick stop at the cemetery for a visit with Pam and her grandparents before heading to the family reunion on the Eastern Shore of Maryland.  Natalie was pleased that her memorial stones painted as a butterfly and hamburger were still in the same positions on the graves where she had left them in September.  Some poor soul had pilfered the bronze vase from the marker assembly of Pam's grandmother, but Johnnie was already aware of the desecration and seemed resigned to the fact that we live among a generation of grave robbers.  

After a short visit and no tears we began a much longer car trip than I expected to where Barb's other sibling, Patty, now resides.  Her husband, a twice retired cop - formerly a barracks commander for the State Police and then a County Sherriff - has now found work in an unelected second-in-command at the Sherriff's office of a county that is very close to a place called Ocean City that I had heard of but never visited.  I believe that Ocean City is a Maryland equivalent of the Jersey Shore without as much swearing and orange toner.  That might be an inaccurate characterization as I am a rank amateur with respect to Maryland cultural studies.

The journey did include a fly-by of Annapolis, my stomping ground several decades previous, but mostly the drive broke new ground for me.  I am sure that I probably have been across the Bay Bridge - Chesapeake version, but I didn't really remember the road or the scenery.  I did notice a definite improvement in how property was maintained in the towns of the Eastern Shore in comparison with some of the Baltimore neighborhoods we had driven through the previous day.  Things appeared conservatively well-kept if not crazy wealthy and the drive was a pleasant one.  I was just glad that the reunion was not planned for the summer as there seemed to be only one main drag, Route 50, which probably would be grossly inadequate for the onslaught of weekend beachcombers if we were visiting in the last days of July instead of the final November weekend.

Once we arrived, we enjoyed the party although we found the festivities slightly divided along family lines as many reunions tend to be.  Patty's relatives tended to congregate in the living room and sun room of the house, while her husband's relations mostly conversed in the kitchen and family room.  It was a natural division and an amicable one.  I had joined the family over a quarter century pervious and had encountered a couple of Scott's extended family members less than a handful of times.  

I caught up with the lives of those few that I knew, but mostly played wingman for Johnnie when I wasn't conversing with Abby.  Natalie played with the pack of collective kiddies, while Stephen wandered around the yard which had little bit of a beachhead on a creek-side location that let into a river then into the Chesapeake and eventually into the Atlantic. I was disappointed not to catch of whiff of salt marsh, an odor that evokes my seafaring days.  Unfortunately, this property was more inland and manicured like a golf-course in a tasteful and charming sort of way.  Perhaps Copperopolis, Round Valley and Muir Wood has spoiled me so that I can now only appreciate the breathtaking.  Ohio fall forest colors does fit the bill, though.

While we were frittering through the afternoon in small talk over light snacks, I did catch a bad vibe from Johnnie.  The nexus of his discomfort seemed to be the respective spouses of the brother and sister who had been the flower girl and ring bearer at my wedding what seems like eons ago.  To my eye both had married well.  The ring bearer had picked up the tools of the family trade, a badge and pistol of some sort.  His spouse was a pretty blonde whose slim waist seemed in congruent with her three rug rats that I could see pictured in the family portrait on the coffee table next to where we sat.  His sister had married a nice looking young man that was thoroughly balding but pretty athletic for a posture that was probably pushing thirty-five. I watched him pitch whiffle balls to his two pre-school aged sons alternately.  The younger one was a tiger. 

I didn't see the problem, so Johnnie explained the issue.  Both the spouses were atheists and none of the kids had been baptized.  Under closer observation, I noticed that neither of the spouses really smiled or enjoyed other people. Maybe they were put off by being tertiary participants in a family gathering that didn't interest them, but they seemed to be alone within a large group of joyous people. It is possible that other people were thinking the same thoughts about me, but their separation seemed to be palpably different, and I considered adding the two of them to my prayer list, but I didn't know their names.  Johnnie couldn't provide them, he said that he had never been introduced in the half decade since the two joined the family.  Evidently, both the flower girl and ring bearer live quite close to Johnnie, but there is no contact between them. I expect that UJ is the Godfather of both of them as he is to one of my children.

 The separation seemed strange and disheartening to the both of us.  Both of the little families had raised high bulwarks to prevent any possible intrusion of Jesus Christ. I expect that someday and unforeseen tragedy will visit them in their purposefully insular worlds and they will discover that their walls bricked to keep out Our Savior will unfortunately form a bathtub of pain for them to marinate in.  Neither Johnnie, Jesus nor I are satisfied with that situation, but we respect and disagree with their choices as responsible adults.  

I am not a particularly good prayer warrior, but I do plan to spend some time praying for something to innocuously breach the walls of their atheistic aquaria.  Advent seems like an excellent time to affix our eyes on a better outcome for whatever relatives and friends we have that have chosen problematic paths that are currently orientated away from True North.