#Apparently it doesn’t fucking matter if my ability to find things is“functional” or that this exact kind of setup has already FAILED ME

[geraldmariaivo]

I don’t want to be rich so I can have five yachts I want to be rich so I can tip 200% at restaurants, and get furniture that helps me work around my squirrel brain that isn’t WHITE, BLACK, OR GRAY FLAT ASS CUBE-LOOKING MINIMALIST BULLSHIT.

[kingdumkum]

kasey KasEy KASEY !!!

i NEED you to do D, E, and K of the dirty alphabet for Baji and Kazutora 🥵 like… I don’t think you understand how much of a primal need this is 😩🤌

Love you to the moon and back x3 bb girl 🫶🏻💕

dw it's a primal need for me too apparently!

*shouldn’t have to reiterate that they’re aged up, per my RULES, but they are. AU where everyone lives. Baji, Chifuyu, and Kaz have a pet store that, very accidentally, turns into a pet clinic. Kazutora still went to juvie but not because he killed Shin (he survives the attack)—then gets sent back when he gets caught lighting a cop car on fire… with the cop still inside (unbeknownst to him). my real world AU’s are complex. no apologies. i live in a bubble and it’s very cozy here.

D - Dirty (how do they dirty talk? What do they say?)

BAJI runs his mouth. he speaks without thinking, words running faster than his brain —so dirty talk with him goes one of two ways: 1. he starts cocky and arrogant and thinking everything’s by his design. he’s the one stripping you, he’s the one teasing you, he’s the one in complete control. and he demonstrates that by saying the type of thing he knows will rile you up; ’like that, sweetheart?’ and ‘don’t worry baby, I know exactly what you need…gonna give you just what you need,’ and ‘cumming again, really? i haven’t even fucked you proper yet…’ it’s a mix of dirty praise and sweet degradation, bc he’s too smug to control his attitude. but when he actually gets inside you? well… 2. he loses the ability to speak. literally. no matter the position, no matter how many times it’s been, every time Baji buries himself in you for the first time, he loses all higher brain function. the recovery time varies, but without fail, there’s more than a few heartbeats where all he can do is whine your name. breathily moan in your ear. close his eyes tight and try to will himself to last longer than a few weak strokes—and he does. most of the time, at least—but it’s not until you whine his name, fingers digging into the corded muscles of his back, pleading with him to give you more, that he’s able to put on a semblance of the confident, smug, authoritative aura he had when you were at his mercy. it’s Different though; a little shakier. A little less of a cocky tease, and a little more of a pleading question. Same words, different intonation—‘like—like that? yeah, you like that?’ and ‘i know—i know what you need baby, gotta—gotta trust me, yeah? gonna—gonna give it just the way you need…’ and ‘gonna cum for me, sweetheart? y-yeah, me too, gonna cum f’you too…’

keep in mind that KAZUTORA spent the better part of his formative years starved from soft hands and kind words. his version of love was formed by his parents abuse of him and each other, of their neglect and resentment for his very existence. the first kindness he experienced was from a friend who “abandons” him, and while he is able to heal the fragile parts of his mind by the time he’s grown… the lack of ability to grow with people, healthy people who view love as a strength, not a weakness, fundamentally fucks with his vision of what love is, and how to convey it. i can understand why some people might view him more along the aggressive/stern side, and while i am weak for that kind of thing, i can’t see that on Kazutora like 98% of the time. it just doesn’t take into account the mental growth and stability he finds in juvie the second time around (this does NOT apply to jealous/posessive sex, btw, that’ll have him reverting to being teasing and cruel and mean real quick—this applies to the majority of your time with him) SO! that's important to establish so that i can explain how Kaz has the sweetest dirty talk you will ever hear, because there’s no front. there’s no performance or perfection in what he says; what falls from those lips is exactly what he’s thinking, because in those moments of bliss with you, he doesn’t have to hide. he doesn’t have to pretend to be more than he is, moans of your name, pleas to keep going, that usually stuff—but also the praise he’s desperately seeking. ‘you feel like—heaven,’ and ‘never—never knew—someone could feel so good—’ and ‘think—think i fuckin’ love you…’ LOTS of confessions here. lots of accidental i love you’s that really do translate to everything he’s done, even if he’s never able to say it outside the bedroom. he praises you in a way he’s been searching for his whole life, without ever realizing it.

E-Exposed (what is the most daring place they’ve had sex?)

You’d be hard-pressed to find a spot that BAJI hasn’t gotten freaky, but his freakiest dare has been on the back of his bike. he’ll tell you to put on something pretty, take you on a little drive, and pull over—a different spot every time. you’ll watch the sunset, or count the stars, or look out at a brightly lit ocean. he’ll drape an arm over your shoulder, press a kiss to your head, and to anyone who might be driving be, you look like a sweet young couple, stealing kisses and so focused on each other, the rest of the world doesn’t exist. they don’t see the way your panties have been tucked into his belt, or how his fingers prep you just enough so even with his impressive girth, he slides in easy. they attribute the way you hold him close to being cold, or that you’re saying goodbye for a long time, or hello for the first time. they think the way your legs shake are because the bike’s engine is too powerful, and they wonder why a guy like him doesn’t get that looked at. but don’t be deceived by his sweet smile and gentle way he slowly moves his hips; he’s whining in your ear to stop squirming, or someone will see for sure this time.

another horn dog; you say the word and KAZ is yours, however you want him, whenever you want him. he pushes back initially, but only in that sweet, pleading, everything-he-does-embarrasses-him-already kind of way, the are-you-sure-it’s-me kind of way—because he never says no to you. ever. so he goes along with your more wild requests—but the riskiest place that was all his idea? the counter of the pet shop… right before closing. sweet boy didn’t even bother locking the door before he had you propped up on the freshly sanitized counter, your legs wrapping around his hips and his lips attached to your neck in an almost violent manner. he usually has more self-control, these days, but he couldn’t resist then, and when you didn’t stop him… (huge fan of the bathroom quickie, btw—particularly during a slow day when it’s just him and Chifuyu and he knows the latter can hear)

K-Kink (what is their secret kink?)

we all know the obvious for BAJI; marking, exhibitionism (loves to get you off knowing that other people, particularly Chifuyu and Kazutora, can hear), sharing (Chifuyu and Kaz are basically a package deal in this relationship), but something i feel is oft overlooked is mirror sex. not because Keisuke finds himself pretty (though he does), but because when he fucks you in front of a mirror, he can see everything; the way your ass bounces against him, how his cock splits you in half, the pretty arch in your back as you’re on all fours in front of him, the way you go cross-eyed as you feel him in your throat… he never says anything because he knows how everyone will react; they’ll call him narcissist, they’ll assume he likes the way he looks when he fucks, they’ll misunderstand. if he could, he’d fuck you in a room of mirrors, if only to see what you look like from every angle with him buried in your guts.

the idea of family is so strange to KAZUTORA, but he can’t deny the way cumming inside you does something to him. he’s not ready for kids, doesn’t know if he’ll ever be ready (is anyone?), but he damn well knows that as long as you let him, he’ll be filling your sweet cunt up with his load time and time again. the nasty little fuck will eat it out of you, too—and be ready to go for round 2 by the time you’re cumming on his tongue. it’s not much of a secret, except the part where he makes sure you never leave the house without his cum dotting the lining of your panties.

[thedistantdusk]

Arcadia, Chapter 2

Here we gooooo :) Thanks again to @secretkeeper13, @accio-broom, @ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey, @remedialpotions, @not-steve42, @jamezbot, @gryffindorhealer, and the majority of the HG server for their help <3

If you’ve just arriving, here is Chapter 1. :)

_____________________

D A Y  +  T W O 

He’s driving her mad. Absolutely fucking mad.

Ginny grips the hose in an attempt to water the rose bush outside their window, but her eyes are unfocused, unseeing.

This entire thing was such a terrible idea.

She should’ve insisted on another Auror as backup on her first solo mission. Someone less attractive. Someone she hadn’t shagged up one side of the Burrow and down the next.

But the request was difficult to grant in the first place. It took Ginny a full year of documentation to prove this was a necessary use of resources. Attica (and Unspeakables in general) don’t tend to be well-liked by the older Aurors, which made Harry the best fit. The only fit. Everyone— from Kingsley to Attica to even Hermione— agreed. And even aside from the sheer convenience of it all, Ginny’s years of experience with the Thought Chamber and Harry’s ability to sniff out trouble like a niffler after gold made them a brilliant combination to tackle… this.

It’s just a pity, then, that she still finds him so bloody attractive. Even though he’s become a bit of a brooding, sarcastic mess.

Ginny blinks down at the bright pink petals, their leathery flesh beaded with water droplets. Maybe the problem’s that she hasn’t spent much time around him since then. He still comes around for Sunday roast, of course, when his work schedule permits. In spite of what Mum went through, she’d never allow Harry to feel unwelcome. It’s his house as much as theirs— and yes, Ginny still lives at home. It’s the least she can do to maintain a degree of normalcy, even though everything irrevocably changed when It happened.

Ginny’s hands begin to shake around the hose; her brain starts to spiral. The Burrow is less welcoming now. Their hugs are more forced. Their family more distant. And although everyone functions on a basic human level, Ginny knows in her gut that the remaining Weasley siblings — Harry most certainly included — are still going through the motions to cope.

And maybe it’s because she really hadn’t had a libido in nearly five years, but fuck, it hasn’t taken much to come rushing back. Her thighs press together as her head fills with another series of intrusive thoughts instead. But she can’t suppress the memory of Harry emerging from the shower this morning, his top-half dripping, his bottom-half toweled. Not that it matters much, not when she knows every fucking inch of—

“I think that bush is good now!”

Ginny jumps, a string of swears springing to her lips. “I— fuck.” She turns to the unexpected voice. “Sorry! Let me—”

But Oliver from last night merely leans over to turn off the hose. “You’ll quickly learn that sort of language isn’t great for Arcadia, Jen,” he intones, finger wagging.

Years of training allow Ginny to blush in chagrin. To shove aside the telling-off she’d have provided a long, long time ago. “Sorry.” She winces. “It’s just a habit, leftover from—”

“—London, right,” he finishes, his eyes never leaving hers. “Anyway. Listen. Sharon and I would be honored if you joined us for dinner tonight.”

“Did I hear something about dinner?” Harry strolls out of the house, the door shutting behind him with a satisfying thump. “Goodie! As my wife knows, dinner is my favorite word.” He rests his chin on her head, sliding his thumbs through the belt loops of her jeans. Ginny’s heart clenches in familiarity even as her face remains placid. They agreed to all of these terms beforehand… to feign public affection. To seem utterly smitten. It’s just funny how they’ve both relied on old habits.

Ginny reckons that makes sense, though. After all, it worked for them once.

She turns towards Harry with a pout. “But Pookie Pie, I thought your favorite word was snuggles! We certainly did enough of that last night.”

Harry’s chuckle rings out with false bravado as he tucks her hair behind her ears. “We did something, all right. Not sure if snuggling is the right word for it. What do you think, Oliver?” Harry whips around to face him. “What’s your favorite word for… marital relations?” His eyebrows waggle suggestively above his glasses; Ginny stomps on his foot to keep herself from laughing.

Oliver, however, does not find them delightful. “I think this is for you. From Mike.” He points to a box that he apparently rested on the ground while Ginny was drowning the roses.

Harry bends over to pick it up. This does nothing to distract her.

“Couldn’t Mike erm…” Ginny shakes her head to clear it. “Sorry. Couldn’t he bring it over himself? He lives just—”

“Out of town on business, I’m afraid.” Oliver’s voice turns cold as he peers at Ginny again. “He won’t be back for weeks. Months, maybe.”

Ginny makes a noise of concern and rests a fist on her hip. “Huh! That’s funny. What out-of-town business could a primary school teacher possibly have?”

Oliver’s eyes narrow, but his grin remains. “Teacher business, I guess.”

“When can we speak to someone about the trampoline?” Harry blurts, slicing the tension. “I’m missing my exercise, Ollie. It’s how I stay fit. You won’t like me when I’m not exercising!”

With that, Oliver’s grin finally fades. “Well, you can ask Mr. Gogolak, but I don’t think anything will come of it. He’s available tonight from 5 o’clock to 6:13, on the dot. He lives just up there, on the corner. Anyway, I’ll be off.” He gives a parting wave and turns to walk up the drive, but Harry isn’t done.

“Not sure how we’ll manage to make that and dinner, though,” he calls. “Don’t we have to be indoors by six?”

But it seems Oliver is absolutely intent on being elsewhere, because he opts to walk backwards and yell from the street. “Of course not!” he shouts. “Six is only the move-in deadline.” Then he barks out a cruel laugh, throwing his hands in the air. “Any idiot knows that dinner starts at 7!” With that, he sends them a final glare before lumbering away, his brown loafers crunching on the pavement.

Harry and Ginny snort in unison; if Oliver hears them, he doesn’t engage.

“See you later!” Ginny confirms, ensuring it’s loud enough for him to hear. Then she drops her voice to a stage-whisper and cups her hand into a regal wave. “Hope Sharon removes that stick from your arse before dinner tonight, you miserable sack of shit. Suck my dick!”

Harry laughs. “As much as I appreciate the support, Muffin Cakes, that’s one insult that just doesn’t work when you say it.”

And Ginny doesn’t know what comes over her next… she really, really doesn’t.

Because in the blink of an eye, she’s pushed Harry against the front door with a petulant pout. The pulsing between her legs returns with humiliating swiftness; it’s a blessing, really, that Harry’s dreadful at flirting and picking up on cues. They’re in public, but this is the furthest thing from acting.

Nonetheless, Harry’s Adam’s apple bobs as her arms drape around his neck. She watches, rapt, as his eyes darken. Apart from that one slip-up last night, he’s excelled at his job… and as she leans into his hard chest, she realizes how she really feels: she's jealous. Dreadfully jealous.

How dare he be better at this? What in hell gave him the right to soak her knickers with a single look? She’s had years of professional training and a lifetime of practice, but it comes naturally to him— this pretending shit.

And for fuck’s sake… he’s a lot better at it.

“But it’s been ages since you’ve been in my knickers, Baby Bear,” she croons, batting her eyelashes. “How would you know?”

She intends it playfully. A gentle way to put him in his place. But to her surprise, something stinging and sober crosses Harry’s face.

The moment’s over… absolutely over.

In a flash, he pushes her away and gestures at the door. After you. She nods, still turned on but now confused. The whole thing reminds her of ancient history, where she waited for him after each quidditch practice and thought, wished, prayed that he’d touch her… all while hoping to God he wouldn’t.

It takes until they’re inside for her to figure out why he’s upset.

He locks the door behind them with a wave of his wand— and when he whips around, his face is twisted into such a brooding scowl that it pins her on the spot. Shit.

“It goes without saying,” Harry mutters, voice dangerously low, “that there are some things a bloke just doesn’t forget.” He lets out a deep breath, his eyelashes fluttering. “Ok?”

Oh.

Ginny’s cheeks flush as it all comes rushing back. She’s honestly forgotten how… attached he was to that ability. How much he prided himself on being able to please her. How he worshipped her body with such respectful, hushed reverence that it still features in her fantasies.

It seems there’s a limit to his acting skills, after all. A line that he just won’t cross. She should be chuffed that she got what she wanted. Instead, her stomach throbs with guilt.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, biting her lip. “I didn’t mean—”

“Forget it.” He waves his hand over his shoulder and trudges upstairs, leaving her in hollow silence.

Right.

_________________________________

Mr. Gogolak crosses his left leg over his right and swirls his brandy tumbler. Between the ruddy patches on his cheeks and the way his words slip over each other, it’s not his first of the evening. Harry’s reminded of Slughorn. In the worst possible way.

“Anyway.” Gogolak waves at the massive tabbed binder to his left. “As the rules clearly stipulate, a trampoline would lead to other things. Unsavory things.” He raises his eyebrows and takes a sip.

Harry’s eyes flit around the room, trying to take it all in. The decor is… nice, he supposes, if you want every guest to be aware — beyond a shadow of a doubt— that You’ve Been Abroad, thanks. Multi-colored felt flower vases dot the floating shelves above Gogolak’s head, each a pop of color in a room that’s otherwise painfully beige. Scrolls hand-painted with renditions of Buddha and Lokta hang on the far wall. And above them… Harry cocks his head, puzzled, and tries to place where he’s seen that particular mask before.

“Of course,” Ginny agrees with a fervent nod. “We understand the need for decorum and cooperation, don’t we, Hen?”

“Where‘s that mask from?” Harry blurts, nudging his chin up.

Ginny rubs her temples in frustration, but if anything, Gogolak seems flattered.

“Oh! That.” His face flushes with pride as he takes another drink. “That’s a wrathful Mahakala mask. From Tibet! I bought it cheap off a street orphan during my last trip. Can’t say he had much need for it, what with being starving and living in the street.” His laugh booms over the sitting room.

Harry tries to focus. He’s there for Ginny. He’s there for Ginny. He’s only backup. But ah, bugger, after the other shit today it’s too much, and—

“Ha!” Harry returns his humorless laugh. “Isn’t poverty hilarious, Jen?”

There’s an anxious pause.

Ginny ends it with a fake giggle of her own. “As you can see, Mr. Gogolak, my husband is growing a bit testy without his exercise!” She nudges Harry in the ribs— hard enough to make her point, but not hard enough to hurt. “So if we could only have the trampoline, then—”

“‘Fraid not,” Gogolak slurs, peering down at his brandy again. “See, there’s a reason Arcadia has been named Best Village for so long: People simply love to live here!”

“Oh?” Ginny returns her teacup to the table. “Everyone loves to live here?” She rests her elbows on her knees, her voice dropping to a discreet whisper. “What about the people who’ve gone missing, then?”

At first, Gogolak is unperturbed. Then his smile deepens, his eyes traveling from Ginny’s face down to her chest. For fuck’s sake. This arsehole can’t be serious! Harry’s gut swirls with something visceral and protective. He wraps his arm around her shoulders as his hand inches for the wand in his back pocket. Ginny catches his hand on the way and interlaces their fingers with an almost imperceptible, “Shh.”

“Well, well, well,” Gogolak drawls, leaning back to full-on leer at her. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you? Should’ve known. You’re a ginger, after all.”

Wrong answer.

“Not sure what the color of her hair has to do with her question,” Harry says stiffly. It’s the politest thing he can manage. Ginny squeezes his thigh.

Gogolak faces Harry instead, his face a mask of delighted malice. “Your wife is very beautiful, Mr. Petri,” he drawls. “You must forgive an old man for noticing.”

“Pee-tri,” Harry grouses.

Is it possible to accidentally Avada Kedavra someone with your eyes? Surely he’d be forgiven for that, yeah? He counts five deep breaths, his face burning, as he waits for Ginny to take the lead.

He’s still a bit taken aback at how quickly things changed. He thought he was irritated with her earlier, but now he realizes that frustrated is a better word. They haven’t been together in ages, but she has to know what she still does to him. It wasn’t like she’d grown less beautiful. And while he’s not proud of how things ended, he’s spent the last five years taking pride in knowing her. In being her first, as primitive and knuckle-dragging as that sounds. Because no matter how bad things were, he was always able to make her…

Yeah.

He bites the inside of his cheek. Had he deluded himself into thinking it was as good for her as it was for him?

Ginny clears her throat again. “But what of the people?” she prompts. “The missing people? Like Eric Highland, who lived in our house until last August, when—”

“Oh, him!” Gogolak booms out another uncomfortable laugh and drains the rest of his tumbler. “Well, don’t tell anyone I told you this, but—” He makes a slitting motion across his throat and pours himself another drink. “Committed suicide. Quite a mess.”

Then Gogolak stills, his eyes widening; for the first time this evening, he looks vaguely embarrassed. “Oh, but not in your home, of course!” He waves his hand dismissively. “We’d never, you know, let someone move in after that. Would affect property values, you see.”

Harry’s heart pounds in his ears as Ginny clenches his hand, for once. He wonders if he’s ever given less of a shit about property values.

Another span of uncomfortable silence stretches between them… but this one grows more furious and heated with every second. The version of her he knew before would have Bat Bogeyed this wanker before she took a breath. But everything’s different now.

“That’s… not the preferred term,” Ginny finally manages, her voice strained. Harry grips her hand more tightly; that odd rush of pride returns. He knew she’d say something. There’s not a single version of her that would let that go.

Gogolak’s brow furrows. “What do you—”

“—Took his life,” Ginny interjects, her voice ringing with the righteousness Harry only dimly recognizes from the woman he knew before. “Or died by suicide. Or had terminal depression.”

He holds her hand even tighter as she draws a deep breath, shifting in her seat. Get him, Gin. Get the bastard. Whatever you need, I’m there.

“Committed is a word that… implies a crime,” Ginny finishes. But her words sound careful now. “It just adds to the stigma that people with mental illness are problematic. Words mean things. So.”

Gogolak presses his lips into a thin line. “Forget I brought it up.”

“I will,” Ginny says coolly.

Ginny hadn’t thought much could be worse than the meeting with Mr. Gogolak. Unfortunately, dinner with Sharon and Oliver is proving her wrong.

“This is free-range chicken, of course,” Oliver drawls, gesturing towards their plates. “Got them at the organic market. Anything for health!”

They’d already been treated to iceberg lettuce salads and glasses of generic Merlot. Perhaps she should have anticipated chicken breast and rice as the thrilling main course.

Harry cuts his chicken breast with a sigh. “That’s a pity, Oliver. We all know that caged chickens are tastier!”

Ginny muffles a snort with a cough and reaches for her glass of wine.

Sharon pauses, fork mid-way to her mouth, to peer at Harry, bleary-eyed and confused. Oh, for fuck’s sake; what was it about suburbia that removed one’s ability to recognize a joke?

Oliver changes the subject before Ginny gets the chance. “Where did you two meet, anyway?” he grunts. “And how long have you been married?”

Ginny smiles, preparing the canned response they practiced for months. They met in uni through mutual friends. They both work in computers, and last year, they finally realized it was time to leave the big city.

Harry shatters all of that with three words.

“Magic camp, actually!” he announces, throwing an arm around Ginny’s shoulders.

Fuck. She analyzes her chicken with newfound intensity and tries to imagine something sad.

“Huh,” Oliver says flatly. “Wouldn’t have taken either of you for magicians.”

Sharon has the grace to act embarrassed. “Now now, love,” she chides, reaching for the breadbasket, “I’m sure people have loads of hobbies that aren’t always obvious to everyone!”

“Exactly!” Harry grins and reaches for a piece of baguette. “Besides, it’s mostly Jenny who’s mad for it. Card tricks, pulling bunnies from hats, sawing women in half. Even—” he pauses for a dramatic gasp— “magic wands! You name it, she loves it.”

“Well!” Sharon raises her eyebrows; it’s clear she’s feigning being impressed. “If I’m ever in need of disappearing something, I’ll know who to call!”

Aha! The perfect opening!

“Speaking of disappearing,” Ginny starts, as casually as possible, “we checked with Saint Julian’s Primary. It’s not true Mike left on business.”

Sharon’s smile freezes and melts with such speed that Ginny feels a pang of sympathy. Poor Sharon. She’s really just doing her best to be a pleasant hostess. It’s Oliver who has the clear ulterior motive.

The man in question takes another sip of wine, unfazed. “And why did you have interest in contacting a primary school in the first place? Bit weird for a grown adult, that.”

Harry releases another fake chuckle. “Oh, Oliver, you’re such a prankster!” He bites off some bread. “Surely you’re not turning the tables on my wife and accusing her of being the weird one. After all, all she did was ask about the whereabouts of a lovely member of our community. Right?”

He gives Oliver such an exaggerated wink that even Ginny almost believes him. “And besides…” Harry’s hand wraps around her shoulder again. “Do you reckon we should tell them?” he murmurs, voice laden with his expectation.

Ginny rolls her eyes, fully intent on a thin-lipped, silent warning about making shit up… but Harry’s earnest expression stops her. His green eyes blink behind his glasses, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned. Before she knows what’s happening, one of his warm hands cups her chin while the other comes to rest on her stomach.

Oh. She sucks in a breath, her heart pounding— because for a moment, she forgets where she is. She forgets they’re faking. She forgets they split up and chose separate paths, that they weren’t looking through a portal of what could have been, should have been, before their lives turned to shit.

“Not yet, of course,” Harry murmurs, appearing for all the world like he’s drinking her in as his fingers tap at her stomach. “But soon. We hope.”

And with that, he abruptly clears his throat and turns back to the Skinners. “Anyway, that’s why we called Saint Julian’s,” Harry adds, nonchalantly as you please. “Always good to be prepared, eh?”

“Oh, how exciting!” Sharon cries, clasping her hands together. “And yes, I agree— preparedness is key.”

“Knew you’d be happy for us,” Harry says with another wink. “Quite an exciting time, I’m sure you understand.”

It’s then that Ginny finds her voice. “So. Erm,” she starts, trying to focus. “They hadn’t heard from him. Mike. The school, I mean.” She takes another sip of wine to get her bearings back. “Any idea where he could’ve gone? You understand why we’re a bit worried, especially if we’re planning to—”

“No,” Oliver snaps, nostrils flaring. Sharon’s fork clatters to her plate; if swearing were allowed in this house, Ginny’s confident she would’ve let one slip. “I don’t understand, and you’ll find that snooping isn’t a past-time I appreciate,” Oliver finishes, drawing himself up taller to puff out his chest.

Ginny lets out an incredulous chuckle. “But Oliver… this is a matter of safety. We’re worried about our neighbor.”

“Yeah, Ollie-O!” Harry clucks his tongue, relaxing further into his chair. “Perhaps Arcadia isn’t as perfect as we were led to believe.”

Oliver just fixes them both with a stern glare. “Nope,” he says flatly. The p pops. “You’re wrong. Per usual.”

For six seconds, the four of them sit in painful, frigid silence. Ginny feels Harry’s hand reach behind him… inching closer to his wand...

“Jenny!” Sharon finally chirps, her voice a falsetto. Oh, thank fuck. “I need to walk the dog. Would you join me?”

___________________________

Captain Bone’s toenails tick on the pavement as Sharon holds his lead. Ginny peers at him with unexpected affection as he prances beneath the street lights. Dogs are too high-maintenance for her to even consider, but something about this one is undeniably appealing. As if he hears her, Captain Bone turns to Ginny with a slobbery grin.

Sharon laughs. “He likes you. He’s a sucker for a pretty girl.”

Ginny scratches beneath the thick leather collar with Captain Bone emblazoned on a bronze plate. He throws his head back for more access. Poor Captain Bone. The whole collar looked horribly uncomfortable. “I like him too,” Ginny agrees as he flounces away. “I’m afraid work keeps me too busy for a dog, though.”

Sharon waves this away. “Nah. I’ve seen the way Henry stares at you.” She flashes a knowing smile as they continue strolling, side-by-side. “I reckon if you really wanted a dog, he’d oblige.”

Captain Bone halts, mid-step, and picks up his leg. Sharon removes a waste bag from her pocket.

“You’re probably right,” Ginny mutters. She’s not sure why that feels like admitting to a scandal.

Sharon sighs. “The way he looks at you. The way he touches you. Like he’s holding the whole world in his hands.” Her voice grows wistful, distant; Ginny has a feeling she’s not actually talking about Harry at all.

“Well, we are newlyweds.” Ginny mashes her kitten heel — a clothing acquisition specific to this assignment — into the pavement. “I’m erm. Sure that’ll change.”

But Sharon just stares at Captain Bone as he does his business. “Maybe,” she says softly. “But I don’t reckon Oliver ever looked at me quite like that.”

Ginny blinks at Sharon beneath the streetlight, the fluorescent throwing her features into sharp relief. Wrinkles fold the corners of her eyes. Bits of gray sprout at her scalp beneath the warm chestnut color. Her smile may have been natural once, but now it’s forced. Uneasy. Ginny grimaces. This poor woman… imagine thinking you couldn’t do better than a wanker like Oliver.

“Shit!” Sharon swears, ripping Ginny from her reverie— and soon, she sees why. Captain Bone charges down the street, his lead scraping the ground like a limp noodle. “I wasn’t holding him tightly enough,” she whispers, horrified. “I’ll have to—”

“No,” Ginny says, taking off her heels and thrusting them into Sharon’s arms. “Let me!” And with that, she’s off, bare feet slapping the pavement.

“Don’t blame you for trying to get away,” Ginny mutters, rounding a corner. “The place is bloody creepy. But next time, Captain Bone, could you do this in broad daylight? Nighttime ‘round here is—”

Wait.

Ginny stops, dead in her tracks. A weird sensation creeps over her, crawling against her skin. All the street noise vanishes. Crickets stop chirping; wind stops whistling. She looks around, panic rising in her throat, but nothing looks amiss. She can’t shake it, though… their eerie, numb ringing that fills her head, and—

Like a thunderclap, it all comes back. The faint wind returns. Bugs resume their buzzing. The electric lamppost makes a dull crackling just above her.

Weird. Very fucking weird.

Luckily, Ginny specializes in weird; in the aftermath of whatever the hell that was, she’s more confused than frightened. She takes a few more shaky steps, making every observation she can (temperature, cloud pattern, weather conditions, insect movement)... and that’s when she spies something glinting to her left. Something golden and stuffed in a storm drain.

No. Ginny’s heart pounds as she rushes over, sinking to her knees. It can’t be…

But the closer she gets, the clearer it is: Mike’s chain necklace… the medallion of Saint Julian. Right beside Captain Bone’s pretentious leather collar. For the first time, fear floods her stomach. She surreptitiously reaches for the wand tucked into her waistband. “Accio necklace.” It soars through the gate and into her hand just as Sharon’s footsteps round the corner.

Ginny shoves the necklace into her bra— and it’s only then she realizes that there must’ve been something strange and slimy hanging from it, because whatever the fuck that was is now pressed to her right nipple.

Blech. It takes every bit of her willpower not to shudder and gag. She manages to school her features into innocent concern as Sharon finally catches up.

“Well,” pants Sharon, hands on her thighs, “did you find him?”

“No,” Ginny laments, genuinely upset. She gestures towards the storm drain. “But for some reason, his collar’s down there.”

Even beneath the streetlamps, Sharon’s face turns white.

______________________________

Harry’s back muscles contract in agony as he hunches over the laptop. This whole assignment is a painful reminder that he’s not as young as he used to be. How many hours did he spend snoozing on the lawn at Hogwarts without so much as an ache? But a single bloody night on these shit couches, and he’s popping Paracetamol like sweets. He shifts in place; must be time for another dose.

“Hear anything?” Ginny emerges from the walk-in closet in a towel turban and fluffy white dressing gown, two evidence bags in her hands.

Harry glares at the laptop screen and tries very hard not to remember that one of those bags contains a lacy black bra— one he definitely hasn’t seen before. For the past hour, he’s been in an envious haze of wondering if she bought it for the mission or bought it to wear for someone else.

Either way, it consoles him that deep down, she’s still Ginny; she took this necklace and shoved it into her bra without letting on that something vile and gross was pressed to her ti—

He shakes his head to clear it, but that hurts his neck. For once, though, he embraces the pain. Anything to shift his focus.

“From the props department? No.” Harry sighs and retrieves the medicine bottle from his luggage. “I swear, I have no idea who they got to make the moving boxes and pick the couches, but I’m fairly sure Victoire could do better.”

Ginny scoffs at this. “Well, of course Vic could do better. She’s the most perfect, adorable human alive,” she says fondly, tossing the evidence bags in the transporter box.

It’s plain cardboard, easily disguised as a standard moving box. But with three taps of her wand, the bags evaporate, presumably materializing in a Ministry lab somewhere. Not that Harry cares about the specifics. This is a key example of the sort of detail that’s less and less intriguing the longer he holds this job.

“But I was actually asking if you’d heard anything about Mike and — hey, what are you doing?”

“Paracetamol,” Harry mutters, popping open the bottle. “I’m getting old, Ginny,” he warns, rising to his feet with an exaggerated grimace. “Dunno why you thought it would be a good idea to go on a mission with an old man.”

She rolls her eyes and walks into the bathroom. “You don’t need to be so bloody noble. Please join me on the bed. We could make it longer, even, if you—”

He clears his throat to cut her off. That would be a terrible idea on all counts. Silence on the other side of the door tells him that Ginny either realizes this or chooses not to press the issue. Good...

“Erm. There’s no hits on Mike,” Harry calls into the bathroom. “I reckon he’s dead, Ginny. Credit cards and car haven’t been touched.”

The tap turned on behind the door. “Can’t say I’m shocked,” Ginny admits, voice muffled, “but— holy hell, who taught you how to squeeze toothpaste?”

Harry smirks and returns to the computer. “Myself, probably.”

Ginny lets out another irritated groan. “And the toilet seat’s up!” She strides out of the bathroom. “Strike two!”

Harry hears the distinctive sound of clothing hitting the floor beside her bed but wills himself not to turn around, not to turn around, not to—

“Well.” Ginny sucks her teeth as the bedding rustles. “I suppose I should take all of that as a good sign, really. You clearly don’t have girls in and out of your flat.”

Oh?

Harry’s heart thunders in his ears, his stomach flipping in hope. She takes that as a good sign? Really? He glimpses over his shoulder before remembering he’s not supposed to look.

And just as quickly, he regrets it.

Because Ginny’s sprawled back against the bed, her face so white that she nearly blends into the linens, but his eyes aren’t too focused on her face. They’re drawn down, down, down… down to her creamy chest, dotted with chocolate freckles. Down to her breasts, which he definitely still knows every inch of, even as they rest beneath a black lace vest he hasn’t seen before. Down to the shorts that hug her hips and graze the tips of her thighs… the same thighs he spread open and dipped his head between as she tugged on his hair, her cries breathy and panting in the garden’s evening mist.

Ah, fuck. That one does it. Harry adjusts his basketball shorts as discreetly as possible, but another glimpse at her face tells him he didn’t need to worry.

“I can’t believe I said that,” she whispers, eyes filled with horror.

Harry clears his throat. He honestly forgot she said anything. Now he just feels guilty for eyeing her up while she spiraled.

“I’m so… fuck. This is so unprofessional.” She sinks her head into her hands. “Please, Harry, forget that I said anything. I’m so sorry. That was—”

“It’s forgotten,” he rumbles, his voice deeper than he realized. “Legitimately. I’ve already forgotten it.”

She shoots him a weak smile through the slits of her hands. “I know you haven’t. But thanks for saying it.”

Harry offers his best expression of bafflement as he picks up a pillow from the end of her bed. “Haven’t a clue what you mean, Unspeakable GW. See you at 0-700 hours.” He stops halfway out the door and gives her a military salute. “Unless, of course, you decide to start a bit later,” he adds seriously, “in which case I’ll see you… erm. 0-whenever-the-hell-you-wake-up-hours.”

Ginny giggles, settling against the pillows again.

“Thanks,” she says after a moment, peering at her cuticles. “For… everything. And especially for forgetting—” She makes a vague hand gesture as her cheeks flush the most fascinating shade of pink.

Harry stills, one hand on the doorknob.

He wants to make her feel better… but really, it’s more than that. He wants to tell her that his heart still jumps into his throat when he hears about an Unspeakable being injured on the job. He wants to admit that he avoids Sundays at the Burrow not because he stopped caring, but because he cares too much. He wants to confess, in a rush of passion, that she wasn’t just his first: she’s his only. That he reckons she’ll always be his only. That exchanging work for Them was the stupidest thing he ever agreed to, regardless of the circumstances.

Oh, and of course, that he still fucking loves her. Harry rubs his forehead, frustration gnawing at his stomach. Why in hell did he admit that to himself? You never admit that to yourself. What an idiot.

Still, they have a mission… a moronic, suburban mission filled with every literal and metaphorical breed of Karen imaginable. But as worthless as Harry considers this whole assignment, her neck is on the line if they come up empty-handed. And she values her assignment— and her neck, he reckons— quite a bit.

So he makes the choice to both reassure her. And to be foolishly honest.

“Erm… for what it’s worth?” Harry croaks, staring down the dark corridor to avoid meeting her eyes. “You’re the only girl I’ve ever wanted in my bedroom, anyway.”

Before she can reply, he closes the door and walks away. His cheeks burn as he pads downstairs, but Harry knows it’s best to leave it, really. To save them both the awkwardness.

Even if it means sleeping on this shit couch forever.

[in-tua-deep]

Hufflepuff Five is so good! Are the Hargreeves lives as students as adventurous like the main crew from HP? What about the Ministry of Magic? Would they get involved if someone caught wind of the sibling’s powers that weren’t just magic?

Their lives are SO wack honestly like, they just vibe. They just are going through their magical youth being absolute feral children who don’t trust adults as far as they can throw them while trying to hide their weird funky powers and also ravenously going through magical feats like they’re going out of style

Luther is every sibling’s go-to practice partner because apparently durability extends to being like? Slightly magic resistant? Basically if you hit Luther with a spell it will only be like, maybe half power? So the siblings use him as a magical shield half the time and an experiment the other half and Luther just Suffers Through This until it all goes wrong and he ends up as a werewolf, oops

(But at least Ben is alive! Honestly the only reason Luther wasn’t straight up mauled to death was a combo of his durability, Ben’s proficiency in healing magic, and Ben managing to befriend the acromantulas)

(Luther eventually gets a sense of humor about this after long years of working on accepting himself and constantly threatens to bite his siblings or makes comments about them looking extra tasty when they irritate him)

Allison is a quidditch star, super popular and athletic as all hell. She probably ends up being the Slytherin team captain, honestly. Allison is all glamor and charisma and in her later years of hogwarts has an absolute blast. Allison is very much functional passing so she’s usually the front man to get the professors off their backs, but she also is the front man for a lot of the shit that the family sell for extra spending money. Five and Ben might make potions, but Allison rules the underground black market in slytherin with an iron fist (which gets them into shenanigans involving other kids who Owe Debts)

Diego is on the gryffindor quidditch team and so him and Allison are constantly at each other’s throats on the pitch (Allison sometimes rumors him during matches when she gets within earshot which makes all of the siblings yell at him but she maintains that he gets to use his stupid powers to score points so she should get to as well). Diego gets roped into everything because he’s super soft. He starts a lot of fights because he has vigilante genes so he serves a lot of detentions. His house tolerates him losing them points because the man is a wizard with a quaffle

(Diego and Allison actually practice a lot together, which their respective teams are like HMMMM over but they’re siblings and slytherin knows that Allison would never hesitate to knock Diego off his broom and wave cheerily as he falls to his death, and gryffindor is aware that Diego can, should, and must throw a ball directly at Allison’s dumb face if she gets too close to him because of the Cain Instinct)

(Honestly Allison and Diego do a LOT for interhouse unity, showing that you can still be ride or die for each other while also wanting greatly to kill each other uwu)

Ben is too independent for his own good, which is what gets him into trouble. He likes gardening, and he likes herbs, and sometimes he’s just GOTTA go into the forbidden forest on a full moon to gather these very specific ingredients, c’mon. He also just. Likes spending time in the forbidden forest. He’s Hagrid’s favorite student because he doesn’t bat an eye at all the weird magical creatures, bc homeboy got an eldritch horror in his navel. Ben makes friends with the acromantulas (who have a healthy respect for him after the Horror ate a few of them), patiently avoids the centaurs, and bribes the pixies into giving him their shed wings through liberal application of jam stolen from the Hogwarts kitchens. 

You know what Allison is functional passing and Ben is distinguished passing, all their teachers assume that Ben is the most put together of them but they’re WRONG. They haven’t seen Ben at two in the morning yanking Vanya out of ben because if they don’t break into greenhouse four and help those poor fucking plants the first years are tending to they’re all going to DIE and that’s not fair??? ben is single handedly going to save all those poor plants (and all those first year’s grades)

Vanya is just VIBING, he ends up coming out as trans in fourth year and gets to be roommates with Ben which is pretty sweet. If only Ben didn’t drag him into shenanigans?? All the teachers are like “ah yes Vanya, such a quiet boy not like his siblings at all” but Vanya can will should and must climb onto the roof of the astronomy tower to play his violin because He Just Likes To Be Tall. Vanya once punched a snobby ravenclaw kid in the nose and then stared them down saying “the teachers will never believe you.”

Vanya steals Luther to practice his powers with in unused classrooms the most?? he’s durable. he’ll be fine if Vanya blasts him into a wall with his powers lol

Vanya’s solution to all their problems is “do you want me to blow it up with my powers?” or “do you want me to kill them for you?” 

(All of the siblings now refuse to duel with Vanya except for Luther bc Vanya is RUTHLESS. He WILL murder his siblings (almost) given the chance. They’re all so lucky that Ben is so good at healing and carries extra vials of healing potions on his person otherwise Madame Pomfrey would be VERY CONCERNED)

Five and Klaus probably get into the most shenanigans? Klaus gets less and less afraid of ghosts the more he runs into nice ones like Fred Weasley. Fred also lovingly nurtures Klaus’s absolutely terrible sense of humor and encourages him to prank the whole school. Klaus knows ALL the secret passageways thanks to Fred, a previous owner of the Maurauder’s map, so he’s just like. Constantly in the walls. He once dropped out of the ceiling to get to transfiguration in time and nobody even commented on it because Klaus is just Like That.

(A few people see Klaus’s boney elbows and knobbley knees and thinks he’s a good target for bullying just because he’s a slytherin and interhouse awfulness absolutely it at an all time high so recently after the war. YEAH his siblings step in and put the fear of god into any bullies, but Klaus fights like a cornered raccoon.)

Five is just way too smart and curious for his own good. He likes to poke around, figure things out, and also make money. Five does people’s homework, charges them for potions or rune work, tutors, dismantles shit in the chamber of secrets, ALSO explores the secret passageways (and finds some that weren’t on the map), is lovingly bullied into Friendship Activities with his housemates, breaks into the other houses’s common rooms for funsies, and keeps getting fed by the house elves who found out he can ‘apparate’ like them (without a wand) and have apparently adopted him against his will

Five is the sibling who has his fingers in like. ALL the pies. and just constantly pops up and drags them into things. Five will be helping Klaus with potions homework then glance up and tell Diego he’s cashing in the favor he’s owed for carving runes into Diego’s knives and that Diego now gets to break into Douglas Eddington’s room to steal back Lana Delwich’s diary so that Five can trade it to Lana for her rare Solomon Babik chocolate frog card which Five can give to Barnaby Beeson in exchange for a Large Distraction of Five’s Choice and a sketchy book on ward breaking which Five needs so he can break into the headmaster’s office to get a confiscated dark magic book that has some information Five needs to alter a potion that he’s probably going to make Luther drink later

Five is the sibling who is like “Ugh, I thought I was trading for some nundu ingredients but now i have a Whole Baby Nundu in the basement :/”

Which, of course, Klaus wants to keep despite the poison breath.

“This is literally one of the most dangerous magical creatures, we are not keeping it.” Luther says, unimpressed. However, he definitely has it cradled in his arms and makes kissy faces at it when he thinks no one is looking. (Apparently baby toxic nundu breath only makes Luther sneeze, so there’s that?)

“If you guys are arrested for smuggling I am not bailing you out.” Is Allison’s only decree about the matter.

Honestly I wouldn’t be shocked if someone DID eventually find out about one of the siblings’ powers - however, they would come to entirely the wrong conclusion about them?? Because this is a world of MAGIC and so everything magical has to have a magical explanation, right???

Luther is durable as all fuck???? Uhhhhh maybe he has some like. Troll blood or giant blood something back in his family line, obviously not something he would ever want the world to know about bc of species-ism

Allison can make you do whatever you want with her words????? Maybe she’s part veela? With that charm appeal?

Five is doing. Wandless apparation?? I mean, that’s rare as FUCK but wandless magic is,,, grudgingly accepted though it’s usually only used for small or very familiar spells and not usually something as complex as apparation but OKAY just sit him down and forbid him from doing it anymore bc boy boutta be SPLICED or some shit

Klaus can. Klaus can talk to ghosts. Who are not full ghosts. Hmm. huh. Maybe it’s?? A family ability??? a super rare one? like being a metamorphagus? (What the fuck??????? what the FUCK???????)

Primarily the kids started off paranoid because they believed that their abilities indicated that they weren’t the same type of magic, and they didn’t want to be returned to their father, and then it progressed into “these abilities might make people scared of us (looking at you allison, with your imperius-ass abilites)” or “we can’t afford that kind of scrutiny or curiosity about our powers (they might find out luther is a werewolf or something idk)” and “if we are ‘desirable’ children with ‘rare abilities’ the government might try to split us up and adopt us into weird pureblood families or something OR might try to lock us up (like where would they even put Ben??)”

honestly if ben ever got found out he’d just deadpan “it’s a curse, hand me the black wormroot would you?” and be like “oh yeah it’s under control i just go vibe in the woods every so often and rip up a tree or something. I think the horror wants to be the whomping willow when it grows up actually, so just don’t get too close when i’m in the horror zone. if you can live with a murder tree on campus you can live with me on campus”

someone sees vanya fuck something up with his powers and is like ???? and Vanya is just like “accidental magic lol” 

“aren’t you... a bit... old for accidental magic...”

“accidental. magic.”

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

(sees another fandom that I can ask you about and cheers) Orphan Black! Thoughts? I don't know Dr Who but Tatiana is one of my favorite actors period.

Anon you are so sweet! I'm always happy to chat about fandoms and characters and whatnot, and I will never not appreciate the majesty of Tatiana's acting. That is one of the greatest parts of the show hands down.

Orphan Black, to me, is a show that had incredible potential, but didn't really live up to the excitement it created. (Loooong post ahead.)

The thing is, Orphan Black builds a chilling mystery and background, the world it gradually creates as it goes for about the first two seasons, got be very invested and made me wonder a lot about where it was going to go and what the answers were. The setup is brilliant, right from the start with that iconic cold open of Beth's suicide. The unknown is what really helped this show get as thrilling as it was, because the actual answers behind the unknown were kind of hit and miss, and it seemed like far too often, the show just wasn't interested in telling it's story. Hijinks where the clones impersonate each other in slice of life events? That's fun at first and it really works well as they're still getting to know each other. But after a while, it gets tedious, and it seems like the show would rather fuck around and have dance parties (seriously, that scene was such a #BigLippedAlligatorMoment) than focus on the story and the threat that the sisters are facing. Virtually all of Allison's plotlines are like this, they feel like they belong in a different show, and for some reason the writers insisted on giving her one of these storylines like, every season. After Allison passively murders her own friend out of suspecting that she's spying on her, I just don't feel like an arc about her running for some PTA office position even matters. It doesn't feel right.

Speaking of that, here's another example: Donnie. Why did the end of the first season suggest that he was this secret mastermind working for Leekie? The whole idea just deflates in Season 2 and doesn't really go anywhere. He just goes back to being the bumbling sweetheart he was before. Why even have him be the spy? Maybe it should have been Ainsley. Do you want to know the exact moment that I think Orphan Black went wrong? Like, the specific scene? When Leekie was killed off. The character who had thus far been the Big Bad, gets taken out in the stupidest possible way, a literal accident on Donnie's part, and it's even played for laughs. After that point, the show really struggled to regain it's footing, though I don't think it completely went off the rails until about Season 4, and it was still generally hit or miss. Like, some stuff was really good. The introduction of the Castor clones, the development of Rachel's character (I'll get to her, trust me.) and the reveal of Kendall Malone. But it seemed like so much else was just forgotten or otherwise not resolved. Whatever happened to Cal? Sure, the show wanted to focus on the sisters...but Kira deserves to know her father if she wants to. That's just one example. It's a crying shame because this show is sometimes incredible. The metaphor that I always use for situations like this, is a card game. The show has all the right cards in its hand, they're just not being played.

The two strongest characters, at least to me, were Rachel and Helena. One of these characters was superbly written and went through a devastating arc. The other was Helena. We need to talk about her. In Season 1, she really cemented herself as a memorable presence with her trademark accent, her scars, her whole damn personality (again, hats off to Tatiana) and of course, that iconic screechy theme music that accompanied her. Which at first made us jump, but eventually made us cheer. I adored Helena, and I loved the development of her relationship with Sarah. Who went from shooting her in Season 1, to being deadset on rescuring her in Season 3, being furious with Siobhan for betraying her. (This is unrelated but Siobhan has the same " twist villain fakeout" at the end of Season 1 that Donnie does, and it's quite frustrating.) And yet, I swear, the writers just didn't know what to do with Helena half the time. They put her on a bus for long stretches, including one point where she just up and leaves Allison's house in Season 4, for no given reason. And the characters just kind of...don't care. The same thing happens when she gets arrested. No one cares to try and find Helena, even though she's unstable and often a danger to those around her. Even though she's by herself with no real ability to function in society. Even though she's pregnant. There is no excuse for this, and no Sarah, that "I'm sorry, I avoided you" scene in Season 5 is not going to cut it. It's such an afterthought.

I'm being rather critical, but I hope you can tell that this is from a point of passion. I genuinely enjoyed this show and getting to watch it. Just that sometimes it didn't feel like the show cared that I was watching. However, this was not true whenever Rachel was onscreen. Look, I'm a Merula Snyde stan, so you can probably already guess how I feel about Rachel. Despite her crimes, despite her constant slipping back the dark side, I felt so bad for Rachel at the end of it all. That scene with Kira really sums it up. "Who hurt you?" "All of them." And no scene is more intense than when she stabs out the eye cam. Like, I'm sorry, I pitied Rachel pretty much from Season 2 on. Her parents were horrible to her, and I'm supposed to think Ethan is the good guy here? He kills himself in front of his own daughter, telling her that she doesn't deserve him. And then Sarah shoots a pencil through her eye, causing brain damage and requiring a long recovery. I'm not saying that Sarah was wrong to do what she did, just that if I were in her shoes, I'd still feel a degree of guilt for Rachel's condition. In the end, I'm devastated that she was barred from Clone Club, when she made the right decision at the point it mattered. But there's just too much history there, and Sarah won't ever forgive her. (Though again, I do feel as though there's blame to share.) Rachel is my favorite character and I never expected her to be. But she's just so complex. Side note: "Enjoy your oophorectomy" is so damn quotable. I don't know why but I love that line.

So, Rachel's my favorite. Who's my least favorite? It might surprise you. It's Delphine. I'm sorry, but I just...I couldn't get on board with C*phine. Not after Season 3. I was waiting for the point that the show would push to finally redeem Delphine for her turncoat role, for all of the hell that she put Cosima through. By Season 5 though? I realized that as far as the writers were concerned? She already was redeemed. Even though she did nothing to earn it, except be presumed dead by Cosima. The way she treats Cosima in Season 3 is actually disgusting. Her reasoning for breaking up with Cosima is circular. She has to love "all the clones" in order to be with Cosima, and the way to do that is to take over Rachel's job, which means they can't date anymore? I'm not the only one who thought that didn't make sense, right? Oh and let's talk about how she stalks Cosima's date, breaks into her house, and threatens her life. Red. Flags. Cosima even says the line, "If you're not going to be with me, just let me go." I'm sorry, that should not be something she has to beg for. Delphine's behavior made me want her to stay far, far away from Cosima. Who is, incidentally, a sweetie and I absolutely adore her. I legit have trouble remembering that Tatiana's playing her because she just looks and acts so different. That said, even though I immensely disliked Delphine, I am so very glad that they made one of the clones gay. Just like I'm glad that they made one of them trans. (Though...Tony wasn't handled especially well.)

In general, I do think the earlier seasons were stronger. The Brightborn arc, while interesting, didn't really contribute much to the overarching narrative. We got the backstory on Beth's suicide and finally learned the truth about her, I suppose. Still, even though Beth is one of my favorite of the clones, and I never expected her to be either...I feel like the actual reason given for why she took her own life was rather illogical. She apparently did it because the investigation was putting the clones in danger of another Helsinki. Okay, but just because Evie Cho says you should off yourself, doesn't mean you have to. You could just, like...stop investigating. And if you die under mysterious circumstances without explaining anything to the sisters, they're not going to be put off from the investigation. They're going to look into this even more, because they don't know why they're not supposed to. The reveal that she and Art fell in love toward the end adds an extra gut punch, but it also doesn't make sense because wouldn't Art have referenced it during the period that he thought Sarah was Beth? On the other hand, Season 4 also introduced MK. And I have such a soft spot for her. I adore that sheep-masked sweetie. Everyone always asks "Which clone would you date" (because fandoms can think of nothing else I guess) and I never see anyone give any love to MK. Her death absolutely tore me apart. I am glad Siobhan avenged her even if she went down at the same time. Side note, her last word being the affectionate "Chickens..." Broke me.

Season 5 was a strange beast. In general, it seemed like we were finally getting some answers to the questions that were hanging over us. Exploring the deep mythos. But then they kind of turned it around and made it just be a Wizard of Oz style fraud twist. Westmoreland isn't really inhumanly old, he's a charlatan. I don't know why that was necessary in a science fictional show. I've seen the interviews and I get what they were going for, it just feels like it would have been cooler and far creepier if he was actually that old. The puppet master pulling the strings the whole time. We also finally get some answers for Kira's superhuman healing abilities (though we never learn how she's telepathically connected to the clones) and I'm loving it, but the trouble is, it's inconsistent. Ethan "Why is this guy so popular, he's an asshole" Duncan told Rachel specifically that Sarah being able to have children was a fluke, that the clones were "barren by design." I don't know, the whole concept of Revival and of the "magical island" was really foreboding and tied in with the earlier references to The Island of Doctor Moreau. Especially that song about "Revival's Children" just...the shudders, man. But just having it be a regular old scam is...a letdown. I know it may be more realistic, but I don't always need realism in my scifi. The finale is interesting, in that it's mostly an epilogue. I'm glad the clones (sans Rachel) got to live happily ever after, but there are two gut punches right at the end that are total nitpicks but they bother me. Helena naming her kids after Art and Donnie? And writing a memoir that she names "Orphan Black?" Those two tropes can go die in a hole. They can enjoy an oophorectomy, because I'm so sick of them.

The potential of Orphan Black was practically infinite. The results of Orphan Black fell frustratingly short.

[thebadchoicemachine]

Despair Suits Ultimate Run-Through

Okay this has been sitting in my drafts for months I’m just posting it because all my drafts are stressing me out.

Wilbur - Ultimate “Guitarist” / Ultimate Distortion (despair) 

- He’s the least true despair oriented out of the family. He loves messing with other people but doesn’t enjoy despair himself, something nobody including himself really realizes until Tommy is dead and he’s pissed because it’s not fun when HE’s the one mourning.

- He works with twisting perceptions and rules against people, there is no true good and all that. You do something nice? Well actually you see it’s cause so much more despair here etc etc.. 

Tommy - Ultimate “Playmate” / Ultimate Pawn (despair) 

- Really just a brainwashed kid hyped up on death and despair because it’s what his family is built off of. He holds it to a religious degree and takes it very seriously.

- He’s the most like Junko out of the despair family, the rules of the game are sacred to him otherwise it’s no fun. He really does his own thing so long as it’s within the goals others have set for him to accomplish. His role is mostly fulfilling other’s plans. He simultaneously has the most and least freedom out of the despair grip, being able to function however pleases so long as he fulfills his task but he is completely obligated to fulfill all and any such tasks.

Tubbo - Ultimate Hazard / Ultimate Hope

- Much like Tommy he’s really just a brain washed kid who is drunk on despair because it’s what his friends do and it’s all he’s ever known.

- Helps him realize the reaason he stuck it out so long was becuase he already had jope, belief and drive that things would be better

Ranboo - Ultimate Journalist (main character) 

- He is a journalist. He tries bis very hardest to be objective while still remaining compassionate and driven.Honestlyy he never intended to become a journalist. He started keeping notes to help himself and ended up submitting one for a school project he procrastinated on. Turns out he’s an excellent story teller as well as truthful, it won a contest and was featured in a paper and before he knew it he was writing for big news full time.

- He doesn’t even accept a lot of pay. His main and constant condition is, so long as everything is factual, his words not he twisted.

Niki - Ultimate “Baker” / Ultimate Agent 

- She was already in the habit of not being upfront with her ultimite so as to be able to just get to know people first. She can work much easier when people don’t think they’re being worked at, if they knew they were going against an ultimate they become eager to prove it wrong so she went by “Ultimate Baker” for most of her life.

- As the Ultimate Agent she is extremely good at conflict resolution and always able to get some kind of goodness through her advocating. Ever since she was a child she found herself to be the only one who stood up for victims. She is very multi-talanted as it takes different things to get different people to listen. The skills she’s built up include a BS detector that’s off the charts, being genuinely one of the friendliest people you’ll ever meet, and being able to kick your ass seven ways to sunday. 

Puffy - Ultimate Pirate 

Schlatt - Ultimate Tycoon 

- Tubbo convinces Puffy Schlatt is going to kill him. Schlatt has actually been very kind and mentor-y to Tubbo. He’s a good fit because his gruff additude isn’t too jarring for despair-washed child to dismiss but he is genuinely helpful at heart. He wants everyone to be safe.

- Tubbo is unerved by this shift in views happening to him and half-truthfully vents his feelings of unsafeness to Puffy, who posiosn him.

Hannah - Ultimate Florist 

- Famous for growing the best flower garden in the whole country alll by herself, she has a strict rule about anyone else interfering with her plants. Also, generally a plant expert. Knows a lot more than just flowers. She’s strong as hell (maintaining one of the most revered gardens in the whole world by yourself involves a lot of running and lifting) and can also find the perfect blend of colors, smells, and meanings 

Jackstanifold - Ultimate Determination 

- I love the idea of more abstract talents! Like, “Ultimate Moral Compass” sounds really unique but he was actually more like “Ultimate Hall Monitor.”

- He got picked on by adults and other kids alike for not having an “applicable” talent. Determination isn’t like being a Ultimate Baseball Star or Ultimate 

Fundy - Ultimate Game Designer 

- Has several popular games under his belt. 

Sam - Ultimate Guard 

- Actually, he hates his ultimate. He’s strong and scary and can keep people in check sure but he’s also hella fucking smart as well kind and just wants people to be safe and happy. He wished people didn’t focus so much on his enforcement and more on his protecting.

Purpled - Ultimate Astronomer 

- Actually spends most of his time playing sports, he’s very athletic and wanted to play something professionally but his knack for the stars kind of dragged him away. He doesn’t mind too much though, he really does love space!

Quackity- Ultimate Rogue

- It’s like he’s trying to be a Troublemaker™ (like Celest) but ends up more a Fuyuhiko. Albeit without the depressing jumpstart to his turn into genuinely wanting to help.  It’s more of a slow burn. 

Charlie - Ultimate Forensic Chemist 

- Acts as their detective/doctor character 

- He’s in like an uncanny valley of a mad scientist and just some friendly dude. Sure, he experiments plenty (to the point it’s questioned why he’s forensic specifically or chemist specifically) but his speciality as an actual successful sciencest is in forensics chemist. 

Karl - Ultimate Astrologer 

- Sort of works like Angie but less... awful. He’s more genuine and happy and understands other’s opinions and skepticism. 

- Honestly he more psychoanalyzes people and sort of personalizes some therapy then he does fret about their starsigns. 

Sapnap - Ultimate Arsonist 

- He is very proud of his flame abilities. He holds a “No one gets hurt unless I want them too.” Attitude about his fires. He knows just how to make a flame worse or better and was consulted in several forms be it weapons, demolition, or prevention. Basically, dude knows everything about fire. 

George - Ultimate Model 

- Not necessarily a model for his looks, rather his appeal. He just has a face people apparently love. Companies would play vast sums of money for him to pose with their product as it seems whatever he was attached to would sell like hot cakes. Even when he was a child his school made him sit alone in front of their stand as a mascot instead of working with everyone else.

Eret - Ultimate Aspirant 

- Kind of the other side to Jack’s coin. He earned his ultimate title because  no matter what he was put in he worked his hardest in and improves tremendously, not always beyond others of course but he himself gets better than he was. He as a mind and a drive for success.  

Dream - Ultimate Prey 

- Ultimate prey. Governments from all over the world would drag him into their battlefields to test their powers. He’d been shot several times actually but no one ever managed to catch him.

[fruitlicense]

I have a theory about one of the reasons why Lupin left Tonks in Deathly Hallows - if you look at his past, Remus Lupin has never really learned to live without moving or running, so when the chance comes to settle in one place, he doesn’t quite know how to cope.

We start with when he’s bitten by Fenrir Greyback. Remus was just under five years old, so this is effectively the beginning of his life besides some hazy childhood memories. He’s a werewolf now, which he has to keep secret, so his life can never really be “normal” again. He and his parents move a lot, because they can’t let anyone close enough to find out. Remus’ early childhood is marked by movement and secrets, because if he’s not literally moving homes, he’s moving around the people he knows, eventually avoiding them altogether by becoming homeschooled.

When Remus goes to Hogwarts, he’s not moving as much in a literal sense, since Gryffindor Tower is kind of his home base now. However, he’s still sitting on a secret that’s a little too big for him, and as a result, he’s moving around his roommates, trying to balance being friends and keeping them in the dark. This is a constant for him - he can’t take a break from hiding his lycanthropy. It’s always in the back of his mind.

When the Marauders find out, I think it’s interesting that their acceptance is characterized by their willingness and ability to “run” with Remus in a sense. Part of their friendship is being the school pranksters, going out on secret missions with the cloak and Map to help them stay steps ahead of everyone else and run or hide if they need to. When they become Animagi, they literally change themselves to keep up with Remus as he runs. They’ve stayed by his side as a human, running around together to cause mischief, and now they can keep pace with him as the wolf as well. Their willingness to change something as intrinsic as the ways they move shows how much the Marauders care about Remus and about each other in general.

When school ends, the war hits, and Remus joins the Order of the Phoenix, the moving, running, and hiding become more literal and more pervasive in his life. He’s part of an illegal underground organization that’s fighting a supremacist terror group, and his colleagues are getting murdered around him. Post-graduation for him isn’t a time to go to college, find a job, or find a more permanent place to live. He’s fighting Death Eaters, jumping from safe house to safe house, and dropping off the grid for long periods of time to live amongst the werewolves (presumably - I don’t have much canon basis for all of this beyond what we know of the second Order and assuming it functions much like the first). As a marginalized group, the other werewolves don’t have jobs or homes either. The nature of the way their condition is treated in the wizarding world means that they always have to keep moving, or else risk injury, imprisonment, and/or death. At this point in Remus' life,  the rule is keep moving and keep your secrets or die. Settling in one place is a death sentence, as the Potters find out.

After Voldemort is defeated the first time, Remus has to deal with the fallout of the war and what it did to his friends and family, and he also has to deal with trying to create a life for himself. His demons have increased in number - he’s not just running from his wolfish side now. He’s got the ghosts of James, Lily, and Peter to reckon with, as well as the specter of Sirius Black. He has to keep moving from job to job and place to place, not only because his lycanthropy means long-term employment is hard to find and requires him to find safe places to transform, but also because he doesn’t want his guilt and grief to catch up to him. We can assume that he doesn’t have a steady income or place to stay during this time, and it’s very likely that he has been homeless for periods of time. When Dumbledore finds him in that cottage in Yorkshire, the way it’s described - “tumbledown,” “semi-derelict” - makes me wonder if it’s a squat instead of a home, and Dumbledore just catches him at a short stopping point.

When Remus returns to Hogwarts, he’s again in one physical place, but he’s still moving a lot. He’s hiding his lycanthropy from the students and possibly some/most of the staff, so his personal life is still full of secrets. In addition, his job as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor doesn’t really lend itself to a calm career. He’s teaching his students about defensive spells and Dark creatures, and since a lot of his qualifications probably come from his experience of the first war, his daily routine is permanently linked to his trauma. Most importantly, he’s also hiding a lot of his history from Harry, because the central threat in Prisoner of Azkaban is tied directly to his backstory. He’s still moving around in a more figurative way, trying not to stay still long enough for someone to pick up on his patterns and expose him. When his secrets catch up to him, he becomes more erratic, forgetting his Wolfsbane Potion and expressing willingness to kill Peter Pettigrew without a second thought, a departure from his usual cool-headedness. He’s back in the mindset of the war, dropping everything at signs of danger and covering his tracks to move on to a new place, and Sirius, now an ally and friend once again, is keeping pace with him. “Together?” “I think so.”

When Snape exposes Remus’ lycanthropy to the school, he has to start moving again. We don’t know where he is between leaving Hogwarts and joining the Order again once it gets restarted, but we can infer that he probably experiences another year of itinerant living as he jumps from job to job and place to place. When he does “settle” (comparatively), he comes back to Grimmauld Place, but he’s clearly in a war mindset once again, and half the time he’s on missions and not even present in the house. Just because he’s apparently the Order member most frequently there with Sirius doesn’t mean that he’s present all that much, because Sirius can’t keep pace with him anymore. He’s being blocked by Dumbledore and is physically and emotionally stagnant while under house arrest, and we know by now that Remus must always keep moving to survive.

Order of the Phoenix is a turning point for Remus. With Sirius’ death, he finally outpaces his childhood - the last person who he was close to as a young man is now dead. Remus is effectively the last living Marauder (at this point, I would argue that Peter Pettigrew’s betrayal has removed him from Remus’ list of people he cares about and who care for him). It’s also when he meets Tonks, and their relationship grows from one of coworkers to friends to lovers in unseen scenes during and between Order of the Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince. She’s kind of a weird choice if you’re picking someone to sort of settle Remus and slow his pace, since I wouldn’t describe her as mellow exactly, but the fact of the matter is that Remus’ growing relationship with Tonks is an obstacle to his habit of movement. She keeps pace with him at first as a colleague/friend like the Marauders did, but her pace changes with her feelings, and she wants Remus to slow down with her. Tonks is stubborn and adamant about what she feels, and in her outburst after Bill Weasley is attacked by Fenrir Greyback, we see that she’s not willing to let Remus try to breeze past his feelings for her. She plants herself right in the middle of his path, and he’s forced to either stop or destroy her as he tries to push past.

Here’s the thing - Remus doesn’t want to stop moving, and we see him resist it, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing to slow down. If we parallel his habit of movement with his lycanthropy (since they’re already linked), we can infer that just as being a werewolf has left him scarred and in pain, constant movement takes a toll on him. Just because he’s lived this way his whole life doesn’t automatically make it healthy. The secrecy and isolation don’t make him happy, and they are directly tied to how much faster he’s moving compared to everyone else - trying to outpace the ghosts. Tonks, in directly blocking his path, is essentially staging an intervention to bring him back to a speed that his loved ones can keep up with. He still has her, Harry, and the Order, just as long as he stops trying to convince himself he’s better off alone and outrunning the dead.

The problem with this is that, as physics tells us, it’s not easy to stop an object that has had a set path of motion for most of its existence. Remus isn’t used to slowing or stopping, and he’s antsy to run again. The things he’s been trying to avoid catch up to him - self-doubt and self-hatred about his lycanthropy and its effects on his life, the need for adrenaline and movement that the wars have acclimated him to. When he feels like it’s all too much to handle, he falls back into his old track of movement in a hunt for something known and familiar. Even Harry notices this, comparing Remus to Sirius and accusing them both of wanting to be daredevils. Remus is trying to get back to the pace he ran at with the Marauders, but Harry argues that that’s not the pace Remus’ family needs him to be at. 

The only way for Remus to be content is to copy what Tonks showed him how to do - stand his ground and face the ghosts head-on. He has to go back home and learn to live a slower life if he wants to have a family, and he does want that. When asked what he would say to Harry on Potterwatch, he makes it clear that he is thankful for Harry’s intervention, and his later joy at Teddy’s birth is infectious. He fucks it all up initially, but Remus does eventually come to the understanding that the way he was living - constantly moving to stay ahead of his secrets and regret - wasn’t sustainable. He’s willing to try, and I only wish we’d gotten to see the just-barely-a-month he got to slow down with Teddy and Tonks.

The Battle of Hogwarts, in a way, proves my point about movement. Remus is forced to drag himself out of family life and back into the mindset of the war, and in a very Marauder-like impulse, Tonks decides to join him at his pace this time. I won’t say they doomed themselves, because the battle required them to exist at the pace of war, and they didn’t have a choice if they wanted to keep their loved ones safe. However, it is undeniable that it is the running that killed them. The movement of war is deadly, and this time, it hit the people we were wishing the most to escape it.

TLDR: Remus Lupin has lived his whole life trying to outrun his personal demons, and his behavior at Grimmauld Place in Deathly Hallows was a deeply shitty reaction to feeling out of his depth when living a slower life.

Sources:

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

https://www.wizardingworld.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/remus-lupin 

https://www.wizardingworld.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/werewolves

(Sorry this is so messy! I was excited to write it and put it on paper as if I was speaking it in a sort of tangled stream of consciousness. I hope I got my point across okay!)

[physicistdyke]

Transed his own Gender

Dr. Harold P. Coomer is trans, he's worked his whole academic career to make his body just how he wanted it. Now, at age 46, he finally has an opportunity with his work at Black Mesa to get bottom surgery. But his colleague and friend Dr Bubby, who doesn’t know anything about gender besides the strict hetero-normative and patriarchal culture of STEM, objects to the new and risky procedure while questioning Coomers desires to put his own safety at risk all for a silly gen-dar.

rb >> likes!

Link to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25611880

or read under cut 

It was both viciously empowering and crumbled him to the core. He had a power over his own body, rare for the here and now in this space and time. Harold had felt this way many times before, an advantage that should be a right. He could relieve his own suffering, but at what cost? The lingering thoughts would stick with him, latching on like a parasite, a cancer. A hand on his shoulder brought him back into his body, a body he’s worked so hard for. He turned back to see his colleague, stoic in expression. Dr Bubby was not good at expressing emotions in a conventional manner, but other characteristics helped to convey what his face could not. Right now the pressure he was applying with his hand on Coomer’s shoulder mixed with how he avoided eye contact told Coomer that Bubby was afraid. Bubby was afraid for Coomer. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Bubby started. Coomer was about to reply, but Bubby’s own racing mind cut him off. “It’s a very experimental procedure you know, I was reading over the cybernetics reports-“ “Please Bubby,” Coomer turned and looked up at him straight on, he saw worry in his friend’s eyes, “I am fully aware of what I’m doing, I have done just as much research as you.” He said these words with confidence. He didn’t want to hurt his friends feelings more, but sometimes Bubby’s ego got the best of him. Bubby took a step back from the other man, as if the eye contact burned him. Harold was one of the few people Bubby could look in the eyes without that feeling, but now it felt like the island of experience between them was distant. He averted his gaze back to a corner of the room, reconsidering his own words and constructing a sentence most logical for the situation. “I just don’t understand your desire to keep going forward with this, you’re already well respected enough.” *** ____________________________________

This would be Coomer’s first procedure since he had met Bubby. The most recent before that was the operation on his chest, he had snagged that opportunity while working on his post doctorate. That was an experimental procedure at the time too, but Coomer’s endless tap of kindness and intelligence had been able to convince his friends in the medical department and their higher ups that this was an ethically sound decision. Even though Coomer himself never wished to study human anatomy, much preferring engineering and physics to biology, the circumstances of his life pushed him to learn more then he wanted to know. This study began the second he got to college, an unaware and afraid young man, he used his own body as test subject. Mixing concoctions that transformed his body and mind. By the time he was applying for his masters, he was a new man. All the insecurity and anxiousness of his younger years behind him, he now shone like the star he was. From there he made incremental and bolder steps in the process of his transition; first with the top surgery as mentioned before, and now, at the age of 46, he was arranging what would hopefully be his final procedure. Black Mesa did a lot of things, and apparently mechanical prosthetics was now one of them. The new cybernetics department had already made wondrous strides in terms of arms and legs, restoring ability to those in their ranks that needed it. These semi-mechanical, semi-flesh prosthetics fascinated Dr. Coomer to no end. About 8 months ago he had started wandering into the department more often. Finding himself asking passing questions to colleagues, asking questions from a genuine place in the heart. Dr. Coomer was open to talk about his experiences as a trans man, but a majority of his peers were always too uncomfortable to ask. They saw it as an oddity within a good man, he saw it as something that helped make him the good man he was today. The gap in that understanding stung Coomer sometimes, and the feeling of isolation sometimes crept up on him. But his smile and the passion for his studies often helped to bring him away from that space. It was about 2 months ago when he picked out a particular team within the cybernetics department, and started to have more serious conversations with them. From a scientific perspective, everyone involved was enthralled by the prospect. Combine that with Coomer's consistent fascination, confidence, and consent, they were fast approaching a place where action could be taken. _____________________________________

Bubby had noticed his friend's increased absence from their own department. Missing from collaboration meetings, not in his office or nearest break room for their usual chit chat. Coomer was an unlikely but much appreciated friend to Bubby. They had met about 10 years prior, when Bubby was nearly done the process of being titled 'a successful prototype'. Coomer was an unexpected ray of sunshine in Bubby's life. Showing him a kindness and understanding Bubby never had the luxury to live with. Being regarded as a test subject and experiment your whole life does that to you. ____________________________________

Bubby didn't know what being trans meant when Coomer first brought it up with him. Bubby, in reality, didn't even know what gender meant. He had a vague grasp on the fact that gender existed. The knowledge tubes his creators attached to him all those years ago mostly skipped out on all topics of liberal arts, humanity, sociology, etc, except for the most minimum required for him to be a somewhat functioning social life form. But what Dr Bubby lacked in those nuanced interactions and social rules, he well made up for in his ability to observe and form logical conclusions (according to his own account). He was aware of the fact that some people were referred to differently. Out of Black Mesas staff, a small minority were referred to as ‘she’. This group had a tendency to dress different from the rest of the staff, occasionally donning skirts and dresses, and varying from person to person on pigment applied to the face. Bubby viewed these people as his equal (or more so equally below him as the rest of his male co-workers, as he was still an egotistical jerk), but he couldn’t help but notice the trends surrounding this group. Bubby heard the back handed remarks, the passing jokes, the tone of superiority made by some of his male colleagues about the fairer sex. He saw the anxiety in his female colleagues when this attitude approached them. He noted the equal distribution of men to women in the ranks of visiting grad students and post docs, yet the stark lack of women in actual professional roles at Black Mesa. He saw the complacency in nearly all of his male colleagues regarding the generally accepted treatment words the ‘fairer sex’. Nearly all his male colleagues. Coomer and Bubby had been working together for a few years, and a friendship (or the closest thing to that someone could get to with Bubby) had started to really solidify. They were on lunch together, discussing the published panels from a recent convention on nuclear physics. Bubby was particularly fascinated in some newly publish findings on strange Beta decay experiments. He excitedly postulated the possibilities the results could mean for the future of the strong nuclear force. Dr Coomer was as supportive and thoughtful towards his friend as ever, but something else seemed to be occupying his thoughts. “Did you read over the notes from the panel on gender issues in STEM?” Dr. Coomer eventually interrupted when his lingering thoughts became too present. This caught Bubby off guard, but he quickly caught up with his colleagues present state of mind, “I didn’t because I saw it as trivial. I mean, it was a convention on nuclear physics, why waste time with trivial matters of progressing social etiquette?” Coomer furrowed his brow and Bubby realized he had perhaps chosen the wrong words, “Well Professor, if you had spent the time to read, you’d realize it was barely focusing on Progressing social etiquette at all. The man they chose to lead the panel was as backwards thinking about women’s role in science as the Pythagoreans were about irrational numbers.” Bubby shuffled in his chair with slight discomfort, he was never put up to the task of discussing matters like this, “Ah, yes. Well that is a shame. Pretty fucked up too… But I’m sure women will find a way to still contribute valuable findings.” “It’s difficult enough already, I’m sick of this two steps forwards one step back mentality.” Coomer was submerged in his own thoughts, barely acknowledging Bubby’s weak response. “Things have barely changed since my undergrad days. I’m lucky I managed to survive the few years I did in academia being perceived as a woman.” Bubby processed this as neatly and quickly as he could. Gender could be changed. ____________________________________

***“What do you mean by respect, Professor?” Dr. Coomer asked, cooling his own emotions. “You know what I mean, you’re already perceived as a man! You’re no longer are seen as a woman and you’re no longer discriminated against. I admire that you’ve figured out a way to jump the backwards system but-“ he was cut off by Coomer. “Bubby,” Coomer looked at his friend, trying to fathom what the hell had gone wrong in that ‘perfect’ brain of his. He finally gathered his thoughts, “I’m not, trans- because I wanted to be respected. I’m trans because I just am.” Bubby ruminated on his colleagues response, “Well fine, if not for the respect then it’s simply conformity! It makes complete sense Harold, science can be a real dog eat dog world. Anything that makes you separate from the norm is just a weight to be lifted.” “What the actual hell are you talking about professor” a tone of anger and disappointment filled Coomer’s voice, “This is some really problematic thinking you know.” Bubby gave a huff and deepened his gaze to the corner of the room, he mulled over his thoughts and tried to choose his words carefully. As much as he hated to admit it, he really knew very little about gender, but his drive to maintain the upper hand kept him from admitting that. He decided drawing from personal experience was the most logical argument to make, “I mean, that’s why I’m a man. I guess I just always assumed it was the same for you.” Coomer’s look of annoyance turned to one of intrigue, it was rare for Bubby to share his more personal thoughts and feelings. Coomer took this opportunity to prod his colleague, “Is that so Dr Bubby?”, he knew how to get Bubby in a more comfortable mindset, “Then tell me, do you feel like a man?”. “What the fuck is that suppose to mean?” Bubby sneered, “I don’t feel like a man, I just present like one. What the hell does feeling have to do with gender?” Coomer chuckled a little, realizing his friend wasn’t a complete bigot, just an idiot. “I say Dr. Bubby, it looks like your creators really didn’t connect any gender tubes to that brain of yours. Did they tell you the you were a man?” Bubby was feeling increasingly exposed and embarrassed but kept his composure. “Those bastards didn’t tell me anything! At least not directly. I popped out of the tube and they just started calling me ‘he’ and I just rolled with it. I thought that happened to everyone! Until I met you,” Bubby finally returned his gaze to Coomer. Slight tones of confusion, fear, and anger made up his expression, “I could tell that it sucked to be a woman, regardless of their extra freedom of expression with clothes and things like that. So it made sense to me that you changed your presentation to avoid the ridicule.” Coomer enjoyed pressing Bubby’s ‘think deeply about something other than science’ button, but refrained and decided to give some explanation. “Bubby, that really isn’t how gender works in the slightest! I mean for some people they’re content with what ever gender they were assigned at birth, but even then they have some sort of emotional attachment or sense of that gender. And for others, like me, they feel a stronger connection to some other gender and they make what ever adjustments feels right for them. With everyone it can be pretty fluid throughout their lifetimes, but it’s all very personal. What gender do you feel Bubby?” “I don’t feel like any fucking gender! I feel like a scientist, can’t I just be that?” Bubby tapped his foot and rolled the hem of his lab coat between his fingers. He was glad he was talking about this with Harold, but it still felt awkward as hell. “Of course you can Dr. Bubby!” Coomer beamed at his colleagues honesty, “Though I don’t think you could be considered trans though, you were assigned Scientist at Birth™.” Cooper laughed at his own joke, which in turn made Bubby relax and smile a bit himself. Coomer placed a hand on Bubby’s sholder, “Ah, but in all seriousness. It’s completely valid to not be a man or a woman. There are plenty of people like that! And it’s also ok to not have any gender at all! You can feel and express yourself however you want to Bubby, and at least I’ll be here to fully support you. I hope you’re willing to do the same for me.” Bubby looked to the side in a sheepish but calmer way, “Well, of course Harold. I guess I didn’t fully understand how much this meant to you. I’m, um, sorry for speaking over you about this.” A sorry from Bubby was a rare commodity. “It’s alright. You were worried about my well being and I’m grateful for that! You were miss informed and kind of stupid, but I’m glad you were willing to open up and have an honest conversation with me.” Bubby smiled and his gaze was finally able to align with Coomer’s again, the feeling of safety retuned and his anxieties took a back seat. “Well, if it’s alright with you, I’d love to help you and the cybernetics department in your research and development. Learn more about the cutting edge of gender confirming surgery and whatnot.” Coomer beamed at the support, “Ah! I’d be happy to include you in Project Black Mesa Super Shlong 3000! I can grab some of the blueprints we’ve been working on right now!” Coomer left Bubby’s office in an excited hurry and would return shortly. In that time Bubby reflected on the conversation. Not needing to be a man or a woman? Not needing any gender at all? That sounded really nice to Bubby. He still had a lot to learn about life outside of Black Mesa and the apparently fluid rules of gender, but he was glad he Coomer there to fill in the gaps.

[rachelthompsonauthor]

What is social proof? It’s a marketing concept that we are all inadvertently, unknowingly contributing to every time we click on, retweet, like, reply or comment, and share any kind of social media, article, or blog post on the net. Technically, social proof, as defined by Sprout Social is:

The concept that people will follow the actions of the masses. The idea is that since so many other people behave in a certain way, it must be the correct behavior.

Social Proof and Me

As an author, social media is a hugely important part of my author platform, as it is for any writer or blogger. This is how we connect with readers now, even before the pandemic. Virtual, online events are now the norm. Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube Live video discussions are the new book signings. Twitter chats are weekly on any number of topics; I have two of my own, in fact, #SexAbuseChat every Tuesday at 6 pm pst/9 pm est and #BookMarketingChat every Wednesday at 6 pm pst/9 pm est.

All important for visibility, branding, and most importantly, connection.

However…there’s a limit. I reached my limit over the course of this past year. It didn’t come all at once. It came, little by little, reaching a peak this past month or so.

Why? How? Me, the so-called social media expert?

Access. Like many people, I have issues with the incredible level of access Facebook gives people once we friend them without our consent. PMs (private messages) are automatic, now with the ability for people to call, voice, and video message us, with no option to shut these options to OFF unless we unfriend the person (we can, however, mute a specific conversation). Technically, we do give them consent in the legal mumbo jumbo we all agreed to when we joined back in the 2010s.

I am not okay with this. And Facebook doesn’t care. Nobody cares. You’re probably thinking, “Geez, Karen. Shut up, already. Stop your whining, white lady.” I get it. I do. First-world problems.

I counter with: I hear you. It’s also part of my business. A huge part. Here’s why:

As someone who manages over 70+ various social media accounts as part of my BadRedhead Media business, plus my own accounts as well, Facebook requires I have a personal account in order to manage all those other Pages. I do understand why, particularly with all the ridiculousness of the past four years with the abundance of fake accounts, fake news, and such.

As a survivor of sexual abuse and stalking, this is ultra-concerning to me. So, what happened this past month or so? Suffice it to say, one person repeatedly tried calling me. I never pick up Facebook calls, especially if I don’t know you. Another left me a few voice messages saying they were offended by something.

Yet another left me another message in ALL SHOUTY CAPS that she didn’t find what I posted inspirational enough and she expected better from someone who is “supposedly on the side of authors.”

Oh, and there is the one lady who started replying on ALL my posts to the kind people who did comment that she didn’t think I replied often enough or to her satisfaction.

Well. I’ve been criticized before. You should read some of my 1-star reviews. There’s plenty!

But, for whatever reason, this struck a chord. I got up in my feels. I cried. I talked with one of them and we worked it out because we like and respect each other’s work in the mental health space. The others I blocked. It’s darn frustrating to donate hours of my time each week to helping writers solely because I want to, only to be told it’s not enough. Like, seriously? Fuck off.

My blood raged. My heart sank. Understandable, right?

But what really made me angry is that I put myself in that position by being available. I accepted that ‘it is what it is.’ This is what the social media platforms have given us, so that’s what I have to work within.

I’m too available. It’s too easy to leave me shitty messages. This is why people hire people like me – to handle this crap for them! So they don’t have to read these ridiculous criticisms from judgy people who apparently have nothing better to do or are having a bad day.

And I get bad days. It’s a damn pandemic. We’re all struggling. Where’s the damn compassion for one another?

I have a dislike/hate relationship with Facebook anyway, since about ten or so years ago when I discovered that a past love had died by suicide by going to his personal profile and seeing, “RIP dude,” messages there. We had spoken early that day. It still haunts me.

So…what to do? I’m claiming my time. I’m not posting to my personal Facebook profile right now. I’m ignoring it. I am checking my Pages and of course, my client Pages. When I feel like I can face it again, I will cull my ‘friends’ down from *checks real quick* 4385 people to maybe, I don’t know, the few hundred in my groups, many of whom I do know and treasure.

Social Proof and You

If you’re a writer, social proof matters. This is the world we live in. Publishing is not only writing.

You need to be ‘findable,’ not only on Google, but also on each individual social platform, so your readers can learn more about you and hopefully, buy your books. If you go the traditional route, publishers and agents want to know how many followers you have (easily upped by buying fake followers or likes from Fiverr or wherever). I suggest not doing that, because:

1) fake followers don’t buy books 

2) it’s usually pretty obvious when you have fake followers because they’re all foreign names, have questionable bios, and no tweets

3) do you really want to start your publishing career with a lie? 

They also want to know what you post, how often, and what your branding is. If you’re an indie author, honestly, the same applies. Social proof is about connection, building relationships, and authenticity. I’ve believed that since I started my business and writing career way back in 2011, and I stand by it now. Start slow, grow slow. It’s not a race.

I’m the furthest thing you’ll even find from a conspiracy theorist – I don’t believe in chemtrails, pizza parlor cabals, or that the earth is flat. However, I am a realist. Watch The Social Dilemma sometime. These huge tech companies share our data without our knowledge or consent (Cambridge Analytics, anyone?). Younger generations are so used to this, they don’t really care – ask them.

(My kids think having a chip implanted in their hands with all their data is a fabulous idea. “So much easier than having to talk and repeat everything over and over. Just scan me and be done with it,” says my daughter Anya (21). “Agree,” grunts my son, Lukas (15). Buy stuff, go to the doctor, whatever. Scan and go. Talk with any GenZ kid, you’ll likely get a similar answer. They’ve been tracked since birth everywhere. They don’t know life without a computer, tablet, or phone in their hands.)

Know that whatever we do, it’s all part of each platforms’ AI, and they share data, which is why that darling pair of shoes you just saw on Amazon is now showing up on Google, Facebook, Twitter, and every website you visit going forward. It’s all about the money, and they all get a piece of that affiliate link.

Every bit of every click is recorded, even when you’re watching videos on YouTube, or a subscription service like Netflix, or perusing goods on Amazon. It’s all connected. I’m not shocked or surprised by any of this, are you?

It’s Not Personal

What people say to us and about us is ultimately incredibly revealing about them. We know this, at an intellectual, psychological, and emotional level. Still, when people say mean things, it hurts. We’re human.

Does it matter in the overall scope of our lives? Who can say. It matters at that moment. It can matter when it comes to overall visibility when you’re marketing your book(s) or trying to get that book contract or interview. Only you can say if it matters to you.

Already a longtime fan of THE FOUR AGREEMENTS by Don Miguel Ruiz, I took a moment to reorient myself with this one agreement: Don’t take anything personally. I also stumbled across an excellent short and entertaining TEDTalk by Frederick Imbo. His main message to stop taking things personally is two-fold;

It’s not about me. Look at the other person’s intention and

It IS about me. Give yourself some empathy. Speak up. Ask questions. Pay attention to how you feel and be vulnerable with your needs.

I’m glad I was able to, inadvertently, employ point #2 and work out some issues with one of the people by telling him what he said made me cry. He apologized. I apologized. We talked it through and we’re still friends.

Ultimately, social media is what we contribute to it. What we make it. How much we allow of it into our lives. Social proof is going along with the tide. I’ve been in this space since 2008. Being connected to others is a big part of the work I do to help and support not only other writers, but also other childhood sexual abuse survivors. However, I’ve reached that point. I knew it was coming.

I’m not shutting my doors. I’m just adding a screen. With a strong lock.

***

Read more about Rachel’s experiences in the award-winning book, Broken Pieces.

She goes into more detail about living with PTSD and realizing the effects of how being a survivor affected her life in

Broken Places, available in print everywhere!

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The post What Is Social Proof and Does It Matter, Really? appeared first on Rachel Thompson.

via Rachel Thompson

[buffcontrol]

New Story: The Black Tank Top

It of course seemed ridiculous, beyond improbable, that what appeared to be a regular tank top could do what it promised. Chris folded and unfolded the thing in has weighty hands, feeling the stretch material on his fingers and glancing at the accompanying note. “Wear this and you’ll get whatever you want!” That was all the note said, on nondescript paper from a nondescript package that had arrived on his doorstep that morning.

In any case, the large black top was just his size and looked pretty nice. The weird note was whatever, but he couldn’t complain about getting a nice new shirt to work out in, he supposed. He slipped off his white tee to try it on, feeling the collar bunch around his neck as he wiggled it over his wide shoulders.

He paused to look in the mirror, wondering, what do I want, exactly? What is it that I really want? He wouldn’t mind getting a little bigger, he thought, packing a little more muscle on would certainly be nice. He rubbed at his stomach before pushing up on his impressive pecs and flexing a little. Already, Chris’s body was something to behold: round in the right corners and heavy where he needed to be, in his big biceps and forearms, his chest, ass and legs all impressively dense and full. He was tall, handsome and naturally athletic without appearing overbearing or appearing cartoonish. Just naturally masculine and fit.

With a final slap at his curved biceps and another glance at the tank top, he picked the thing up and yanked it over his chest and down his stomach. For just a moment, still staring in the mirror, he thought maybe he would suddenly inflate and enlarge into some godly adonis. He inhaled, flexed, stared in the mirror and waited. Nothing happened. He felt a little ridiculous but laughed it off. Time to forget about it and get his workout in.

Yet, he couldn’t really forget it as he began jogging toward his usual gym. Maybe it wasn’t that he couldn’t forget, it was more that he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Yeah, he thought, hitting his stride, his pace increasing, maybe it’s working. Maybe I’m running faster. He laughed a little to himself at the thought it could be true. Maybe he was going to get bigger after all, albeit slowly or more gradually than he would’ve thought.

His workout was following the norm. He easily picked up each weight at each machine and followed his usual rhythm perfectly. It was effortless to the point he wasn’t even processing it, he was simply performing it like a task. Automatically. When he was done and had returned home, it was like none of it had happened at all, he just came to suddenly sitting on his couch with a satisfying, full bodied pump coursing through him and a haze that made it hard to think.

“Huh…” he wondered aloud.

He felt as if it had suddenly become a chore to move. He knew he wanted to stand up, get some water… or something… but his limbs were light and floaty. They weren’t responding to the circuits in his brain, too bogged down with a warm glow to function properly.

“Must be tired,” he said. He felt a dull surprise when it came out droll and monotone. It was if the heat in him had spread into his very vocal cords. Must’ve been a really good workout, he thought, must’ve been… why couldn’t he remember his workout? It was beginning to worry him when the sensation throbbing in him started to churn somewhere deep in his crotch, making it impossible to think of anything else.

HIs thick fingers were moving on their own toward his gym shorts and there was absolutely nothing on his mind but the heat incinerating in him. All the concern was slowly vanishing as he puffed out his chest and caressed himself on the couch. It felt good, he thought, it felt good to let go of whatever was in his brain, just feeling his muscles and the extraordinary pleasure in him when—

There was a knock on the door. Chris’s body erected automatically and he moved to the door without thinking. It was when his hand met the doorknob that a pulse of shock burst in him. He stopped, looking down at himself and the stiffness totally formed in his shorts, standing at attention. “What the?” Why was he so dizzy? And horny? And then why… why was his hand opening the door? He wasn’t trying to open it yet suddenly the door was open and a man walked right in.

He was short and thin with brown hair. Totally unremarkable. He dropped his jacket on the ground and marched into the flat’s living room. “Looks like you’re enjoying that tank top I sent you,” he said.

“Wha….” Chris moaned. He was following this stranger back in. This guy shouldn’t be here, he thought, this is wrong… “Who are you?”

“Do you care?”

“No, I… uh…” why didn’t he care? Suddenly, Chris was scared. This was all so weird, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t seem to find the emotion or motivation in him to stop what was happening.

“I already told you, I’m the guy that sent you that top you’ve got on. Looks good on you man,” he said. “You know, it makes you into whatever you want to be. What do you want to be, Chris?”

“Get out…” Chris stuttered. It was too hard to talk, he kept feeling that warmth coursing through him as he swayed in place. “I don’t know haha…”

“Tell me what you want to be, Chris,” the man approached him. There was a flinch in his body but it was immediately suppressed. “Feel free to do whatever you want. You’re safe with me.”

“Huh…” his hands found the bottom seam of his new tank top and pulled it up over his chest all on their own. He couldn’t believe he was stripping in front of some random stranger. The fear throbbing through him was laced with something so satisfying and pacifying his mind failed to connect his terror with any ability to act.

“That feels better, doesn’t it?”

“Yah dude…” and as the words moaned from him, he felt his arms come up in a tight double bicep pose. The muscles on his body tensed and expanded as he flexed them, quivering, like something in his body was trying to break free of what it was doing. He laughed as he flexed, the laugh coming from some deep and primordial place from him out of his control. He laughed, but his eyebrows were stitched in fear. “Please man… please…”

“What is it” he asked.

“Please let me go…”

“Is that what you really want?” He asked.

Chris strained. “N- no…,” he cried, some new truth settling into his brain and cementing. But he shook it off, sweating, everything in his body becoming harder to control. He managed to just barely jerk his head, “I mean yes! Please let me go! What’s happening to me!” His voice was panicked but his face was plastered with a big, dumb smile. He couldn’t change it no matter how hard he tried. Suddenly, he transitioned into a side pose that showed off his powerful deltoids. “I don’t want any of this!”

“Be honest with yourself.”

Chris’s eyes were clouding as his grin widened. Drool was slowly accumulating in the corner of his mouth as he tightened the muscles on his arms. He was clearly trying to say something, but it only came out in chokes and gurgles as he smiled, baring all of his pristine white teeth.

“Doesn’t it feel good?”

There was an impulse to lie, as if protecting himself, but it was quickly extinguished by the pleasure building in him. He couldn’t deny the satisfaction that was settling into his entire being. “Ye… yes… so good…” The more he felt himself giving in and the more he flexed, the harder his dick grew in his shorts, precum sliding down his thigh.

“So be truthful. Tell me what you really want. Is it just to be bigger?”

As if something inside of him had opened and he could see more clearly into his being, Chris’s innermost desire became starkly apparent. He had always known it but never had the ability to say it to himself. Whatever spell was over him, he could not deny it any longer. But he tried, “Nn… nnn…” he grunted.

“Accept the truth.”

“I want to be a brainless, muscle whore!” He blurted. “I want my entire life to be devoted to sex and pleasure! I don’t want anything else but fucking and flexing and cumming!”

The man opposite him grinned. “Are you sure? If that’s not true, you can say so and all of this will stop.”

But Chris knew this was true. No matter how deep down he had tried to suppress it, he was innately desperate to reduce himself into a stupid muscle slut, capable of nothing but working out, orgasming and giving orgasms. “It’s true! It’s true, it’s true!”

And with those words, Chris’s reality began to realize itself. A piece of his brain did not disappear, but rather it shrunk into the size of a marble in the sea of his mind. It was his consciousness for a normal life, his thoughts about work and friends and everything outside of muscle and sex. It was still there, but so small it was practically invisible in the utter ocean of gleeful stupidity and horniness flooding him all at once. He no longer had any choice in what his body did, it was a complete slave to satisfaction. Every thought attempting to escape that marble of normalcy was drowned with lust.

Automatically, Chris followed his desire as he raced to rip his shorts and underwear off and jerk off. All he wanted to do was cum. The tiny shred of his regular self could do nothing but watch in disgust as his body instinctually began to approach the twink to pound. Still whacking his thick cock with one hand, he rushed to get any of the stranger’s clothes off and get his dick inside. He was nothing like Chris’s old type, but it didn’t matter anymore: Chris had gotten what he wanted, to be a brainless himbo jock, and he would never turn down sex again.

“I’m so big!” He cried as his dick slid in. “I’m so hot! Gotta fuck, gotta fuck, want sex, yeah! Yeah!” He flexed both of his thick arms as his hips instinctively thrust back and forth.

Chris’s body fucked and fucked, cumming three times before he slammed his meaty ass onto the stranger’s own dick, riding him for hours. “I’m just a whore, I’m a dirty jock pig aren’t I? Fuck yeah!”

The continually diminishing shred of him still capable of understanding what was happening fought and fought, but it was powerless, just smothered in his true desire to give himself over to pleasure. Even after the bastard who put this curse on him was gone, he was subjected to watch in horror as the actual Chris downloaded Grindr, begging anyone to come over and fuck. Men came and played with his juicy pecs, making him flex for them. “I’m the hottest dude on this planet,” he laughed as men in front of him squeezed his flexed arms and thighs. “Look at these muscles!”

It wasn’t long before even the little piece left of the old Chris was gone. He had quit his job and started professionally camming to make money. He did nothing but work out and suck and fuck all day. He couldn’t do anything without it leading to sex or a pump from the gym.

But every now and then, as Chris flexes, squeezing his arms together and tightening his abs, showing off his strong back and sculpted legs, a minor pang of the past leaps into him, calling for help, trying to get out, only for  it to be put out by a dumb, masculine laugh as drool trails from his lips and he says, “I’m so horny man… hahaha…”

Next to him, a simple black tank top on the floor.

[hannigramficrecs]

AU

The Long Con by harleygirl2648 [words: 19,039]

Con Artist/Thieves AU: Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter are both interested in acquiring a Botticelli, but both of them are quite fond of each other's short games. For both of them, it's the deception and thrill of the game that's worth more than the payout. And well, after all, aren't the easiest people to scam are those who think they are smart enough to not get scammed?

Only If For a Night by Wiggitywackwriter [words: 5,323]

Will hires a male escort for a FBI formal function in order to get out of a possible blind date, but mostly to show up the Science Bros.

And This One is Just Right by Sabi [words: 20,910]

When an injured BSHCI escapee breaks into Dr. Graham's vet clinic, it doesn't end cleanly. Surely it couldn't happen again? Or again??

In Sickness and in Health by BonesAndScales [words: 67,450]

Everyone knows that Will and Hannibal are married. Not everyone knows that they are married to each other.

Hidden by Creed Cascade (creedcascade) [words: 7,606]

Will Graham never graduated high school and now that his father is dead, he has nothing. Jack Crawford got Will a dead end job working at the university as a night janitor. Will likes to sneak into to listen to the lectures of Dr. Hannibal Lecter, who definitely notices he is there.

An Engagement by mokuyoubi [words: 4,608]

New Orleans, 2003, a chance meeting between Officer Graham and Doctor Lecter in the emergency room leaves Will curious about what's going on beneath that placid mask of his.

Spare Change, Coffee and Temporary Boyfriends by xyrilyn [words: 4,790]

It all began with Will agreeing to go out drinking with Alana and her friends. Throw in a creepy stalker following him in the pouring rain, a mobile phone with zero battery left, enough spare change for just one public phone call and Will ends up with the shittiest situation he has ever landed himself in. Fearing for his life, Will stumbles into the first phone booth he sees and uses all the coins he has on his person to call Jack for help. And of course, as Fate will have it, Will dials the wrong number and ends up with Hannibal on the other side of the line instead.

This Match Made In Blood by TheSilverQueen [words: 3,680]

Hannibal needs a new secretary, because she was very rude. Will needs a new job, because his boss just turned up as the Chesapeake Ripper’s newest kill. It’s a match made in blood.

Where The Snakes Get Born by coloredink [words: 2,805]

"You've been very honest with me," said Hannibal. "Since our first meeting. Moreso, perhaps, than is wise for an escort." Will shrugged. "You're the one who's paying an obscene amount of money for exclusivity." "I wonder why, that's all," said Hannibal. "How it is that you feel you can speak so freely in my presence."

The New Arrangement by viaorel [words:6,123]

Will and Mischa are best buddies at the FBI Academy and are quite satisfied with being weird together, but one day Will gets a gift lunch from Mischa's older brother, whom he considers to be a strange guy with even stranger tastes. Will is intrigued, Mischa hates the idea of them meeting.

Change of Plans by surrenderdammit for EclecticRegard [words: 1,827]

Mischa would have given her arm to have been there for whatever went down after her brother left their house in an enraged, murderous mood only to return hours later with a dazed look on his face.

A Criminal's Best Asset is His Lie Ability by amoralagent [words: 24,981]

"There's no reason to hurt me, is there?" He spoke again, not expecting an answer, "Do you want to hurt me?" Will quelled a smile, thinking of the night's events. Thieves AU! Will breaks into an apparently empty house, and things don't go according to plan.

What Doesn't Kill You... Will Probably Try Again by amoralagent [words: 30,834]

"I take it introductions aren't your forte." "I take it you get threatened with knives often." Will countered, and Hannibal's mouth did the strange little quirk again that implied a smile, but didn't answer. Serial Killer AU! Will gets into someone's car with a plan to kill them. That plan gets utterly ruined.

That Wilderness So Savage by Winter_of_our_Discontent [words: 6,847]

The professor�� Will would bet money he was tenured faculty somewhere— glanced down at Will’s badge, hanging from his neck like a millstone on a lanyard. “Doctor Graham.” “Just Will. I’m, ah, I’m actually just about to defend.” “Hannibal Lecter. Please, call me Hannibal.” Will risked a glance at the man’s eyes as they shook hands. They were deep, and in the fluorescent lighting looked almost burgundy. He looked away before he could see any further. “And what do you study, Will?” “Death,” Will said.

Of a Foreigner's God by saintsavage [words: 2,947]

An AU first meeting leads to some very interesting changes in the lives of Will and Hannibal. Jack isn’t thrilled.

The Back Foot by spqr [words: 8,468]

When Hannibal finds out that the hooker he’s spent the last month romancing up and down the isle of Manhattan is also the author of the NYT’s monthly Dark Minds column, he reacts much the same way Will expects a normal man would react upon finding out his new girlfriend could deep throat.

You Asshole by Devereauxs_Disease [words: 1,219]

After a complication from being stabbed leaves Will deaf, he leaves the New Orleans Police Department and takes a job working at a library. He's gotten used to his new life when a new patron shows up and asks for some lessons in ASL. Will decides to be a tutor for the charming doctor, but did he get more than he bargained for?

The Business of Pleasure by Magnetism_bind [words: 23,888]

Hannibal hires a hooker with the intention of eating him after he’s done fucking him. His plans change when he sees the hooker.

An Amendment to Dinner Plans by GoldenUsagi [words:1,541]

Hannibal is planning to kill someone from his Rolodex, and has made arrangements for them to have car trouble. Except there’s a mix-up, and the man he meets on the roadside is Will Graham—not the man he was planning to kill, and also the most stunning man he’s ever seen.

Ball Toss by raiast [words: 22,307]

The carnival AU no one asked for. Hannibal accompanies Alana to a carnival and meets one Will Graham, whose game booth is less than above board. Hannibal does not approve.

The Birth of Anteros by harleygirl2648 [words: 5,724]

AU: Will Graham takes a leave of absence after an incident in New Orleans, and accepts a position as a profiler for Rinaldo Pazzi on the Il Monstro case.

Every Day a Dying Day by lovetincture [words: 8,210]

Will Graham is a professional mourner. He attends strangers' funerals and grieves their loss, for a fee. Hannibal is a serial killer. He visits the funerals of people he's killed. They notice each other immediately. Like recognizes like, and neither of them truly belong at the funerals they attend. Hannibal is fascinated by Will's terrible empathy, and Will knows immediately that Hannibal is a serial killer. None of that stops them from wanting to get closer.

Going My Way by fragile-teacup (Mrs_Gene_Hunt) [words: 2,746]

Imagine, if you will, a sunny café terrace on a warm autumn morning, where Will Graham is grabbing breakfast ahead of a rather important meeting with his boss and some psychiatrist or other. He looks up and notices that someone is staring at him from a few tables away...

Bigger than a Breadbox by KatherineKrawl [words: 4,083]

Every day at work, Will's lunchbox is filled with decadent creations, prompting questions from curious coworkers. Hoping to solve the matter, he asks Hannibal for a 'simple' sandwich, but quickly learns Hannibal doesn't quite grasp the meaning of this. Or does his boyfriend have an ulterior motive for his lavish lunches?

Tips by luvkurai [words: 1,018]

Hannibal must deal with a few unhappy customers.

2 (25/25)

[self-loving-vampire]

@melancholygirlfrien said:

I have a Child Development Associate so I am literally professionally certified to tell you that yes, taking children and babies to places so they can learn how to function and see that they're a part of a world bigger than they are, is important to their social, emotional, and language development. It helps everything from motor skills to social skills and cognition Just because you find babies' cries annoying doesn't mean parents are selfish just for wanting to take their children outside. Children shouldn't be raised indoors all day in a fucking bubble because that's how developmental issue happen. If a child is isolated they can develop serious issues.

Note that there are more appropriate places you could be taking them to, for starters. Places where people can avoid the noise more easily and where it might be less disruptive.

Like, you have options beyond “indoors 100% of the time” and the kinds of locations I mentioned in my first reply to you. Like, you can still take them to places like parks, malls, and other locations where it would be less of an issue.

No it's not fucking self centered for a parent to take their baby outside because they're just doing what they gotta do , not everyone can afford child care especially people of lower socioeconomic status. There are many single mothers who have no other option but to take their baby everywhere because that's what their situation calls for. The only fucking person being self-centered and not considering the struggles of other people is you.

Again, notice the kinds of places I mentioned in my post before going off on straw arguments. My complaints about others involve places like restaurants, the movies, and airplanes.

These are not only places where a child crying can ruin other people’s experience and be inescapable, they’re also places where many of the people there are not poor and had other options for what to do about their situation.

Like, I would think differently about someone who brought their baby to a clinic’s waiting room (for example) as opposed to a flight to Miami.

Black and white thinking is not going to help you understand what other people’s issues are.

No I wouldn't tell someone whos scared of my snake to go suck it, even though I would have every right to. Like I said I understand when people have phobias of certain animals. There might be people out there who have a phobia of dogs but does that mean people who take out their dogs are being selfish and don't care about people who have trauma/phobia associated with dogs?? Fuck no, those people are just being responsible dog owners and doing what every dog owner should which is take their dog out for a walk. Just bc some people might be annoyed by their dog doesn't mean they're being self-centered and bad people.

And yet there are places where they probably should not take their dog because it would be either inconsiderate or outright banned, and if they insisted on doing so then they probably are self-centered.

Like, if you want to take your babies out for a walk or something around the house that’s not nearly as bad as what I was actually complaining about.

your life isn't gonna be fucking ruined from hearing a baby cry in public. The most you'll be is annoyed and anxious for a few moments and then it will go away. Suck it up.

Did I ever say anyone’s life was going to be ruined? Why do you make everything some kind of exaggerated strawman?

Here are some exact quotes you already forgot about:

“It’s not the worst thing but it’s still kind of inconsiderate“

“No one said anything about stopping them or suspending their rights in any way, only that noise is annoying (and especially painful to autistic people with sensory issues).“

“Um… what do you think I do? Activate Karen Mode and go bother the parents about it? Nah, I just judge them silently. I am free to complain as much as I want on the internet though.“

So:

1- I am not treating it as a huge, life-ruining thing, just a sort of dick move. Like people who cut in line or something.

2- I do “suck it up” when it happens but am 100% allowed to complain about it online anyway.

Tbh I can't keep talking to you, I think people like you should be ushered into a dark warehouse and humanely put down.

Empathy-havers are so humane they advocate genocide against autistic people apparently, over a post about baby noises being kind of annoying. I’m not even surprised because you all keep doing this every single time without even thinking about how it sounds.

Maybe you should think about how the things that make children annoying (they're egotistical, they have a hard time empathizing with  others because of their self-centered world view) are traits that you have yourself. The difference is that most children develop and grow out of that self-centered world view

If you actually read my post, the primary annoyance I pointed out was that they were Portable Sensory Hell. I made no comment about their ability to feel empathy and actually find low empathy people significantly less annoying than others so that’s clearly not it.

You're a child in my eyes tbh. Your mentality is childish. Say what you will but I would like to remind you again, at one point in your life, you were a baby, and you shit your pants, and someone had to clean up all that shit after. Or else you wouldn't be here.

You know, if you’re going to go around advocating genocide over a post about people not liking baby noises then I am 100% sure my literal child self was morally and intellectually superior to your current self already.

You know what would make me respect you more? If you owned up to the fact that you judging parents when their babies cry is a result of your low empathy and self-centered world view. I would respect you SO much more if you just said "Yo, straight up. I'm just a selfish person. I know babies can't help that they cry and it's not the parents fault but I straight up do not like that shit. I have low empathy as a person and therefore I can't really bring myself to care about babies, children, or the parents and their situation so I just judge parents because I want to. Because their kid is annoying the shit out of me. I don't care about the reasoning tbh I'm just kind of an asshole."

> Implying I care about whether or not you respect me.

Also, this isn’t even correct. At my current point in life I pretty much never have to interact with babies in any way, if I was completely selfish then it would not matter to me now whether or not people bring their crying babies into airplanes and the like. The issue just isn’t a very significant part of my life.

But the thing is that while I am low empathy that does not change the fact that I value other people’s well-being and know that crying babies make their lives worse even if just in a small, temporary way.

The kinds of parents I am complaining about don’t even think about that.

You know you're just incompassionate. So be a self-respecting sociopath and own up to that shit, please, I would respect a stone cold evill mf  SO much better than a little weasel who tries to give excuses as to their own egocentric way of thinking.

I am a narcissist, not a sociopath. Of course, if cluster B disorders are just standard insults to you then you might think all low empathy conditions are the same.

Furthermore, you haven’t shown that you understand anything at all about what low empathy conditions are actually like.

Also I find it really telling that you would prefer unrepentant evil selfishness over someone who merely understands and sides with others who are negative about loud babies. Like, actual morality is not something you seem to be valuing here.

"iF I wErE iN tHaT sItUaTiOn I wOuLd jUsT sTaY hOme!" No you wouldn't you stupid bitch because parents have to go out to buy groceries, and run errands like every other adult.

Again, you seem to be treating all of “outside the house” as an interchangeable space with the exact same norms.

Like, do you realize how it might be different to bring your child out for necessary grocery shopping than to bring them to a restaurant or the movies? Do you really think I would treat those things as exactly the same?

MOST parents, especially working-class, poor, or single parents, DON'T have that option, as I already stated. And you are showing a clear lack of regard for people who are in a tougher situation than you for judging parents when their babies annoy YOU. You are literally not putting yourself in their shoes at all bc you have no idea of even half the shit parents have to do in order to make ends meet and look after their babies.

Oh, I am well aware of how having babies will multiply your suffering, especially if you’re poor. It’s precisely why I’m never having any! 

I understand it’s a huge pain and people with children are always going on and on about how their lives became significantly more miserable as a result of it.

I think you should honestly love that screaming toddler on the plane because in a few decades she might grow up to become the nurse who will take care of you when you're old and ill.

This argument just doesn’t work one way or another. If the baby is going to help me then I will be grateful once that actually happens, not based on a hypothetical so unlikely I might as well live my life not considering it.

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Taking our sweet time (seriously, there's no need to hurry)

Whenever life gets too much to handle it should be socially acceptable to say fuck it and peace out for a while. I get that constant procrastination isn't good but sometimes you really need to step back and take a goddamn break.

You don't have to take on the world all at once - in fact you don't have to do anything at all just to feel worthy of something. It's the little things that matter and your worth shouldn't be measured solely by your achievements. There's nothing wrong with being average - or even below that - what should matter is that you're happy and doing what you like.

At least that's what I'm hoping to get across to Pai and her adventuring companions. From burnout to things not going as planned due to factors out of everyone's control, they are definitely in need of a break.

Pai's stepping into the world of perilous adventuring after running across Connie, a wanderer who's made a name for themselves in Bonsai Harbor. Connie's from another world, having been separated from their sibling. Along the way, they saved Pai from being eaten by a slime crystal monster, so now Pai feels indebted to them. They haven't known each other for too long but they act like old, playfully bickering buds.

While trying to find their footing, Pai suggested seeking help from the Knights of Windwail and the Adventurer's Guild. Then they got wrapped up in adventuring, world quests, and earned the status of honorary knights. Along the way they came across other adventurers from the Knights and the Guild, forming their own adventure team.

Amber was the first friend Connie and Pai made at Bonsai Harbor. She was the one who taught Connie how to use a wind glider as well as the ins and outs of the city. As an outrider of Windwail and master pyro archer with ties to the Adventurer's Guild, she got them covered. Pai says that they're lucky they ran into Amber as she knows a lot about pretty much everything Bonsai Harbor. It's fun listening to her talk about her home, the other team members, and their latest adventures - she's basically the group's spokesperson.

The second friend they met is also a knight, Captain Lucien, also known as Luci to friends and elders. He's a well known swordfighter with piercing cryo powers that can freeze anything for a short time. Luci was a big help for Connie and Pai when they got cornered by fireball slimes. In return, the duo offered to help him retrieve a stolen katana, which resulted in them discovering other lost weapons and earned the trust and respect of the head of the Windwail Knights.

Noelle and Bennett were next to join the gang of adventurers, coming to them at the right time by chance. Connie, Pai, Amber, and Luci were ambushed on the outskirts of the city while on an investigation when their reinforcements came to the rescue.

Pai summoned Noelle by accident as she happened to be nearby when things were going south. Noelle is who they call a maid without a master - meaning she does things like cleaning, cooking, and running errands for pretty much anyone who calls for her. Rumor has it that one can easily summon Noelle just by calling out her name to the wind, which is what Pai did. As a fighter, Noelle can summon a geo shield that provides healing powers when activated, plus she's got a badass looking claymore sword that's not only great for fighting off enemies, but also for mining and destroying obstacles.

Bennett also happened to be nearby when the gang was attacked. He's an adventurer with pyro powers who hasn't had too much luck in recruiting members for his group. He's a good fighter, but for some reason things never really work out in his favor, so that's why no one seeks him out. It's a shame because he's a sweet and likable guy but his bad luck overshadows the good. Up until meeting Connie and Pai, he was considering giving up as an adventurer because he wasn't getting anywhere. Then he heard Pai screaming for help and came running along.

Since Noelle and Bennett didn't have anything better to do, they decided to tag along. Noelle still gets summoned once in a while, mainly for menial tasks that don't take too much out of her day. Of course, with the gang being all the way over here at the camp, they're all on vacation from their jobs - most for the first time in years, if ever.

It's a good thing Pai dragged them out here because they all deserve a vacation. And not only that, they deserve regular vacations - time where they can breathe and do nothing without feeling guilty. Given what they've all done over the past several weeks, it's no wonder they're feeling burnt out.

After saving the city and earning the status of honorary knights, Connie and Pai set out to explore the nearby city of Starcatcher. Before heading off, they gained another member - Seraphina the idol of the Windwail Church. She's got hydro powers and the ability to heal. She was the one who helped Connie sneak into the cathedral basement to retrieve a cursed artifact and came to the rescue in the nick of time by healing the gang during a showdown with a monster terrorizing the city.

At Starcatcher, the gang met up with Xingqiu and Xiang. Connie and Pai had met Xiang earlier when she was visiting the harbor and helped her gather ingredients for a cooking contest. Connie was hoping to run into Xiang again in the near future so as soon as they arrived at the city, they went looking for her. Apparently they just missed her as she was out on another culinary adventure.

Then Connie and the others were caught up in commissions there, getting familiar with the city. While searching for a rare book, they met Xingqiu, a descendant of a once prosperous family who helped the gang get through the red tape for intel. He's a master swordfighter with hydro powers that can form powerful whirlpools. Pai and Luci were a bit skeptical of him as he seemed to pop in and out whenever he wanted without explaining, but in the end he earned their trust.

Xiang finally met up with the gang not too long after they finished a mission involving finding jade fragments in the ruins. She joined just in time to help take down a bunch of ruin guards, except that didn't go so well. The gang barely made it out alive before having to retreat and Sera and Noelle's healing powers can only help so much. So they decided to put that off and focus on other missions.

But then the quests started to pile up as more of them were beyond their scope. According to Luci, all of them are capable fighters - on their own. As a team, their biggest problem is that they're too slow, especially when it comes to fighting large monsters like ruin guards. The problem lies with efficiency - the team lacks coordination. That, along with the group not being the most prepared or equipped - the latter is something they're trying to fix - is what's dragging the team down.

Though, to be fair, no one really knows what they're doing. After all, Pai and Connie met by chance and their team just kinda fell together. We don't know if we're getting any closer to helping Connie reunite with their family, which is the main reason why they're going on all these missions. As for the others, they're just there for the ride, not knowing exactly what they're doing either, but are more than happy to help when needed.

I have to say, I'm flattered that Pai decided to take Connie and the others all the way here. I don't know where Bonsai and Starcatcher are other than really, really far out there. Pai doesn't really come out here much - I think she only comes to see Jamie, so I'm guessing that's how she knows about the camp. I also heard it's not easy to travel from where's she's from as they're pretty much like different dimensions, making it even more impressive.

So far, I think the break's been helping out a lot. It's been nice getting to know the others and just hanging out with them. Again, it's kinda sad that most of them had never taken a vacation before, so the idea of leisure took some getting used to. Aside from introductions, we mostly steered away from talking about quests and missions.

Noelle, of course, enjoys running errands. She likes collecting fruit, fish, and bugs, and getting to know the campers. Noelle kinda reminds me of my mom as she finds doing things like cleaning relaxing. It's not surprising that she likes speed cleaning videos as they can be satisfying to watch. I wouldn't mind watching videos with Noelle sweeping the cabin or scrubbing the counters - she makes those tasks look fun!

Amber's into hiking and climbing into high places where she can jump off and glide. She's teaching me and Daisy Jane how to glide and it's a bit terrifying, though I'm slowly getting the hang of it. I think that's the closest I'll ever get to flying!

Now that she has a lot of free time on her hands, Amber wants to make custom gliders for the team - and for me, Daisy Jane, and Isabelle as well. They look hard to make, so the fact that they can be made by hand is impressive. All of Amber's gliders are handmade and it takes a special skill to not only make a glider that looks pretty but also functional. She used to take orders for custom made gliders before things got too busy so she's glad to be getting back into it. I can't wait to see how they turn out!

Seraphina has been getting into impromptu jam sessions with the campers, putting on a little concert every night so far. She's got a lovely voice with a pure sweetness I find endearing. Being out here at the camp has helped her get back into singing so she hopes the nightly concerts will keep her going. Her love for poetry shows through her lyrics as she has a way with words and evoking emotions through imagery.

She says the camp kinda reminds her of Bonsai Harbor, particularly the meadows, which probably explains why she's inspired to sing again. As much as she enjoys adventuring, she misses her home a lot. Still, Seraphina knew what she was signing up for when she wanted to tag along with Connie and Pai. While her roots are in Bonsai Harbor, she wanted to take the opportunity to explore the world around her. If it wasn't for Connie and Pai, who knows when she'll get another chance to do so?

Luci, as expected, took some adjusting to the whole idea of leisure. He's not what they consider the workaholic type - in fact, he's pretty lax - but he's the kind of person who's mind is usually on work mode. He's task oriented, always thinking about getting stuff done, preferably without too much time and effort. It's understandable that he wants the team to be in tip top shape by practicing their fighting skills and coordinating their efforts, but it's not healthy to be constantly focusing on that. After all, the main reason why they're all here is to get their minds off that.

While there will be fighting practices eventually, for now it's best to take it easy. According to the others, Luci's not one to stress out over things, so the fact that he is starting to get a little bit stressed is a warning sign. He was a bit restless and fidgety at first, but he's in a completely unfamiliar place and not doing any adventuring or knight stuff for the first time ever so it's understandable. In a way it kinda feels like post grad life when you're pretty much done with school forever and now you don't know what to do with yourself.

Like Noelle, Luci's been running errands and hanging with the campers. He's been trying a bit of everything - hiking, fishing, bug catching, gardening, building furniture - he's a jack of all trades. So far, he's been enjoying all these activities, especially crafting stuff with Reese and Cyrus. In fact, when he got a look at Daisy Jane's gyroid designs, he wanted to join in on the fun too!

Looks like the adventure team's gonna be back at the camp for a gyroid event (or more) as Noelle, Amber, Xiang, and Seraphina want to design stuff as well. So there's potential for many more visits, which will be amazing!

Xiang's been cooking up a storm - figuratively for the most part. Thankfully, since it's outdoors, damage was minimal - though it's fire so while it wasn't that bad, the potential for disaster was high. Thankfully Seraphina and Xingqiu quickly put out the fires so crisis averted.

She's the kind of chef who likes experimenting in the kitchen, coming up with the most unusual recipes. Apparently the slime creatures they fight off leave essences that can be edible, so she keeps vials of them. Fire ones are spicy, wind ones have a dry, bitter flavor, icy ones are kinda minty with a hint of honey, water ones are umami - it's interesting to learn about. Other unusual ingredients Xiang has on hand are ground up boar horns, jade sparkledust, snowflake ash, and clearfish scales.

Don't let the unusual ingredients fool you - most of her food is not only edible, but also delicious. There's a reason why the gang isn't worried about starving if stranded in the middle of nowhere. Xiang can even make dirt edible - something which she's trying to do but hasn't figured out yet.

Xingqiu has taken an interest in gardening, which is perfect because I have been once again neglecting my garden. Maybe neglecting is a strong word but lately, other than flower events, I haven't been planting much. I'm trying to keep up with that but it's so much effort, especially trying to cross-pollinate for rare flowers. Xingqiu considers himself a novice when it comes to planting flowers but he's already got much better luck than me with getting rare seeds. I think his water powers have something to do with the blooms coming out more vibrant and full than usual.

He and Noelle have also been into taking interior decor classes with Lotte at the Happy Room Academy. Speaking of that, I've kinda fallen behind on those classes too. Sunny's rank is Legend while I've been lingering at Master - I didn't even know there was a Legend rank until Sunny told me.

Well, just because I run the camp doesn't mean I can do everything. I've tried, but as the camp grew, I had to learn how to prioritize. While I can put in some time to gardening and catching up with Happy Room Academy classes, they're not something I really want to do. As for gardening, I kinda have a love-hate thing so tending to that feels more like a chore than a fun activity. I'm not the best at gardening and I'm okay with that.

As for Connie, they've been working nonstop since meeting Pai. They've kinda fallen into the leader role by default and as a result has been under a lot of pressure. They mentioned feeling a bit guilty, like being miscast in a role or something. There's also the fact that Connie pretty much started from the ground up, so they worked extra hard to earn everyone's respect as well as be able to fight in combat on the same level as the others. They've done so much in such a short time, Pai was right in trying to get them to slow down.

Like Luci said, they're all capable fighters, but as a team they still have a lot to learn. To put it bluntly, compared to other adventurers in terms of combat and strategy, they're pretty average. All of them admit they're a bit of a mess - then again, who isn't? As much as they have accomplished together, there's always a voice in the back of their minds questioning whether they could've done better. And it's not just themselves, it's also the societal pressure to not only do well, but to exceed and be the best. While that tries to be a motivating message, it does more harm than good.

That brings me back to my main point - you don't have to be exceptional at what you do. It's a message I'm still learning myself, especially since I grew up in a culture where I'm told that I'm not trying hard enough if I'm not constantly pushing my limits. Despite what society wants you to think, it's okay to be average, to just be.

After all, none of them chose to adventure for status and prestige - they're pretty much here because they seek excitement and want to help Connie. As for Connie, they never expected to become somewhat a hero in Bonsai Harbor and Starcatcher, they just wanted to help others. So what if they stumble more than fly? Just because all of them can't take down a massive monster doesn't make them less capable as adventurers - it just means combat isn't one of their strong suits yet - and that's okay. After all, they're still getting to know each other and such.

For now, we're all just gonna take our sweet time just chilling out. Self-care's important, but sometimes we get so caught up in everything else that we put ourselves last.

[andysmetahell]

One for All and All for One: The study in complimentary and infinite (wasted) potentials

One for All and All for One: two Quirks whose history we can, in the universe of Boku no Hero Academia, treat almost as the history of society. Their users had left enormous impact on everyone in the series, and through hints we can see their influence stretching long, long back to the first appearance of the Quirks.

Neither Quirk can be considered ‘normal’, though: the ability to take away Quirks at whim and an ability to share Quirks with others (which would inevitably leave you Quirkless) are both complete anathemas to the society that by and large is half-in love with the idea of simply having a Quirk (which deserves a whole breakdown in on itself, but that’s not what I’ll be writing about here!). And yet, One For All users are all heroes, and All for One users are all villains as far as we know (written after the release of manga chapter 280).

How is that even possible? With how objectively similar they are, why aren’t they both heroes, or both villains?

Well, before we take a crack at how Horikoshi coded the Hero society that made this happen, let’s first take a look at just why I’m so surprised the two Quirks aren’t on the same ‘side’. Also, obligatory ‘spoilers ahead’ warning for everyone who’re anime-only watchers, or haven’t gotten past Meta Liberation Army arc in manga.

Purely from the activation/mechanics point of view, All for One and One for All are warped mirror images of each other. All for One functions on the assumption that a) the user knows the other person has a Quirk and b) the Quirk doesn’t have an inherent clause that disallows itself to be taken by force when it comes to taking it. One for All is the only Quirk so far that has shown the resistance to the b), as it is encoded in the very nature of the ‘share-along’ Quirk that forms the true base of One for All that it can only be given away willingly.

Why is this so important? Because All for One doesn’t only take Quirks, it’s also capable of releasing them and giving them to others, whether the recipient is willing or unwilling. In this regard, One for All is startlingly identical: it can be forced upon someone else, as long as the DNA is exchanged and the previous user is willing to give it away. This little fact is often overlooked (likely deliberately) by the existing canon in favor of emphasizing the ‘cannot be taken forcefully away’ which makes sense plot-wise, but not ethics and logic-wise.

But who knows, maybe Horikoshi is holding back on us, and One for All ends up being the ultimate villain of the story.

… yeah, not likely. But the idea is interesting, isn’t it?

Moving onto the way they interact with their users and other Quirks, One for All and All for One are again very, very different, but with a shared approximate visualization of usage behind it. The closest approximation of how they interact with other Quirks would be, in my opinion, be gravity – but two very different applications of gravity.

There are two relevant things you need to know about gravity: it is defined by the masses of an object interacting with another object, and every single object in the universe has its own gravity field. (thank you, Physics nationals I went to once, for forcing me to learn more about gravity!)

All for One is more akin to a star within a stable planetary system: it holds planets, satellites and comets (other Quirks) locked in its orbit, but any change can make all those objects lose their orbits and go wander in the deep space. Its hold is strong, but the fact still remains it can be nullified in order to give away Quirks. It’s also stable – its attraction/hold power doesn’t change with the number of Quirks taken, it simply gives it a bigger array of powers to work with.

One for All on the other hand would be closer to black hole: its gravity is so enormous even light, the fastest object in the universe, cannot escape it, and its mass (and therefore its gravity) grows stronger with every object it swallows. Once it grabs a hold of anything (its user’s other Quirk) it merges it with itself and keeps it for forever, with very little chance of it ever surfacing again as individual Quirk (unless your name is Midoriya Izuku). However, it heavily relies on the energy (other Quirks it merges with) to provide power-ups; hence the ridiculous difference between Izuku’s and Toshinori’s One for All. (also protagonst shenanigans, but we’re not going that far into metatextuality here – that needs its own essay)

So, concept-wise, One for All and All for One are again identical in the idea behind it, but drastically different in application – both still fucking scary, but what can we do here, our main protagonist and antagonist need to have OP armor around themselves.

This leads us to the probably the biggest spoiler I’ll discuss in this essay:

this panel.

In chapter 270 of manga, Shigaraki Tomura is revealed to have been passed All for One, which is a whole mindfuck in on itself that Horikoshi needs to explain stat because I’m going crazy over here with theories (!!!), but moving on. The short and extremely brief summary of what happens afterwards is: Heroes discover where Tomura is while he’s still being transferred All for One, they wreck the Nomus and facility, Shigaraki gets partial All for One and his original Quirk Decay goes absolutely nuts again, Izuku runs off to face him, and at one point point, while using Ragdoll’s Search, Shigakari utters a very strange sentence while seemingly under the influence of All for One (the Quirk):

“You will be mine… little brother.”

Moments later, Shigaraki snaps out of it and comments about Sensei (All for One) no longer being his puppeteer, that he’s making his own choices and not Sensei’s.

Here we get a stunning punch in the plexus about what we already have been hinted at during Izuku’s fight with Shinsou Hitoshi, during Kamino Ward and Joint Training Arcs:

One for All and All for One both retain the echoes of their past owners.

Now, here comes a million dollar question: is this something both the baseline ‘share’ part of One for All and All for One possess (which would further link the two Quirks, and also explain a lot of characterizations in the series so far), or is it an imprint of All for One on ‘stockpile’ part of One for All that ‘share’ part absorbed and made its own? Both possibilities are extremely intriguing and make any future possibility of unification (which was apparently Sensei’s original goal before, judging by that one panel) extremely volatile, and very intriguing if Horikoshi pursues that idea to its end.

Speaking of the man himself, now we arrive at the question that really started the whole essay here: how come it was All for One chosen to be the ultimate evil, and One for All to be ultimate good? As we’ve seen so far, both Quirks are startlingly similar; theoretically, could All for One be a ‘heroic’ Quirk and One for One for All ‘villainous’?

The answer is yes and no.

Yes, because theoretically, switching the two would still make the story work; it’d change the motivations of characters drastically, sure, and turn the story of generations of good trying defeat one evil into one good fending off generations of evil, but it’d work – and no, because that’d fundamentally change the society in which Boku no Hero Academia’s current time frame is, and society is the key underlying factor in this entire story.

Let me explain through the examples of three characters and a faction.

Midoriya Izuku is Quirkless person in a society who is, like I said at the beginning, half-in love with the idea of having Quirks – the fact that you have them makes you seem useful, someone with potential, no matter how objectively useless some Quirks inevitably can be in certain lines of work. By their standards, he’s without potential, and therefore is largely useless out of gate. Had All for One been in public eye and celebrated as Hero, he’d be the pinnacle of useful: there’d be no danger of bad reactions to donated Quirks in his DNA, and he, someone who wishes desperately for a Quirk, could easily be given a Quirk of someone who finds their life unbearable due to it.

Bakugou Katsuki, someone with extremely property-damaging Quirk, would constantly be told that if he doesn’t behave himself, he’d be sent off to All for One to have his Quirk taken away – in essence, he’d be no one special, just another kid with a Quirk. Since All for One is so visible, it’d be all too easy for parents and teachers to threaten their kids into compliance whenever they throw an over-powered tantrum with the removal of a Quirk; it’d also be a good deterrent for any Pro Heroes that existed there to not get too comfy with their jobs, because they could easily be taken out of it if they manage to anger All for One enough, which would deter some people from being Pro Heroes.

Shigaraki Tomura (Shimura Tenko), someone whose Quirk came in during an extremely traumatic event and left him so scarred mentally he was never quite the same again, could easily simply give away his Quirk and have something far less volatile and triggering if he wished so, and also have a chance of potentially one day seeing his Quirk in the hands of someone like Izuku or Melissa, who could use it to its full potential without being constantly triggered by it or being re-traumatized again and again by the society who would rail on him for having such a potentially devastating Quirk.

Meta Liberation Army (which is a poorly disguised Brotherhood of Mutants on Genosha in X-men cartoons, let’s be realistic – the whole thing about the superiority of fight-compatible Quirks was not subtle at all) would be a much smaller and a lot less influential group. The publicity of a Quirk being able to take away other Quirks would make the existence of Deika City clones very, very difficult; it’d take but one hint, one whisper of a fringe group amassing in remote location that wants to eliminate so-called ‘useless Quirks’ for All for One to act – as much of an asshole as he is, he was shown [cite] to like all kinds of Quirks, despite only keeping the ones he felt were the most useful to him.

OK, but what about them being on the same side? You might ask yourself. If they’re so similar, why not make them both on the same side?

One, drama is always more delicious if there are high personal stakes involved, and nothing gets more personal than family drama – that’s just a fact. (Kardashians, anyone?)

Two, this is shonen – openly bad guys being the protagonists isn’t often done (in mainstream at least).

Three: we need some material to make all those ‘Izuku’s related to All for One or One for All first user’ for our satisfaction before Horikoshi josses the whole thing, okay??

(no, this is certainly not a call for you to make more ‘Izuku is related to original two brothers’… but it’s heavily suggested lol)

Thank you for sticking around until the end of this essay! Have a cookie, and enjoy the hell my mind led me to during the binge-read of the last 5 released chapters of manga:

[hashtagartistlife]

ah hello depression my old friend! so nice to see you back!! take a seat tell me whats been going on with your life! Ruined anyone else’s day lately? Huh? Oh you’ve been busy thanks to COVID-19 situation? But you still made time to come see me? oh you shouldn’t have, no really, I get it if you’ve been busy don’t you need to be on your way? Oh wait you brought gifts? anxiety? suicidal thoughts? You’re too kind, I can’t accept these-- oh ok they’ve spilled all over my living room floor. That’s fine. I’ll-- I’ll get to picking these up at some point. Oh you’re-- you’re brewing tea? Oh ok. You planning to be here a while? Right. That’s cool. Are you-- are you digging through my pantry? Can we-- no, can we not open that, yes I know it’s labelled ‘childhood trauma’ there’s a reason I labelled that, I-- great. It’s open. Excellent. Thanks. Hmm? No I’m not mad whyever would you think that. That’s-- no, that’s the tin labelled executive function, it’s very fragile, can we please not touch that one-- it’s smashed. OK. Let’s-- let’s sort through the shards-- ability to wake up on time for work. Well, that one’s completely ruined. Short term memory-- ah, well that one was never any good to begin with, but it HAS been in better shape than this. Motivation-- that one’s had ups and downs, but I’m still sad to see it go... ability to focus on one thing for more than two minutes-- oh THAT’S where it’s got to! That one’s been missing for, like, seven years. Well, not that it matters, since it’s clearly beyond saving. Is-- is there anything left in here that’s intact? No? Ok. Fine. Cool. Great. I’ll just-- no, no it’s not your fault, I’ll-- hm. It’ll take me a bit of time to make a new tin. I’m running out of materials. The new one might have to be made out of cardboard and tape. Not even duct tape, ran out of that a while ago. Hmm? Well, no, I can’t just go outside and get more materials, duct tape doesn’t grow on trees. Not to mention we’re in isolation. Honestly, it’s like you don’t pay any attention to the world outside, or my circumstances. I’m-- no, I’m not mad, stop asking me that please. I-- oh wait, here’s another shard we missed. Ability to cope with stress and/or modulate emotions in a healthy manner. It’s a bit squished innit? But it might still be salvageable-- no, wait, it’s been stained by the suicidal thoughts that we spilled earlier. Best throw this out too. 

No, I’m not mad. It’s-- I don’t know what it is, really. Everything’s been a bit gray lately. Is it-- hm? No, it’s not the fog. You say the funniest things sometimes. Maybe this is why I keep you around. You’re a riot, really. I know you’re sorry about breaking things, but it can’t be helped. It’s not your fault. That’s just what you do. I get that. Yes, we’re friends. Yes, best friends, even. I think I spend more of my time on you than any other person I know in this world.  You certainly demand more of my time than everybody else I know combined. Hmm? Yes, you’re right. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was mean. 

I just, I just kind of feel like, maybe we’ve been too close for too long? You know, sometimes you just need a break from your friends. I’m not-- I’m not trying to offend you or anything. I just-- I just sometimes get the sense that my life isn’t my life anymore. I have to keep making do with other tools, tools that aren’t halfway as good as what I used to have, because you keep smashing the ones I had. I mean, I can make my own tools I guess, I’m pretty handy, but I’m running out of materials to make them with as well. I wish I could go buy more materials, or more tools, but apparently they only sell these at places like healthy upbringing grounded in stability and love and hopefulness for the future and thriving social life + meaningful connections with other people and my town seems to be running a little low on those places. There were so many things that I wanted to do, and you keep taking those too. I don’t know how many of them I have left in my basket now, but even they’re going a little stale. And you-- again, not to offend you, but I feel like this needs to be said-- you get so pissy when I don’t include you in my plans. Sometimes I want to do things with my other friends too, you know? God, I haven’t seen them in months, I feel so bad. Every time I finally manage to clean up my house somewhat after you leave, every time I feel it’s acceptable to call other friends back in, you’re right back knocking on my door. 

I want some advice from other people, alright? People that aren’t you. Nothing against your judgement, of course, but one needs a balanced take on things-- I feel like you skew my judgement. Not saying that’s a good or bad thing! Just that you do. I don’t know what’s objectively good anymore. I need to make a new executive functions tin, of course I do, everyone needs one of those-- but you just keep smashing it, and I feel like you’re trying to tell me something. Like, do I really need one of those? I mean, yes, of course I do, of course-- but the way you go on about it, sometimes it makes me wonder if it’s worth re-making. 

I want to do things, too. I want to stop reacting to you. Is this what it feels like to be a mother with a toddler? Constantly cleaning up one mess after another. But, see, it’s acceptable for a mother with a toddler to be busy doing that. It’s acceptable for a mother with a toddler to be tired, to be annoyed, to be slow at things because they’re cleaning up after someone else. But you’re me and I’m not a toddler, I’m a full-grown adult, I’m a full grown adult, it’s not acceptable for me to be a toddler. But that’s what I am right now. That’s what I’ve been for the past seven years and you’d think I would have grown out of toddlership by now but I haven’t. my god, I just want everything to stop, i just want to be a person, I want to be someone who can take care of themselves and I don’t want to worry my parents and I don’t want to have to constantly rely on somebody else to modulate my emotions, to tell me I’m ok, to tell me-- fuck that. I shouldn’t need other people for that because if there’s one thing you’ve taught me it’s that we are all alone. It doesn’t matter how close somebody else is to me, they’re never going to be in my head, they’re never going to see you. Did you know my parents are getting old? I’ll have to take care of them soon, now. But how can I do that, how, HOW, if you’re still here demanding all my attention. How can I do that when I can’t even take care of myself.

Am I crying? Yeah, I guess I am. Am I angry at you? Maybe. Maybe. I’m just-- I’m frustrated. Can’t you just leave? Don’t you have somewhere else to be? I can’t believe there are people out there that you never visit. How do those people even live their lives? They still have a brand new shiny untouched executive function tin? They don’t have anxiety and PTSD and suicidal thoughts staining their carpet? They don’t have childhood trauma and father issues taking up space in their pantry? There was once a time in my life when you didn’t visit me. i think I liked it better then. Can we try that again for, I don’t know, six months? A year? Look, I’m not saying I’ll never see you again. That would be callous of me. But please, I’m begging you. Six months. Three months. Two? One?

You’ll think about it? Okay. Okay. I guess that’s the best we can do. I guess-- yes, ok, you’re right. I’ll-- I’ll try child-proofing the house a bit more next time. Carpet really is too susceptible, yes. I’ll try updating them to tiles or floorboards. You’ll have to-- you’ll have to excuse me if I can’t get around to it, though, finances are kind of a little tight. And I can’t actually start the construction work till you leave, of course. You’re-- you’re not sure when that’ll be? Alright. Fine. Yes I’ll try child-proofing the executive functions tin as well, when I make it. Not sure how much child-proofing I can do with tape and cardboard, but I’ll have to do my best. I’ll hide the childhood traumas tin a little better as well. Have I considered throwing it out? Oh, honey. This isn’t something I can throw out. I’ve tried, of course, I’ve tried. But it’s always back in the pantry. Yes, ok. You’re here to stay. Alright. Don’t expect me to roll out the blankets for you, though. I’ve only got the one room and-- oh, you brought a sleeping bag? You’re so prepared. I should really learn that off you. 

Yes, I’ve had dinner. No, I haven’t got any leftovers. I’m trying not to feed you anymore. Sweetie, I know you’ve been fed at everyone else’s houses. You really don’t need more from me-- ok, fine, rifle through my fridge, see what you find there. It was empty last I looked, but maybe there’s something in the back that’s untouched. 

Yes, I’ve had a shower and brushed my teeth. I’m-- I’m going to bed. I don’t know when I’ll wake up tomorrow. I don’t really even know if I want to. Ha, ha-- that’s a joke I learned from you! Yes. Yes, alright. Goodnight. Yes, I know you’re sorry. I know this is just what you do, that you can’t help it any more than I can. It’s just up to me, I guess. I know. I know, we’ve been friends for so long. But even best friends need some time. Ok. No, I don’t hate you. Sometimes I do, but it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. It’s not my fault.

Goodnight. 

[seriouslyblacklikemysoul]

An Ephemeral Eternity in Seven Parts - Steve Rogers x Reader.

MASTERLIST Warnings: Gifs aren’t mine. My English. Word Count~ 2.7k PART I PART II

Everywhere she looked she would see familiar faces but not quite known. She was always in a haze that blocked her from being herself... Well, not that she knew who that was. Starring out of her window and into the city, she realized how small she was, just a dot in an evergreen universe that expanded beyond her wildest fantasies. Maybe life wasn't for everyone she thought. Maybe she was failing it because she didn't know how to do it. How to function.  Since she could remember, discipline, austerity, punctuality, precision and discretion were all she was taught. Over and over again.  Back when HYDRA was being supplied women by Madam B., she had gained a lot of attention. Madam B. had seen potential and she insisted on ballet lessons. At first, she thought that ballet would be a way to exit everything but she soon realized that while indeed taking ballet classes she was been taught how to kill with the exact same moves. In the past couple of months, somewhere between Ultron and Rumlow, her fractured memories were falling to place, revealing all that horror of a past.   An especially bad memory, that had been followed by many others, was unfolding in front of her eyes while she was asleep. She faced her first victim. Murdered a young girl while being one. Courtesy of Madam B. She shot awake and run to Natasha, not even caring about the time. Sooner rather than later many of her victims showed their faces, each leaving her without breath. She had killed a lot of people. A lot of innocent people. And no matter how much she would try to redeem those actions, she was never going to be able go forgive herself. She had hit another level of desperation. She was no goddess. Maybe a monster, a lying one.   Of course it was doomed to end cruelly, why would she expect anything but? He was the sun, the God of everything good and pure. Gods were simply tragedies waiting to happen to people like her. She had realized that all the dark tales are true, that when sinners like her loved Gods, all that was left was their abyss and the burning embers of themselves. She closed her eyes and left the view from her not being able to look at it any longer.  Tiptoeing across the compound, trying to be as soundless as possible, she walked pass his room, the temptation much greater than her common sense, as she heard muffled words.   "I could already see it in the quick flash before she turned away onto that empty sidewalk yesterday. She always looked like she had learned how to handle herself a long time ago, but in the way children are forced to grow up too fast. She had always seemed so unwilling to show weakness, but I could see the tears that were waiting to fall and the kind of sadness that was so apparent despite her attempts to hide it and the kind of exhaustion that tells me that maybe she had just given up.  After so long, I still wish I had asked her how she felt. I hope she knew that I wanted her safe, that I cared. That I still do" Steve was whispering to someone, who did not answer. Her mind played games, making her hope for something only to have her be a wrecked mess later on. He would never talk about her like that, he would never feel like that for her. The truth was, she had already decided her future was going to be a mirror of her past, dark, cold and lonely. She never really gave herself a chance. How could she?   She forced her legs to move and take her away from there. Waltzing in the huge kitchen without turning any lights on, she reached for the top self of the cupboard above the oven. She enjoyed the darkness better; it was reflecting parts of herself that no one could ever see. She grabbed a shot glass and poured the vodka she found, downing it immediately to numb the frostbiting cold that grew inside her. She repeated that a couple more times than necessary. Anything was better than being in pain. She took out her tabacco smoke, filters and rolling papers and treated herself with a cigarette, lighting it up, inhaling the rich texture, downing the smoke and exhaling it.  "You shouldn't be drinking or smoking. You should be sleeping" his softly reprimanding voice startled her. She turned on the dim light above the oven, just so she could she him. There was moonlight in his eyes and stars that rested upon his lips. Constellations that fell for him after the sunlight dipped.   "It’s nights like these that are the worst; when I can’t sleep no matter how tired I feel and there are all these thoughts eating me up, wondering if I’ll ever be enough for someone to love, after all the things I've done" she finally admitted. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the smoke, maybe it was the late night hour. He was taken aback by her brutally honest answer. He ran his hands through his golden locks and she could only guess how soft they felt.   "You don’t owe anyone an apology but yourself. You have to let go" he said, stepping closer to her. He was tired, that much was obvious. But she was tired too. Pretending to be the girl they thought she was, trying to be better for him... She wasn't the little sunshine Sharon was. She was dark, broken and stained for life. She locked her eyes with his.  "Have you?" she blatantly asked him, already knowing the answer. He was still looking at her, eyes darting from her for a mere second, enough for them to understand each other. He took the bottle of vodka and placed it back in the cupboard above their heads while he put her cigarette out.  "You should rest. We have a long day ahead of us" he tenderly said. She smiled in a melancholic way.  "You shouldn't talk like that. Someone might think that you do care about me" she commented sorrowfully. He was caught by surprise but didn't fail to see her eyes looking at his intensely like they were waiting for a coherent answer. He sighted, defeated.   "That's the thing, doll. I do care about you" he breathed out with his eyes darting to her lips and back to her eyes. She nodded a bit heartbroken but she asked anyway.  "Then promise me that at some point you're gonna hold me in a way that will make all those broken pieces stick together again". And in that moment she let him see how damaged she was but he didn't turn away. She decided it was time to let him be and maybe even get a decent hour of sleep.   "Goodnight Steve" she bid him and walked away, leaving him completely stunned. He knew though, he would keep that promise no matter what. 

It had been all over the news. The Avengers had failed. Too many casualties. "Our people's blood is spilled on foreign soil. Not only because of the actions of criminals, but by the indifference of those pledged to stop them. Victory at the expense of the innocent, is no victory at all" the King of Wakanda said. She rolled her eyes at his statement. Wanda was the one who was affected the most. She had literally locked herself in her room watching the reporters repeating themselves. She had to hand it to them, they were excellent creating guilty consciousness. She wasn't shocked nor questioning her abilities. She was aware that every battle was going to have casualties, they weren't perfect but they were the closest thing this earth had to protectors. Since the moment her powers unlocked, she had become unstoppable.  She was indeed an Enhanced individual thanks to all those experiments, she had gained control over nature, she could manipulate the human mind and she was strong enough to send Captain America flying across the room with a single kick. Knowing that she was powerful enough to help everyone who wasn't made her throw herself in the game without even thinking about it. It was her obligation. Slowly but surely, he noticed the changes - they were small at first but they grew to be spectacular. He was impressed and inspired by her. She was about to enter Wanda's room when she heard his voice and halted.  "Rumlow said "Bucky" and . . . all of a sudden I was a 16-year-old kid again, in Brooklyn" he said defeated. She noticed that they were sitting next to each other and her heart squeezed.   "And people died. It's on me" he concluded but Wanda disagreed.  "It's on both of us" she told him. That was when she decided to step in and stop being jealous from the door frame.   "This job . . . we try to save as many people as we can. Sometimes that doesn't mean everybody. But if we can't find a way to live with that, next time . . . maybe nobody gets saved" he tried to reason with her.  "I didn’t know before that hope could be a person but that's exactly what we are doing Wanda. It's not on you. It's not on us. It's on those reporters trying to get to our heads. Don't let 'em" she said certain of her truth, which made Steve look at her in a new found admiration. If she had hope, no one had the right to give up he thought. Vision materialized out of thin air, startling them.  "Vis! We talked about this" Wanda softly reprimanded him, but there was something more to it, she could tell.   "Yes, but the door was open so I assumed that . . ." Vision trailed off as he gestured at the door.   "Captain Rogers wished to know when Mr. Stark was arriving" he continued, giving Wanda a sad look.   "Thank you. We'll be right down" he told him as he made his way to her.  "I'll . . . use the door. Oh, and apparently, he's brought a guest" Vision informed them and she knew that Tony was up to no good. She could sense something was off.   "Who did my father dragged into this time?" she sarcastically asked as she realized all eyes were on her.  "The Secretary of State". Fuck. She looked at Steve worried. It wasn't going to end well. Not even a chance. She chuckled darkly and turned hot on her heels. ...  "For the past four years, you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That's an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution" Ross sternly told them as he placed a thick document on the desk and passed to Wanda. She picked it up but immediately passed it to her enhanced friend.  "The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries . . . it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they'll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary" Ross pointed out.   "The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place. I feel we've done that" Steve cut through his lies. He looked up and met her eyes, fierce and unforgiving to her father. He thought she would feel trapped but she had never made a decision with more ease in her life.   "Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?" Secretary Ross pushed back as she met his eyes and soft purple sparks flew from her fingers in anger, something that Steve saw and softly took her hand in his.   "If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes . . . you can bet there'd be consequences. Compromise. Reassurance. That's how the world works. Believe me, this is the middle ground" he continued without the slightest idea of how angry she was. And how dangerous.   "So, there are contingencies" James came to the same conclusion they had.  "Three days from now, the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords" Ross told them and she glared daggers at Tony. He knew she was stubborn but he hoped she would side with him. She stood up abruptly and left the room. She was suffocating.

"Tony. You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal" Natasha commented dryly.   "It's because he's already made up his mind" Steve attacked back.   "Boy, you know me so well" he ironically told him off as he got up, rubbing the back of his head. He placed his phone in a basket and tapped it, a young man appearing.   "Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way. He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia. He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass. There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys." he felt the headache affecting his speech and he downed a pill with some coffee. She tuned out as they went on discussing and fighting. Her world was crumbling down one more time. She had grown tired of rebuilding her life every few years.   "So are you in my side? Cause if you're not... you can't stay here" he finally asked her, thinking that pressure was the best method. She closed her eyes for a moment and let go.  "Okay, fine. You wanna play dad to this kid? Go ahead. Be my guest. But let me tell you, dad, the monster beneath my bed was the monster called Childhood. It was ugly and hungry, just like me. I can remember the taste of nightmares. They are still on my tongue. I wasn’t prepared for this; blurry, swirly images of a world with an appetite for innocence. They were supposed to keep me safe, but instead they chewed me up and spat me out. I met evil when I was just a child. Pick a color, then a number, and I’ll tell you your future. Did I survive? I’m not sure. In the mirror, I see a half-formed creature. Shh. The knots in the wood beneath the kitchen table looked like screaming faces. I can’t remember the last time a house felt like a home. And now this. Tony, this not about you. It's about me, about my ideas and my beliefs. I am not siding against you to punish you. I am simply standing my ground. And if that means you don't want me to live here anymore... that's okay too. I don't have a shield or a suite to put down and stand back. I am the shield, I am the suite. I am not going to place myself in their disposal" she went on and on, making everyone look at her in a new light. She gave him a smile, a sad one and nodded as she realized.  "Bye dad" she whispered and left the room to pack a bag with few of her things. She would manage.   "I have to go" she heard him say but she knew she wasn't the one he was going after. After all, she had those damn powers. She knew a bit more than she ever let on. 

Taglist: @accio-rogers​ @coffee-with-orion​ @moli1497​