#((this is NOT meant to be actually mean this is not a real threat to anyone ever))
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ray935sworld · 1 day ago
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~ 2025 season Marmarc snippet ~
This is a first draft cause I wanna write and share my writing but uni is a bitch so no editing and/ or real introduction but somehow it got longe enough and now it's an actual story and not but who cares. 🐢, this is for you, my dear. 🙃
"Alex is pretty stressed" Marc said as he sat down next to Bez on the bed. The young man looked at him with tired eyes. He blinked a few times, clearly trying to let the conversation continue.
They hadn't seen each other for the whole day. And it had been a long and tiring day for both of them.
Softly he asked. "Oh no, is he okay?" "Yeah..." he reassured him. "It's just - Nadja said he's supposed to finish in the top 5. That's a pretty big ask. I mean, I believe in him but Aldeguer got a better deal. I mean, he's asked to be rookie of the year. He only has to beat a fucking aprilla and a Honda. That's not really hard and-"
"The fuck you just said?" Marco interrupted and sat up with an angry glance. His until then half closed eyes went wide. Marc blinked in confusion about to ask what was wrong when he remembered that his boyfriend was no longer riding a Ducati.
He felt the heat creep up in his cheeks, embarrassed to be caught like that. He stared at Bez, realizing how deep his words had to run and he knew he had fucked up. "I - No, baby, that's not what I meant-" he said quickly, reaching for the younger one, hoping the physical contact might settle his anger.
"A rookie on an aprilla. Not you. No, never you. A rookie on a aprilla isn't that big of a threat to a Ducati but you-" Bez scoffed. He had turned away, not leaning into Marcs touch. Something he had never done before. The rejection broke a small part of the Spaniards heart.
He watched how he turned his head away to avoid his touch in his cheeks. He saw how he pulled his legs away as if Marc's touch would burn him. "You know what? Go fuck yourself." he said and stood up.
He was already up when Marc grabbed his arm. He hung onto his wrist. He felt his skin and for a moment he felt settled. "No please. Listen, I-" But his boyfriend moved his hand away.
Marc wouldn't force it, so he let go. He stared at him, begging silently. He knew he had fucked up. He knew his phrasing could have been better. He knew it. But he had been to tired to realize beforehand. But at least Bez turned around. "I believed you when you said that aprilla was good... You know how anxious I was about the decision and you lied!"
The Ducati rider swallowed. He did remember the discussions they had about the younger ones move. At first it was just a theoretical question but at the end, Marco spoke openly about it. And Marc had encouraged him.
"I didn't!" he reassured him. "You did!" "I didn't! You asked if it'd be the right choice. And I always said yes because-" "And that was a lie!" "No! I honestly think it's the right choice... For you. I mean - look." He took a deep breath.
"You weren't happy in the last year. Like - not at all. The team didn't make you happy anymore-" "Do NOT talk about them like that. They are my friends!" he shot back, anger lingering in his voice. Mentally Marc took a step back. "I'm not saying they aren't." he said softly. He hoped a soft tone might calm him down.
"I'm just saying that maybe... You know... You wanting to make them - especially Rossi - proud wasn't excatly helping." "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" "Marco, I really don't think it's my place to-" "Say it, Marquez, or I'm walking out of here."
He felt his anxiety rise. No. He couldn't let Marco walk out of here, angry, sad. Maybe he wouldn't come back.
"I'm... I'm saying that as your boyfriend, who loves you like crazy, not as a rider, okay?" He looked at Bez, begging him to understand. And he did. The Italian looked at him and replied, slightly calmer "Okay." So Marc explained.
"You weren't happy in the team. You wanted to make them proud because of what they did for you. You felt you were obligated to archive something because you know how happy they were in 2023 and you couldn't do that in 2024. Or at least not in the same amount. You became desperate and angry at yourself and helpless. And I couldn't find a way to help you - until - well until you told me about that offer for Aprilla."
He remembered all the times Bez had stormed into the motorhome and growled something about 'this fucking bike' just to then bury his head in Marc's chest. Sometimes he had cried. Sometimes he had just laid there, pretending the world wasn't there. Marc hated it every time.
He wanted his boyfriend back. The one that came skipping in, a big grin on his face. He didn't care if it was because of Rubik or because of a podium he had scared but he needed that smile back. But during the last season it was like nothing really bought Bez joy, like his whole happiness was swallowed by his fear and anxiety and not even Marc could do anything about it.
"So yes, I said that it was the best decision for you. And maybe - yes it was selfish that my support was mainly based on the fact that I didn't want to see my happy, cheerful boyfriend go down the same rabbit hole as last year."
He felt tears in Hi eyes as he recalled the past.
"But fucking hell - I thought I'll lose you." he said in all honesty. "You can't seriously expect not to encourage you to take a way out. Yes the aprilla is worst than the Ducati. But that's a fact. You knew that when you took the offer. I didn't say anything against that. So yeah - as a rider - maybe you should have stayed on a Ducati because at the moment they are the best"
He saw teh way Bez eyes widen for a moment. But they both knew he was just stating facts.
"But the bike wasn't working for you. And maybe the 2024 or 2025 bike wouldn't work for you either. And I highly suspect that and I'm sorry for that. But maybe the Aprilia works better. I'm sure it will. Marco, I believe in you. You're one of the best riders on the grid. I know you can succeed... But it's not worth your mental and physical health. You can't ask me to actually support that when it's unlikely that it will work"
Marco looked at him, the anger in his eyes gone again.
"And if it doesn't work? If I lose the seat and no one's wanna take me?" "Than they are stupid idiots. Who cares?" "What if that moves destroys my career? Would you-" "If you ask me if I'd still love you if you weren't a motogp rider, I'll throw a cushion in your face. Of course I'd still love you. I love you like crazy. Don't tell me you can't see that? Please, don't tell me I've been that much of a bad boyfriend that you don't even believe that I love you regardless of what you do?"
Finally Bez sat down again, this time right on Marcs lap, which made the older one laugh.
"I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. I shouldn't have jump at you like taht because of it" Marco mumbled, his face hidden in Marc's shoulder. He just leaned against him.
"No you're not. It's okay. I love you. I love you so, so incredible much" "I love you too"
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vaguely-concerned · 3 months ago
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in his and davrin's banters, lucanis exhibits a certain little shit energy I don't think we see him have with anyone else other than illario and honestly I am living for this
#dragon age#dragon age: the veilguard#dragon age: the veilguard spoilers#dragon age spoilers#lucanis dellamorte#davrin#also that's really interesting. with illario it's clearly not ever meant to wound but it serves a similar function of 'hey fuck off'#they have that friendly insult game going that veils some real resentments and conflicts that perhaps. should have been dealt with#considering that you could hardly find two people less alike in fundamental character than davrin and illario... fascinating#I suppose both of them push past lines of comfort and don't really let up at subtler signals to back off#(illario to needle and davrin mostly because he's that straightforward I think haha)#but the sheer viciousness with which lucanis responds makes me think there could mayhaps be some resentment with that dynamic#that he won't let out with illario himself b/c he has so few interpersonal relationships and wouldn't risk disrupting one#even when illario is getting up to some Shit even outside of the whole betrayal thing#and davrin is sooo uninterested in doing anything but call 'em as he sees 'em and it's glorious haha#it also means that I think lucanis is more honest in those banters than he is with anyone else I've seen#including the fact that he's mad and that the ossuary really did suck that bad actually#with bellara he's like 'don't worry about me I'm fine *thousand yard stare*' and with davrin he goes 'yeah I'm haunted forever by it.#does that satisfy your curiosity' lmao. and then they're just trading barely veiled death threats for a while#davrin is confrontational but he's also a safe person to be angry with b/c I think at the end of the day he is also fair#many thoughts. all the time. all veilguard up in my neurons 24/7
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doctorr-ivo-robotnik · 11 days ago
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The reformed doctor ivo robotnik-stone's (stone-robotnik?) new villain origin story: tails's massive stobotnik fanfic goes on a long hiatus
Tails if you abandon this fic now of all times I'm going to break the truce and dissect your brother.
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happy74827 · 7 months ago
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A Smile From Hell
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[Homelander x Female!Reader]
Synopsis: Despite the amount of unpredictability The Homelander has, he still catches you off guard with something as small as a smile.
WC: 3576
Category: Angst, Supe!Reader {TW — Homelander for obvi reasons}
In honor of Season 4’s weekly releases, this one is for the Antony Starr girlies (and you @summerrivera777777)
『••✎••』
John fucking terrified you.
He terrified everyone, really.
He had the power to level an entire city block with a glance. He was strong enough to crush a man's skull with one hand and fast enough to catch a bullet. He was an unstoppable force of nature. He was The Homelander, and he was a threat to anyone who stood in his way.
But, the thing was...
You knew everything about him. Everything.
And he absolutely despised that, but there was nothing he could do to change it. You had seen him at his most vulnerable and pathetic. You had seen his humanity, it’s amazing he still has any after the way Vought has abused him, and you had seen his inhumanity.
Jessica, or Sister Sage, had confronted you on several occasions, trying to get you to tell her your secrets. She wanted the upper hand on her arch nemesis, the only one in the world who was a threat to her. It was her mission to end the reign of the superhero she hated most, and she was willing to do anything for it.
You could see right through her, and you didn’t need magnificent amounts of intelligence to do so. You could see the fear in her eyes. You could see the doubt in her face, hear the strain in her voice, feel her uneasiness when she was near him.
John knew it, too. He just simply chose to ignore it. He had grown used to being the scariest man in the room. It’s been that way his whole life, and it seemed it was going to stay that way.
But, despite all that fear, she came to you for answers. Again.
And this time, the question was a simple one. It was so simple, yet completely understandably complicated.
How are you allowed to live?
That was a question that stumped you. It took you a long time to grasp the meaning of it, the specific answer she was looking for.
After a few clarifications, you finally understood what she meant.
She wanted to know why John allowed you to live. She wanted to know why he hadn’t killed you. She wanted to understand why you were the only person alive after calling him by his name.
Not his stage name, his real name.
For being the most intelligent person on the planet, you’d think that she’d be able to understand it. I mean, the answer was right there, in front of her face. She didn't need to be a genius to figure it out; all she needed was a little more insight.
A little bit of understanding.
"Respect," you said, your voice soft. Your words were clear, though, and she heard them perfectly.
The confusion on her face was evident, as was her disbelief.
"What?"
"It's respect. Anyone I respect is someone that deserves my respect."
She snorted.
"Right," she said. "Like he could actually respect anything other than himself."
"He's capable of it if that's what you're thinking," you told her. "And this isn’t about him respecting me; it's about me respecting him."
She narrowed her eyes at you, her suspicion rising.
"Why would you respect him?" she questioned. "You're not blind; you know exactly who he is."
Yes, you did. You knew more than most, and compared to The Seven now, you probably knew the most. His actions? Completely unredeemable. He was, in fact, a monster; there was no arguing that. He was a horrible, twisted, monstrous individual; no one would deny it.
His actions weren’t excusable, but he had an explanation. A reason for why he was the way he was.
He wasn’t born a monster; he was turned into one. That… that was the respect part. You respected him because you respected his story. You respected his pain. You respected his anger.
You respected his past; anything after that was on him.
"I don’t like using stage names to those I respect enough, so I call him John. He allows it because he knows I don’t mean it the way others would if they used his name; it doesn't hold the same power with me."
She rolled her eyes at you.
"Same goes for you, Jessica; I have no desire to call you Sister Sage."
Her flinch was barely visible, but you still caught it. Again, what is intelligence if not knowing the chances of a particular outcome?
"I’ve noticed you don’t call Deep or that fire chick by their real names."
You just smiled, leaving her to solve that answer for herself, and it didn’t take long at all. You knew the exact moment she came up with a conclusion. She was quite predictable, in that regard. Maybe you should’ve been the big-brained hero instead.
And now, you really should’ve been because when you turned down the hall, catching wind of the elevator doors opening, you knew he had listened to it all.
But you didn’t say anything, and you really didn’t say anything after a simple glance at him.
He was completely drenched in blood, a look that would terrify even the toughest of men. But not you, oh no, you were very used to that. He’s done a lot worse.
Besides, you were too distracted by the fact that the blood wasn't his. Too distracted by noticing how this time was different. He was smiling, but it wasn’t his usual cruel smile. This time, it was genuinely happy.
Relief, almost.
It reminded you of the night you two bonded. No, not that type of bond. The bond that told you both that you weren’t alone.
He had a friend, but he wasn’t really your friend. You don’t believe you could ever consider him one. Not really, not with the things he has done.
But, still, you were the closest thing he had to a friend. You were the closest he had to an equal, a person he could relate to. Jessica carried the same intelligence (obviously a lot more), but the similarities between the two of them stopped there.
You had a similar history but different outcomes.
And that reveal between the two of you happened that night. This was way back, even before Starlight joined. Back when The Seven was in its prime.
Stillwell threw a party, something she always loved to do before Teddy became her focus. It was the usual: people in fancy dresses and suits, lots of champagne and liquor.
The difference, however, was the main focal point. Usually, given Vought’s status, all of The Seven members were the main event. Everyone was mandated to wear their hero outfits. It was a great way to advertise and get people to buy more of the products.
The theme this time, however, wasn’t about the group. It wasn’t about any of you. For the first time in a long while, John wasn’t in the spotlight.
Due to this, Stillwell banned everyone from wearing their costumes. No capes, no spandex, no leather, no masks. Just suits and dresses.
It was nice, actually. A little break from the norm. It felt good to go a night without the tight leather on your skin. You were actually surprised at how well it was received.
The rest of the members of the group seemed to be having a wonderful time as well.
Except for one.
He was standing in the corner, glaring at everyone. Madelyn had an entire argument with him about the suit. You weren’t there, but you knew exactly how it went.
His costume was a part of him. It was a symbol. It was a mask. A representation. An embodiment of who he was. Without it, he was a naked target.
Madelyn clearly did not give a single shit. In the end, the argument resulted in the two of them getting into a screaming match, causing him to storm off in a fit of rage.
So, there he was, standing alone, seething at anyone who passed him. Madelyn won; of course, she did, and she didn't even bother trying to apologize. She wasn't sorry.
She was just mad that he refused to listen in the first place.
But, hey, that wasn’t your problem. You were enjoying yourself. The night was going pretty well; the alcohol was flowing nicely, and the music was just right. You were dancing and laughing and having a great time.
But, of course, things weren't always easy for you.
You weren’t expecting it to last long; you weren’t one to have good luck. You knew, deep down, that the night was going to come crashing down on you. You were just waiting for the ball to drop.
The ball dropped the moment you decided to go cheer up the sourpuss.
It was obvious the way his shoulders tensed, and his head tilted ever so slightly. He knew you were approaching. He was aware.
"Don't," he said.
He was clearly angry, and you weren’t smart enough not to push. This is where Jessica’s powers would have benefited you greatly.
You ignored his warning, walking up beside him, mocking his stance.
"You okay?" you asked, your tone soft and light, a hint of playfulness.
His eyes flicked over to you, and the glare he gave was terrifying. His eyes were so intense, and his teeth were clenched. You could see his jaw tensing.
He was a volcano, ready to erupt.
You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.
"I'm fine." Humorously enough, it sounded like the opposite.
"Really?"
He turned his head to look at you, his anger increasing by the second.
"Don’t you have anything better to do?"
You shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm choosing to talk to you."
He looked away from you, grumbling, "And why's that?"
"Because you’re ruining the party," you answered. "Miserable face and all."
He rolled his eyes. He actually does this a lot, believe it or not. It's the only expression he has besides anger that isn’t fake.
"And why do you care?"
You shrugged again. "I care about enjoying myself, and I can't do that when you're moping."
He turned his head towards you. He was not amused.
"Go find someone else to entertain yourself with.” He pointed behind him. "I’m sure Deep will be glad to show off his fish facts."
That one caused you to make the same face he had moments ago. The absolute look of disgust on your face was enough to bring a smug grin to his own.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
"Don't make me throw up, John."
The name.
It was a simple slip-up, nothing more. But, of course, it meant so much more. This was before everything, so it doesn’t seem likely that a slip-up like that wouldn’t result in consequences, but it secretly was a turning point.
He could've killed you.
He could've easily grabbed you and thrown you across the room, and no one would be able to comprehend what had happened until after you were unrecognizable.
He didn't, though.
No, instead, he stared at you, his face blank, and his mind processing. You were nervous, of course. You had no idea what was going on in his head.
After a minute, a look of realization came upon him, and you could see the exact moment the gears started turning.
Then, a simple hum fell from his lips. One said he wasn’t expecting it but was deciding whether to accept it.
Then, after a few seconds, his face relaxed. His jaw was unclenched, his eyes softened, and his eyebrows relaxed.
"Let’s have a chat."
Uh oh. That’s a code red—a sign of danger.
You were so done.
And yet, for some odd reason, you followed him. You don’t know why. It was a stupid move, in your opinion. You should've run while you had the chance. You should’ve listened and just punched fishlips or something.
You didn’t, though.
You followed him, allowed him to fly you somewhere private, and just waited. You waited for your imminent doom. You were going to die; you were sure of it.
But, for some reason, your death never came.
Instead, the two of you landed on the tower’s roof, the cold New York air hitting you hard. He had set you down on your feet and went all the way to the railing.
You stood awkwardly, waiting for him to turn around with those beams in his eyes, but they never came.
He was just looking out into the city, his back turned to you, his hands on the railing.
After a few minutes of silence, he turned his head, looking at you through the corner of his eye.
"Aren't you going to ask?"
Ask what? What was there to ask?
There were plenty of things to ask, actually, and yet you had no idea what the right thing to ask was. Because, again, even here, he was unpredictable and unreadable.
You didn't want to anger him; you knew that for sure. But you were also tired of his mind games. It was a constant battle of wit, and you were sick and tired of being left in the dust.
So, you chose something simple to say. Something easy, yet not so simple to answer.
"Are you going to kill me?"
You wouldn’t be surprised if he turned around with a smile and answered yes.
He didn’t, though. Oh no, he stayed turned, staring into the city, his eyes searching. Searching for what you didn't know.
"No."
Simple and clear.
You didn't respond, and he didn't elaborate. It was silent, and it was cold, and it was a tense moment.
But you didn't leave. You just watched him, watched his movements. The way his shoulders hunched over, his head tilting down, the grips on the railing, the way his hair slowly became unstuck due to the wind.
You always thought his hair looked better when it wasn't slicked back, but this is the first time you've ever seen it that way. It was… it was nice.
Then, his shoulders relaxed, and his head straightened. He didn’t turn around, and he didn’t speak. He just looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes piercing yours.
Even with a few strands of hair on his face, his eyes were so sharp and clear. So blue. So cold.
It felt like they were reaching deep into your soul.
It was terrifying. He was terrifying.
"Do you remember your parents?"
The question took you by surprise. It wasn’t what you were expecting, but then again, this whole encounter was the definition of unexpected.
"Yes. Why?"
His eyes scanned yours as if looking for a lie. Then, he turned back around, leaning on the railing.
"I can't remember mine," he said. "Sometimes I wonder if I even had them."
Oh. Oh. This was huge. This was a big one. You had to search deeply even to find out his actual name. Now, here he was, telling you of his past.
Of all people, he chose to tell you.
You didn’t know how to feel about that.
You were honored, yes. You were excited, definitely. But, most importantly, you were worried. Is this him letting you in? Or is it him preparing you for your demise?
It was an unknown territory, a field of landmines. You knew a lot about his past already, but now he was aware of the fact that you knew. He knows, and yet he is still giving you the information.
Why?
"I mean, it doesn't make sense. Everyone has parents, right? And I couldn't have been born out of nowhere. So, I must have had parents. A mom, a dad, some form of guardians."
His face was scrunched, and his eyebrows were furrowed. You could see the way his brain was working. He was really thinking about it, wondering how the pieces fit together.
He was struggling to make a connection, and he was mad at himself for not having it.
"I'm assuming your childhood wasn't the best," you said. You knew it was a risky move, joking about his past, but so far, he seemed to like the boldness and humor.
And he did, in fact, let out a snort.
"Understatement of the year."
You smiled but quickly stopped. It was a serious conversation, and smiling probably wasn’t the appropriate reaction.
Silence filled the space again, and he was back to thinking. He was trying; he was really trying. But he just couldn't.
It wasn't the fact that his parents were a mystery; he's come to terms with that. It was the fact that he couldn’t remember anything.
All he remembered was the torture, the pain, the experiments… nothing about how he got there. Nothing about the people before the scientists. Nothing about a home. And the fact that they were currently building a fake one for him made him so angry.
It was a mockery—a complete joke.
He felt all of these emotions and yet couldn't express them.
And he was frustrated. He was pissed off and tired and angry and sad and empty and-
"Did you rip off your tie?" Your eyes had caught sight of his bare neck, the black fabric missing.
It was the only way to pull him out of his head, and, to your surprise, it worked. You could see the moment he snapped back to reality, the moment he was pulled away from his mind.
"Yeah," he answered. "It was suffocating me."
You could tell.
His hair became more unkempt due to the wind. The strands of hair on his forehead were getting in the way, and it was getting annoying. Not for you, no, but for him.
For you, it was… humanizing. It made him seem a little less like a god.
He lifted his hand, his fingers gently combing through the locks. It was a struggle, a normal struggle that you've had with your own hair.
Plenty struggle with deviating the locks away from their desired location. You've had your own fair share of moments.
But this was the first time you'd seen him experience it. The first time witnessing him do something so simple and basic.
Such a human thing. It had you wondering what else he was capable of.
He sighed, his hand dropping back to the railing. Again, it is a normal thing to happen. But, it had you smiling, the corners of your mouth curving ever so slightly.
The action did not go unnoticed.
"What?" he asked, not even bothering to turn around.
You shrugged. "I've just never…"
Your mind kept changing images. His hair, his eyes, his shoulders, his jaw, his nose, his ears, his neck, his hand, his lips, his chin, his cheekbones, his eyebrows, his skin…
Everything is listed in your mind, including the little imperfections and details that make him, well, him. This was the first time you saw him anything other than perfect.
The perfect monster he was, the god of all men. The man of the century, the one to take the world by storm. The strongest, the smartest, the best.
The symbol, the image, the mask.
The facade.
This was the first time you saw him as just a person. A human being. Just a regular guy.
"Sometimes I wonder how different life would be if you were…"
Normal.
The word was at the tip of your tongue. You could've said it; you should've said it. It was the truth. It was obvious.
But you couldn't.
He knew where your sentence was going, though. Of course, he did.
"If I was… what?" He still wanted to hear it. He was looking for validation, and he wanted it from you. His eyes were on you, his body turned, but there was this one odd thing.
A smile.
It wasn't his usual one. The one you were used to. The one that made everyone scared and uneasy. No, this was a real smile.
A soft, small one, but still a real smile.
A true smile. As if he knew the words you were going to say, as if he knew your thoughts, and he found them amusing.
You found him amusing.
And just because of that, you didn’t give him the validation.
"It’s fucking freezing out here," You coughed in hopes of successfully changing the subject. "I’m gonna get a jacket."
He was going to argue, but you were already walking off, telling him you’d take the emergency ladder down.
Nothing was spoken about that night. No words were exchanged.
But something had changed. Something had shifted. You weren’t quite sure what it was, but it was something.
So, seeing that genuine smile again in that elevator was a shock.
He had the same face as he did on that roof. It was that smile. That one specific smile.
Capable.
That's what it was.
He was capable.
He was capable of feeling and being human. He was capable of being something other than a monster.
He was capable.
All he said to you when you walked by was a simple goodnight. Something so small, yet so big. This time, those words seemed to have a little more meaning.
So, just to raise his unsettling mood, you winked and said, "Goodnight, John."
Again, a smile.
The smile.
It was hard to continue walking, and it was even harder not to turn around. But you did.
You did it knowing you were going to have a hard time sleeping. Knowing that, no matter what, you weren’t going to forget that smile.
The demon that still had a little bit of humanity in him.
A demon that was capable.
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namjooningera · 7 months ago
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Hii can I request any yandere JJK men with a reader whose on a hunger strike or refuses to be handfed by them? Ty ^.^
Yandere JJK react to y/n refusing them/not eating
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Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, (NEW) Sukuna (king ver of Sukuna)
AN: just reader being a lil bratty (real) also I just added Sukuna as a new character tehe. Tell me how it is 👀 however since he’s a yan I am making him softer towards y/n (but insaner towards other ppl yk?) also he’s a king in this one so
TW: starving, SLIGHT physical violence, threats, force feeding, tiniest bit of infantilization (gojo & Nanami)
Gojo:
No he won’t allow it.
He won’t allow you to act like a child and refuse to eat or drink. At this point he’s worried because you won’t do anything. Like a dead doll standing as still as possible to not be caught moving.
Nothing scares him. But you do.
So he took matters into his own hands and tied you up in a chair, hands to the armrests, legs to the feet of the chair, chest binded and rope littered all around the rest of your body tied to the helpless chair.
You screamed since you couldn’t kick, bit since you couldn’t hit, tried to refuse and refuse and he just didn’t know what to do. Seeing you hurt yourself, not eating as a protest to your involuntary stay, god it was torture to him. Like his own punishment.
At first he let it go. Tried to hand feed you your favorite snacks and placed a cup of cold water at your lips. And everytime you smacked it away from you. He watched your favorite snacks hit the floor and soil the carpet. The water spill and create a wet mess on the floor boards.
Why couldn’t you just be good and eat? Drink? Please stop refusing. At one point he almost started begging you. Hands at his chest, put together, eyes wide and sad, his mouth profusely spitting out begs and whines of how he just wanted you safe and healthy.
You didn’t listen.
You probably should’ve, or at least acknowledged his damn presence, because what he did next what’s unpredictable.
Tying you up in that chair and force feeding you. He made you your comfort food in hopes you’d actually want to eat it on your own. You didn’t. Which is fine. It just means he had to take extra precautions. His hand swirled the spoon of food around in the air, blowing raspberries as he said,
“Here comes the airplane!” As if you were some stupid child not wanting to eat your greens.
The spoon flew to your mouth but you moved your head to the side the only thing you could move, avoiding the spoon and it’s food.
His smile dropped just the tiniest bit but he continued his ministrations.
“Babe! Here comes the airplane Kay? Say ahh!” He announced once again in that awfully positive attitude, nudging the spoon at your lips, which you kept sewn shut.
“Come on babe, just open up~” but you didn’t, and he was getting impatient. “Babe?”
You didn’t look at him, didn’t dare open your mouth or even glance his way.
He snaps, grabbing your jaw and pinching your nose. You gasped, not being able to breathe, and without a second thought, that spoon of food was shoved into your mouth. He let go of your nose, and scooted his chair closer to yours.
“It’s good right? I added extra flavoring just for my girl. I know you like it that way.” He giggled, as if he didnt force the food down your damn throat.
“Here comes the choo choo train!” He whistled, and you realized that he enjoys babying you the way he does, even if it meant going against your will.
Geto:
This man does not play around either.
Coming home to you after a long day with what he calls “monkeys” just to see the untouched food still sitting on the table from when he made breakfast. He had brought take out- just to find out that you haven’t been eating in the first place.
He made that for you, took time out of his day to cook, make breakfast for you, the time where he’s normally busy. But alas, he cleans the dishes and runs up to your room and knocks on your door. It doesn’t matter if you don’t want him in he’ll come in anyway.
“I noticed you didn’t touch your plate. From this morning. It’s night now.”
Your stuffed into the sheets, messy covers over your body and head in your pillows. You don’t answer. You don’t think he deserves one.
“You haven’t eaten all week.”
He shuts the door behind him and storms towards you. It’s obvious that your silence is making him angry. Normally, you ignoring him doesn’t make him upset, he understands how you might feel…uneasy in this kind of situation. But hurting yourself? That’s not something he’ll allow or even tolerate.
He grabs the sheets and tugs them off of you, revealing your drained form. You groan and cover try to tug the sheets back to cover your body but he throws them to the floor and glared at you.
“You know why you’re so drained? It’s cause’ you won’t fucking eat.”
You don’t answer, you don’t want to answer. You just want the bed to swallow you whole, and the ground to open up so that you may fall into the abyss and disappear.
“I don’t want your fucking food.” You say, instead.
“Why not? Is it not to your liking?”
You grumble and glare up at him, finally lifting your face from the pillows.
“You’re not to my liking- Suguru I wanna go home-“ “enough!”
He cuts you off quickly, shutting you down almost immediately, which causes you to stuff your head back into the pillows.
He groans seeing this and slowly shuffled onto the bed with you. His mouth came down to your ear where he whispered
“If you don’t at least try to eat, I’ll make you.”
A shiver ran down your spine, you knew he wasn’t fibbing. You slowly got out of bed but he was quicker then you, pulling you out by your arm and sitting you up against the bed post.
He brought the takeout food and opened the bags of food on the bed, handing you a plate and utensil. You took it hesitantly and kept it on your lap. Not opening the food.
“Well?”
You shook your head. This was your way of protest, against him holding you captive, running a cult, being a damn curse user-
“You’re going to eat.” He demands, and you just shake your head and look to the side of you, away from him. You know he’ll force you- but you can’t help but refuse him anyway.
And without a second thought, he grabs the food then you, hoisting you into his lap without a single chance for you to fight back. One arm caging you in by your chest and arms, stopping any movement from you, the other bringing a spoon to your mouth.
“Eat, darling, or it’ll get worse from here.” A smile adoring his lips and licking the tips of your ear.
You finally take a bite of the food, his arm that basically were bruising your ribs to stop your movement finally unclenched around you and gave you a second to breathe.
“See? That wasn’t so hard. Now open up.”
Toji-
“Yer’ not eating your food.”
You’ve slumped down on the chair in front of him in the dining room, swirling around the water in your glass cup, the food in front of you untouched.
“I’m talking to you, doll.”
But you ignore him, watching the whirlpool or water in your cup, ignoring his very obvious angry presence.
“You haven’t eaten in days. You know what’s’ that gonna do to you? You’re gonna faint.”
You again ignore him and sigh, head resting on your hand that rested against the table.
“I’m talking to you.”
You don’t look up. You know it’s a lousy way to protest this invuluntary stay but you can’t think of anything else. He’s basically taken away any other form of protest you could ever possibly have, he’s controlling and fuck is he actually smart. His protectiveness on the kind of level where he made sure you could never fight back or hurt yourself in the process.
As your dazed, zoned out in your own thoughts, you don’t see him get out of his seat and grab you by your arm, forcing you up and off the seat and the floor.
“Didn’t yeah hear me?”
You wince at the fact your arm is being held above your head and you’re practically hanging from it.
“I heard you okay.. I’m not hungry.”
He huffs and puts you down. “Not hungry? It’s been days, doll. Days.”
You just shrug, rubbing your sore arm from being hanged up by it.
“If you don’t eat, I don’t mind feeding you like a baby bird. I’ll eat it up then force into your mouth with mine.”
“Y-you’re so crude, Toji..” You almost whine, disgusted by the thought.
“I’m not kidding.”
You sit back down at your seat, his eyes watching you pick up the fork and start to stab at your food.
“What did I say?”
“Okay okay.” You whine, finally sticking the fork in your mouth, making eye contact with him as you do, glaring at him.
“Tastes bad.” You whine.
“You little-“
Nanami-
Nanami is quite the patient man. You don’t want to get out of bed? Fine. You don’t want to shower? Fine. You don’t want to touch him? Fine. But you don’t want to eat or drink? That’s fucking pushing it.
When he first took you, he made sure you got all the proper nutrients you need, took care of your hygiene and made sure you were perfectly physically healthy.
He’s been putting down food at your nightstand for every meal, sometimes snacks in the middle of meals as well. He feeds you such a good amount that’s supposed to keep you full for every second of the day. Keep you satisfied. And pantries filled with your favorite snacks (the healthier versions, however), and a mini fridge with your favorite zero-sugar healthy drinks. With water, of course.
But you haven’t touched any.
He notices that every meal he puts down at your nightstand is untouched. You lay still in bed, so still he thinks you might be dead. Well you might be, with the absence of food eating at you.
And the pantry is untouched so is the mini fridge, and all the snacks he left for you in the middle of the days start to pile up.
At first he didn’t mind it. He got it, you might be nauseated or feel sick at the fact your away from home. That’s fine. He’ll give you time.
But then days go by.
And he just gets so worried about your health.
He encouraged you as much as he could but wouldn’t push it, he didn’t wanna scare you away. But at this point, it was just ridiculous. He watched from work, on his phone with the app that connected all his security cameras, watching as you hovered around the kitchen. He knew you were hungry. So why torture yourself?
At this point it was torturing him, not you. Well maybe that was the point to it. But he couldn’t take it anymore. He felt like a terrible caregiver. He was supposed to take care of you and protect you as your lover- that’s the damn reason he took you in, in the first place. So why couldn’t you see that? Why couldn’t he help you?
But Nanami is a good man, with zero bad intentions. So he decides first he can try bribing you. He makes your favorite dishes, the smell wafting in your room and up your nose. He places it at your nightstand, with your favorite cold drink next to it. The perfect combo. He does this for a while. No matter how hard the food is to make, whatever bullshit combination he needed to construct, however simple or complicated, he made it.
And yet you didn’t eat it.
He tried buying you material things, giving you extra little privileges like time in the garden or extra TV time, but you don’t even use them. You don’t even care.
And he can tell that you would, if you had the strength to. But you don’t, you’re weak. Probably because you’ve gotten so weak. But your hoping, your begging, that maybe he’ll see your weak body and finally get you some help. Maybe he’ll realize this is hurting not helping you, and he’ll let you go. You know the Nanami you’ve always known is deep down beneath the insecurity of his yandere self. You just need to find it right?
He got home that night. Late. His mind buzzed with work, eyes tired and body sore from constantly staying in his office chair, clicking the keyboard and staring at a screen. He’s been looking into a job for jujutsu sorcerers- but he thinks that’ll take too much time away from you.
He dragged his body into the house, closing the door behind him and quietly yelling out, “Sweetheart, I’m home.”
He hoped you’d flock to the door and he’d feel your warmth- but obviously that was just a dream to him and you never did so. Staying hidden away in the your room or wherever you were.
He decided to prepare a late dinner for the both of you, hoping some time together could encourage you to eat.
He dragged his body to your room. He just needed you, needed your warmth, your kindness, your loving presence and any kind of physical and emotional attention you could give him.
But as he opens the door to your room, he sees the breakfast he left on your. NIght stand, still left untouched.
“Sweetheart. This has gone too long. I respect all your decisions, and that you might be upset with me, but I need you to eat.”
Your wrapped up in the sheets, ignoring him, face stuffed in your white pillows.
“Honey, dear. Please, look at me.”
You can hear the desperation in his voice, the almost begging in his timid voice that almost makes you choke.
You look up at him, soft dead eyes staring up at his concerned ones.
“I made your favorite meal again. I know you don’t want to eat, but can you at least come sit at the table with me?”
You know this is his soft way of trying to convince you. And you also know that he wants you to sit at the table so he can feel like you two are an actual couple not one from hell.
You get up, which makes him sigh of relief. Thinking that you’re giving him a chance. Obviously, that’s not your idea, but you’ll let him think so.
He gently takes your hand, leading you downstairs to the dining table. You see he decorated, putting candles on the table, brought out the fancy silverware and china, the wine glasses and table cloths that matched the fabric of the silk pillows on the cushioned chairs.
“Sit, my love.” He pulls your chair for you, with a gentle smile. You can see the relief in his eyes when you sit, and he pushes you in.
You’d be flustered by such a gentlemanly move if it wasn’t for the situation you were currently in.
He sits in front of you and pops open the white wine, the insanely expansive white wine, pouring some in both of your glasses, he raised his up to yours, in which you ignored, and he clinked his glass with yours.
“Ready to try? I simply perfected the recipe-“
You place a spoonful of food in your mouth, before spitting it out right at him, shocking him and making yourself laugh for the first time in so long.
You soiled his expensive blouse, the shock of your behavior making him spill his wine, his eyes wide and looking down at his ruined blouse, then to you, then to the spilled wine, then to you.
You just giggle, smirking in victory at his dazed response and how you won’t let yourself be pushed around by him.
But what you don’t expect, is for this extremely caring gentlemanly man to slam down the cloth from on his thighs down at the table, getting up as he unloosed his tie.
“I’m done.”
And your smile drops in a way that makes you realize you won. He’ll let you go, he’s finally done with you he’s gonna let you go-
“If you want to act like a child I will simply treat you like one, until you can behave like an adult.”
Your eyebrow raises at that. What? Wait what?
He throws his tie off his neck, grabbing your hands and tying them up. You try to fight him off you but he’s strong, he didn’t even try.
He leaves, and your relieved, a little scared that he left you tied but at least the mad man is gone. But then he comes back with a toddlers seat. A fucking child booster seat.
Your eyes widen as you realize what he meant. “N-no no way! I’m not sitting in that- I won’t even fit-“
“You know I bought this.. I bought this hoping our first child could use it..” he sighs. “But I guess you can be the test drive..”
“N-no! Your crazy! Your insane! I won’t even fit in it I won’t!”
“You don’t have a choice.” He cuts you off. “I’m tired of watching my love kill themselves off just because you’re upset. You can be upset just don’t hurt yourself.”
He places the child’s booster seat next to you, at the table.
“You either eat, or fucking sit here and I’ll feed you. Well? Do you want a baby bottle too?”
Sukuna:
Catching the eye of someone so murderous and evil is just the most hell filled unfortunate thing that can happen to you.
And it did.
You found yourself being coddled and “loved” by a monster. He’s pure evil, and you’re his. There’s no denying it. You’re the chosen one.
As his maids touch up your hair, give you a manicure, clean your face of the tears and blood from biting your lips, you stare at them with desperation in your eyes.
Save me.
You think, but they won’t. They’re loyal.
Sure, Sukuna hasn’t done anything actually bad to you, but he’s locked you up, like a princess in a tower. You hope that your prince in shining armor will save you, that he’ll come running with his horse and sword, armor and shield in hand.
But he never does. And if he did, you’d never know because Sukuna probably killed him before he even got a chance to get a glimpse of your pearly eyes.
A maid brushes your hair. You think. He’s taken away all your forms of protest.
When you stopped taking care of yourself, that was fine, he ordered his maids to wash your hair and clean your body, do your skincare and paint your nails. Even go as far as to brush your damn teeth.
They’d use expensive amounts of creams and moisturizers, the kind even the bourgeoisie couldn’t afford. Perfumes from across the land and hair oils from different kingdoms.
All these things, just for you.
When you didn’t want to get out of bed, see the sun, he made sure you were made to get that vitamin D every morning, a small stroll before and after breakfast in the garden, with of course, the guards watching you.
He pampered you, without even being there. Made sure you were healthily entertained with your favorite books and games, all your devices you humans use to take up time. He even brought a festival worth of people to greet you when he took- when you came. Circuses, fire crackers, acrobats, all those to welcome you into his palace.
And you took it all with a grain of rice.
You didn’t want to be here, you didn’t mean to pique his interest. But you did. And now your stuck. You even heard the townspeople whisper of how the man who forced everyone on their knees to worship him is now worshiping you. A mere boring human.
So you decided to find your own way to protest, something he can’t force you to do or make other people do for you.
Eat.
You sat at the large dining table, him on the long other side, watching as he ate, watching him with no love or adoration in your eyes. While he would hold the stars for you. He’d bring them down for you if you asked.
“Well? Is it not to your liking?” You hear him slur from his side of the table.
“No.” You know this is dangerous. The cruel king, he could have your head.
“What’s not to your liking? I’ll have it changed.”
You shove the plate away from you. “It’s all bad, I don’t wanna eat.”
Maybe you should’ve used different words, different wording to your protest because Sukuna simply didn’t understand it was a form of protest.
“It’s that terrible? Very well. Servants, carry the chef who decided to cook my woman this rechid food and have him publicly executed.”
Your eyes widen with dismay and shock and you look at him. “What? Executed?”
“What? What did you expect, woman? Anyone who feeds my soon to be queen something not up to par, they shall be ridden with shame. With, or without their head.”
He says it with such a nonchalant attitude, as if he isn’t talking about death.
“I-I no. It’s not bad, actyally. Hah. I just meant.. I wasn’t hungry.” You try to solve this mess you accidentally dragged others into.
“Your dramatic show of disgust was simply because you aren’t… hungry?”
He looks at you almost confused, the big plates of foods surrounding him. He had a surplus of hunger, the kind of hunger only you can satisfy.
“I… I apologize.” You think about giving up on your plan, you don’t want to drag people into this, have them hurt because of you. “I just.. actually prefer your food.” You lie.
“My food?” He smirks. The maids and servants look around in fear, some even annoyance, expecting your head to fly off and blood to soil the floors after you basically asked to share food-his food, with you.
“Very well then. You may sit close and satisfy your belly with my food.”
He pats the seat close to him, different from the seat your sitting at now, far from Sukuna. Everyone stares at you with bewildered shock, that the cruel Sukuna is willingly sharing his meal with you, that he hasn’t offed you or anyone else in his vicinity for your request.
You waddle over to him, sitting next to him, and he watches you try a piece of meat, lamb, off one of his large family plates, as if asking for your approval, to see if you like it.
You hum, the food is actually prepared amazingly well, a lot better then the streets of the poor sides of town you had to buy your meat from.
He nods at you, and continues to finish his meal as well, practically clawing and savagely ripping apart the food at his hands, like some animal.
Everyone’s always been afraid of the way he eats, as if he’s ripping apart someone’s flesh and bones, but to you it’s kind of pathetic. Like a little puppy and its chew toy, slobbering over its bone. Instead of saying this however (which he’d have your head for), you go for taking a small folded table cloth napkin and wipe the blood from the flesh of his food off his cheek, cleaning off the smeared gore that he doesn’t seem to notice.
He looks down at you, huffing as a sign of appreciation at your small sign of affection, and you look back up at him with the same look.
You hate this cruel man, the man who’s killed hundreds and hurt people and hurt you. Who stole you.
But as you look up at him, the folded napkin in your hand still poking at his dirtied cheek, you can’t help but think that perhaps the cruel king and the prince in shining armor are the same person.
And that’s Sukuna for y’all 😈😈🔥 guys why did I accidentally make his fluffy what
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gobbogoo · 10 months ago
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I LOVE Dungeon Meshi's Realistic Fantasy Races
Ok, I had to stop for a moment to gush about the fantasy races of Dunmeshi, and all the consideration that's been put into them, because they actually follow a degree of natural/evolutionary logic not found in most fantasy stories!
Half-Foots (halflings/hobbits):
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So we all know these fellows have excellent hearing and smell, but have you considered WHY? It's an adaptation to counteract their size. Humans (called tallmen in this setting) rely so much on eyesight because we're really tall compared to most animals, giving us a fantastic vantage of our environment. Half-Foots don't have this advantage, and therefore rely on their other senses. It's also much more important for them to be able to detect unseen threats and move quickly, because their size makes them ill-equipped for direct conflict.
Dwarves:
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So Dwarves are depicted as MUCH stronger than tallmen despite their size, right? This is because strength is determined not by size, but by mass, and dwarven bodies are very dense! Yet this comes with the downside of their bodies burning more energy and overheating much faster, which is why dwarves are also shown to be heat-resistant, and why they tend to wear lighter clothing that exposes more skin! Their night-vision is also better than humans' due to their semi-underground lifestyle, while their hearing remains about the same since sound naturally carries in caves. Their hairiness is also likely a direct adaptation to counteract magic, as it's been shown to form a natural buffer when left unwashed.
Gnomes:
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Gnomes are supposed to be evolutionary cousins to dwarves, and it shows! They share a similar height, but are less muscular and have peculiarly-shaped ears, almost mirroring the difference between human and elven ears. Their affinity with nature and spirits also makes sense, because physically they're in an awkward spot compared to the other short races, lacking both the hefty strength of dwarves and the light nimbleness of half-foots. Being less equipped both for fight and flight, it makes sense they'd instead adapt the instinctive ability to read their environments and mitigate its threats through cohabitation.
Elves:
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Like gnomes, elves are in a physically awkward place, however it's even more extreme. Their relatively light and weak bodies make them ill-equipped for direct conflict, and while likely able to move faster than tallmen due to weight, they lack the half-foot's danger-detection senses. This makes them seemingly helpless, however interestingly it actually explains why they're so advanced compared to other races! They were basically forced to coordinate problem-solve, and control their environments out of necessity, which is reflected in their more controlling and direct relationship with magic and nature compared to gnomes.
This actually mirrors the real-world difference between humans and neanderthals. Anthropologists believe neanderthals weren't actually dumber than humans, but that their superior strength and durability meant they weren't forced to problem-solve or control their environments like humans, meaning they seemed less advanced.
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anatay004 · 1 year ago
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THERE WAS A TANG of venom in your mouth. You could taste it, the bitter crimson that seeped through your teeth as you chewed on the inside of your cheeks. You tried to keep your head from aching, perhaps, if you shut your eyelids for a moment — just for a second, you thought you might actually escape him.
"Ms. (Y/N), how wonderful it is to see you again," Snow spoke from across the desk, his voice was quiet but vehement— it almost made you shiver. "Please, take a seat."
Nauseously, you sat across from him.
The study ensued with a straining silence that made the skin of your arms prick with uneasiness. Snow had bothered to travel across the districts to visit your home; it could only mean one of two things: either you were in trouble or he wanted something from you.
"I won't take much of your time, Ms. (Y/L), as long as we agree to not lie to each other, this will be a short conversation, I can assure you."
I'm definitely in trouble, you thought.
"Of course." You managed to answer.
Up close, you could see the lines of evident age that marred his face. How long, you wondered, until time peels the skin off his bones clean?
"Katniss Everdeen," Snow venomously spat, and you couldn't help, but give him your full attention. "Do you recall the name?"
The new Victor from District 12.
The threat of rebellion.
"I do." You limited yourself to answer.
"Good," Snow breathed out. "You see, she is causing me quite a few problems. None of which are tethered to you, of course, but they eventually will. Unlike you, Ms. (Y/N), she dismisses the cause of the Hunger Games, the mercy that we offer by keeping one of the 24 tributes alive. She's challenging, I’m afraid."
Unlike you.
You wanted to dart him a glare; his words were a backhanded compliment. When you killed your partner in the games — your friend, you involuntarily enlightened a sense of honor in the Capitol. Your disoriented conscious due to the venom of one of the jellyfish in the arena eulogized Snow's message: there are no real allies and no true loyalty between the districts.
This was far from the truth, of course.
You never meant to win the games by killing your ally from the same district. When the dam's collapsed and the waves of water drowned almost everyone in the arena, you'd managed to swim back to the surface. But the lack of oxygen and poison from the jellyfishes had already interfered with your sanity. And when he'd rushed to help you back to your feet, you'd confused him for a Career. It was only a matter of minutes before the cannon boomed.
Your eyes glossed at the memory.
"With that being said, she, alongside Peeta Mellark, will try to seek refugee in their act of love to gain sponsors and win the games again.”
Your eyebrows knitted together.
Again?
"I want you to dissipate that advantage, Ms. (Y/M)." He must have read your expression. "I want you and Finnick Odair to annihilate their strategy by doing exactly the same thing."
You blinked in sudden disbelief.
He wanted you back in the Hunger Games. He wanted you back with Finnick Odair, with the only person he probably knew you cared the most about. You tried to quench the searing pain that was burning inside your chest. The air started to rush out your lungs, but you managed to compose yourself in time as Snow tilted his head to the side to examine you quietly.
"There's nothing between – " You tried to come up with an excuse, with anything that could've eliminated Finnick from this plan, but he raised an eyebrow in silent question and the words froze immediately on the tip of your tongue.
"We agreed to not lie, Ms. (Y/M)."
You pressed your lips together. "Right."
He stifled a faint grin. "You are the Capitol's favorites, the most beloved Victors. Even more than Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark."
You didn't know what to answer. His plan was already arranged, there was nothing you could say that could make him change his mind. If anything, he was merely being considerate by taking the trouble of giving you a heads-up.
"Finnick and I haven't spoken in weeks." You breathed out, which wasn't a lie. After years of breaking up and getting back together, the romance eventually ended when you discovered the sexual arrangements that had happened behind your back for years. When Finnick had decided to finally shut you out his life after he’d explained his backstory and decided you were not good together.
The slight curve of Snow's lips indicated that he knew this already — of course, he did.
"I know," Snow confessed. "but the people from the Capital don't, Ms. (Y/N). Therefore, you have an advantage at hand, you can fool everyone, make the Capital forget about the lovers from District 12, and...you will have my protection."
You looked up then and examined his face very carefully. There wasn't a hint of deception in his expression, he was being honest and that scared you the most. He promised your safety; he promised your victory.
"What about Finnick?" You found yourself asking, without even thinking.
He smiled. "You see, you almost got me fooled, Ms. (Y/LN). Imagine just how easy it would be to fool the Capitol if you could just step forward.”
You swallowed hard.
"But to answer your question, Ms. (Y/L), Mr. Odair will be protected if he succeeds in convincing me. And, who knows, if you achieve to sell your romance act, the Capitol might even advocate for two winners again. Wouldn't that be lovely?"
He was lying.
He had to be.
Hope retaliated in the pit of your stomach. "I thought we had agreed to not lie to each other."
His eyebrows jumped. "So did I."
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After the conversation ended, President Snow stepped out of your home without another word as a fugitive car approached your home. Within a few minutes, he swiftly disappeared into the leather backseat and the vehicle drove off.
You tried to keep your head from reeling, but your muscles momentarily numbed as you simply stood outside, inhaling the ocean's breath. You couldn't coherent a single sentence, for a moment, you even struggled to pinpoint whether the conversation with Snow had been real or not.
What would Finnick think?
What would anyone think?
You exhaled sharply, but before you could collect yourself, Finnick's frame stumbled into your line of vision from across the Victor's Village. You faltered on your spot almost immediately, muscles wracked with evident tension — and he must've noticed, because trepidation soon glossed over his green irises.
As if he'd suddenly realized who had visited you.
"(Y/N)!" He began to call.
Instinctively, you began to retrace back your steps inside your house (in hopes to avoid him), but he was faster and twisted the polished handle before the door could even shut close behind you. You jumped in shock, a startled expression donned on your face as he invited himself in. "What happened?"
Your mouth went dry. "I..."
"— Did he hurt you?" His voice went up a few decibels, and you struggled to find the strength to open your mouth. "(Y/L), did he hurt you?"
You managed to shake your head. "No, he..."
Finnick reached for your arm. His muscles were tense, but his touch was gentle and you instinctively leaned in. "He's going to reaped us into the games, he wants us to follow the love act that Katniss and Peeta pulled."
His eyebrows knitted together in thought. "What?" He breathed out, trying to decipher the mixture of emotions that flitted across your face in a matter of seconds. Every sentiment that threatened to register on your face before Snow was finally shattering before Finnick.
"He wants to kill them off," You found yourself repeating, a hint of desperation notched down the timbre of your voice. "He wants us to take their sponsors, but he said he would protect us, Finnick. He promised he would and I – "
A sob strangled your throat, for a split second, you couldn't manage another word. He instinctively wrapped his arms around you and pressed his lips to the side of your head. You immediately indulged in his warmth and your senses immediately heighten at the whiff of his scent. Belatedly, you realized it had been a while since he’d last embraced you. And it wasn't until he was rubbing your back and whispering that everything was going to be okay when you finally noticed that you were trembling.
"It's going to be okay, love." He whispered.
Love.
And then it finally clicked.
What he’d done to you.
You wrenched away from him as though his skin had suddenly torched you. You took several steps back as you tried to muffle the sob that was ripping through your lips. Finnick faltered for a second as he tried to find the right words to remedy the hurt that you felt, but when he noticed the familiar betrayal in your gaze — he pressed his lips into a thin line.
He didn't know what to say anymore.
"I need to get some sleep."
"Sweetheart, wait — "
"Goodnight, Finnick."
And with that, you turned your back to him.
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nomsfaultau · 10 months ago
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Dark sbi where Tommy accidentally kidnaps Philza, not knowing he’s a crime lord. And he swears it was an accident! He just, you know, panicked. Tommy and Tubbo were just minding their own business slapping graffiti on a building (practicing their art skills, you see) when a cop started screeching at them, apparently not an appreciator of the fine arts. And since Mrs. Innit would KILL him if he got arrested, Tommy panics and takes a hostage, shouting at the cop not to take a step further or he’ll kill the random civilian he’s ducked behind so he can’t get shot.
Meanwhile Philza isn’t entirely paying attention, and realizes there’s suddenly a small child sheltering behind him from a cop. He gives the cop the nastiest look imaginable, which causes them to back off enough that Tommy thinks his plan is working. Once the negotiations start Philza is baffled by who would have the gall to kidnap him, and so poorly at that. Frankly it’s an umbrage to face the work of an amateur.
Well, till the abductor asks his name. “…do you not know who I am.?”
Tommy squints at the guy. His suit looks kinda fancy? Is it better or worse for him if he managed to randomly capture some Wall Street schmuck? “Hell no,” he hisses. “And I don’t care. I’m a dangerous guy alright? You don’t know what I’ll do to you.”
Philza’s laugh causes the cop to advance, wagering the situation isn’t intense. But because Tubbo’s ‘Yes And’ game is a force to be reckoned with, he casually pulls out a nerf gun (painted to look real for a prank on Ranboo) and trains it on the cop. Philza is positively delighted as he realizes just how amateur his abductors are. Oh this will be a riot to watch.
With more bluffing than Tommy knew he had in him, promising the hostage 20 bucks if he pretended to go along with it, the pure manic chaos bleeding from Tubbo’s eyes and ample gun waving, and creative use of spray paint in the eyes of the chasing cops, Tommy and Tubbo somehow manage to book it. For some reason the hostage keeps up with them instead of escaping. Huh. Can you develop Stockholm syndrome that fast? Tommy would ask, but he’s panting from sprinting. And as they live in an unjust world, hostage guy isn’t even breaking a sweat despite the three piece suit.
“You’re not going to get far on foot,” Philza murmurs. As corrupt and useless as the cops are for most things in this city, he doesn’t imagine there’d actually be that much fuss over a random man being kidnapped, but he wonders what they’ll do if spooked a little more. It’s been amusing thus far. The boys bicker, then elect to force him to drive as neither have licenses. They don’t ask him to drive to their homes, instead some secondary location. Smart, albeit Philza will definitely know both addresses within the hour.
While Tommy is busy ‘threatening’ Philza about the consequences of not getting them there, Tubbo just leans over from a bag of chips he’s munching on and offers them to Phil. Tommy rounds on him, less for showing exploitable kindness to the hostage and more for eating the Doritos that were meant to be his. Philza almost chides them for revealing each other’s names, but decides it might just be easier to hand them notes at the end of this. So far they aren’t getting a passing grade in abduction. But he has to admit it’s far more entertaining than the ‘business’ meeting he was planning to attend.
(Techno, meanwhile, hasn’t heard from Philza and is going BALLISTIC trying to figure out who kidnapped him. From the police report Phil just kinda went along with it, and looked terrified after a private exchange with the abductor, which has to mean the threat is ungodly to convince the Angel of Death to submit. Techno’s about to have a panic attack imagining the unthinkable horrors happening to his best friend, and is only holding it off by doing atrocities about it. This is the THIRD secret criminal organization he’s ripped apart in the last two hours and PHILZA ISNT HERE EITHER!?)
Philza has decided he likes his kidnappers. They’re not experienced in the slightest, but they make up for it with bravado, determination, and a certain lack of rationality that is necessary in the line of business Philza is in. Yes. They’ll do nicely if given a little guidance.
It’s half an hour before either of them notice Philza is driving aimlessly and they don’t recognize the city around them at all. “Hm? Next time I don’t recommend you give the hostage control of the vehicle. I could have immediately driven to the police station.”
Tommy frowns, almost more nervous at the implication the obvious blackmail would go unused. “…why didn’t you?”
“There’s no love lost between the cops and I. And even more importantly, you amuse me. I like your…potential.” He grins at the soft click of Tommy covertly trying the handle and finding the car doors locked. “Getting out at this speed is almost always fatal, Tommy.”
Tubbo lifts the muzzle of the fake gun towards him. “Let us go right. now.”
Philza leans over, ruffling Tubbo’s hair. The teen gulps at the glimpse of the holster Philza’s jacket was hiding, sharing a wide eyed look with Tommy. “I’m not exactly scared of foam bullets, mate.” He chuckles lowly at the tension freezing both of them. “Relax. You’ll be home by dinner. After you went through all the effort of kidnapping me to avoid trouble with your parents, I don’t intend to ruin it. I like you two; you have spunk I don’t see often. After all, it takes a lot of guts to kidnap the leader of the Syndicate.”
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yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago
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Title: Final Girl.
Pairing: Yandere!Chrollo x Reader (HxH).
Word Count: 1.4k.
TW: 'Girl' Is In The Title But Reader Is Gender Neutral, Death and Blood, Mentions of Guns, Manipulation, Implied Kidnapping, and Spoilers for the Ninteenth-Century Novel Dracula.
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The night you met him was, by no coincidence, also the night you learned what it meant to feel your blood run cold.
‘Met’ might’ve been an exaggeration. You didn’t meet him so much as you stood still and stared at him – lumbering down the hallway, clutching a gore-splattered butcher's knife, his suit disheveled and stained with a dark, blotting substance you couldn’t bring yourself to put a name to, in your fear-induced paralysis. With the manor's high ceilings and dim lighting, he seemed impossibly tall, his black eyes blank and terrible, his smile manic in a way that sent a chill up your spine, that left you frozen where you stood and unable to run as he came to stand in front of you, as he raised a hand and—
And pointed to the book tucked under your arm, a yellowed paperback beaten to hell and back from weeks of loving abuse. You’d spent hours wondering if you should bring it with you, if there was anyone else on the face of the planet who’d be stupid enough to bring a book to a mascarade ball, but you figured you’d have to step out for a breath of fresh air at some point, tonight, and phones weren’t really an option at this kind of thing. Looking back on it, you struggled to remember why you’d spent so much time agonizing over something so inconsequential, especially when whoever found your body likely wouldn’t pay it a second glance. “Is that—” He started, pausing to wet his lips before correcting himself. “Is that Bram Stoker’s Dracula?”
You blinked several times, shifting your weight. “It is,” you managed, eventually, just before the point of no return. “I… I’m only a few chapters in, though. They’re only on the second blood transfusion.”
His smile widened. “I’m reading it for the second time, now. That’s one of the best passages - you can practically feel the dread mounting in the prose.” While he spoke, you stole another glance at his attire. With your shock beginning to fade and your nerves given a few seconds to cool, you could see that he clearly hadn’t just walked out of a crime scene. His clothes were wrinkled, but not torn, not displaced the way they would’ve been if he’d been in a real fight, and he was covered in a cartoonish amount of (presumably fake) blood. He couldn’t have meant for it to be realistic, not unless you were supposed to believe he’d bled twenty people dry on his own.
He must’ve noticed you staring. His rambling trailed off into an airy chuckle, his free hand drifting to his blood-soaked shirt. “I’m afraid I might’ve misread my invitation,” he admitted, with a slight shrug. You were almost in awe of his nonchalance. Showing up to a masquerade ball in a costume fit for a b-rated haunted house would’ve left you catatonic for… god, the rest of the year, at least. “That’s how I found my way back here, actually. You can understand why I wouldn’t want to stay in the ballroom for very long, considering I’m dressed for a very different party.”
“No, no, that makes a lot of sense! I mean, a costume party would be more in-season.” You felt like an idiot. You could only hope you hadn’t looked as scared as you felt. “Honestly, I’m just surprised they let you in with a prop.”
He glanced to his ‘knife’, too, as if he’d forgotten he was holding it. “Oh, this little thing?” He took the blade in his free hand, bending it downward. Unceremoniously, it snapped into two pieces as easily as if it’d been made of little more than tin foil and plastic - which, to be fair, it probably was. “Most people struggle to see me as a threat, for whatever reason.”
“The doormen probably just felt bad for the strange man who showed up to a charity gala covered in blood.” You spared a small smile, then genuinely brightened, taking up your novel and fishing out the spare mask you’d shoved between the pages while you were getting ready. He should’ve counted himself lucky that you could never be bothered to find a real bookmark. “Mine came in a set of two,” you explained, signaling for him to bend down. A little too easily, he obeyed, stooping just low enough for you to work your spare mask over his head. It was cheaper than anything you would usually like to show off – the base simple black cloth, the embroidery meaninglessly gaudy, the main body kept in place by little more than a simple white ribbon that never seemed to sit just right, but he accepted your offering with a grateful hum. “It’s not much, but—” You paused, buttoning his suit jacket, doing your best to make it look a little less like he’d just walked out of a bad slasher movie and a little more like a tragically color-blind, but ultimately well-dressed party-goer. “It should get you through the door.”
He straightened his back, and you thought you might’ve seen something spark in his dark eyes. Then again, it could’ve just been the moonlight. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”
Oh, right – that was something most people did before offering to fix a stranger’s clothes, wasn’t it? You rushed to introduce yourself, and he did the same. “Chrollo Lucilfer.” And then, offering you his hand, “Perhaps I’d be more warmly received with a plus one?”
As hesitant as you were to slip back into the ballroom on the arm of a disheveled stranger who’d already made an impression of his own, it would’ve broken your heart to turn him down. That, and you might’ve had a weakness for disheveled strangers who fell on the more handsome side of the spectrum.
You laughed as you threaded your arm through his, letting Chrollo guide you back to the main event. A second passed with only the sound of your footsteps and distance music to fill the quiet, then another. Eventually, you broke the silence. “It’s very well-written,” you started, trying to fight the urge to fidget. “But… I don’t think I’m the right audience. I care too much about Lucy. Seeing her go through so much and knowing she’s not going to make it is just—” You sighed, shook your head. “It’s agony. Especially when the villain is literally in the title. I mean, I know the characters don’t know that, but still.”
“The benefit of a voyeur's perspective.” For all his glowing praise, he didn’t seem very offended. “I think the dramatic irony is part of the appeal. By the time the tension breaks, it’s nearly too painful to keep going.”
“Which is exactly why it hurts to read,” you groaned, slumping into his side. “I get why it’s happening, but I just can’t stand spending so long on the build-up knowing how it’s going to end. It probably doesn’t help that Lucy’s one of my favorites, either. Well, aside from Mina, but it wouldn’t be fair to compare her to the author’s self-insert.”
The two of you came to a pair of rounded oak doors. There’d been a pair of attendants stationed outside when you left, but Chrollo didn’t seem to mind shouldering it open himself, ushering you inside with a smile and an idle gesture. You took a second to steel your nerves, still not entirely prepared to throw yourself into a very crowded room filled with very loud music and very eager socialites, then crossed the threshold, coming face to face with—
Carnage. Pure, unadulterated carnage.
There were bodies everywhere, each corpse mangled and bruised and broken in every possible way. Dark blood and broken glass covered the formerly pristine ivory floor, and the walls were painted with the remnants of gunfire. A few people were still standing – the murderers, you figured, judging by the blood on their outlandish clothes, the weapons in their hands, the indifferent agitation written across their expressions as you stared at them in horror, as your heart threatened to give out for the second time that night. The tallest man you’d ever seen pointed a hand-held machine gun in your direction, but Chrollo found his way back to your side, resting a hand on your shoulder as he spoke. “Hold your fire,” he said, casually, as if you weren’t standing at the edge of a bloodbath. As if he’d known what he was leading you into. “I think I’m going to keep this one.”
You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. The air hitched in your throat as he brought a hand up to your chin, tilting your head back and forcing you to meet his unblinking stare. You’d been right the first time. There was never anything his eyes could’ve been but terrible. “I always did like Mina.”
There was never anything he could’ve been but a monster, prowling for his next kill.
“I guess I just have a soft spot for survivors.”
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taliabhattwrites · 3 months ago
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you do realise that women only accept you out of fear right? TIM's like all men, have radical Systemic power over women. They don't refuse to accept you because they actually see you as women, no woman see's you that way. They "accept" you because it's a threat, because they know you'd kill & rape them if they didn't. I mean ffs there's literally evidence of it happening. trans inclusion is a disgusting compromise to hold power over women, that's what it is, do you fucking get it yet?
Leave. Us. Alone.
I showed this to my cis lesbian wife (who is both bigger and stronger than I am) and she said that if you said this to our faces, she'd kill you with her bare hands.
But that aside--most trans women and transfeminized populations over the world are disproportionately impoverished, pushed to the margins of society, and face acute levels of deprivation. They don't possess "radical Systemic power" (a nonsense term that literally means nothing, but I'll humor you and assume you meant something like societal standing or benefits from male-supremacy) because they are subject to gendered violence, brutalization, and total loss of standing under a patriarchal regime.
You don't understand the theory. You are not good at feminism, at empirical or systemic analysis, and you have nothing substantive to inform your baseless hate except feelings of disgust for a highly marginal demographic that you refuse to extend empathy to.
Which is why instead of doing anything remotely impactful, you're anonymously sending vitriol into my inbox on a Saturday.
Marvelous.
Honestly, you and I suffer under the same regime of heterosexuality and misogyny. I see that, and if you stopped seeing me as an inhuman monster and tried to just think about how trans women are treated in the real world, you might be able to see that too.
Do better.
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cevansbrat0007 · 9 months ago
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The Do-Over
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Summary: Everyone deserves a second chance, including jerks like Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson. Takes place directly after the events in Hello, Duchess.
Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bucky Barnes, A Deep Love of Clark Bars, Light Groveling, Bickering, Discussions of Grief, Threats of Violence, Gentle Manhandling, Brief References to Negative Body Image, Cursing, Minors DNI
A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!
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An annoyed Ari takes a pull from his cigarette as he listens to his friend and fellow combat vet give him shit all the way from his office back in New Mexico. As soon as this was over, he was going to ditch this empty parking lot to find himself an ice cold beer and a goddamned steak. 
He was officially ready to put this day behind him. But first he needed a decent dinner.
“So let me see if I’ve got this right.” His friend begins, now that he’d finally stopped cursing up a blue streak. “Do you really mean to tell me that you took our best lead, which just so happened to be the perp’s girlfriend, and fucked it all to hell?”  
Okay, but just because that’s what happened doesn't necessarily mean that it was actually his fault. He’d just been a little off his game.
“Hey Buck, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re beginning to sound as dramatic as Rogers.”
“Steve would never fuck-up something this big for us.” He could practically hear the man flipping him off.
“I’m telling you this girl would’ve cut off Golden Boy’s balls and fed them to him for breakfast, okay?” He takes another puff, flicking some of the excess ash out his driver-side window. “Trust me.”
“Hold on.” An exasperated Bucky sighs into the receiver before placing the phone on his desk to speak to whoever had just walked into his office. He hoped whoever it was had better news than he did, otherwise he feared his old war buddy might have an aneurysm.
Sometimes he got the impression that Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes was wound a little too tight.    
The silence drags on as Ari contemplates getting out of his car to stretch his legs. It’s another several minutes before Bucky is back on the line, and this time he sounds positively exhausted.
“We can’t afford to lose this one, man. Westbrook might be a piece of shit, but he’s an expensive piece of shit. So while I don’t care how you feel about the girl, you need to make things right. She could have some valuable intel.”
“Yeah, I know.” His mood darkens as he flicks the cigarette onto the pavement. As he watches it hit the ground, he finds himself wondering if it was finally time to quit the cancer sticks altogether. It’s not like he hadn’t thought about it before.
“Besides, what do you care if she was Westbrook’s fuck buddy?” Ari’s treated to the sound of his friend unwrapping something that sounded suspiciously like a candy bar. There was only one person who was known to keep that stuff at the office.
Which meant that shit had better not come from his personal stash, otherwise Bucky Barnes was a fucking dead man.
“I don’t.” Ari growls, sucking on his teeth. “And that had better not be a Clark Bar you’re eatin'.”
“Hate to break it to ya, pal. But based on what you told me earlier, it kinda sounds like you might.” There’s an unmistakable sound of a grin in his voice, which irks the bounty hunter to no end. 
“And I think it’s finally time you got your hearing checked, old man.” He growls back, although his words lack any real fire. 
“As for your precious Clark Bars,” he continues. “See, normally I’d pass on ‘em. But Pixie’s been on a health kick lately and she threw out all the junk food. So, I’m desperate.” Bucky gives an exaggerated groan. “Plus, she has no idea about your stash.” 
“Jesus.” Ari grumbles, firing up his engine with the intent to head back to the house he was currently renting. “I really wish you two would just suck face already and get it over with.”
“Mind your fucking business, Levinson.”
“Then keep your filthy hands off my fuckin’ Clark Bars, Barnes.” There’s a heavy sigh on the other line, prompting Ari to roll his eyes. All he wanted was for this conversation to fucking end.
“Look.” Bucky grunts. “You bring down this Westbrook fucker and I’ll buy you a goddamned case of those stupid bars. Alright?”
“You got yourself a deal.” Turning on his truck, Ari slowly heads for the exit as his stomach begins to rumble. Maybe he’d track down some shrimp to go with that steak.
“And fix whatever it is you fucked up with that bookstore broad while you’re at it.” 
“I’ll do my best.” He grimaces as his mind treats him to images of you threatening him with your taser. “But if that little spitfire puts me in the hospital you’re footin’ the bill.” And with that, Ari hangs up the phone.
As of now, he was officially done for the night.
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A Few Days Later…
You’re sitting on the floor of your stockroom when you hear the tinkling of bells signaling the arrival of a customer. Groaning as you rise to your feet, you wipe your palms on the fabric of your pants and head to the front of the store. 
Business had been unusually slow today, so hopefully this patron - whoever they were - would be in the mood to buy something. As you were driving in this morning, you’d briefly considered holding another sale. Maybe it was time for another book fair. That seemed to be pretty popular the last time you’d done it. 
You’re in the middle of making a mental note to reach out to the local librarian when your eyes land on the absolute last person you wanted to see standing in your lobby: Ari Levinson. 
Not this guy again. 
“Yeah, it’s me.” He says, offering up an unapologetic shrug as he takes in the sight of you in your form-fitting yoga pants. 
Apparently you’d spoken out loud. Perhaps if you kept doing it, the man would eventually get offended enough to leave. Wishful thinking at its finest.
When the intruder realizes you don’t plan on speaking again, he decides to take advantage of the silence by doing something completely unexpected. 
“I just dropped by to, uh…” He takes a deep breath, rocking back on his heels. “Apologize for how our last meeting went. While it wasn’t my intention to insult you, I know that I did.” One big hand comes up to massage the back of his neck. “Just wanted to offer that, for whatever it’s worth.”
“Oh. Wow.” You reply dumbly, crossing your arms over your chest. For whatever reason, you got the distinct impression that he didn’t make apologies often. 
“You’re right, sweetheart. I don’t.” His lips turn up in an awkward grin as he takes a step toward you. “But a real man knows how to own up to his shit, which is exactly what I’m doin right now.”
“Okay.” 
Mouth suddenly dry, you go to take a step back, only to find that your legs no longer work. Next thing you know, Ari is in your space, his boot clad feet are now mere centimeters from your well-loved sneakers as he towers over you. 
He holds out his hand as a gesture of goodwill, silently imploring you to take it. Your eyes lock with his as yours moves on its own accord – almost as if you’d been entranced. 
Your hand feels so small and delicate in his grasp. And for a second, you wonder what it might be like to lace your fingers together. How it would feel to hold onto him so intimately for just a few seconds longer. You sneak a glance up at Ari, only to watch as his pupils dilate, his nostrils flaring just slightly. It’s enough to let you know that you’re not the only one affected.
“You think we might be able to try this again?” His deep baritone washes over you like a balm. “You have my word I’ll do a much better job of, uh, keeping myself in check.” 
Yanking your hand away, all you can do is nod. Part of you almost wished the man would go back to acting like an asshole. At least then you would know how to handle him. This so-called charming and apologetic Ari was a different beast entirely.
“I–” You swallow thickly. “Yes, that’s fine.”
“Thank you for your kindness.” His easy smile has the nerve to do funny things to the butterflies in your belly. “And while I would hate to do anything that might spoil this good will, I would like to ask you a couple of questions right now.”  
Instantly suspicious, you open your mouth to deliver a curt “no”. However, having already anticipated this, Ari is quick to amend his request by promising not to be too invasive. He also insists that he’ll follow your lead. 
“If at any moment you want to stop, we’ll stop. You have my word on that too, darlin’.” He surveys the room, absentmindedly scratching at his jaw. “You good with me ensuring we have a little privacy?” Again you nod, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. 
Because at this point, it just didn’t make sense to kick the man out. Especially not when he seemed to be taking great pains to be respectful. You could only hope that he’d appreciate your cooperation enough to go bother someone else when you were through. 
Maybe it might be worth leading him back towards someone who’d actually appreciate his attention. Someone like your would-be frenemy, Charline Marshall. 
Seemingly encouraged by your response, the invasive bounty hunter hustles towards the door so that he could flip your sign from open to closed. And, unbeknownst to him, it also gives you a chance to begrudgingly appreciate just how good his ass looks in his Levi’s. 
Alright. So maybe you’d hold off on feeding Ari Levinson to Charline and her disciples – at least for right now.
“You know.” You cough, needing to give yourself a moment to recalibrate before you said or did something dumb. “I actually just remembered that I needed to fix a couple of things around the shop during my lunch break.”
An unruffled Ari simply smiles and winks back at you. “Thought you said you believed in your ability to multitask?”
You resist the urge to stick your tongue out at the smug bastard. Because he was right. You absolutely had said that. And then he’d had the gall to fucking listen. 
“Fine.” Shooting him a glare, you head over to the counter and toe-off your shoes. 
“Appreciate it, darlin’.” 
Just like last time, out comes his pen and tiny notebook. He flips it open to a new page before giving you his full attention. Meanwhile, you’re now hellbent on acting like he doesn’t exist. 
“How long have you owned your shop, Baubles & Quills?” 
If you were to look in his eyes at that moment, you would’ve seen them shining with genuine inquisitiveness. Almost as if he actually wanted to get to know you. 
“A few years.” You reply, bracing your hands on the flat surface of the desk. “I spent a large part of my childhood here, buried amongst books. My uncle left it to me when he passed. But I’m sure you already knew that.” 
Taking a deep breath, you send up a silent prayer to the Lord asking him not to let you fall before hefting yourself onto the counter with all the grace you can muster.  
“Maybe.” Ari concedes while jotting something down on his notepad. “But it’s different coming from – just what the hell are you doin’ woman?!”
“Checking out this light fixture.” You huff as you work to steady yourself.
“Any reason you couldn’t do that from the ground?” The bounty hunter surprises you by sounding more than a little stressed.
Confused by his response, you manage to spare a quick glance in his direction. Although your unlikely companion looks less than happy, you fail to fully grasp the nature of the problem. 
“Because I couldn’t quite tell if this whole panel was out, or just the one little section.” 
“Alright, well…” He drags an agitated hand through his already messy brown locks. “Now that you’ve seen it, how about you come on down from there?”
“Oh my goodness, Levinson.” An exasperated chuckle bubbles its way from your throat. “It’s just the counter. Save the freakout for when you find me on the flippin’ roof or something.” 
“You’re standin’ on the damned thing wearin’ nothing but socks. It’s like you’re askin’ to fall.”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.”
“How the hell is my expressin’ concern about your safety bein’ dramatic?” 
“Next question, buddy.” You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the affronted look on the bounty hunter’s gorgeous face.
Ari forces himself to take a breath before attempting to return back to the task at hand. “I have it here that your Uncle is the late Lenny Barstowe. He was, by all accounts, an upstanding pillar of this community.”
“He was.” You agree, bending down to grab the duster resting near your feet. 
“You say he was your uncle, and yet you two don’t share the same last name.” He frowns when he notices your slight wobble. 
And for the tenth time in almost as many minutes he finds himself wondering why the fuck you didn’t hire someone to take care of shit like this for you? Hell, give him a ladder and a free afternoon and he’d handle things himself.      
“Wow. Nothing gets past you.” You sniff, trying to fight back a sneeze as dust goes flying. “They teach you those observation skills in private detective school?”
“Sure did.” Ari snorts without missing a beat, tucking the pen behind his ear. “First thing on the syllabus, in fact.”    
“Thought so.” 
“So glad we cleared that up.”
You can’t stop the small thrill that courses through you when you notice the newfound tick in his jaw. If you weren’t careful, you could find yourself growing addicted to that little zing in your blood. To that tiny spike in your pulse you felt every time you two sparred.  
“But if we could go back to your uncle, I’m sure losing him had to be hard – what with him being your only family.” He takes a turn fanning himself with his notebook. ”Was your friend, Martin, there for you during that difficult time?” 
That particular question actually makes you pause and reflect. You’d been so lost in grief back then, which is part of the reason it had taken you so long to claw your way out of that dark hole. And, if memory served, you’d done that majority of that clawing on your own.
“I’m sure he was around, Mr. Levinson.” Your answer sounds cagey, even to your own ears. “But I pretty much wore my grief like a sweater back then. And if I’m being honest, those first few months after losing him were nothing but a miserable haze.”    
“I know the feeling.” He murmurs as he scribbles on the page. 
“Look.” You blow out a breath as you attempt to gauge the distance between the desk and the ground. As of this moment, you officially regretted not grabbing your step stool. “I don’t know where Martin is or who he’s running from. All I know is that he was scared, but he refused to tell me anything more, okay?”
“Did he ask you for money?”
“Yes.” 
He’d also called you too. And while you choose to keep that little detail to yourself, you figure there was no harm in telling him about the money. At the time you’d had no idea you were potentially aiding and abetting a criminal. Or maybe you just hadn’t wanted to believe it.
“And did you give it to him?” The intense look in his beautiful blue eyes has you suddenly feeling foolish.  
“Yes.” 
It’s that one word, spoken barely above a whisper, that leaves Ari shaking his head. His gaze drops to the ground as he works to rein-in his temper. You have no idea what a struggle it is for him to do so – because he’s not upset with you. 
If anything, you’d just given him one more reason to run that slippery motherfucker into the goddamned ground. 
“How much did he get you for?” Even though Ari has calmed himself considerably, his tone still comes off harsher than he intends. 
“Almost $500.” You tell him, your face hot with embarrassment. “I suppose I should’ve asked more questions. You probably think I’m an idiot for –”
“It’s okay, darlin’.” He swiftly interjects, not wanting you to get upset. “You’re doin’ so great bein’ honest with me right now.” Unsure of what else to do, he tosses his notebook aside in favor of reaching for your hand. “I know this shit ain’t easy.”  
“I think I’m done for now.” You tell him, doing your best to avoid looking at your now joined hands. God, he really needed to stop doing that. “Please.”
“Okay.” He readily agrees as his thumb strokes along the ridge of your knuckles. “Then we’re done.” You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows. “Are you gonna let me help you down off the counter before you kick me out?”
“It’s okay. Don’t want you to hurt yourself.” You mumble as you busy yourself with trying to figure out the easiest way to sit and scootch your way out of your current situation.
The last thing you needed was this man accidentally throwing out his back over some misplaced chivalry. 
To his credit, Ari decides to ignore your feeble protests. “C’mon and let me help you.” He repeats, gesturing for you to step towards the edge of the counter so that he can grab you by the waist. “And then I’ll be on my way.”
“Really, I’m fine.” You attempt to swat at his hands, which doesn’t actually work.
“C’mon, darlin’.” He assures you gently. “Just trust me.” The next thing you know, you’re suddenly being lifted into the air. “I got you.”
“Ack – I’m too heavy!” You squeal, immediately caught off guard by the way your legs briefly dangle in the air. Try as you might, you honestly could not remember the last time a man had picked you up. 
Your heart speeds up as he effortlessly sets you down on your feet, allowing your body to slide down the solid wall of his chest. Instinctively, your hands fly to his biceps in an effort to steady yourself. 
“Thank you.” You’re suddenly having a hard time breathing around this man. “But you really shouldn’t have done that. You could’ve hurt –”
“Sweetheart, you ain’t nothin’ but a feather.” Ari rumbles, his hands still resting firmly on your hips. 
“Somehow I doubt that.” You whisper, knowing that you should demand that he let you go. Except your body is too busy buzzing to actually cooperate. 
“Happy to prove you wrong any time.” While you suspect that he hadn’t really meant to say that, his smile is full of promise. “But right now, I’m afraid I’ve gotta head out.” Although it still takes another second for him to release you. 
Not that you’re complaining any. Which deep down you know could spell trouble for you. 
Before he leaves, however, Ari reaches into the front pocket of his jeans to hand you what looks a lot like a business card. “What’s this?” You mentally smack yourself in the forehead the moment the question leaves your mouth. 
“My card.” He responds as he now heads toward the door. “That’s my cell, just in case you need it.”
“Oh.”
“Call any time, day or night.” Ari’s gruff, no-nonsense tone goes straight to your core. “You remember somethin’ about Martin? Call me. You lookin’ for someone to stand guard while you lock up at night? Call me. You need to hear a friendly voice in the dark? Fucking call me.” 
His offer takes you by surprise. So much so, that you’re temporarily rendered speechless as you clutch the stiff piece of paper in your palm. While you weren’t sure if you’d ever take him up on his offer, you could certainly appreciate his generosity. 
“Thank you.” You rasp, your teeth going to nibble at your bottom lip.
“Any time, Duchess.” His head dips politely as he exits through the front door. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
And just like that he was gone, which meant you could finally breathe normally again. Strange butterflies once again fill your belly as you take your time examining the card your bounty hunter had left behind. While you weren’t sure if you’d ever call him, you decide it’s worth tucking into a zippered pocket in your purse before getting on with the rest of your day. 
Little did you know that you would come to need that tiny piece of paper sooner rather than later…  
END
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wisteria-lodge · 3 months ago
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And now for a HP fandom question - do you have any thoughts on queercoding in the series and if JKR ever actually intended it, and then backtracked, or if it was always completely unintentional? I'm thinking specifically about Lupin and Tonks (as individuals, not as a ship) Inspired by your post about the intention vs how fans perceived Draco Malfoy. Thanks!
So the first thing I want to do is make a distinction between femme-coding and queer-coding. They're tropes with very similar histories, and a lot of works treat them as the same thing. But Harry Potter doesn’t, and I think we can chalk this one up to JK Rowling’s habit of grabbing aesthetics and visuals without really thinking through the history behind them. 
(Like - the goblins. She says she didn’t mean to write an antisemitic thing, and I actually do believe her. But did she use a lot of tropes and images with a long history of being tied to antisemitism? yes.)
So when I say “femme” I mean giving a male character traits stereotypically associated with femininity. Heightened sensitivity/emotionality, an interest in hair, clothes and being attractive, a love of lace/pink/frills, a dislike of violence and physical confrontation, and a preference for the soft power of manipulation, character assassination and poison - versus the hard power of direct confrontation and physical prowess. Are these things super stereotypical? Yes. But they’re ALSO traits you see all the time on male villains, especially ones that you don’t want to seem that threatening. Femme-coded villains show up a lot in children’s media, or as the Big Bad’s #2. They’re not meant to be heroic or sympathetic (since all these feminine traits are not desirable, especially for guys.) But they also aren’t scary, and you can pretty much always play them for comedy. 
For example: see almost every male Disney villain. And JKR was writing children’s literature in the 90s, so of course she’s pulling from the same zeitgeist as the Disney Renaissance. 
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JKR loves herself a femme villain. The absolute gold standard is of course Lockhart - who wears pink, wants to start his own line of hair care products, is self-centered, vain, obsessed with popularity… but he sucks in a fight. His entire MO involves manipulating people into thinking he has these traditional masculine qualities when he just doesn’t. But there’s also fussy, prissy Percy wearing his prefect badge on his pajamas. Bitchy, emotional mean-girl poisoners Draco and Snape (especially early book Snape - which is Snape at his most villainous.) Draco, Percy and Snape are also unusual for being male characters who we see crying for reasons other than grief. 
Lucius Malfoy is an interesting case because he starts off quite masc. He’s threatening to curse people, the governors are scared of him, etc. But, as the books go on… and he gets less powerful… he also gets more femme. When we meet him in Book 5 he’s no longer threatening people, but bribing them, spreading rumors, and giving interviews to the Prophet casting Arthur Weasley in a negative light. He's also getting really into peacocks. In Book 2 he was a major threat, but as he gets recast as Voldemort’s #2 he becomes a more femme, soft-power villain. When he leads the attack on the Department of Mysteries, he absolutely bungles it, which defines his character (and relationship with Voldemort) for the rest of the series. And it makes sense that Lucius is given this kind of treatment! It’s a way of communicating that there's a new villain in town, a real villain. 
So, are any of these femme-coded villains additionally queer-coded? I’m actually going to say no. Queer-coding is (like it says on the tin) finding ways to imply that your character is specifically gay. Like maybe giving them a same-sex relationship that is written romantically, but not explicitly called out by the text. Or pairing up all of the characters except them. Maybe have other characters joke about them being gay, and use that as a way to talk about the subject with some plausible deniability. Or they could just play suggestively with a cigar, or a walking stick. There are different strategies.  
But Lockhart doesn't get any of that. Honestly, I think that if JKR actually thought of him as gay, she would have been a lot more wary about a scene where he keeps Harry alone with him in his office for way longer than he’s supposed to. And she might have skipped this joke: 
“Harry was hauled to the front of the class during their very next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, this time acting a werewolf (...) “Nice loud howl, Harry — exactly — and then, if you’ll believe it, I pounced — like this — slammed him to the floor — thus — with one hand, I managed to hold him down — with my other, I put my wand to his throat (...) he let out a piteous moan — go on, Harry — higher than that — good —” 
Like. At least she would have picked a different word than “moan,” right? Which unfortunately has slightly sexual connotations. Especially if she wanted to keep Lockhart a buffoon, to properly set up the twist at the end. 
Slughorn also gets femme-coded in a similar way: he loves his candy, his parties, his smoking jackets, his lilac silk pajamas, his web of connections he can use to get stuff (Lucius style.) We are introduced to him squatting in specifically a “fussy old lady’s” house. He’s also unusually emotional, getting weepy at Aragog‘s funeral. But I don’t think we’re meant to read him as actually gay, or else his relationship with Tom Riddle might’ve read a little too close to Tom seducing/trying to seduce him. Which is a beat JKR does subtly play out with Hepzibah Smith, but idk. by that point at least Tom is a legal adult.
(As a side note - the Harry Potter series got so lucky that all of its adult characters are played by absolutely top-shelf actors who are aware of the connotations and history behind various symbols, and do consider these things in their performances. Kenneth Brannagh and Jim Broadbent are good enough to make sure there’s not even a hint of iffy subtext when they play Lockhart and Slughorn.
Draco, Snape, and Percy all have a case of the not-gays. Percy has a girlfriend (we don’t really see her or anything, but we’re told she’s there.) Snape of course gets his whole thing with Lily, and Draco… after one too many beats where it’s clear that Pansy is into him, but he’s not into Pansy…  gets a scene where he’s talking to his buddies with his head in her lap. (JKR uses “no one‘s good enough for me” beats with Blaise, Draco and Sirius, and the idea there seems to be more that they have undeservedly high opinions of themselves, and less that they don’t like girls.)
But, I do agree that a lot of JKR's characters do come across as a little more queer than intended. It boils down, I think, to the general lack of any kind of romance in the Harry Potter books and JKR being generally bad at/uncomfortable with writing male attraction directed at women, BUT being perfectly happy writing attraction directed at pretty guys. And because of that… yeah, it can sometimes feel like maybe Harry has a thing for Cedric. Especially when Dudley goes on to tease him about Cedric being his boyfriend, which I believe is the only actual mention of gay people in the entire series.  
So is there any intentional queer-coding in the book? It’s really subtle, but yes. I think Dumbledore is queer-coded. He is unusually emotional/cries unusually often for a Rowling guy. He is also given a scene which emphasizes his “flamboyantly” cut plum-velvet suit, and his relationship with Grindelwald is implied to be romantic for one book and two movies before being actually confirmed in Fantastic Beasts 3. (With the line of dialogue “I was in love with you.” Big step up from “We were closer than brothers.” which is an odd thing to say about someone you are interested in romantically.) 
But you brought up Tonks and Lupin, two characters very commonly interpreted as queer. So let’s get into that. JKR has said that she considers Lupin’s lycanthropy to be a metaphor for stigmatized diseases like AIDS. And… as incredible as it is to say… I actually do not think that she made the jump from there to thinking that maybe the character suffering from AIDS should be gay.
Because the narrative places so much weight on Lupin being bitten young and then on maybe not being allowed to attend school, I’m pretty sure that he’s not intended to be queer so much as he’s meant to be Ryan White, the literal poster child for AIDS activism who got infected via blood transfusion when he was two. Tragic, absolutely. But not gay. Honestly, I hope JKR was thinking of ‘lycanthropy’ as a metaphor for stigmatized illness in the abstract and not as a comment on gay people specifically. Because otherwise, Greyback’s thing about biting children becomes a mash-up of two of the biggest homophobic boogeymen from the 80s: gay men infecting people with AIDS on purpose because… idk, they hate the world or something. And the influence of gay men somehow “turning” children gay. Both absolutely real, if ridiculous, moral panics.
On top of that, Remus and Sirius do get a pretty clear case of the not-gays early on (“He embraced Black like a brother.”) Buuuut Alfonso Cuarón did think through those implications for Movie 3, absolutely saw Lupin as gay, and directed David Thewlis to play him accordingly. No reports confirming or denying whether Alfonso Cuarón ships Wolfstar, but I think that if I’m an actor trying to make sense of Lupin’s motivations… and I know he didn’t show Dumbledore the Marauders’ Map and didn’t tell anyone Sirius was an animagus… and then I’m told my character is gay… well. Anyway, I think there are absolutely hints of Wolfstar in that performance. 
And there's Tonks. Tonks is introduced during a very spooky segment in Book 5: Harry has been going through it, been left alone at the Dursleys while having what sounds like a depressive episode. It’s dark, he hears intruders. It's a really good piece of writing. But JKR knows that it’s the good guys who are coming and thinks, okay. Let’s make that as clear as possible from the word go. And so the first thing Harry sees is Tonks' pink hair. And what kind of person has pink hair? A young adult. A punky young adult. And what power would a teenager think was cool? Well, the ability to change the color of their hair at will. That, by itself, would have worked perfectly fine for this character.
But then (for reasons best known to herself) JKR goes further. Even though Tonk’s hair changing color is easily 90% of the transformations we see and there is no plot reason her appearance needs to change more than that, we see her drastically change her age and body type. When you think about this power for more than five seconds, it becomes kind of OP. For worldbuilding reasons alone, my instinct would’ve been to tone it down a bit. 
But no, we have this counterculture character who seems interested in her career and not in a relationship, who can easily change anything about her body, and (if her ability works anything like Polyjuice) that means she should definitely be able to change her gender. Cool.
Then, in everyone’s least favorite romance, Tonks and Lupin are paired up. I have heard the argument that this was meant to walk back queer-coding, or to punish people who thought they were queer... but I don’t think that’s the case. I don’t think JKR expected these two to be fan favorites, and then was kind of surprised when everyone wanted to hear about their continuing adventures. 
(There are a handful of characters who JKR clearly really enjoys - and really enjoys writing - that fandom honestly could not care less about. Mundungus Fletcher and Ludo Bagman spring to mind. But the reverse is also true. She had one story for Lupin and people wanted to see more. Tonks is probably supposed to be her comment on immature young adults: she is loud, in your face, causes mild destruction and is “a little annoying at times.” But the fans fell in love with her.) 
So JKR has these two fan favorite characters and nothing for them to do. A romance is something for them to do. JKR also has a kind of weird pattern where good people need to either have kids or take care of kids. It’s not good to be a woman who isn’t involved with taking care of children in some fashion: see Rita Skeeter, Dolores Umbridge, Bellatrix Lestrange. This is also (I think) why Harry names his kids specifically after Severus, Sirius, and Albus. Since they’re good men, JKR had to find a way to give them kids after the fact. 
So yeah. I think we were meant to read Tonks and Lupin having a kid as kind of a reward, or at least as proof of their intrinsic goodness. There also just isn’t another guy in the right age range to ship Tonks with. The only other option is Sirius. 
(Harry in the books and Lupin on Pottermore both suspect that Tonks/Sirius is a thing. Completely forgetting, I guess, that they're cousins.)
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avatarcompanion · 2 months ago
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like Mai was in love with Zuko since childhood, and then he was sent away for years during his banishment. There is no evidence that Mai ever blames Zuko for this, but overall it might still have left some lingering abandonment feelings. Especially when Zuko breaks up with her after coming back, without a real explanation to her face.
Then Mai betrays Azula for Zuko, and brings herself in danger for him... on top of her already showing him that she cares about him, which isn't easy for her.
That's what "don't ever break up with me again" meant. It's not some psycho stalker ex-girlfriend physical threat to Zuko. It means Mai is willing to forgive, on the condition that Zuko will not repeat those mistakes, because it hurt her before.
Which is completely normal expectations to have after your partner have caused you hurt or betrayed your trust in some important way. You will move on, but not forget. It's implicit Zuko needed to work on those things.
So when he didn't really improve his emotional availability and kept important information from her, due to his duties and own struggles, it's completely sensible for Mai to feel so hurt she needs distance from him. Because the condition for re-starting the relationship is that Zuko would not make such mistakes again, so Mai's patience with her own heart would naturally be lower than without a history of previous hurts.
Making it so Zuko would need to prove to Mai he actually wants her back and will work hard for it, that he misses her when she isn't around him, that he won't take her for granted again is great writing and only improves the relationship from the show.
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0nlythrowharrybeaux · 6 days ago
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Twelve Days: Part 4 ^
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Part 4 is here! Thank you all for your patience:) I hope you like this part, it goes more into the background of things for Harry.
Warnings: infidelity, verbal fighting/arguing, mentions of alcohol dependence and gambling, fear of abandonment
WC: 7.2K
It had been over a week since you had all returned home and you were still just waiting in the silence. You assumed that the invitation your sister had made you to spend New Year’s eve with her and Harry early on in the trip had been revoked because you’d heard nothing from him but also, nothing from her. So you had spent it alone at home watching a comfort show. You’d ordered in dinner and had poured all your energy into making a strong cocktail before planting yourself on your couch for the night. You had eventually fallen asleep but were awoken by your parents’ call after midnight to wish you a happy new year and with that out of the way you proceeded to get to bed. 
You had to admit that you felt sad again. You were sad in the way that meant that you hadn’t unpacked from your trip and were still living out of the suitcase. Sad in a way that made you feel like taking the garbage to the dumpster a couple hundred feet away was too much to ask of you. And on top of that, the anxiety was back and you were also scared. Scared that your sister would use this thing she witnessed between you and Harry as the perfect opportunity to bring up her divorce to your family without having to take any responsibility for her actions. A part of you knew she was more mature than that. But the part of her that sought out approval and wanted to look good in front of others was capable of leading her to do anything to prevent any sort of public shame, even if it meant throwing someone else under the bus. It hadn’t been the first time she would’ve done so. So knowing that made it a very real threat.
It wasn’t until the 5th when Harry had finally reached out to you to say Happy New Year, but largely to tell you what was going on. And as you expected, she had brought up to him that talking about the divorce warranted a conversation with your parents where she could explain that her feelings had changed and that he could say that he actually was into you. You scoffed at the news but were not surprised that she had thought that up. Harry did press on her that, that wasn’t going to happen. Especially after what she had pulled on the holiday! So she decided that then until he was ready to also share about his situation with you, then they’d have to continue acting like nothing was wrong even if they were still going through the divorce.  
“That’s just ridiculous! Nothing would have ever happened with us if she hadn’t been in love with someone else the whole time!” You said with frustration dripping from your voice. 
“I know… but I mean, she’s still telling herself that you were hearing her out to mess with her and to make yourself available to me.”
“By making her think about how her actions were impacting you?”
“She hates being wrong.” He hummed and you sighed. You knew that all too well. “Hey, I’m not going to allow her to scape goat you, Y/N.” He assured her.
“I know. Thank you.” You responded as you just stared up at the ceiling of your apartment. 
It was significantly smaller than your shared place with Ash, even if it was also a one bedroom. You were glad that you’d had clients from the past who were eager to hire you back on. Your October to December, up until you left for the holidays, had been absolutely jam packed with dinner party bookings because of Halloween and Friendsgiving/Friendsmas things and thankfully, had replenished at least half of the savings you’d used on the sudden move back. And now for the new year, you’d received calls from at least eight different clients about meal prepping for their new lifestyle goals. It was always like that and in the end, most of them would fall off the wagon but you’d then be left with at least four clients who kept you around for the whole year and one or two who wanted you in their home cooking for their family three to four times a week. It wasn’t all that bad and you were certain that if you put in a little extra effort, your meal preps could keep on an extra client or two. 
“Y/N?” Harry inquired after the silence between you.
“M’here, just…thinking.” You said softly and he hummed.
“I’m going to try to see you this weekend. I know that it’s a drive but I don’t care.” He said to you and you smiled slightly as he knew the argument you were going to make and squandered it before you had the chance to present it. 
“Well I do care! And what if I don’t want to see you?” You asked with a small smile on your lips.
“Oh please…” he mumbled. “Besides, I start classes next Monday and it always gets so busy. This might be one of the few opportunities I get, you know?” He reminded.
“Fine…” you sighed nonchalantly and he chuckled. But truly you were overjoyed that he wanted to come see you. Santa Barbara wasn’t really that far from Sherman Oaks. Well, with traffic it was a nightmare, but the fact that he wanted to regardless meant a lot to you.
“Okay, I need to go! But I’ll let you know when I’ll be there.”
“Okay. Bye.” You chirped.
A FEW DAYS LATER…
Your week had been busy but Harry’s visit is what was helping you push through to the weekend It was nice to have those days free of work because the weekends did tend to be a very requested time for events and such, but somehow, spending time with him seemed more important than making a living. And on Friday morning you woke up with an excited feeling flowing through your veins. The ability to see and spend time with Harry made the sadness melt away enough. You were looking forward to it so much and you wanted to do something extra nice to show your appreciation for his effort, so you cooked. You decided on one of his favorite foods, a lamb wellington. It was a bit of a complicated dish but you’d made it before. Once it was actually for him when he got hired at the university and your sister had organized a little congratulatory dinner. You remembered that he seemed happy with it, so you went out and got what you needed for the dish.  
While you were out, you got a text from Harry that he was planning to be in around 5pm, which was perfect because with prep time and cooking, the meal would be ready shortly before his arrival. With tidying up, showering, and getting dressed and a little made up, the time flew by and you had just set the dish in the oven when some knocks on your door startled you a bit. You found it a bit odd because you hadn’t received a text from Harry to buzz him into your building, but regardless, you hurried over to the door and got it open without a second thought.
“You’re a little early!” You chuckled, but the joy was immediately wiped off from your face when you saw Ash standing at your door with a slightly confused look on his face. You were frozen in place, your heart started to pound erratically as all of these emotions started to drown out any logic that lived in you. There was sadness, confusion, relief, frustration, and so much rage. Your vision started to blur as the tears collected in your waterline “What the hell are you doing here?” You barely got out and Ash frowned.
“You blocked me.”
“Yeah, because I don’t want to fucking speak to you! I want nothing to do with you!” You reminded. “How’d you even find me?” You sniffled as the tears started running.
“Bea told me.” He informed, you sighed. Bea was your friend from the east coast. She was the nanny for one of the family’s you worked for and she had come to visit in the summer. “Don’t be upset at her. It took a lot of convincing.” 
“I want nothing to do with you, Ash.” You chuckled through your tears.
“I know! And I know I deserve that! But I also need you to know that when I said I made a mistake, I mean it! I’m not just saying this because of the crippling loneliness I’ve endured since you came back here. I need you to know that I was just scared. I freaked out because…I’ve never wanted this with another person and the second I just started to question whether this would be forever or if we would just become another statistic I just…chose to protect myself. I was an asshole! I was selfish!”
“I know that! And I don’t care! I don’t want you here.” You replied.
“You were expecting someone else.” He said and you nodded.
“I was.” You confirmed.
“You’ve already moved on?” Ash asked sadly.
“No! Or maybe, I don’t know…” you groaned, “But you have completely overstepped!” You cried.
“I know that, but I love you. I am still in love with you, Y/N.” He confessed. You could see the tears welling up in his own eyes and could hear the desperation in his tone. “I made a mistake. A fucking huge mistake! But I am here because I believe in us. I believe in what we had and I would be a bigger idiot than I am already if I just let you go.” 
“What the fuck…” you scoffed in disbelief as you started to cry harder.
“Sweetheart-”
“You need to leave.” You stated firmly, “I can’t believe you just show up here and thought this’ll fix everything you put me through.” You sobbed.
“I had to try. And I will keep trying because you’re worth fighting for. When you’re ready to talk, let me know. I’ll be waiting.” He assured you before walking off. You groaned and slammed your door closed and slid down it as you started to sob. 
The audacity Ash had made you so angry. And then again, the immense effort that Ash was making confused you. Of course you had lingering feelings for Ash, you’d been together for years! But you had already accepted the fact that if someone loves you, they don’t make decisions for you. And the decision of calling off your engagement had never even been a discussion. You had no idea how long you’d been sitting on the ground and crying for but the next thing you knew, the smoke detector was going off and you glanced over to see some smoke starting to creep out of your oven.
“Shit!” You gasped and hurried over and turned it off before throwing the door open allowing the smelly, dark cloud to billow out. You were in a state of panic when you saw a burning piece of parchment paper at the bottom of the oven and quickly grabbed a pair of tongs to grab it and drop it in the damp sink. In your state of stress, you turned back and reached for the tray of your food worth hours of your hard work with your bare hand to try and salvage it from absorbing the smokey scent. “Fuck!” You exclaimed in pain as the piping hot tray burned your hand and you let it go instinctively. 
You watched in horror as the wellington fell off and broke apart as it hit the oven door and then the ground. This brought on a fresh wave of tears and you started to cry even harder as the frustration got the best of you. The dish was actually looking perfect and you were mentally beating yourself up over not checking the tray properly before putting it in the oven. The parchment paper had probably been stuck to the bottom of the tray and you hadn’t noticed before putting it inside. You let out a frustrated scream and grabbed the nearest object before hurling it on the ground. Thankfully, it was just a plastic bowl you’d left out for salad, but that completely destroyed the wellington on your kitchen floor. Not like it was salvageable anyway…Then, you heard some knocks on your door again and felt your rage start to boil up inside of you again, you stood quickly and practically stamped over to the door with your chest heaving from the anger you were feeling, it was going to explode.
“Ash, I said to leave me the fuck alone!” You seethed and everything bad that you felt getting ready to explode inside of you just melted away when you saw that it was Harry standing there with a bag of food from one of your favorite restaurants and a bouquet of flowers in the other. His expression fell in concern when he saw the state you were in. Mascara all run, face swollen from crying. He just set everything down quickly and pulled you into his arms.
“Ash was here?” He asked as he rubbed your back gently and you nodded as you sniffled.
“Just missed each other by like 15-20 minutes.” you informed.
“Let’s get inside.” Harry said as he started to pull back.
“Sorry if it smells like smoke.” You apologized as his thumbs wiped under your eyes to clean up the smeared mascara. “Had a meltdown after Ash left,” You started to explain, “And I forgot about the lamb wellington I’d made for you and thought it was burning but it was actually a piece of parchment paper and then I tried to pull it out but it was hot and I burned my hand so bad! And I dropped it and everything I wanted to do for you is all ruined now and-”
“Hey.” He stopped you as he cradled your face in his hands, “Breathe.” Harry said gently and you nodded and took a shaky inhale. “Thank you for your thoughtfulness.” He smiled. “And we need to take a look at your hand.” He said.
“Of course. And well, I know that dish is your favorite, so I wanted to do something a little special for you.” You explained as you led him inside.
“I also brought your favorite though. Wanted to do something special for you too.” He explained as he retrieved the bag of food and the flowers and then set them on the kitchen counter. 
Once he’d done that, he saw the Wellington on the floor and felt sad for you. He knew it wasn’t an easy dish to make, it was quite tedious and required lengthy preparation. He didn’t even know if he had the heart to tell you that he couldn’t give a single fuck about wellingtons but he knew you’d find it humorous.
“Can I tell you something that’ll piss you off but also make you laugh?” He asked and you nodded.
“Go on then.” You invited him to continue.
“Lamb wellington is not my favorite food.” He disclosed and your brows furrowed, “Your sister just doesn’t know any other British food apart from a shepherd’s pie and just assumed it was that because my mum had shared with her that my nan would always make that for my birthday growing up. I actually fucking hate it.” He explained and you sputtered on a laugh and he started to laugh as well. “Well, usually. The one she asked you to make for me a few years ago? That was the best one I’d ever had in my life, so I still would’ve eaten it, happily.” He assured you, “But don’t feel bad for us not being able to eat it.”
“Got it.” You assured with a smile, “I actually just feel bad for the amount of money I spent on the lamb. That was like a tank of gas.” You mumbled playfully.
“Send me the invoice.” He shrugged and you giggled. “Seriously.” He insisted.
“Okay, professor money-bags…” you hummed as you slid your hands down to his and then winced when you touched. “Forgot about the burn…guess, that’s how happy I am to see you.” You said and he smiled before glancing down to inspect your hand.
“Oh, love…” he tutted as he saw the angry, red line in the shape of the edge of the tray burned into the palm of of your hand and the tips of your fingers were also burned. 
“Being a chef and all, I have the perfectly stocked up first aid kit.” You assured him.
“Be a good girl for me and go get it.” He said smoothly and you suddenly felt turned on.   A timid little grin painted itself on your lips as you felt your face warming as you blushed.
“Yes, sir.”  You giggled and started to turn away when he grabbed your waist and you turned back.
“Mmm-mm…try again.” He hummed with a devilish smirk and lust burning in his gaze. Your smile widened as realization set in.
“You have a daddy kink?” You inquired through a disbelieving giggle.
“Yeah. But only with some people.”
“Is that your way of saying that it’s not a thing with my sister?” You asked for clarity and he sighed.
“You had to say it aloud, didn’t you?” He asked through a slightly embarrassed smile and you giggled.
“I gotta keep you on your toes.” You excused and he smiled.
“Good to know. Now, go on.” He reminded you of your task and you nodded and hurried off. 
It wasn’t long before Harry had gotten some burn ointment on your hand, gotten a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a kitchen cloth on your palm, and had you take an ibuprofen for the pain. And minutes later you were set up at the dinner table and eating your favorite cannelloni. You hadn’t gone there simply because it was currently out of your price range, but how you missed this place. And of course, he had brought along some of their famous citrus tiramisu for dessert and a small box of cannoli for you to have over the next couple days. The time passed you by quickly after you guys decided to watch the Twilight saga after dinner. You were curled up beside Harry on your small couch as he glanced down at you as New Moon ended. 
“Just making sure you’re still awake.” He smiled.
“I am.”
“Okay, let’s start the next one.” He said as he reached for the remote.
“Only if you want! It’s nearly 11 and you have quite a drive back.” You said to him. “Though, I mean, if you want to stay over you totally can. I’d love to have you and I’m sure I have something that you can change into.” You said to him.
“I actually did bring an overnight bag just in case but I left it in my car. I just didn’t want to assume.” He explained and you smiled.
“Well, you’re always welcomed. And ummm, we should probably check you don’t have a ticket. The street parking here requires a permit. I can give you the visitor one to stick on your windshield.” You suggested and he nodded and smiled. After a few minutes you were both back up in your apartment, you were getting changed into your pajamas while Harry started his nightly routine.
“Do you want to do a face mask with me?” You asked as you peeked into the bathroom as he was lathering in his face wash.
“I’d love to!” He said happily and you gave him a thumbs up before sliding in and reaching for your makeup removing balm. Once you’d also washed your face you were both lathering on some of your Clarin’s mask. It was one of your splurge skincare items and you masked once a month so it lasted you a decent while. You guys cleaned up your kitchen and turned down the bed in just the time you needed before washing them off, and once you finished the rest of your skin care you were both in your bed, cuddled close and propped up against the pillows as you continued with Eclipse, the predicament Bella was in kind of reminded you of your sister.
“Hey, random but how did you pull off being able to spend the night?” You asked.
“Your sister left for San Diego last night. Obviously, she didn’t say explicitly that she was going with company but I saw a lingerie set in her luggage while she was packing so…”
“Sorry.” You sighed.
“I’m not. I get to be here with you.” He flirted and you smiled. “Do you want to talk about what happened with Ash?”
“No…just the same as before though, wanted me back.” You explained briefly and he hummed. “I’ve decided to never speak to the girl who told him where I live again.” You said.
“That’s perfectly acceptable. What if he’d come to kill you, like Riley to Bella?”
“Exactly!” You exclaimed. “Anyway, told him to fuck right off…I’m still too angry to have a conversation with him. I kinda feel bad because he came all this way but I’m not ready.”
“That’s alright. You don’t owe him anything.” Harry assured you as his hand gently smoothed up and down your hip.
“Thanks.” You hummed. “So what is it?” You seemingly asked out of nowhere.
“What’s what?” Harry asked.
“Your favorite food.” You responded and he smiled.
“You might laugh again.” He warned.
“Try me…” you hummed.
“A cheese toastie, or grilled cheese sandwich. Whichever, really.” He said, “I know that’s like super simple and-” you quickly sat up with a disbelieving smile.
“No. That’s also my actual favorite food.” You said and he grinned.
“Really?”
“Yeah! It’s literally the perfect comfort food.” You explained and he hummed.
“Definitely.” He agreed, “We weren’t really well off growing up, my mum worked a lot to keep us afloat. But one day she was home after school and she was super excited because she’d gotten a promotion that would allow her to take a day off every week and that was our little tradition on her day off. She would pick up my brother and I from school and make us that for dinner.”
“You didn’t get sick of it?”
“Well, it didn’t last long…maybe just a month or two at most. It was really lovely while it lasted though.” He explained with a smile, “That was around the time she started dating my stepdad and well, we know where that led…”
“Ummm, I actually don’t know. But we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to get into that.” You assured him.
“It’s nothing crazy…he just got her a little too into drinking and gambling.”
“Oh, I see…I’m sorry, Harry.” You said softly.
“It’s alright. It doesn’t bug me like it used to. They’re adults, they know the consequences of their actions.” He explained. “There are just a lot of ups and downs. And well, my older brother has always been pretty flighty. So when our stepdad came into our lives it was really easy for him to follow in his footsteps and subscribe to his patterns. So there’ve been a lot of ups and downs.”
“Yeah, I can imagine.” You responded as your hand smoothed down his chest. “Is that why you moved?” You asked and he pulled you just a bit closer.
“Largely, yeah. That guy just ruined the people in my family. Anyone that tried to get my mum to see that he was a loser was estranged, so by the time I was a teenager it was just the four of us and I had to be the responsible one. And eventually I just got sick of it and that’s how I ended up moving here for grad school.”
“Wow…I’m really proud of you, Harry.” You said softly and he smiled and leaned down to kiss the top of your head. 
“Thank you.” He responded. “That’s why I really like your family. I’ve heard a lot about how your parents worked so hard ad sacrificed so much for themselves and for you two. It’s something that I saw a lot with my friends and such, but I never thought I’d have that for myself again.” He confessed and that made you so sad for him. “So when…I found out about your sister I wasn’t just sad that my marriage was over. I was sad that I would be losing all of you.”
“Well, you’re not going to lose me.” You reassured him.
“I know.” He hummed.
“Good.” You smiled.
“Sorry…” he chuckled, “I didn’t really intend to rehash my childhood traumas in your bed.” You giggled and pressed yourself up a bit and pecked his lips quickly.
“Well what did you intend to be doing in my bed, then?” You questioned teasingly with a smug grin on your face as you looked down at him.
“It was definitely going to be more X-rated.” He hummed.
“Well, I don’t mind you sharing those things with me at all. It’s part of getting to know you better and that’s equally as important.” You said, reframing his worry of putting a damper between the two of you. “I want to know everything about you.” You added and Harry smiled and slid his hand behind your neck and pulled you down again to kiss your lips gently.
“I want to know everything about you too.” He muttered before kissing you again. 
It was so easy to get lost in each other. It was just minutes later that your were both topless, his body hovering over yours as you kissed with desperation. His big hands were so warm as they glided over your bare skin and breasts. You could feel his erection pressed against you and if he just touched between your legs he’d also feel how evident your arousal was. Just as things were getting even more heated there was some pounding at your front door followed by shouts of your name from none other than, Ash. Harry drew back from you as you both heard the commotion outside.
“What the fuck?” You expressed in annoyance as Harry moved off of you and started to get off of the bed. You sat up and reached for him, “Just leave it.”
“Absolutely not. Do not let him ruin this fresh start for you.” He said and you sighed.
“I’m just worried that he’ll try to fight you. Clearly there’s some substance involved and-”
“I can hold my own. And if he takes a swing, we call the cops.” Harry said and you looked at him nervously.
“Deal?”
“Deal.” He assured. 
You followed behind Harry and as he approached the front door you could already hear some of your neighbors out in the hall cursing at Ash, telling him to shut up. You decided to just linger behind Harry but far enough that you were out of sight. You could feel your stomach turning as Harry unlocked the door to your apartment.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Ash slurred.
“I was about to ask you the same thing.” Harry responded.
“I’m here for my fiancé, so get the fuck out of my way.” Ash grumbled as he tried to push past Harry, but he stood firm.
“Y/N told you to go earlier, so I suggest you leave, Ash.”
“Or what, tough guy?” Ash sneered. You saw how Harry’s jaw tighten from his profile and  it put you on edge thinking that he might lose his cool and you’d have to intervene.
“I’ll call the police.” 
“For what?” He scoffed.
“You’re being a nuisance, Ash. You’re disturbing everyone on this floor over nothing. She wants absolutely nothing to do with you. So get your ass back on a plane and fly back to whatever shit-hole state you came from.” Harry advised.
“I can’t just let her go.” He slurred, you could hear the pain in his voice and it made you want to step out and see him, but the fact of the matter was that he did let you go.
“That’s exactly what you did to her. You let her go for no good fucking reason and now she wants nothing more from you. So please, have some sense and call a cab or an uber and go home, Ash. It’s over.” Harry stated firmly. He wasn’t being a dick to him though, he sounded genuinely sad for Ash.
“But-”
“But nothing. Please go and never come back or there will be consequences. Do you hear me?” Harry asked calmly.
“Fuck you, Styles. Fuck you.” Ash growled before giving him a hard shove, but Harry hardly moved an inch. Before Ash could even realize it, Harry had him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him high enough that he was struggling to plant his feet firmly on the ground. 
“Get the fuck out of here before I snap you like a fucking twig.” Harry seethed and Ash’s courage suddenly faded, “If I ever hear that you showed up here again I will fuck. You. Up. That’s promise.” Harry punctuated before letting Ash go and moments later you heard Ash’s unsteady steps fading away down the hall. When Harry turned back to you after locking up you gave him a small smile.
“Thank you.”
“Of course.” He said as he reached for your face and tucked your hair behind your ear. “Are you alright?” 
“Yeah. I think so.” 
“Think so?” He inquired.
“Yeah…it’s just that…I actually don’t know how to feel. Like I’m glad he’s gone but it’s sad because it feels like the last time I’m ever going to see him.”
“Do you still have feelings for him?” Harry asked you.
“Yeah, but not love. Just…some care, concern…a little loathing.” You admitted and his lips quirked up in a small smile.
“A little?” He asked as he cupped your face in his hands and you smiled.
“Yeah. Hate’s not good for you.” You hummed and he went silent for a few seconds as he looked over your face.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so distant. Your sister’s really upset with me over the almost-kiss she saw.” He explained.
“I figured.” You responded with a slight shrug.
“I’m not going to leave you hanging like that again.” He insisted to you.
“It’s alright though if you do. I get it…” you responded. You saw the way his morale deflated just a bit upon hearing your response.
“I don’t like that you don’t believe me.” He countered with a slight frown and you sighed and moved out of his hold and made your way back towards your bedroom. You just needed a second to really gather your thoughts over what you were trying to say to him without making him feel like shit. He followed close after you, awaiting a reaction or a response. You sat on the bed and he crouched down before you, looking at you expectantly.
“It’s not that I don’t believe you when you say that, Harry.” You started, “I just…understand that the likelihood of that happening is…easier said than done.” You explained and he hated that response even more. 
“I will try.” He insisted and you smiled sadly.
“Okay.” You nodded, though you had so many more thoughts about this in your head. You just made a mental note to not get your hopes up with this. The situation with him and your sister was messy and had the potential to get very complicated. Especially knowing your sister and how she wanted to maintain her own image as clean as possible. She would do whatever she could to not come out looking like the one who fucked everything up. A part of you wanted to believe that she wouldn’t throw you and Harry under the bus, but realistically, you weren’t too sure of how far she’d be willing to go to protect herself. 
“Y/N…” Harry beckoned, his voice was soft and his hand landed on your knee and gave you a gentle squeeze. “I care about you. A lot. And I don’t want to cause more hurt or turmoil or-”
“I know, Harry.” You assured him as your eyes finally met his own. “But I’m also not going to get my hopes up about it.” You said to him, “I can’t let myself be in a position where I lose again. I don’t know if I can deal with it.” You said sincerely and his frown deepened. “I care about you too and like you told me before, it’ll hurt way more coming from you.”
“I get that.” He ceded and you nodded. 
“Should we just…get to bed?” You asked him and he nodded wordlessly.
It felt awkward for a little bit, the silence was absolutely deafening. The only reason you knew he was in bed beside you was his body heat radiating onto your arm from the minuscule distance between the two of you. You hated the awkwardness so much but at some point you would have to accept the reality of the situation you were both in. There was nothing more that could be done but to wait.
“I’m sorry if I made you think that I’m upset at you. I’m not.” You said as you broke the silence. “I’m just…trying to protect myself.” You explained and he turned towards you.
“I know, love. I’m just disappointed that I could be a source of more hurt for you. I don’t want that for you.” He explained as he reached for you once more. You let him drape his hand over your hip and you decided to turn onto your side to face him as well. This minimized the gap between you even further and you just nuzzled up against his chest. 
“I trust you but it’s more the nature of the situation that can make things a bit messy and scary for me.” You explained.
“You’re right about that…” he agreed. “I’m scared too.” He admitted after a moment of silence as he just stared at the wall while you got comfortable against his chest.
A FEW DAYS LATER
Harry’s POV:
The weekend with you had been extremely wholesome and necessary for Harry. He’d gotten a bit worried after Ash showed up and your conversation got a bit depressing but thankfully, things were able to turn around and you enjoyed the next two days together. Despite the very positive note his visit had ended with, he was still nervously awaiting Jules’ return. It was Monday afternoon and he was getting home from his lecture when he saw her car in the open garage as he came up the street. When she didn’t show up the night before he wondered if she’d ever even come back to stay with him. 
A part of him felt relieved as he had those thoughts the night before because it meant that she had intent of standing firm in her choice for Joe and she would stop dragging him along and asking him to pretend. But right now as he imagined her hanging out as if nothing had happened, blissfully unaware of when was the last time he’d see her like that and he’d return to an empty house, her side of everything bare…it made him feel so sad and scared. 
This was the home they’d made for themselves, the place they picked because when they had kids they’d have a big yard to play in and be close to the beach. There were so many hopes and dreams tied to this place but the uncertainty of her feelings and their marriage right now made it hard to feel happy in it and he hated that. While his feelings for Jules had mostly gone away, he knew that if she just abandoned him one day without a warning it had the potential to really do a number on him. He sat in his car with these thoughts for a few minutes before deciding to just get inside and deal with whatever the evening had in store for them.
When Harry opened the door to get inside he saw her suitcase near the door and he felt that pit in his stomach sinking deeper and deeper.
“Jules?!” He called out as he sped by the kitchen and set down his tote and keys on the counter, “Juliana?!” He called out one more time and there was no response. He blazed up the staircase and into their bedroom only to find it empty as well, but as he took a moment to think he heard the shower running from the adjoined bathroom. It was an ensuite, so he walked over and pressed his ear to the door to hear if she was alone. He couldn’t tell through the soft music he barely heard playing over the pelts of the water hitting the tiles loudly. He let his panic ride out as he just sat on the edge of the bed and waited for her. Thankfully, it was just another few minutes before she was stepping out of the bathroom and he stood from the bed.
“Fuck, Harry!” She gasped, clutching her towel tightly in her fist as her body slightly jolted from the surprise of his presence. “What are you doing here? I thought you had class late!” She slightly scolded him, more from the shock of finding him there than actually being angry at him.
“Sorry. That was last semester. I don’t teach late on Mondays this time around.” He explained and she nodded and there was a tense silence between them for a few seconds. “I was worried when you didn’t come home last night.” He said and she scoffed.
“Sure…after you spent the weekend in bed with my sister?” She muttered as she walked past him and to her set of drawers to grab some clothes. He was relieved to find them fully stocked. 
“I’m not having sex with her.” He said and she slightly paused upon hearing that. “We could have but we didn’t. We’re still married, you know?” Harry said and she swallowed thickly before continuing to search for the shirt she had in mind. 
“So what? You just hang out and talk?” She asked cooly and he hummed.
“Basically. W-we have kissed and a few other things but not sex.” he shared and she finally made eye contact and she could see that Harry was being sincere. “You left the garage open and I uhhh, I saw your bag by the garage door and thought that maybe you were…packing up t-to leave for good.” He shared and her gaze softened a bit before reaching in for what she wanted.
“Sorry, I must’ve forgotten to close it.” Harry nodded. 
“When you are ready to leave for good, please tell me.” He said softly and she nodded.
“I will.”
“Promise?” He asked as he came closer and she nodded.
“Promise.” She reassured and he gave one final nod before turning to leave her to get dressed. 
He was just about to start on making some dinner when she finally came down into the kitchen. 
“I put an AirTag in your car.” Julie confessed and Harry immediately stopped what he was doing.
“Why would you do that?” He chuckled dryly.
“To confirm that you were going to see Y/N.”
“You could’ve asked…” he said simply.
“I guess I figured you’d lie about it.” 
“Why would I do that?” He asked and she shrugged.
“Because of me.”
“Because of you? What about you?” He pressed and she sighed.
“You know what I’m trying to say!” She groaned and his brows raised in feigned realization.
“Oh! Because of your affair?” He questioned and now she was upset. Her features turned down and she groaned.
“Harry, please-”
“Why can’t you just say it?” He questioned, “Just admit it for once that you’ve done a bad thing!” He raised his voice, “The more you live in denial the more you drag me along. It’s not fair and you know it.” He stated firmly and the tears started running down her face.
“Harry-”
“No more excuses, Jules! I will tell you straight up that I do like Y/N! I want to get to know her better and I don’t give a fuck if you approve or not because you have no right to be angry with me over that. Not when you don’t love me anymore and have a whole other relationship behind my back!” He reminded her.
“Jesus, if this even goes anywhere! Y/N is a flake! How are you even going to break that to my parents? Huh?!” She questioned despite her tears.
“Ideally, you would’ve come clean about your affair and our divorce by then.” He said and she huffed out a dry laugh.
“Yeah, right…”
“Julie, you have to tell them! If you don’t, I will.”
“Like hell you will!”
“I can’t fucking do this anymore!” He shouted as he slammed the knife down onto the cutting board and everything fell silent. “I don’t deserve this! Why do you hate me so fucking much?! What did I do?” He asked as his own tears started to fall.
“I don’t hate you! You haven’t done anything wro-”
“You’re hurting me, Juliana! Why don’t you care that every time you delay being honest, that you dodge the attorney’s call, that you leave with that fuck face, all for your benefit, I will add… you are hurting me! You’re so fucking selfish to believe that I should continue to prop up your image of being the perfect daughter! Fucking newsflash, no one is perfect! Especially not you. So stop playing these games with me! And stop pretending that you have beef with me seeing Y/N! You clearly don’t give a fuck about me or this marriage. So just stop it with all of this!” Harry finally blew up and instead of saying anything she just hurried back up the stairs. “Fucking unbelievable…” he grumbled in irritation.
Harry ended up eating alone, which he did expect after blowing up on Jules. He wanted to go apologize but he kept telling himself not to. He had nothing to apologize for, after all, she hadn’t apologized to him for any of her behavior at all. All she had ever apologized for was telling that fuck face, Joe, to come down to Palm Springs so that they could see each other for the holidays. Other than that it was just excuses and excuses. And he gave himself a time line. It was going to be a full year of her relationship with Joe in February and if she didn’t tell everyone the truth, he would.
NEXT PART...
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matan4il · 1 year ago
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The discussion at the International Court of Justice has been pretty predictable so far. South Africa claimed that on Oct 7 "out of the blue" Israel invaded Gaza and started a genocidal campaign against the Palestinians.
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Israel's defense team (pic above) did the obvious thing, and pointed out Hamas' massacre on that day, that it's a genocidal threat to the citizens of this country, and that everything happening in Gaza can ONLY be understood in the context of this massacre, and of the right to self defense which EVERY COUNTRY has (meaning that harming this right will also harm Israel's right to an equal treatment), that it's fighting Hamas, not the Palestinians, that every bit of suffering inflicted on both sides is due to Hamas' attacks on civilians in Israel, and the intentional way it uses Gazan civilians as a tool to paralyze the right of a democratic state to defend its people.
To prove a murder, a prosecution has to prove two things: action and intent. It has to prove that the action was committed (meaning, that person A killed person B), and that the action was intentional (that person A meant to kill person B). In the same way, a genocide has to be proven regarding both action and intent. In terms of actions, Israel's defense team showed that Israel has taken numerous steps to minimize the number of Gazan civilian casualties, while the actions of Hamas are aimed to maximize them, and of course that to begin with, the number of fatalities is based on Hamas' reports, which are NOT reliable, and which do not show how many of the killed were terrorists, meaning legitimate targets, nor how many were killed by Hamas itself.
For intent, SA took Israeli officials' quotes out of context in order to make it seem as if Israel's goal is to target all Palestinians. The Israel defense team showed the real context of many of these quotes, as well as presented OPERATIONAL quotes (during cabinet meetings, where policy is ACTUALLY determined, quotes that are much more crucial for what is ACTUALLY happening than media quotes) showing that Israel explicitly declared Hamas is its target, not all Palestinians, and that many of the operational quotes are about giving Gazans humanitarian aid, and minimizing the number of causalties.
Israel has also argued that a crucial condition for provisional measures (internediary junctions that SA is asking for) is not met, the condition that a population is at an extraordinary danger for genocidal acts. Israel's defense team showed that with Israel's efforts to minimize causalties, and with its stated intent of lowreing the intensity of fighting as soon as it is possible, there's no extraordinary danger to the Gazans that Israel will carry out genocidal acts if the fighting isn't stopped. The team argued that on the contrary, if a provisional measure forcing Israel to stop its war against Hamas is granted, it's the Israeli population that would be left in an extraordinary danger of future genocidal acts committed by Hamas. Israel's team also pointed out that NEVER has a provisional measure calling for the stop of an ENTIRE military operation been given, meaning SA is asking for a judicial precedent, something that requires extraordinary circumstances, which SA had failed to prove.
I personally want to address one of the quotes SA used, Bibi talking about Amalek. The exact quote is: "Remember that which Amalek has done to you, we will defeat the evil" (source in Hebrew). People claimed that Amalek is code for genocide, because the nation of Amalek in the Bible was wiped out. What they ignore is that Amalek in the Hebrew Bible is a symbol, Amalek is not about a specific nation, it's about the fact that some will hate the people of Israel no matter what. Jews can be the nicest, best, kindest, sweetest humans on earth to a degree that's not actually realistic, and Amalek would still hate them. Amalek is essentially the biblical term or antisemites. "Remember that which Amalek has done to you" (Deutoronomy 25:17) has therefore become a symbol as well. It's not about a specific action against Amalek, because the truth is, we can never fully get rid of them, there will always be antisemites around. But Jews can remember what antisemites had done to us, and try to learn from it. And isn't that what we ALL say, that those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it?
I also wanna demonstrate that Jews DO NOT take Amalek to automatically mean genocide.
This is from Israel's national Holocaust museum. Gallery 9 covers the way Holocaust survivors return to life, and re-build it. One of the main, real banners that survivors put up in the Displaced Persons (DP) camp of Bergen Belsen is presented to visitors:
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It's the top banner in the pic, and the words are the original Hebrew for "Remember that which Amalek has done to you" followed by 3 exclamation marks. On the wall to the right you can see posters from DP camps, the top left one (out of the 4 posters in the top row) is from Munich, in 1948, and it is also using this very same quote, as it asks survivors to record and collect their testimonies:
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First, I believe it's clear this is a call to do something very innocent in nature, and not remotely close to genocidal.
Second, I hope it's also obvious that this call to remember what Amalek has done, in the context of the Holocaust, is not a call against all Germans. It's not even a call against all Nazis. Oskar Schindler, who saved roughly 1,200 Jews during the Holocaust, was a German Nazi. The first ones to make sure he is remembered and honored, were Jews. In Romania, a man called Traian Popovici saved roughly 20,000 Jews in the city of Cernauti, and again, the first place where he was honored as a hero was in Israel, the Jewish state, in 1965. But also in Romania, about half of the Jewish population was murdered in the Holocaust, most of them (including my family), by Romanians. Not Germans, not Nazis. In every single country, Germany included, we can find those who helped save Jews, and those who helped to kill them. So I hope it's evident that no one was calling to vilify all Germans, as one nation, nor ignore those who killed Jews in the Holocaust, who were not German.
The use of Amalek here is obviously NOT a call to genocide applied indiscriminately to an entire nation. Accordingly, human history does not include that time Jews carried out a counter-genocide against the Germans after WWII. Despite the repeated use of the term Amalek, which came from the people themselves. Anyone who claims Amalek is automatically a call to genocide does not know Jewish culture, but is still trying to weaponize it against Jews.
I also have to say that one of the more despicable libels stated as if it were fact in the ICJ yesterday by SA, was that Israel is trying to prevent babies in Gaza from being born. In Israel, about 2 million people are Arab. While only about 7% of them define themselves as Palestinian (according to a 2020 survey), many around the world (and especially the anti-Israel crowd) see them all as Palestinians. Israel financially supports families with kids, and it also pays for fertility treatmeans for the first two kids of (would be) Israeli parents. And there is NO difference between Jewish and Arab citizens of Israel in this. Yes, Israel is financially supporting the birth of Arab babies, that's just fact.
In contrast, during the Holocaust, we know the Nazis, in addition to murdering Jewish babies in places like the extermination camp of Auschwitz, also tried to prevent them from being born. We have the protocols of a discussion between Jewish community leaders in a Lithuanian ghetto, where they're trying to decide what to do with the statement of the Nazis, that if they learn of even one Jewish baby born alive in the ghetto, they will come in and murder everyone in there. These Jewish leaders know that there are pregnant women in the ghetto. They know that some of these expectant mothers have already lost their husbands, and all they have left of the men they loved is the baby they're carrying. These women would not easily agree to have an abortion. But if they don't, everyone would be murdered. What's the right thing to do, and how to do it?
At the ICJ, SA did not present one single piece of evidence to support the claim that Israel is preventing Palestinian babies from being born. I think it's a whole new moral low, to take something that was actually historically done to Jews as a part of the genocide against us, and present it without any proof as if the Jewish state is doing that itself. This is how anti-Zionism gives birth to new antisemitic blood libels. This is a part of how anti-Zionism is antisemitic by its very nature.
Outside the court, Israeli journalists report that a campaign by the families of the hostages (some of which were present at the discussions), asking to remind everyone of their family members still held in captivity by Hamas, was not approved for publishing in the Netherlands. These are the posters they wanted to share:
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While those kidnapped and their loved ones can't testify as to the absurdity of portraying Israel's self defense as genocide, the hostages were mentioned, and their faces were shown in the court, in one of the more moving moments IMO of today's proceedings.
There's also a pro-Israel demonstration outside. An Israeli journalist who interviewed two of the participants, started by admitting that this group was protesting so peacefully, he completely missed them at first. So don't be surprised if they're not mentioned or interviewed by most journalists. He also pointed out that repeatedly, anti-Israeli protesters would drive by this pro-Israel group, shout out anti-Israel slogans, often while waving a Palestinian flag, and film the reactions of the protesters. Just to be clear, that's harassment.
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(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)
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preservationofnormalcy · 7 months ago
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[Somewhere deep in the Bronx there’s a warehouse building with a big sign that reads “Carpet Heaven,” and I’m standing outside of it. When I blinked, it changed to “OPN Site 27.” It stayed like that after I looked at it again - a feature of the Office’s “memetic masking” that hides their locations from those not exposed to the supernatural. Or “Extranormal,” as is the Office’s preferred term. Site 27 is the official name for the location - though the staff that work there call it something else: the Station.
Graffiti dots the bricks of the building’s exterior, following me up the small stairs to the building’s entrance. There’s a nondescript door that buzzes as I approach, quietly unlatching. Past the doors, security towers loom in front of me. An electronic voice asks me to place my belongings in a tray and slide them into a conveyor. I do as I’m asked, but I’m somewhat confused - why does this place need so much security?]
A few moments later, I retrieve my things from the tray and keep moving. I’ve become used to the intentional plainness of Office locations. I’m always torn as to what it means. In a place like this, it’s obviously meant to put people off. This is Carpet Heaven, the most boring place in the world. Every panel, every wall, every chair seems to be chosen with the sole purpose of being as unremarkable as possible. But then, many interior locations within the Office are similarly designed. They’re not designed to fool anyone. Did the designers just get used to it?]
[My thoughts are interrupted as I walk into the tiny reception room, a desk with a few chairs and a single fake potted plant. A man stops his conversation with the receptionist, looking me up and down. He’s short and stocky, heavyset, a man clearly used to physical labor - and judging by the look on his face, not used to being inconvenienced at work. His hairy arms folded over a broad chest, his thick eyebrows scrunched into a wary suspicion. A thick mustache completes the look of a blue collar dad, close to retirement but not close enough.]
B] Hendricks. Ma’am.
M] Mr Koppel?
B] Call me Barry.
M] I hear you’re the person to talk to when it comes to occupational health and safety in the Office.
B] I got a reputation for it.
M] I saw the poster about, uh….unstable reality zones, and I wanted to ask you about it.
B] About the zones, or our response to ‘em.
M] Sort of…both if that’s okay. I figured a quick tour wouldn’t be out of the question.
[He nods, his arms not moving from their position across his chest. His voice had an air of curt evasiveness, clearly not enjoying my questions. Now, there’s a moment of awkward silence.]
M] You seem annoyed, Barry.
B] Yeah, well. Let’s just say I wasn’t real happy when I heard you were coming over. Especially today.
M] What’s today?
B] Work meeting later. Something I didn’t think I’d have to start late, and I hope I won’t have to.
M] I won’t take up too much of your time, I promise.
B] No. You won’t.
[It’s a veiled threat, but his tone doesn’t veil it very well. He gives the receptionist a look that she returns, and jerks his head slightly, leading me through the door deeper into the facility. Past the doors, it looks like something you’d expect from a government facility: bare concrete and pipes, emergency lights every several yards. It all looks very old. At this point, Barry seems to catch himself, his tone shifting to that of a practiced but bored tour guide as he leads me down the hallway.]
B] This is OPN Facility 27, known as the Northeastern Power Facility, or to the people that actually work here, the Station. The Station was discovered in 1932 during Operation Doorway, an attempt to investigate rumors of spatially-noncompliant buildings in the United States - that is, buildings bigger on the inside. After mapping and cataloging it, the Station had the distinction of being one of the few spatially noncompliant facilities grandfathered into current extranormal building code.
[Just down the hall is a locker room, which we move through. Barry points to a sign that reads “Hard Hat Area Past This Point” and hands me a hat taken off of a nearby peg.]
B] In other words, this facility is one of the only places in the US legally allowed to be bigger on the inside. The Office did this cause, for reasons that still ain’t totally clear, the Station anomalously produces enough electricity to power the entire eastern seaboard with no energy input. This building powers every Office facility this side of the Mississippi and north of the Mason-Dixon. New York, DC, Philly, Boston. Further than that, with hydrogen. 
[Opening the next set of doors, the facility opens up substantially, a wide open space that looks more like I’d think a warehouse would look. The ceiling several stories above, massive industrial shelves at the edges of the space, machines operating in distinct areas of the room. A forklift beeping away, carrying yellow drum barrels on a pallet. A few workers were here and there, some of them giving Barry a quizzical look that he didn’t return.]
B] It needs people like us to maintain the works during reality shifts, pump out the byproduct, keep everything in as much working order as we can.
[Another set of doors ahead - a massive sign above them reading “End of Geometrically Compliant Building Space.” The hazard symbol on the sign depicted a building within a larger building, the larger of the structures emblazoned with the eye symbol and a question mark. Another sign on the door read “Audio-Memetic Inoculation Equipment Required” with a depiction of a head wearing both a hard hat and large headphones. Barry stopped and jerked a thumb at the door. His voice was low and serious.]
B] Like any spatially-noncompliant structure, this place doesn’t make sense. This wall right here is the absolute limit of what the building’s size should allow, and as you can see, it keeps going.
[He paused, looking back the way we came for a moment.]
B] When the Office figured out they could use this place for free power, they rushed in. But the Station….it didn’t take kindly to that. It doesn’t like intruders. The higher-ups don’t like hearing it, but this place is….kinda alive. It grows, changes. We don’t know who built it, or even if anyone built it. Coulda just appeared one day. From the late 30’s to the early 40’s, it was…a lot of death, lotta guys going home without hands or legs or an eye. Machines not working right, hallways shifting around, pipe structures growing suddenly. There’s places, deep in the belly of this fucking machine, that I’ll never go…we’ve blocked off rooms where time runs in reverse, or that swap temperature extremes every forty-five seconds. Lotta guys like me laid down their lives figuring this place out, mapping it. That’s what the signs and posters are for. Every warning in this building is written in blood.
[He gestured to a worker at a nearby desk, who got up and reached for a tray.]
B] Just past these doors, there’s a hallway in complete silence. Not just a lack of sound, pure silence. If you listen to the lack of sound, you go insane. Understand?
M] I don’t understand why you can’t just…avoid it, or unravel it, or—
B] The Office ain’t gonna just put it’s head in the sand, ma’am. It can’t. And all respect to the wizards and shit upstairs, but sometimes you can’t just wave your hand and make it go away, either. The Station is important. Without us, the entire Office goes down. It’s the sacrifice we make. We gotta deal with the situation in front of us, and sometimes the situation’s got teeth. 
[The worker walked up, offering Barry two pairs of headphones and a clipboard. He took them, checked them over, and handed one to me.]
B] Here. Press the button on the right side, you’ll hear elevator music and nothing else. This’ll protect you from the silence. Then initial the sign out sheet.
[I did so, sliding the bulky device over my head and hearing generic Muzak once I hit the nub on the right. At this point, I didn’t question much of anything. They knew what they were doing. I took the clipboard from him - the sheet was keeping track of the headphones, calling them safety equipment. I wrote my initials on the sheet, noting I was a ‘visitor’, and as I did I noticed Barry and the other worker conversing in sign language.
I was slightly surprised at first. But it made sense - if you had to work a lot of the time in silence with these headphones on, it might be worth the time to teach everyone ASL. I tried not to betray any comprehension. They didn’t need to know I’d grown up with a deaf cousin, had a deaf roommate in college, that while I was rusty I could understand most of what they were saying. The two men gestured furtively, quickly, an ‘accent’ that tinged their words.]
<We have to postpone union meeting?> 
<No. Same time. Won’t take long. Lady is looking for scapegoat.>
<From Upstairs?>
<Unlikely. Ghost-talking I-R-E-N-E telling me she’s been asking around lots of departments.>
<Why?>
<Don’t know. Could be politics.>
<LA?>
[Barry looked over his shoulder, and I tried to look nonchalant, putting the clipboard on a hook by the door and giving him a smile and a thumbs up.]
<Maybe.>
[He nodded and opened the door. I felt a physical sensation as I passed the threshold, and it was silent. It was a silence so intense I could feel it on my skin. When my feet hit the floor I felt nothing, not even the vibration through my own body. It was oppressive, covering me in a heavy blanket. I heard the music in my ears but I was intensely aware that a bundle of plastic and electronics was all that stood between me and…that. I felt like an eternity. I tried to focus on the music as my vision swam, having to stop to breathe when we rounded a corner. When we finally passed through the hallway, taped marks on the floor told me where it was safe to take off my headphones. I was almost out of breath, a little disoriented.]
B] You get used to it.
M] Do you?
B] You gotta if you work here, ma’am.
[His voice slipped back into tour guide mode as the space widened again. Huge doorways on each of the three walls ahead, large enough for a vehicle to pass through. Each passageway had different signage, and two had a conveyor belt stretched across the room, running parallel above us with clear markings on the floor underneath them.]
B] To the left we have the Gearbox, straight ahead is Onto-Runoff Byproduct Packaging, and to the right is the Dynamos, where we try and funnel all power generated by the Station so it can be directed to other facilities or converted into hydrogen energy storage. 
M] Onto-Runoff?
B] That, ma’am, is the stuff on the posters.
[He pointed up to the conveyor belt. Yellow barrels traveled across the room, stamped with the Office logo on one side, and a depiction of an eye on the other.]
B] It’s a byproduct of the Station’s works. The labcoats have been studying it for decades. They’re not real sure what it is, just that it…kind of isn't. It technically doesn’t actually exist. No mass, can't be detected on any spectrum they got. Theory is that we're not actually seeing it, just the absence it creates. Pure, concentrated entropy, runoff from the Station creating energy from nothing. You can’t violate laws of spacetime without some consequences, and in this case it’s creating all this…almost-kinda-real entropy that gets everywhere if we don’t clean it up.
M] Sounds like the Ontophages.
B] Yeah, like that. They think they’re related, but we ain’t seen an Ontophage down here in ages. This non-stuff drops off pipes down in the works, or leaks out of compressors. Pools in lower areas, or gums up machines. If it touches anything outside of the works that exists, it starts to cause what the Office calls ontological dissolution - it gradually stops existing, like an acid that melts reality. Some of it gets processed for the Office’s use, some of it goes to the folks at the Yellow Circle, a good chunk of it goes to long term storage.
M] What does the Office use it for?
[At this, Barry gives me a sidelong look as we approach a small office in the corner between two junctions, little more than a shack.]
B] That part’s classified. We don’t even know. They don’t tell us. Could be a secondary energy process, could be they use it to contain something….could be a weapon.
[The tone in that last phrase…we enter the shack and Barry grabs a drink from a water cooler.]
M] You sound like you have an idea of what it’s used for.
B] A hunch. This stuff is dangerous. It’s half the reason we made the Union way back.
M] The Union? 
[I remembered them signing that word - two fingers extended on each hand, moved in a horizontally circular motion.]
B] The North American Supernatural Worker’s Guild. Started in ‘42 after the big paracompressor explosion down in sublevel 17. The Office kept pushing us, we kept cutting corners, and eventually five people died. Including my great uncle. After that, my grandfather started the Union to push for better working conditions and hazard pay. 
[His tone is softer now, taking a drink. He gestures to the Unstable Reality Zones poster on the wall, a copy of which began my trip here.]
B] I could talk all day about the history of it. We ain’t perfect, of course. Didn’t accept nonhumans until ‘63, which my father went to his grave ashamed of, but we’re the reason the Office more or less abides by the safety guidelines we’ve come up with. Without that there’s a work stoppage, and everything grinds to a halt.
M] Has there been a lot of conflict between the Union and the Office in the past?
B] It’s all conflict, ma’am. The Union and the Office are engaged in a state of irreconcilable disagreement. They wanna pay less and get more, we want better pay and better, safer work. The whole history of the Office can be seen through that lens. 
M] Do you see the posters as a win for the Union?
B] Without a doubt. You know the bodycount we’d have if we didn’t keep drilling all our safety precautions into everyone’s heads? Safety win, morale win. We need all the help we can get.
M] What do you mean?
[Barry finishes his drink, looking away, through the window looking out onto the junction.]
B] Ehh. I’ve said enough already.
M] You too, huh. 
B] Hm? 
M] Everywhere I go in this organization I’m being bounced off walls. Secrecy seems to be something you and the office both abide by. The Office acts like it’s giving me clearance, but….they’re curating my job. 
B] Mmmh. 
M] Everyone I talk to is knowledgeable about what I’m asking, sure, but they’re also….company people. All of them are either trying to cover their ass or they honestly believe that they’re doing the most important job in the world. The only person I’ve met so far with an honest opinion on the Office is you. I thought I might get some actual answers. 
B] About what? 
M] Anything. How the Office determines normality, the numbers stations, the identity of the Director…what happened in Los Angeles. 
[He stiffens.]
B] I don’t know anything about that. 
M] You said the Runoff could be used as a weapon - 
B] I said I had a hunch. Don’t put words in my mouth. 
M] What’s your hunch based on? 
B] Listen. I’m one of those guys covering my ass. If I say something I shouldn’t or I fuck up, I don’t get a slap on the wrist. I'm not some spokesman for the Board of Infernal Affairs. I’m a union officer, and we’re already on thin goddamned ice with the Office. Secrecy is a tool. We both use it for our own goals. 
M] So you can’t help me. 
B] I’m walking you back. This is fucking over. 
M] That’s…probably for the best. 
[I let the moment pass before I speak again.]
M] I don’t want to keep you from your union meeting tonight.
[He stops in his tracks, shooting a look over his shoulder. His face moves from surprise to realization to suspicion. After a moment he half turns back to me.]
B] Ma’am, what are you here for?
M] I just…want answers. All of these interviews have been someone beating around the bush because they’re scared. After your speech about it, I thought the union would be people who could stand up.
[Barry hesitates, frowns, and silently turns back to keep walking. My face burns in embarrassment, my heart racing. This wasn’t worth it. I wanted answers but this wasn’t worth it, was it? Shame now, but what if I pushed a button I couldn’t un-press?
Barry doesn’t speak. We reenter the room of silence, mechanically putting our headphones back on. As we round the corner in the hallway again, he stops. Of course I can’t hear him, but his frame calls as if he’s letting out a heavy sigh. He turns to me, and signs.] 
<Back there, I was being honest. None of us know what happened, but we know something did. We have some shipment records that don’t make sense. Runoff shipped en masse to some site that’s not on public record anymore. Something called Project D-A-M-M-E-R-U-N-G. Our records are shredded. It’s like…>
[He trailed off - with signing, he sort of stared into space and tried to find the right words.]
<Like someone or something came in and tried to destroy everything to do with a certain subject, but only mostly succeeded. Like every fiftieth paper survived or was passed over. That’s what our meeting is about tonight. We know something happened and we’re deciding what to do next. You mentioned the stations. The stations are a part of it.> 
[He pulls a pen from his vest pocket and writes down an address, handing me the paper.]
<Memorize this address, then burn it before you leave. Bring P-E-P-P-E-R-M-I-N-T oil. Put it on before you go.  You’ll need it.>
(Buy the poster here.)
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