#I NEEDED TO GET THIS ONE OUT OF MY SYSTEM SO I CAN START DOING OTHER STUFF W MY LIFE LOL

[littlcdarlin]

Event Horizon

summary: When you start university to do your master’s in physics, you are more than surprised to meet your professor: Joel Miller, an old friend of your parents' who moved away years ago. word–count: 15k warnings: professor kink, power imbalance due to Joel being reader's professor, illegal relationship (overage & consenting), dbf!Joel, big fat age gap (unspecified but written with early 20s & mid 50s in mind), unprotected piv, just overall daddy issues (no use of the word daddy)

note: Okay, time to tell you I am a big nerd and studied physics in uni. Truth is, I quit to pursue a career in the arts, so my knowledge of masters level physics is...a little rusty. Please be lenient with me if I messed anything up. Also, I know most people hate physics, but I promise Joel makes it hot. Warning: explanation of the Dirac equation as foreplay. Also, I'm European and have no fucking clue how the American education system works but I don't care enough to do research. Enjoy <3333

event horizon noun ASTRONOMY a notional boundary around a black hole beyond which no light or other radiation can escape. a point of no return.

Uni felt different at eighteen, when everything was about moving out, drinking beer at frat parties, and kissing boys who didn’t grow up in the same town you did. It was an exciting time, the degree itself fading into the background of all sorts of new experiences, but now that you’re doing your masters, you plan on focusing on your your grades more than on partying.

You enrolled in a new university, farther away from home, with a better physics program, and although you’ve grown up considerably, you still feel that tingle of anxiety you did when you first walked to your dorm, fresh out of high school. This time you won’t have to share with another student, spending your saved money on a bit of privacy that is a single dorm room, but still, you wonder if you’ll make friends here, or if you’ll spend your night hauled up alone, watching trash TV and crying because you’re lonely.

The room is small, blank, but functional with a bathroom you share with another student and a small kitchenette, and immediately you dream of all the ways you could decorate it. You didn’t bring much, just a big suitcase and a few boxes your Dad dropped off earlier. You feel slightly guilty for leaving your parents behind, but the relief outweighs the guilt – you won’t have to come home every Sunday for dinner, visits will be scarce. You love you parents, but the distance is much needed.

You get to unpacking your clothes, reveling in the fact that you can listen to music without headphones in your very own space. You could do it in your underwear, or naked, you could sing and dance along, and nobody would be bothered by it. It’s going to be a tough two years, the program you chose more than challenging, but a childish sort of giddiness fills you – no roommate to be considerate of, no parents to visit and take care of every week. This time in your life is about you, and only you – your career, but also your well-being. You promise yourself to do what makes you happy, instead of looking out for everyone else all of the time, and you’ll start by ordering Thai food and watching the trashiest movie with the hottest actors you can find on the little flatscreen you brought with you.

***

Your first lecture is Computational Physics – the one you’re looking forward to the least. The reason you decided to study physics at all was the predictable logic behind each problem, but the more you studied, the more complex the problems got, until they were impossible to solve analytically. Now you get to solve fluid dynamic equations and simulate quantum systems on a Monday morning instead of having a peaceful cup of coffee and taking a walk around campus.

The lecture hall is big, and you pick a seat that is neither too far away to be able to read the professor’s notes, nor close enough to immediately be pinned as an over-eager teacher’s pet. In the end, you plop down next to a girl who’s sitting alone, something about her shaved head and countless earrings making you think she wouldn’t make fun of you even if you didn’t understand a single thing all lecture.

"Okay if I sit here?", you ask somewhat timidly, trying hard not to sound too much like an eleven year old Ron Weasley boarding the train to Hogwarts.

"Please," the girl answers, "I don’t know anybody here."

"Did you move here, too?"

"Yeah, I’m from New York."

"You look it," you say with a smile, eyes drifting over her clothes and jewelry.

"Thanks…I guess?", she answers, her grin revealing a charming gap between her front teeth. "I’m Alva."

You introduce yourself, thankful to have found someone you can stick to already. Throughout the lecture you find out that apart from being much cooler than everyone else in the room, Alva has a biting sense of humor, and a near endless knowledge of computational physics. You make a mental note to ask her to study together, her explanations much easier to understand than the professor’s.

The two of you spend your lunch break together, and you tell her a little bit about yourself, but way too soon it’s time to go already – you have Advanced Quantum Mechanics in a different lecture hall. This you find way more interesting, basic quantum mechanics was one of your favorite lectures during your bachelor’s degree. As Alva and you sit down, you find yourself hoping you’ll be able to help her out this time, or you’d feel like a leech for making her help you with Computational. She doesn’t seem bothered, though, and keeps babbling happily about a band she recently discovered.

"– Britpop, but they only put out two albums. I think they were like a student band or something? They’re wildly underrated, I’ll send you a song, their debut is called The Sun Is Often Out."

Your thoughts start to wander off a little, eyes drifting over the old-fashioned chalkboards, when the door at the front of the lecture hall opens, and a tall man walks in – a man you recognize.

"Holy shit," you whisper, interrupting Alva’s rant about the Longpigs, and she turns her head to look at what you’re staring at.

"Damn," she says with a grin, "if I wasn’t gay, I’d want a piece of that."

"No," you snort, "I know him. He’s my Dad’s friend."

Alva opens her mouth to say something, but at that moment, Joel Miller steps forward, checking to see if the microphone is working, and introduces himself to the hundreds of students in front of him. His voice is deep, and as warm as you remember it, but that’s where the accuracy of your memories ends – your childish brain failed to register the tanned forearms and rolled up sleeves, the carelessly styled curls, the perfect side-profile. He’s got grey streaks in his hair now, which should send you into a crisis about time passing and your own little life being finite, but instead it makes your stomach swirl with something dangerous. Joel Miller, the Joel Miller, who organized backyard barbecues with your father and bought your favorite vegan sausages when your Dad rolled his eyes at you, who made strawberry lemonade instead of lemon, because he knew you preferred it, who helped you with your physics homework when you were graduating high school and didn’t rat you out when he caught you smoking at seventeen – he’s handsome.

There’s still a familiarity about him, the way he moves and talks, although it’s unsettling to see him in such a different environment. You’re used to band-tee-Joel, beer bottle and tongs in his hands, a breezy smile on his face. He looks different here, in a white button-down, with a stern expression on his face, as he’s reading the names on his list to check attendance. When he calls Alva’s name and she raises her hand, his eyes flicker upwards, but he doesn’t look at you. Still, your stomach lurches. If you listen carefully, you can detect that southern twang in his voice you’re sure most people would miss, and it fills you with satisfaction to know you’re the one who knows him best in this room – you’re sure half the lecture hall must see how attractive he is.

When he reads out your name, there’s a surprised lilt to his tone, and your heart threatens to skip a beat.

"Here."

Your eyes meet, and although his expression doesn’t change, he holds your eyecontact for a second too long. Alva nudges your side and grins.

Your plans about outshining Alva and returning the favor of helping with a lecture are quickly buried by Joel Miller’s beautiful hands – thick fingers holding a piece of chalk almost tenderly, twirling it around when he isn’t writing on the chalkboard. You vaguely register him introducing the Dirac equation, but as interesting as you would normally find it, your thoughts are stuck between memories of barbecues and the realization that you will have to call the man who taught you to drive Professor Miller.

If Alva notices your wandering mind, she doesn’t comment on it, which you’re thankful for. You do notice her throwing you a couple of knowing glances, as you copy down what Joel is writing down, mixing up gamma, delta, and the Dirac spinor.

"Alright, so you all know how Schrödinger’s equation works great for quantum mechanics, but it doesn’t play nicely with Einstein’s relativity, right? That’s a problem because electrons move fast, sometimes close to the speed of light, so we need an equation that respects both quantum mechanics and special relativity. That’s where Dirac steps in."

He’s still got that warm way of explaining things your Dad never managed when you needed help in high school, like he enjoys clearing things up for people. He’s a born teacher, patient when you panicked in the car because you confused the clutch and the break, persistent when you wanted to throw your physics book against a wall. Look, kid, think of it this way: Push harder, it moves faster. Make it heavier, it’s harder to move. If you apply a force F to an object with mass m, it will accelerate a. That’s why your Dad’s car takes longer to stop than your bike. Even now, he manages to make a far more complex equation than Newton’s second law tangible.

"Dirac's equation is like the grown-up version of Schrödinger’s equation. It explains how particles with spin-half, like electrons, behave when they move at relativistic speeds. The gamma mu matrices make sure the equation works in four-dimensional spacetime, meaning three space dimensions plus time. The psi is a spinor, which is just a fancy way of saying that an electron isn’t just a simple wave function, it actually has spin built into its nature. Now, can anyone think of a situation where we would need to use this equation instead of the regular Schrödinger equation?"

Nobody raises their hand, most people still busy with writing down Joel’s complicated notes, and as if on cue, his eyes are on yours when you look up from your notebook. He raises an eyebrow, and you see the corner of his mouth twitch almost imperceptibly. Then, he calls your last name, a formal Miss dripping off his tongue as if he hasn’t called you kiddo for most of your life. It’s almost like he’s making a joke only the two of you are able to understand, and the thought thrills you to your bone. Two can play this game – you smile back.

"Sure, Professor Miller. You’d use it for studying high-energy particles, like electrons in particle accelerators, because it accounts for relativistic speeds. It’s also needed for situations where particles are created or destroyed, which Schrödinger’s equation doesn’t cover."

Again, his eyes linger on yours, and his slightly amused smile turns into a more genuine one at your answer. You let out a relieved sigh.

"Exactly," Joel answers, his attention on the rest of the class again, "Someone payed attention during Basic Quantum Mechanics. Now, here’s where it gets wild. When Dirac wrote this down, he realized it naturally predicts antiparticles, meaning for every electron, there should be a mirror-image particle with opposite charge, which we now call the positron. That was a huge deal because it wasn’t something people were expecting, it just fell out of the math."

For the rest of the class, Joel doesn’t continue that little game between the two of you, but whenever he asks a question, his gaze flickers over you, and your stomach gives an embarrassing little jump. Alva grins whenever this happens, but for most of the class she’s busy following Joel’s explanations.

"I want you to read up on today’s lecture," Joel says at the end of the lecture, and writes down a few page numbers on the chalkboard, "and solve the problems I mentioned earlier. Attendance isn’t mandatory, we’re all adults here, but I urge you to come if you’re interested in graduating in the next three years. Trust me, it’s easier to just do the work here than in your dorms. Now, enjoy the weather, see you Monday."

You and Alva pack up your things, and before she can ask you which class you have next, you pick up your backpack.

"I’m gonna say hi to him," you tell her, nodding in Joel’s direction, "my Dad and him go way back."

"Sure," Alva says, a cheeky smile on her face, "it’d be rude not to."

"Meet you outside?"

"I’ll be at the vending machine. Go get him," she jokes, and you snort.

Joel is packing up his course materials when you make your way down the steps and to his desk, but he looks up when he hears you coming towards him, and immediately his face splits into a smile. If you were anywhere else and ten years younger, he’d probably ruffle your hair.

"Good lecture," you say, "Dad didn’t tell me you’re teaching again."

Joel puts his piece of chalk into a tin box and nods.

"I don’t think he knows. You know how it is, we never get around to callin’ and I haven’t been home in a while."

So this is a new development, perhaps even Joel’s first semester back at university, too.

"What about the contracting? Don’t you miss the…pipes?"

He chuckles at your lack in basic contracting knowledge, his eyes not moving from yours.

"Ah, that was always Tommy, he just needed a little help. Company’s doin’ well now, though, so he’ll manage without me."

You think you remember Tommy – a man good-naturedly chasing you and the rest of the giggling neighborhood kids with a harden hose – but the memory is too vague to be sure it’s really him.

"You’ve grown up," Joel says, almost accusingly, and you shrug and smile. "Doin’ your master’s already. How come you’re familiar with Dirac?"

His accent is much thicker now that it’s only the two of you, and you notice a hint of pride when he asks about your correct answer to his question during the lecture. The satisfied feeling it gives you is still the same as when he high-fived you after your drivers test, or when he patted your back after you solved a problem for school without his help.

"Summer reading," you admit, trying hard not to sound like a nerd, "Basic Quantum Mechanics was my favorite lecture as an undergrad."

Joel smiles at you, and puts his notes into his leather bag. He slings it across his shoulder, and nods towards the door.

"How would you like to grab a coffee and tell me all about what’s been goin’ on with you and your old man?"

Your eyes flicker briefly over his hand, gripping the strap of his bag, and you raise an eyebrow.

"What’s the policy for staff having coffee with their students, Professor?"

Joel holds your gaze, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"I’m actually not sure, Miss, I’ve never had to check before."

He’s playing along, and it feels dangerously blurry – yes, he’s your Dad’s old friend, your childhood neighbor, but it feels like more than just joking around.

"Does that mean I’m your first, then?", you ask, voice sweet and close to flirting now. The smile freezes on Joel’s face, and his gaze becomes almost calculating.

"Am I yours?" he asks you softly, and the double-meaning behind his question isn’t lost on you. You feel a thrilling pang in your stomach – Joel Miller is flirting with you.

***

You do end up getting coffee after you tell Alva you’ll meet her later, Joel reassuring you it won’t get him into trouble, and you’re fascinated to see he still drinks it black. What fascinates you even more is that you remember how he takes his coffee, and you wonder why your brain filed this fact away as important, not to be forgotten.

"So, when did you graduate? Sorry I missed it."

There’s honest regret in his voice, which surprises you. Joel was always a warm person, but you figured he cared for you as much as he would have for any kid living across the street.

"Last June," you tell him, dropping a sugar cube into your cappuccino. "I spent the summer working, and now I’m here."

"How d’you like it so far?"

You give a nervous chuckle, torn between the honest truth and pleasant small talk. You opt for the former – this is Joel, after all, not some stranger.

"To be honest with you, I oscillate between enjoying my freedom away from Mom and Dad, and being scared shitless by starting over somewhere new," you admit, looking at your coffee. You haven’t told people about your fear, and it feels good to finally admit it – the grip your parents have had on you makes your newfound freedom almost uncomfortable.

"What d’you mean, startin’ over?", Joel asks, his voice strikingly gentle. You sigh, and shrug.

"I know the distance is good for me, but it was comfortable, just doing what my parents expected of me. I had good grades, nice friends, and just the right amount of drunken nights for them not to worry about my social life too much," you explain, "and now it’s like…there’s so much room to be someone else, cause they won’t see it anyway."

You look up, embarrassed to have spilt your guts like this, but Joel looks thoughtful, his thumb moving along the handle of his coffee cup.

"Sorry," you mutter, "I know they’re your friends, but they can be…"

"Overbearing?"

You smile at him gratefully and he smiles back.

"Look, I know your parents pretty well. They love you to bits, but as an adult I imagine it must be stiflin’.“

"Yeah," you sigh, grateful for his understanding, "I feel like I don’t know who I am when I’m not…their kid."

Joel nods, and sips his coffee, apparently pondering what you said.

"I promised myself I would only do what makes me happy while I’m here," you tell him sheepishly, as if it’s a secret, and Joel laughs.

"Well, I’m not expectin’ you to hand in any homework, then."

You grin, too, and shake your head. It’s surreal, Joel being your professor, and you wearing your heart on your sleeve for him.

"Don’t worry, Professor Miller, I’m not dropping your class."

"You’d better not, it’d really hurt my feelings," Joel says, eyes trained on yours. Again, that blurriness set in motion by the change of his role in your life: neighbor to professor to – what?

"What about you, though? This your first semester here?"

"Second," he tells you, "but I still don’t feel at home. Once a Texan, always a Texan, I guess."

You cock your head and watch him drain the last of his coffee, the cup tiny in his hands.

"What?" he asks you, curiosity evident in his voice.

"You look so different," you say, and Joel scoffs.

"Well, that’s real nice. Know I’m not thirty anymore, but geez–"

"No," you say with a grin, "it’s not that. I don’t know, I’ve just never seen you teach before. Or dressed this nice – I remember you mowing the lawn in a Fleetwood Mac shirt, not checking attendance in a button down."

Joel’s cheeks go slightly pink, and he scoffs again.

"Well, I can’t show up here in a band tee, can I? Gotta dress the part," he mutters.

"I get it. You suit it," you tell him, if only to see that blush appear on his face again. He looks up at you, holding your gaze for a couple of seconds, then he shakes his head.

"What were the odds of us meetin’ like this, huh? I gotta call your father and tell him."

Something about that bothers you, you’d prefer for your parents not to know. You like sitting here with Joel, reminiscing the old times, without anybody getting a peek in.

"Or not," he says gently, seeing the expression on your face.

"Sorry," you say, "course you can tell him."

"You apologize a lot," he tells you, and you fight the urge to say sorry once again. "It’s okay, I’m not tellin’ anyone, kid. ’S just you n me."

That pang in your stomach again, and you nod.

"Alright," you answer, "just us."

You get a refill for the two of you, and a blueberry muffin to split, which feels strangely intimate, but Joel pats his stomach and jokes about keeping an eye on his figure, so you grin, and ask the barista to cut it in half. Joel asks you about your friends, and you tell him about Alva.

"Oh yes," he says and swallows a bite of the muffin, "that punky lookin’ kid who sits next to you?"

"Yeah, she’s nice. Haven’t really met anyone else."

"Geez, I’m not keepin’ you from findin’ frat boys to hook up with, am I?"

You laugh, the idea of sitting here with a twenty-something year old kid named Cole or Josh instead of him so absurd, you can’t help it.

"No," you tell him, "I’m honestly enjoying the fact that I don’t have to have someone else in my dorm anymore."

"Well, that’s a relief to hear," Joel says, "they’re all dipshits."

You remember him telling you something similar about the boys in high school, and it makes you smile. He’s still got that protective streak, then.

"To tell you the truth, I’m glad you’re here," you say quietly, "if I’m not making any friends, I can come crying to you."

Joel watches you for a couple of seconds, not laughing as you intended, but taking your words seriously.

"Course you’ll make friends. Give it a couple of weeks, and you’ll have forgotten all about physics cause you’ll be skippin’ classes left and right to hang out with people."

You don’t tell him, but you think it’s very unlikely you’ll skip any of his classes. Still, you appreciate his words and how confident he seems to be in your ability to open up to people.

"Well, will you give me the answers to your exams if I skip your class?"

"No way," he says with a cheeky smile, the crinkles around his eyes prominent. "I don’t do preferential treatment. You wanna split another blueberry muffin?"

You grin.

"Thought you were watching your waistline."

"I am, that’s why I’m only eating halves."

***

Your afternoon with Joel leaves you on a high for the rest of the day, feeling much less lonely now that you’ve had a conversation beyond the usual so how many siblings do you have? and where did you do your undergrad?

You start spending your lunch breaks with Alva and some friends she made in another lecture, all of whom are very nice. In the evenings you all go to see a movie or have dinner together in any of your dorm rooms, and although you walk around campus holding out one eye for Joel, you don’t see him for the rest of the week. There is always a nudge of disappointment in your stomach, when you glance in the direction of his office, and the door is closed, but you’re so busy, you don’t dwell on it too much. The days pass in a blur of new lectures, swapping music with Alva, and evenings spent as a group of six, and suddenly it’s Sunday again. You aren’t too sad the weekend is already over, and you know exactly why you’re looking forward to Monday, but you don’t allow yourself to think about Joel any more than you can help.

In the afternoon, while you’re doing Joel’s assignment for the next class, your mother calls, and you answer the phone with a mixture of feelings.

Hi, my darling, how are you doing?

"Hi, Mom. I’m good, just doing my work for tomorrow. How are you?"

Good, good. How was your first week? Did you meet anyone nice?

Hah, if she only knew. It feels deceptive, not telling her about Joel, but you like that for now, he’s just yours.

"Yes, this girl called Alva. We and some guys hang out a lot, there’s a cinema near by, but the lectures are pretty hard, so we only have the evenings off."

Well, I’m glad you found some nice people! Dad says hi, he’s making dinner. Anyway, baby, we miss you terribly. Do you know when you’ll be coming home?

"I just got here, Mom."

You sigh so quietly your mother can’t hear it, guilt already nagging at your heart. Sunday is the day you would usually be coming home for dinner, and you know it’s no coincidence your parents called you now.

Of course, you’re right. It’s just not easy for your Dad and me, you know? You’ve never been this far from home, and you’re our baby.

Yeah, you think, your adult baby. You sigh again.

"I don’t know if I’ll come this month, I’m still sort of settling in. But I’ll let you know if there’s a free weekend next month, alright?"

Sure, that sounds great. Will you send us some pictures of your friends, and your room?

"Sure," you say, but it bugs you that you’re giving in. Already, you’re breaking the promise you made yourself, and letting your parents further into your life here than you’re comfortable with.

"Mom, I gotta go, I’ve still got some problems to solve and I’m meeting Alva for dinner soon."

Okay, darling, enjoy your night! And make yourself heard. I love you!

"Love you, too! Talk soon."

Your kind, clingy mother, whose greatest pain is not knowing if you’re safe. In a way you miss her, and you feel guilty for being annoyed. Still, you know you have to gently nudge her away from you, or she’ll suffocate you one day. It makes you angry with yourself, because you know your Mom would have liked nothing more than to hear all about your week, but as soon as she asked you a question, you felt like your seventeen year old self again, getting yelled at because you stayed up past your curfew, and your parents didn’t know where you were.

Tears of frustration spring to your eyes – the mix of feelings too much for you to handle. You wipe them away with the back of your hand, breathe in shakily, and try to focus on your assignment again, but now you’re riled up, and the tears won’t stop.

It’s hard for you to deal with disappointing your parents, forcing them away when they would like nothing more than to know everything that’s going on in your life. So, instead of preparing for Joel’s lecture, you cry on your bed, feeling lonely and angry with yourself for hurting them. You know your reaction is disproportionate, but everything you kept buried while you lived close to your parents comes bubbling out of you.

You call Alva, tell her you have cramps because of your period and just want to stay in bed. She’s understanding, asks you if there’s anything she can do, even offers to bring you takeout or a hot water bottle, which makes you feel all the worse for lying to her. You decline her offer, tell her you’ll meet her Monday morning. In the evening, you regret not letting her bring over a real meal, eating cold pasta in your underwear, tears still running down your face and making your head pound.

***

On Monday, you feel slightly better, your headache is gone and your face isn’t as puffy as you expected it to be. Still, you’re in a solitary mood, and are glad to find Alva is able to keep up an entire conversation virtually by herself – you just grunt from time to time, or give noncommittal movements of your head in vague agreement. You hope if she notices your bad mood, she just thinks it has to do with your period.

Computational Physics is hell – you dislike it on the best of days, but guilt ridden and tired, you’re barely able to pay attention at all, and the professor’s handwriting is so bad, you end up copying down Alva’s notes instead. She’s kind about it, slides over her notebook at an angle that makes it easy to read, and you make a mental note to thank her for being so kind to you while you’re offering nothing but a scowling expression all day. Maybe you’ll cook for her, or make a mixtape of your favorite songs, just to show her you’re interested in being actual good friends.

Lunch passes easily, as always you sit with Alva and the guys, and there’s enough people for you to stare at your mashed potatoes and repeatedly stab them with your fork instead of eating them. They taste like flour mixed up with water, and you dream up your father’s Sunday dinner instead, but it does little to help with the taste.

"So, you lookin’ forward to flirting with Miller in front of the whole lecture hall again?" Alva asks you, as you’re making your way to said room. You glare at her, but can’t help the corners of your mouth twitching.

"Wasn’t flirting with him," you answer, kicking a pebble, "I grew up across the street from him, I’ve known him practically my whole life."

"Whatever you say, grumpy," Alva teases, nudging your shoulder with hers. You’re overcome with a rush of gratitude for the way she treats you, persistently kind and humorous. You chuckle, your mood lifting slightly.

"He’s probably been waiting for you to turn legal," she continues, and you groan.

"Gross, Alva, he’s not a creep."

"I’m just saying, if your little connection gets you the answers to his tests, you could sell them and become rich."

"I already asked him, he said no," you say darkly, thinking of the nights you’ll have to spend studying to pass his exam. This makes Alva laugh her brilliant laugh, and you can’t help but smile, too.

"Damn," she grins, "I’d try if he wasn’t a guy."

You snort.

"You try with Mrs. Carter, I need the answers to Computational," you suggest, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

"You’re joking, but I bet once you get her out of her frumpy cardigans, she’s a real–"

"Okay, stop," you grown, the image of Mrs Carter taking off her cardigans worse than her keeping them on – if possible. Alva giggles.

"I’ll help you with Computational," she says, "if you help me with Quantum Mechanics."

"You’re good at both," you argue, and Alva shrugs.

"Not like you, though. I spent like four hours doing Miller’s assignment last night."

You want to tell her you didn’t do it at all, but before you can open your mouth, she spots a friend in the crowd, grabs your arm and drags you over to him.

The three of you sit down together, closer to the front than the week before, which gives you a direct line of sight to Joel’s desk. When he walks in, your stomach jumps – he’s wearing a tie today, a dark burgundy or blue, you aren’t sure from this distance, flecked with specks of white. Again, his hair is styled in that carelessly disheveled look you like so much, and the image of him putting gel in it makes you smile. He gets out his materials for the lecture, and looks up, his eyes finding yours – you smile and he gives a small nod. Again you’re struck by how different he acts in front of the class, how serious he seems. You think of his laid back manner when you had coffee, and struggle to make the images align. Joel clears his throat, and the chatter around you stops.

"Quiet, please, everyone. Thank you. So, last week, we found out that Dirac’s equation predicts the existence of antiparticles. But instead of just accepting that, let’s think deeper—mathematically, what feature of the equation forces this conclusion?"

Joel jumps right into the lecture, and just like last week, nobody raises their hands – you curse the people around you for their lethargy, because sure enough, Joel’s eyes land on you. Before you can shake your head to signal to him not to ask you, he calls your name.

"If I remember correctly, you were already familiar with Dirac’s equation last week. What would you say, what does the existence of negative-energy solutions tell us, and why couldn’t we just ignore them?"

You wish you could answer him, know he asked you because he was sure you’d know the answer, perhaps hoped your enthusiasm for the subject would get the rest of the students to participate more, but you didn’t do the assignment, and you’ve already half forgotten his question. You swallow.

"Um…I…I’m not sure, Sir," you say, watching the way his brows furrow, and looking down at your notes. Alva shoots you a curious look, and when she sees your expression, she raises her hand. You’re thankful to have Joel’s attention diverted, feeling like a fool in front of hundreds of students you’re trying to make friends with.

"Dirac’s equation gives positive and negative energy solutions, and at first, the negative ones didn’t make sense. Dirac suggested they represent antiparticles, like the positron, which he predicted. The idea was that electrons could, like, jump into these negative-energy states, creating a hole that looks like a positron, which was later confirmed experimentally," Alva explains instead of you.

"You're close, but electrons don’t actually 'jump into' negative-energy states. Instead, Dirac proposed that these states are already filled, forming what he called the Dirac Sea. A positron isn’t an electron jumping down, it’s actually a 'hole' left when a negative-energy electron gets excited to a positive-energy state. That distinction is important because it explains why positrons have the opposite charge. Good answer, though, thank you Ms. Bennet."

Joel’s eyes flicker over to you again, but you show no reaction, and he continues with his lecture without asking you another question. Alva glances at you inquiringly, and you sigh.

"I wanted to do the assignment yesterday, but my cramps were really bad," you explain quietly, and she nods sympathetically.

"Call me next time, I’ll send you my answers," she whispers, and you smile gratefully. It seems you really hit the jackpot in friendship when you sat down next to Alva.

***

After Joel’s lecture, you and Alva make your way over to the vending machine, because it has the sour patches she likes, and in her own words she’ll combust if she doesn’t eat some right fucking now.

"Shit," she curses, "they’re stuck."

"Let me," a voice comes from a behind you, and when you turn around, Joel is smiling at the two of you. "Took me a while to figure this thing out, too."

Alva steps aside, and Joel bangs his palm against the side of machine. You jump, but the sour patches make their tumbling way down to the dispenser.

"Great! Thanks, Professor Miller," Alva says, ripping the bag open and offering it to the two of you. To your surprise, Joel takes her up on it, and Alva grins at you.

"You were quiet during today’s lecture," Joel says tentatively, when he’s swallowed his sour patch "everything alright?"

You glance at your shoes.

"Um, yeah. I wasn’t feeling well yesterday, and I left your assignment for last, so…I didn’t do it."

Joel’s expression grows worried, and Alva glances between the two of you.

"Hey, I’m meeting Max for coffee," she tells you, "see you later?"

"Yeah," you answer, grateful she’s granting you this time alone with Joel, "see you, Alva."

When she’s gone, Joel is still looking at you with that worried look on his face, and you sigh.

"Sorry about the assignment," you say, "won’t happen again."

"I’m not worried about the assignment," Joel says earnestly, but then he turns his head, and you know he doesn’t want someone listening in. Sure, you can be seen chatting in the university cafe, but this conversation is rapidly blurring the lines between scholarly and – something else.

"I…have some materials in my office that might make it easier for you to catch up with the lectures again," Joel tells you, and you understand the underlying meaning. Let’s talk in my office.

"Thank you," you say, relieved, and Joel nods, eyes still glued to yours, brows still furrowed. You walk to his office making smalltalk about the lecture, which to anyone listening in would seem like a normal conversation between a professor and an interested student.

Joel opens the door to his office for you, and lets you step in first. It’s small, cramped bookshelves on the walls and a sturdy desk in the middle that is littered with notes, pencils, books, and a couple of old coffee mugs. You notice he put part of his books sideways onto the shelves, which you find weirdly endearing. This is the Joel you know – clutter and warmth.

He closes the door behind you, and you turn around to watch him drop his bag and walk over to the kettle in the corner of the room.

"Coffee?"

"Please," you sigh, "if you don’t have anything stronger."

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t answer, just turns on the already filled kettle, and gets two clean cups for the two of you.

"I only have drip coffee," he tells you, "I don’t drink that crap the machines brew up."

"That’s fine, I enjoy the medieval feel of it."

"Watch it," he answers, a smile tugging on his lips, "don’t insult my coffee filter in front of me."

You grin, and walk over to his bookshelf to have a look.

"So, what’s going on?" he asks you while pouring the boiling hot water over the coffee grounds. Again, the Joel you remember – empathetic, but unusually direct. You sigh, turn around and shrug.

"Mom and Dad called yesterday, and I could tell they missed me, but I just…I cut them off after two minutes."

Joel places the cups on his desk, and leans against it. His sleeves are rolled up again, and when he crosses his arms, you feel that familiar pang in your stomach.

"And now I…I don’t know, I feel so guilty, Joel. They’re not even being dicks about it, but I just know they’d prefer for me to check in with them more…and the worst thing is, I know it’s not a big deal. They’ll get over it, they’ve got a good life without me constantly in it, so I don’t know why my stupid brain can’t just let this go, you know? One I miss you, darling, and I’m reduced to this pathetic mess, instead of just, I don’t know, getting my shit together."

You shake your head and clench your teeth, once again embarrassed to come crying to Joel about your parental issues, but he’s the only one you can tell. Sure, Alva would probably listen, but you don’t feel like explaining your family to a near stranger. Joel just gets it. Joel knows you.

He’s looking at you, arms still crossed, and for a second you worry he might not want to hear about your little breakdown, but then he sighs.

"You have your shit together all of the fuckin’ time, kid, I think that might be the problem," he tells you quietly. "You’ve always been so hard on yourself."

He’s right, once again he sees what you struggle to show the world, and his words make tears spring to your eyes. You will your eyeballs to suck them back in, but of course, Joel sees.

"Hey now," he says, taking a tentative step towards you. One tear drops from the end of your lashes and down your cheek, and the dam is broken again – they come spilling in floods. Joel crosses the room in a second, and there is a slight moment of hesitation between the two of you, before you bury your face in his chest, and let your restraint fall. You cry quietly, feel him wrap his arms around you, as he rocks you back and forth.

"You’re alright," he tells you, "Shhh, it’s okay, you’re alright."

"S-s-sorry about the assignment," you manage, and Joel’s hand starts stroking your back.

"Jesus, kid, stop worryin’ about the fucking assignment," he tells you, voice low and worried. "You don’t gotta be so strict with yourself. You’re doin’ just fine."

He smells so much like home, you think you might never stop crying.

"I don’t know what’s wrong with me," you hiccup, "One week here and I’m a mess already."

You feel Joel rest his chin on your head, and his arms tighten around you.

"There’s nothin’ wrong with you, you hear me? You hold yourself to high standards. Creates pressure, kid."

As always, he’s right of course – you want to excel academically, you don’t want to hurt your parents, you want to stay true to yourself and do what makes you happy, you want to make friends without compromising your grades. It’s impossible.

You breathe in shakily, your eyes closed, face buried in Joel’s chest, and for a second he is all that exists – just Joel, all around you, pulling you to the earth. Slowly, your breathing calms, Joel still rocking you soothingly, holding you close.

"There we go," he mutters, when your chest stops shaking, "that’s good."

When you pull away from him, he puts his hands on your shoulders to really look at you, and although you’re embarrassed by your outburst, you’re glad he doesn’t shy away from you.

"I want you to start being a little more lenient with yourself, alright? You don’t need to worry about an assignment on top of everything."

His hands are rubbing your shoulders, his eyes are kind and warm.

"Maybe not about yours, but I have like five other lectures –"

"Okay, so try to stop worrying about my assignments, just mine. Won’t bite your head off if you don’t do them, and I’ll only ask you questions when you raise your hand, alright? In fact, for the rest of the term, I want you to hand them in late."

Despite yourself, your lips pull up in a small smile.

"That’s silly, Joel," you say softly, but he shakes his head.

"It’s not silly, it’s practice to get you out of your comfort zone."

You consider his words for a moment. You do keep a pretty tight reign on yourself, and just the thought of doing every assignment late makes your skin crawl with anxiety. But when will you get another chance to step out of your comfort zone as safely as now, with Joel? He’s offering you a way to try it without actually risking your grades. And who knows, perhaps it actually will take a little bit of pressure off of you.

"Okay," you answer, staring up at Joel with puffy cheeks and teary eyes. "Alright."

He smiles at you, but he still looks worried and you wish he’d pull you close to him again. It’s such a relief to have this sort of human contact with someone who really knows you.

"Feel better?"

You sigh, and nod.

"It’s just a lot, you know, uni and my parents, and every social interaction feels like such a chore, cause I don’t know people yet. I feel like I’m not even relaxed when I’m asleep."

Joel hesitates for a moment, before he speaks, but when he does, he sounds determined.

"Come over tonight, I’ll make us somethin’ to eat, and you don’t have to worry about talkin’ to anyone. We’ll watch whatever you’d like. You still enjoy those crappy horror movies?"

You smile at the shared memory – Joel letting you use his living room to watch slashers your parents didn’t want you to see. One summer, when the heat was so stifling you barely went outside, you practically lived at his place, and when you’d seen all the DVDs he owned, he got you more from the video store.

"I do," you say quietly, the fact that Joel remembers more important to you than his proposal to spend the evening together. You feel significantly less alone, all of a sudden.

"Alright, then. Be over at seven,“ Joel tells you, and you nod, wiping your wet face with the back of your hand.

"Thank you, Joel," you say, and hug him again, because you don’t know how to tell him in words what you’re feeling, and his big, warm body against yours feels more than soothing.

"Course, kid. Just don’t tell Alva, or they’ll fire me."

You smile, your arms still wrapped around his neck, as he holds you.

"But I don’t wanna get you in trouble, what if–"

"No," Joel interrupts you, "no what ifs. No worryin’. I forbid it."

And you accept it, leave it to Joel, because he tells you to – because you don’t have any room in your head for more worries, and because you trust Joel not to do anything reckless. You trust him, period.

***

You text Alva you’re having dinner alone, that your cramps are still acting up, and you do feel slightly bad for lying, but you would never risk Joel’s job. The idea of having dinner with him at his place should make you nervous after your change in feelings about him, but you’re just looking forward to having a meal with someone who knows you, and lets you be yourself.

Joel asked you to be there at seven, so you spend the rest of the afternoon in your dorm room, wondering if you should change your outfit or if it would seem desperate – in the end, you keep the jeans but change into a blouse instead of a sweater. The part of you that stares at Joel’s forearms during class now wants to look pretty for him, so that he’ll ask you over again. You know you’re being ridiculous, but it doesn’t stop you from putting on your nicest perfume.

You’re ten minutes early, so you sit in your little second hand car and try not to panic. You know Joel is merely trying to be a good…friend? Ex-neighbor, Dad’s best friend turned professor? There’s no real etiquette to cling to in this situation, for either of you, and although you’re positive Joel doesn’t have any ulterior motives with you despite his flirting, you know he could lose his job if someone finds out you went to his house. Even if you just watch slashers together the way you did ten years ago. It makes you anxious to know he’d risk something clearly important to him for just that – he moved to a different state, quit his old job, started over completely, and is now willing to endanger that new life just because you’re stressed. At the same time it seems ridiculous anyone could forbid the two of you to spend time together after having known each other your entire life. The thought is absurd, and still, you need to be careful.

You get out of the car before you start to hyperventilate, and ring Joel’s doorbell – it feels strange for him to live in a new house. He opens the door with a smile, and absurd relief floods your veins when you realize he’s wearing an old Led Zeppelin shirt and a pair of worn jeans. This is your Joel.

"I come bearing gifts," you announce, stepping into the house.

“Christ, where did you get this?”, Joel asks, taking the six pack of beer from you, so you can take off your jacket. “I didn’t know they sold Shiner Bock outside of Texas, I’ve been survivin’ on Bud”.

“Brought it with me,” you explain, “figured it’d help if I got homesick, you know, in multiple ways.”

You grin, and Joel shakes his head good-naturedly.

“Old enough to drink, well I’ll be damned. I remember when you begged your Dad to let you have a coke and he asked me if I thought the caffeine would stunt your growth.”

“Did it?”

“It might’ve,” Joel says with a chuckle, “but he didn’t let you have it.”

“Well, he isn’t here now, so let’s put those in the fridge.”

“No," Joel mutters, “no, he ain’t.”

While Joel puts the beer away, you take a look around his living room – despite your reservations about the new house, it reminds you of his old place. It’s got the same masculine and warm feel to it, dark wood, books all over the place, no bells and whistles. Joel is a practical man, and it’s charmingly etched into every part of his life – except for his new work-look. The room isn’t as cluttered as you remember Joel’s old house back in Texas, but you assume he hasn’t had time to accumulate clutter yet. No old newspapers are lying around, no birthday cards stacking up. You wonder if he’s lonely here, teaching all by himself, hundreds of miles away from the place he last grew roots in.

“Do you miss home?” you ask him, when he comes back from the kitchen with two bottles of beer in his hands. He looks at ease, much more himself than back at university. His jeans are faded, his shirt a little too big on his already broad frame, and his hair is clean and curly the way you like it – no gel twisting it into all sorts of un-Joel-like styles. Warmth floods your chest at the sight of him taking a swig of his beer. His crowfeet are a little more pronounced, and his hair has more grey strands than it did back home, but he’s still got that distinctly warm, no-nonsense feel to him.

“Sometimes,” he answers, offering you the second bottle. Your hand brushes his when you take it from him. “But I’m pretty busy here, you know, got a whole lotta lectures to plan, papers to grade and that sort of stuff.”

You nod, and sip at your beer.

“Have you…you know, met people? Made friends here?”

Joel plops down on the couch, and smiles up at you.

“You worried about my social life?”

You shrug, and smile almost timidly.

“You know me, kid, I like bein’ by myself.”

That’s true, for as long as you’ve known Joel, he’s been alone. You know he has nieces and nephews who adore him, and your Dad mentioned a woman once, but it must have been at least twenty years since they were together. You wonder why Joel doesn’t seem to want that sort of a domestic life, surely many women would be happy to let him put a ring on them.

You walk over to the window, and watch a blackbird tug at a writhing worm.

“Have you met someone at uni you wanna be by yourself with?” you ask with a small grin, turning back to find Joel already watching you. “I heard Mrs. Carter’s still single.”

“She’s very intelligent,” Joel says earnestly. You give him credit for not laughing about his colleague, and suddenly you feel bad for calling her frumpy with Alva. “But I think I’ll leave her to her simulations. Why am I bein’ interrogated?”

“Sorry,” you mumble, and glance out of the window again, “just making conversation.”

“Your turn, then,” Joel answers, and takes another swig of beer. “Any frat boys catch your eye? Or frat girls?”

You glance at him, a smile on your lips, and raise your eyebrows.

“Hey, I don’t discriminate. I thought, maybe Alva…”

“No,” you answer, feeling fond of him for considering the possibility. “Alva’s a friend. The guys are…well, they’re frat boys.”

 Your voice carries enough disgust for Joel to laugh.

“Right,” he says, and his eyes are warm when they meet yours again. “Just us two loners, then."

“Cheers,” you say with a smile.

“Cheers.”

***

Joel’s cooking is a mystery to you – he loves to eat, and when he does cook, it’s always delicious, but he only ever makes one of five dishes. Again, that practicality shining through. Why try something new if you’ve perfected your routine? He made pasta for you, wasn’t sure if you’re still vegetarian and makin’ your Dad’s hair fall out, and you smile into the neck of your beer bottle, when you watch him drizzle dressing onto a carefully arranged side-salad. Throughout dinner, you tell him how much you love it at least five times, because you can tell he put effort into the meal. You know it’s not technically a date, but having a dinner he made just for you, in his home – it feels like one.

You steer the conversation away from heavy topics like your parents. Although Joel offered you this evening to make you feel better, you want to spend it with him rather than in your head, so you ask him about books and music, about his lectures, about Tommy and the kids. You like watching how his face lights up whenever he talks about something he particularly loves. Joel is a quiet man, but you found out years ago it isn’t shyness, but a disinterest in most mundane topics – he doesn’t like gossip or superficial small talk. When he tells you Tommy made him godfather of all of his children, the pride is evident in his voice, and you don’t have to fake your enthusiasm, although it amuses you, too – Tommy loving his big brother enough not to consider anyone else.

"She calls me uncle Joe," he tells you with a chuckle, "Can’t pronounce her Ls yet, but I’ve considered legally changing my name."

When you’re done eating, you help him clear the table, but when you reach for the sponge to do the dishes, Joel shakes his head.

"Let me do that later, kid. You wanna watch a movie?"

So the two of you plop down on the couch with a bag of M&Ms and another round of beer, and Joel hands you the remote.

"Go wild," he says, chuckling when you excitedly turn on he TV to open Netflix.

"Wow, a streaming service? I thought you’d just hoard DVDs for the rest of your life."

Joel huffs, and instead of answering, he leans forward, and reaches for something under his couch table. When he turns his head, he’s got glasses on his face, thick-rimmed and black, and so startlingly sexy, you almost drop the remote.

"You…you’ve got glasses?"

"Yeah," he answers, his eyes meeting yours, and you swallow. "When your eyesight deteriorates, that’s when you know you’re gettin’ old."

You hum but don’t answer, just hold his gaze for a second and look back to the screen. You try to ignore the familiar pang in your stomach at the sight of Joel in his new glasses, and skip through movie after movie, mumbling seen it, seen it, that one sucks, seen it, until Joel reaches over and snatches the remote from you.

"Hey–"

"I can’t read anything if you skip through them that quickly."

"You’re not supposed to read, you’re supposed to go with the vibe of the cover."

He glances at you with furrowed brows.

"Okay, sorry, didn’t know you’re a filmbro," you grumble, but it’s almost entirely fake – you couldn’t be annoyed with him, not when he pushes his glasses up his nose, and carefully considers which button to press on the remote.

"I don’t know what that means," he answers, and starts reading the description of a romantic comedy about Christmas.

"I’m not watching that."

"You don’t even know what it’s about."

"It’s September, Joel."

He huffs again, but finally reaches the horror movies. Surprisingly, it doesn’t take the two of you long to pick one, and the thought of two hours of brainless, scary entertainment on a couch with Joel makes you practically melt into his couch.

You can feel Joel’s eyes on you during the opening credits, so you glance over and he smiles.

"Comfy?" he asks, his voice hoarse from relaxation.

"Yeah," you answer, and smile when hands you a blanket. He’s not exactly close to you, but it still feels a little intimate when you spread the blanket out and offer him the other end. He moves over a little, so that the blanket covers his legs, and when you concentrate you can feel his body heat next to you, so you try hard not to – and instead get lost in the movie.

It’s not particularly good, but the story does get under your skin a little, and when there’s an unexpected shriek, you violently jump and instinctively move closer to Joel. He chuckles, but doesn’t give any reaction to your arm suddenly pressing against his. He doesn’t move away, either, so you don’t, fear suddenly not being the only thing bubbling up in your stomach.

"Jesus," you mumble, the creeping music making you anticipate another jumpscare. You’re right, it does come, but prepared though you are, you still wince, and turn away from the screen slightly. Out of sight, out of mind. Joel turns around, too, and when he sees your widened eyes, he grins.

"How’s that Christmas movie lookin’ now?"

"I’m not scared," you say, and there is some truth to it, "I’m just not good with jumpscares."

When the next one comes, you can’t help it, you clutch his arm next to you, your nails digging into his firm muscle, and Joel glances at you again.

"Sorry," you say quickly, letting go of his forearm now marked with five tiny crescent shapes. "Jesus, Joel, sorry."

"It’s fine," he says, and the amusement is evident in his voice, "you sure you’re into this? There might be some cartoons–"

He stops talking when you glare at him, but his mouth is twitching under his beard. You’re determined to watch the entire movie, and you try not to let any reaction show, wanting to prove Joel wrong.

There is one particularly scary scene – it’s not necessarily violent, but the music and shaky camera movements make your pulse race, and you turn your head slightly, so as to look at something else. Joel glances at you again, but he doesn’t laugh this time, just puts a heavy hand on your shoulder. It’s grounding, the warmth of it, how his thumb digs into your muscle and his fingers spread out over your back and neck.

"You don’t gotta force yourself to watch this, kid," Joel says gently, all teasing humor gone.

"No," you say stubbornly, but move even closer to him. His touch is a welcome distraction from the movie, and although you know it’s stupid and reckless, you lean into him, and Joel puts his arm around you. It’s closer than you’ve been to him except for hugging, and your heartbeat starts to quicken for all the wrong, non-horror reasons. When you flinch, Joel tugs you against his side, and it feels natural to hide your face in his shoulder.

He was never touchy with you, or anyone for that matter, so something must have changed. You wonder if he’s trying to comfort you, or if you might not be the only one who can feel that strange pull between the two of you.

When the movie ends, Joel regrettably removes his arm from around your shoulders to switch off the TV, and although you’re slightly disappointed, you scold yourself for expecting something else.

"Not bad," Joel says with a small smile, and pushes his glasses up his nose. "Very brave."

You scoff, but feel the corners of your mouth twitching, too.

"I used to be less of a wimp, but I guess you soften with age."

"You’re twenty-three," Joel argues, "that’s young."

Yeah, too young. Too young to lean over and kiss him, or climb into his lap, or expect anything other than paternal care when he’s got his arm around you. You look at your lap, all of a sudden feeling stupid and silly for having dreamed up an absurd fantasy about the man in front of you.

"Hey," Joel says gently, "what’s wrong?"

"Nothing," you say quickly, "nothing, I had a really great evening. Thanks, Joel."

You can tell you’ve confused him, but he nods, doesn’t question your sudden change of mood, and stands when you get up from the couch.

"Anytime, kid. You call me if you’re havin’ a bad time, alright? My door’s always open."

He’s so kind, so recklessly, stupidly, lovingly kind, and all of it is directed at you. You curse yourself for it, but again you feel that familiar burn in your eyes. Joel reaches out and easily pulls you towards his big body, hugging you the way he did in his office just this afternoon. He doesn’t ask you what brought on your tears, just lets you cry into his Led Zeppelin shirt that smells so much like home, like a childhood you won’t get back to. You remember whiffs of that smell when you were watching movies on his couch while he was at work, too pissed off at your parents to spend the summer at home. This scent was there when you attended a neighborhood barbecue after fighting with your father and Joel grilled some vegan sausages for you without comment or question. He’s always looked out for you like this, quietly, without demanding an explanation, just a solid, comforting presence in your life.

Your tears stop after a couple of minutes, and you take a step away from Joel, wiping your face. He looks so worried again, brows all furrowed and arms hanging limply at his side. Didn’t he flirt with you, though? Didn’t he prepare dinner for you the way a date would, ask you about your dating life, ask you to coffee? You don’t think you would be able to handle another evening like this one not knowing what Joel really thinks, so in a moment of hazy recklessness, you lean up.

His eyes meet yours, all warm and strangely unguarded, but before your lips brush his, a hand on your shoulder stops you. Without saying something, you move away from him, and nod to yourself, his reaction all the information you needed.

"Sorry," you say very quietly, not managing much else now that you’ve humiliated yourself in front of the only person you really know in a six hundred mile radius. Joel runs a hand through his soft hair, and inhales deeply.

"No," he says, his voice a little strained, "no, don’t be. I just…Jesus, kid."

He rubs his palm over his beard in such a familiar way, your chest aches a little. It’s ridiculous how much you want to touch his face, to feel him again, skin on skin. So you don’t turn and run the way your embarrassed heart is telling you to, just watch him collect his thoughts, standing in front of him like a wet and beaten dog.

"Look," he begins, "I won’t say I’m not flattered, but that’s…it’s a bad fuckin’ idea. It’s…it’s chaos, and on top of that most people would argue it’s wrong."

You swallow. You know all of this, have turned it over in your head ever since you stared at Joel’s rolled up sleeves for two hours on that first Monday, but hearing him say it makes your stomach churn.

"Yeah," you mutter, and trace Joel’s shadow with the very tip of your foot, "yeah, of course. Sorry I put you in that position, wasn’t right."

Your face still feels puffy, and you know you’re probably all red and pathetic looking, begging Joel for scraps of his attention, but all of a sudden, he lifts his hand up to your face, and cups it in his broad palm. His thumb strokes your cheek, and when you meet his eye, the expression on his face is tender.

"It’s alright," he tells you softly, "I can see you worryin’ at the speed of light in that pretty head of yours."

Something in your chest flutters at his words, at the rough and warm cadence of his voice. He reads you so easily, one turn of your head and he knows you’re lost to your thoughts.

"I shouldn’t have let myself toy with this idea," he continues, and your stomach flips. "I should’ve realized you’d pick up on it. It’s on me, alright? It’s on me not to start anythin’."

You can hear the implication – I’m the adult here. It’s not what you want to hear, but just the mention of Joel toying with this idea, as he put it, is enough to lift your spirits. So you weren’t crazy.

"I’m an adult," you say weakly, never having felt more like a child. Joel nods.

"You are, but I’m still in a position of power here. Be wrong, to abuse that."

His thumb is still moving over your cheek slowly, making it hard to think straight.

"So dinner and a movie doesn’t abuse it?"

You don’t want to argue, you don’t know why you keep disagreeing with him, and the way his face falls, you wish you hadn’t said it.

"No, it…it does, you’re right. Jesus, of course it does. I don’t blame ya for bein’ ang-"

"I’m not angry," you say softly, and tentatively turn your head in Joel’s hand. You press a kiss to his palm, his warm skin pressed right against your mouth. "I’m not your student, Joel. I mean, of course I am, but I know you. It’s different."

Joel’s eyes are glued to your face, and he looks so conflicted you wish he’d just throw you out of his house, if only to solve his dilemma.

"It’s still wrong," Joel mutters, his eyes glued to your lips since they brushed his skin "even if you take away the fact that I’m your fuckin’ professor. Your Dad…"

"My Dad is half a continent away and finds a way to be unhappy with whatever choices I make, so I might as well make the ones I want to."

The very first day, before you even met Joel, you decided to do what makes you happy while in university, and although this certainly wasn’t what you had in mind, you know it’s what you want. The only thing you want, in fact.

Joel sighs, and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Joel, I’m not trying to…look, if I’m wrong about this, just tell me, but I feel…I just wanna be close to you all of the fucking time," you say quietly, "and it’s okay if you don’t, really. I just…I want you to know it’s not nothing to me."

Saying I don’t just want to hook up with you would feel too straight forward or crass, but you think Joel gets the gist of what you’re trying to say, and he closes his eyes briefly. You study his face behind his glasses, the wrinkles and freckles from years in the sun. You do feel anxious about his answer, but whatever it is, you’re glad you told him. It’s out in the world now, the way you feel when he holds you, and he can do with it what he pleases – you’ve handed him the reigns.

"I…I know what you mean. Me too," he says very quietly after a beat, his eyes open and looking directly into yours again.

A triumphant pang of affection pulses through you, and you put your hand over Joel’s, which is still resting on your cheek. He looks conflicted, but his other hand holds your waist now, and tugs your smaller body closer to his again. He’s solid as a brick wall in front of you, and you figure you’re allowed to touch, so you rest your hand on his shoulder.

"What am I gonna do with you?" Joel mutters, and strokes your lower lip with his thumb. If you had more guts, you’d let it slip into your mouth, but you’re still afraid he’ll pull back if you make a wrong move, so you just let him caress your mouth tenderly.

"Whatever you’d like," you answer just as quietly, and you know it sounds sexual, but you mean it in every way – if Joel wants to be nothing but your professor, you’d take it, and if he wants to keep you here in his house indefinitely, you’d let him. Joel keeps looking at you, taking you in as if he’s considering whether the risks outweigh whatever magnetic or gravitational pull the two of you have between you.

"Stay," he say after a while, and although his face looks slightly regretful, his voice is determined, "just…sleep here tonight. I like havin’ you here."

You want him to kiss you, to pull you onto his lap on the couch, to take you upstairs right now, but Joel seems to be restraining himself, so you just nod.

"Me too," you whisper, echoing his words back to him, and for just a second, his thumb digs into your lip a little harder, but then he pulls away.

"Testin’ my goddamn restraint," he mutters, and takes a step away from you. "I’ll get you something to sleep in."

***

Joel gets you one of his band tees you love so dearly, and just the idea of being enveloped by something that smells like him all night makes it a little easier when Joel tells you he’ll take the couch instead of inviting you to sleep with him in his bed.

"No," you say softly, "it’s fine, you just sleep in your bed, Joel. I’ll take the couch."

He looks critical, so you offer him a soft smile.

"I don’t know if your back could take it," you tease, and he seems torn up between laughing and frowning. In the end, he just shakes his head, mutters something that sounds a lot like bad fuckin’ idea, and gets you a blanket and pillow.

He brings you a clean toothbrush and towel, let’s you use his bathroom (you look at the shower the entire time you’re brushing your teeth, trying hard not to think about what Joel looks like using it in the mornings), and when you’re done changing, you unlock the door again.

He’s there, sitting on the edge of his bed, his eyes trailing over your form in his much too big shirt. It’s long as a dress on you, coming down to your naked thighs. Joel visibly swallows and gets up from the bed.

"You got everythin’ you need?"

"Yes. Thank you, Joel."

There’s a beat of silence and you almost think Joel’s about to cross the room, but he just runs his palm over his beard the way he always does, and nods.

"Alright. Just shout if there’s…well, you know. I’ll be here."

"I will."

"Alright. Okay…goodnight, kid."

"Night," you almost whisper, voice soft, and right before you reach the door, Joel clears his throat.

"I…you were right about dinner and the movie. I wasn’t just tryin’ to be friendly," he says quietly, and your stomach swirls. Before you can walk over to Joel and do something about it, he sighs.

"Sleep tight, sweetheart."

Sweetheart.

***

You wake to the sound of something dripping, and when your eyes flutter open, you can see Joel’s back from the kitchen. He’s wearing his work outfit again, a white button down and dark pants, sleeves rolled up. It smells like coffee, and with a smile you realize he must be brewing his beloved coffee – no machine, just a filter. He looks broad, even from your spot on the couch, and you enjoy peeking in on him. You study his movements, the way he reaches for a cup, how his fingers absentmindedly drum on the kitchen counter while he waits.

When he turns around, his eyes find yours, and he smiles.

"Mornin’. Did I wake ya?"

"’S fine," you yawn, pulling the blanket up to your chin, not yet ready to get up. "I have classes at ten anyway."

"’S eight," Joel tells you, "Coffee?"

"Yes please," you answer, and stretch your limbs under the blanket.

Joel brings you a cup, complete with a little bit of milk and sugar, and you move your feet so he can sit down on the couch.

"Sleep well?"

You sip your coffee, let it burn your tongue and close your eyes at the taste. When you open them, Joel’s gaze lingers on your face.

"Yeah," you answer, "thank you for…you know."

He nods, takes a sip of his coffee, and looks at his lap. He looks like he wants to say something, but he’s very quiet, and you feel anxiety bubbling up in your stomach.

"Joel, do you want me to leave? It’s fine if you do," you ask him softly, not wanting to make things awkward for him. It would be rational of him to ask you to leave, the smart and ethical thing to do.

"No," he answers quietly, still not looking at you, "I want you to stay."

Stay? On a Tuesday morning, after you almost kissed him and he told you he couldn’t do that, after you spent the night on his couch? When you have classes in two hours, haven’t showered yet, are half naked and wearing his clothes, on his couch under his blanket? When you’ve got friends wondering where you are and probably ten unanswered messages from Alva?

"Alright," you say, agreeing as easy as breathing.

Finally, he looks up, and his expression is so conflicted you reach out for him. Your hand finds his and you squeeze it. He keeps looking at you, his hand limp in your grasp, as if any movement of his muscles would incriminate him.

"You shouldn’t," he tells you earnestly. "Stay, I mean. You shouldn’t stay."

"I know."

You don’t let go of his hand. He doesn’t move his away.

"It’s a really, really bad idea," he adds, and you’re not sure who he is trying to talk out of whatever this is. "It’s risky. Could blow up both our lives."

"Yeah," you say, and watch him sip his coffee, "okay."

Then, a tentative flex of his fingers against yours, and finally, he’s squeezing your hand just as tightly, and before you can process what that means, Joel is leaning over you, dangerously close. Your breathing quickens, you register how soft his hair looks, how strong his hand is. He leans in further and you sit up a little, still cocooned in his blanket. His face is close to yours, his eyes fiery with something you can’t pinpoint, and you sigh, when he closes the gap between you.

He tastes of coffee and toothpaste, and you wish you’d gotten the chance to shower, but the thought disappears almost immediately when you hear Joel groan. His kisses you languidly, deeply, and your fingers come up to his beautiful arm, barely wrapping around half of his biceps. He cradles the side of your face, pulls you closer, makes your stomach clench with need. It feels inevitable, the way he touches you, like you only exist in a physical form to be touched by him.

His free hand peels the blanket off your body, lets it slide to the floor without ever stopping his the kiss, and you moan softly, when his hand touches your waist. The sound makes him break away, stare down at you, pupils blown wide.

"Fuck, you look good in my clothes," he mutters, nudging your jaw with his nose, and pressing a kiss there. "You should really, really go home."

Your head falls back slightly to give him better access to your neck, and he brushes his lips over your pulse point. Your heart skips a beat.

"I – I know," you breathe, fingers digging into his arm. His beard scratches your skin deliciously, and it takes everything in you not to whimper or beg. Joel’s hand slips under your shirt – his shirt – and instead of finding your waist again, he digs his thumb into your hip, stroking the fabric of your cotton panties. The fire in your stomach burns brighter, and you almost buck up into him. Joel Miller, the Joel Miller who until recently had a key to your childhood home, who lent it to you whenever you forgot yours inside – he’s sucking bruises into your skin, and toying with your panties. It’s dizzying, his familiar voice when he hums in satisfaction, even rougher than usually.

His fingers trace the waistband of your panties towards the front, until they find a small, silky bow, and Joel groans. He doesn’t take your underwear off, doesn’t even touch you where you need him the most, just keeps playing with the little bow, until your hips twitch without your permission. A little lower, and he would be able to feel how wet you are, how wet you have been all night. You didn’t do anything about it, not while you were a guest in his house. It would have felt wrong. You can’t imagine anything feeling more right than Joel’s mouth and hands on you, though.

"Jesus," Joel curses, "I should stop bef–"

"No," you whine, all dignity turned to hot air by Joel’s fingers, "please, Joel, please don’t stop."

He curses again, and moves his big body so that he’s not just hovering above you, but actually on top of you, your thighs falling open for him easily. At the movement, his shirt hikes up your thighs, and you know you’re basically on display for him, your soaked underwear leaving little to the imagination. He’s still fully clothed, his perfect button down all wrinkled now.

"Look at you," Joel breathes, lightheaded with desire, "this all for me?"

So he saw, when you moved to accommodate his broad form, saw how soaked you are, knows you ruined your panties just because he kissed you.

"Yes," you breathe, "yes, please–"

Before you can beg further, his finger presses down on your clit, and he watches your face contort in pleasure, as it shoots up your spine. You whimper, staring into his eyes, and he stares right back, as you start to grind your hips against his palm.

Your head feels blissfully empty, all worries about this relationship, uni, your parents, gone from you with a simple, practiced movement of his hand. The whimpers keep falling from your lips, and Joel curses.

"So beautiful," he mutters, "tell me what you need, angel."

It’s not a question, it’s an order.

"I – fuck, I need you i–inside," you groan, and Joel’s lips find yours again.

"Yeah? Need me to fuck you good, even though they’ll throw us both out?"

It shouldn’t turn you on. You’re jeopardizing both your own and Joel’s career, and he’s turning it into dirty talk. Still, your pussy doesn’t lie, and the way it throbs for him, aching to get him inside, makes all doubts disappear from your mind.

"Yes," you answer, unable to say much more as Joel keeps drawing tight circles into your clit.

Your hands drift from his arms towards his front, and Joel curses, when you paw at his belt buckle. It takes you a second, but then it’s open, the sound of the metal exciting you – it sounds like a promise.

Joel finally tugs your panties down, and for a second you’re self–conscious about not being clean shaven, but the second he sees you bare and glistening for him, his fingers dip into your folds, gathering your wetness with no hesitation.

"Fuck me," he groans, bringing his hand up to his face and tasting you, holding eye–contact the entire time, "prettiest pussy I’ve seen in my life."

You twitch under him, dragging your gaze away from his eyes and to his fingers. A moan escapes you, your hands have gone slack on his waistband, and Joel smiles down at you. Then, he does the same motion again, drags the tips of his thick fingers through your sticky arousal, but instead of sucking them clean himself, he holds them up to your mouth. His eyes burn, when you wrap your lips around them without a moments hesitation, and he feeds you your own slick.

"Taste so sweet, huh?"

You don’t answer, just swirl your tongue around his fingers, and suck on them. Joel watches your mouth intently, lets you take your time.

"Good girl," he praises you, and you clench around nothing, "so fuckin’ needy for me."

He drags his fingers from your mouth, and finally pushes into you, the stretch much tighter than with two of your own. Your head falls backwards, and Joel curls his fingers.

"No, baby, look down here," he orders, and immediately you lift your head again, and watch him pump two thick digits in and out of you. It’s dizzying to think it’s the same hand that waved to you from over his fence for years and years. You feel a coil building in your stomach, and you moan.

"Fuck, Joel," you moan, his name leaving a delicious aftertaste in your mouth. His beautiful forearm flexes with every movement, your slick is dripping down his fingers, and those damn sleeves are still perfectly rolled up.

With a few more curls of his fingers, you gush around him, barely having time to warn him, and he praises you, calls you his good girl, drags his fingers against that spongey spot inside of you until you see stars.

When he slips his fingers out of you and holds them up to your face again, you clean them up with your mouth as Joel watches with bright eyes. To think that he’s the same man who taught you Dirac not twenty-four hours ago – already, you want him inside again. When you’re done, he fumbles with his own clothes, and you watch him this time instead of helping.

"You look so good like this," you mumble, eyes raking over his broad form, "Professor."

His eyes snap up to yours, and you grin.

"Fuckin’ Christ, kid," he mutters, popping open the buttons on his shirt, "you can’t say shit like that."

"You don’t like it? You know, I watched you during your lectures and dreamed about…well, about this."

His expression is unreadable, but if you’re not mistaken, his hands move even faster now, and then he shrugs out of his shirt. You almost moan at the sight of his naked torso, so broad and solid.

"You need to pay attention in class," Joel answers, as he opens his pants. Your breathing grows a little shallow when he reveals his boxers underneath, his bulge huge.

"Can’t," you mumble, "not with you looking like this."

He chuckles at that, at the honesty and need in your answer.

"Don’t worry," he says softly, "I’ll fuck it outta you. Won’t be needing’ me in class, not if I’m still leakin’ out of you."

Your lips part, your pussy clenches – a smile tugs on the corners of Joel’s mouth at your reaction. He drags down his boxer shorts, and your eyes snap towards his cock, so thick and dripping in precum. You whimper, you can’t help it, and Joel’s smile widens.

"We’ll make it fit, baby," he says, reading your mind, and then bends down and kisses you again. You try to tug your shirt upwards, but Joel’s hands find your wrists and he holds them tight.

"No, want to fuck you in it," he breathes against your lips, and you press your hips upwards until he groans. He pumps his fist over his cock a couple of times, and aligns it with your entrance.

"Deep breath, baby," he mutters, and you obey, staring up at him as he starts pressing into you. It’s tight, much tighter than his two fingers, and your eyes glass over with pain, but Joel goes slow. His hand strokes your tummy, helps you relax, while he pushes on consistently. You feel like he’s punching the air from your lungs, eyes wide with the stretch of him, as he nips at your jaw and neck to distract you.

"Know it’s a lot, but you can take it, angel."

"Y-yes," you moan, and screw your eyes shut, "please don’t stop, Joel."

 Joel’s breathing is ragged with restraint, and suddenly his hips snap forwards – and he’s fully buried inside of your tight body, nestled right against your cervix.

"Back to Joel, are we?" he teases, and gives you a couple of seconds to get used to him. You whimper and claw at his arm.

"I – ah – I’ll call you Professor Miller ’f you want," you slur, as he starts dragging his cock out of you again. You tremble under him, the feeling almost more intense than when he pushed inside of you.

"Yeah? That get you off? Or – fuck–  is it the fact that I’m friends with your parents?"

It really, really should be a turn off, to be talking about your parents right now, but the way Joel says it, the way he points out just how debauched it is what you’re doing – you can’t help but moan. You blush, too, can feel the heat in your face, but you’re tired of being ashamed of wanting him the way you do.

"Both," you answer, and this time Joel groans, his hips snapping into you at a rougher pace. The head of his cock hits your spot every time, and you let out little sounds of pleasure with every drag of his cock, unable to form a coherent sentence. Joel’s hand finds your clit again, rubbing circles as his other one pressing down on your stomach.

"Feel that?" he asks you, and you do, you feel him all up in your guts, "you take it so well baby, take all ’f me."

"Yes," you answer, eyes glassy with pleasure, "want all of you, Joel."

He bites your shoulder, keeps rutting into you, and soon you feel another orgasm building.

"Close – ah – so close," you whimper, and Joel speeds up his thrusts just slightly. You clench around him, right on the edge.

"Come for me, angel, give it to me."

You do, your hips bucking, back arching.

"Ah – fuck, Joel, Prof–"

"Say it," Joel orders, fucking you through the waves of pleasure.

"Professor."

He comes, too, twitching deep inside of you and spilling rope after rope of come. It feels right, like you’re his. His groan is rough, his thrusts sloppy, and you feel your pussy spasm around him in a third, weaker orgasm, or maybe it’s just aftershocks from your second. You’re limp underneath him, letting him use your body how he needs to.

"Fuck," he curses, "did so good for me."

He slips out of you, and you can feel his spend drip out of you. You’re weak, soft like jelly, sweaty and entirely satisfied.

"Jesus," you breathe, when he falls down next to you, his couch mercifully being big enough.

"Yeah," he answers, "Jesus."

***

Turns out, Joel Miller is a dirty talking bastard during sex, and a big softie afterwards. He makes you tea, strokes your hair while you sip it, then carries you up to his shower and gently washes your body his his sponge. Throughout, he’s quiet, and you wonder if it was too much, the mention of him being your professor, of your parents, but you’re too afraid to ask. He brushes your forehead with his lips when he dries you off, and pulls another of his shirts over you head. Your panties are entirely ruined, it’s all you’re wearing.

When you’re clean again, and relaxed, Joel pulls you onto his bed, wrapping you up in his arms.

"Did you…was that too much?" he asks you softly fingertips tracing over your thigh lazily.

"It was just right," you answer quietly, and he hums.

"You didn’t feel like you…I mean when you called me Professor, you wanted to do that, right?"

You look up at him, and press a soft kiss against his jaw.

"Of course, Joel. Wanted everything we did, I promise."

He nods, but you can tell there’s still something bothering him.

"You know that’s not what you are to me, though, right?" Your voice is soft. "You’re just Joel."

He brushes the top of your head with his lips.

"I mean it," you press on when he doesn’t answer, "it’s like a costume, Joel. I know it’s your job, but it’s…I don’t think of you as like, an authority figure or something. I just thought you looked hot in that slutty shirt."

"Slutty–?" he sputters and you laugh.

"Sure, you know, with your sleeves rolled up, and that first button popped open."

"’S not slutty."

"You showed your forearms. Half the lecture hall felt like a victorian man seeing ankles for the first time."

Joel makes an exasperated sound, half amused and half offended.

"I mean it," you say again after beat, humor gone from your tone, "and it’s not just sex to me. You know that."

"Yeah," Joel answers slowly. "’S more to me, too."

It’s a hell of an admission.

"What are we gonna do?", you ask quietly, and Joel sighs.

"You’re gonna go to class," he says, voice dark, "and I’ll try very, very hard not to call your father and tell him I’m fallin’ for his daughter."

You bury your face in his chest. With anyone else, it would be too much, too fast, too intense. But this is Joel. It’s not fast if you’ve known him your whole life, is it? You kiss his chest, and he seems to understand.

"We’ll figure it out," Joel says quietly, pressing a kiss to your hair.

For a second you do want your parents to know, want them to see that someone does treat you like an adult, want to look them in the eye and say I’m with Joel now and there’s nothing you can do about it. I have my own life now and it includes this kind man. It’s childish, you know it is. You lean up, catch Joel’s mouth in a kiss.

"Yeah," you answer, “We’ll figure it out, Professor.”

[velnna]

i’m ngl, i’m a big dnd nerd that was running out of high fantasy content to consume and then i stumbled upon your beloved comic. i just wanted to ask what your favorite worldbuilding decision is for utg and if you could pick dnd classes for any (all) of the characters, what they would be 👀

anyway, i hope you have so much good energy! all the good ideas and epiphanies and magnificent sketches to your heart’s desire ♥️

Oh yay thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy it ☺️

There's two major world things that I'm really happy with and helped a bunch of things click into place I think

One has to do with the magic system, or rather how magic works in that world on a sort of... molecular level? People who've seen me do worldbuilding for a while know I'm cheeky about deriving stuff from physics and loosely drawing parallels here and there, and for the under garden I ended up making it so that a lot of magic runs on wave function interference. Kinda. So the "natural" state of things has its own wave frequencies and magic comes from unnatural frequencies being added into the mix causing shit to go weird

By extension deciding this also made it easier to understand why or how some things can detect magic (they'd pick up on the weird frequencies) AND how it's possible to have magic blocking devices (they emit destructive frequencies that nullify it). Does it fully make sense on a physical level? Not necessarily but I get giddy when I can visualise magic mechanics like this hehe

The other decision was to simplify our lineup of humanoid species from the original DnD esque basis, but in a way that allows us to have basically any humanoid appearance you can think of through a ✨mutation✨ cheatcode. We have two "elf" subspecies (basically the dark elf-like ppl and everyone else, including "dwarf" looking folk, etc) and then a species that technically derives from them (and they're all genetically compatible) that's characterised by having abnormal, often insect-like traits. There's no real limit to their phenotypes since their origin is magical and random in nature, and since they can mix with "normal" elves the degree of bugness varies.

Which means i can have insect people, reptile people, horns or hooves or tails or wings galore without needing to come up with a full background for each of these variants >:)c

ANYHOO sorry I get carried away rambling about these things. Class-wise, I only have claims for some characters who... may be yet to make a full appearance in the comic, and would actually fight:

^ Monk??? Not my first claim but after playing an actual monk the ki system started making a lot of sense

^ Lil' sorcerer u_u probably with a subclass or two but sorcerer would hold up as he grows older

^ I think warlock would work for her well enough. Not a perfect fit but I can see it with some homebrew tweaking

^ Ranger makes sense I feel, she becomes one with the avalanches

^ Barbarian.... barbarian/druid???? Uncharted territory here

^ Warlock but you haven't seen much of it yet.... soon.... (I'm actually so excited for her)

^ This one's easy I just snatched her straight from an old DnD game anyway. That's my rogue artificer babygirl

Anyhoo hope you enjoyed this ramble

[crownedhades]

killer sans and horror sans.

a simple headcanon.

trigger warning: eating disorders.

canonically, killer does not eat food. this was confirmed by rahafwabas in a qna. he does not like ketchup because it reminds him too much of his old self, the more "sans" version of himself. the monster side of his soul. he does not like chocolate because it reminds him too much of chara/the player. the human side of his soul. (but, of course, rahafwabas is okay with you letting him like... whatever you want him to like.)

how does he get around not eating? resets, if i recall. you dont need to eat if your whole day restarts, anyway, right? restoring you to your original condition?

then youve got horror sans. where his whole au is starving and is barely surviving. in the fanon utmv where killer and horror join nightmare's group, i do think these two share a sort of bond that is not shared with everyone else.

killer does not have a wide emotional range due to his soul stages and overall suppression. emotions overwhelm him. but, i do think horror would be an unexpected, quiet support system for the boy.

killer can only reset his au/timeline. he cannot reset the multiverse. so killer needs to eat whether he wants to or not whenever he is not within his au/timeline.

now, killer and horror do not start off as close. honestly, i highly doubt the two of them are compatible due to their conflicting personalities.

but.

horror, after a while of living there, starts to notice things. he starts to notice how killer doesn't eat, either by teleporting it away or just... downright refusing, hiding his reluctance by insulting whatever chef with that uneasy grin on his face.

eventually, i imagine it would come to a point where it becomes too much. having a high lv is one thing, but killer still canonically only has one hp. he cannot survive for long by neglecting his basic needs.

when horror firsts discovers the severity of killer's condition, i imagine he force feeds killer. just something so he wont lose that singular number on his hp bar.

not out of care or respect for killer. but simply because thats just.... how it is. for horrortale, food is more important than anything. and horror... is objectively not a bad person.

killer, after this, proceeds to flat-out ignore and avoid horror as much as he can. because horror saw him in a raw state of vulnerability. he eventually gives up on avoiding horror since, well, in this fanon depiction, they go on missions together. theyre forced to be around each other.

horror always makes sure he eats, but not when others are around. so i imagine that the less observant members of the crew dont even realize that horror is a quiet--or violent?--support system for killer.

he reminds killer. has a schedule for killer.

unlike killer, horror cant die. so even if killer were to fight back... it would essentially be futile.

eventually, after a long period of back and forth struggle,, it becomes almost habit for horror to always be around killer at a designated time. two or three times a day. quietly reminding killer to eat.

and eventually... killer gives in.

(note: in my head this happens across several years. also im sleep deprived so none of this probably makes sense. also im intentionally leaving out descriptions of emotional reactions and rather focusing on actions because im too tired to think of the actual emotional conflicts. so ill leave that one to your imagination.)

edit, i made a oneshot of this

[amalthea-13]

Got my nightcore blasting in one ear and still mad about Mastermind so I'mma just info dump here. If you are a Blitz Stan or Defender please understand I do love Blitz, he's honestly one of my favorite characters and Stolitz is my comfort ship. However, disliking things he does doesn't mean I don't like him. I can feel frustrated or struggle with things he does. A complex character makes you feel complex things so it just is a testament to the writers on this show doing a good job with their cast and writing them perfectly. So before going on a rant defending Blitz, just hear me out.

I'll be honest I did not like how quickly Blitz turned lovey-dovey after the trial. The shit hit me like a fuckin chancla to the head and gave me whiplash. The reason I have this issue with Mastermind is purely because it felt so- unfair. Stolas has been struggling to feel validated and seen by Blitz for SO long. I mean that man gave him an Asmodean Crystal, fought to treat him with respect by changing many of his behaviors from S1 to S2, no longer teasing him or calling him pet names. He goes to hell and back multiple times, nearly being killed by Striker and couldn't even get a solid text back from Blitz.

However, the MINUTE he lays his life down, loses his daughter, and gives up any sense of a decent reputation suddenly Blitz gives a fuck. Losing his home, his powers, his family, EVERYTHING, and suddenly Blitz cares about what Stolas wants or needs. It genuinely makes me wanna rattle him around and yell:

"YOU COULD HAVE BEEN HEALTHY AND NICE TO HIM BUT YOU WAIT TILL HES CHRONICALLY DEPRESSED!?"

Like fuck me dude, but he never cared for Stolas before. He consistently dismisses his humanity by cognitively distancing himself from Stolas by just boiling every part of him down to his wealth, stripping him of any and all humanity he remains to have.

Suddenly when Stolas is a husk of his former self and his depression can no longer be hidden by magic or pills, suddenly Blitz cares. I just- I don't know if it's'cause of my own personal trauma, but I hate when people wait till you are at your lowest to give a fuck.

How much more did Stolas have to give for him to care? Or did it have to be his own life? My issue with this part is it perpetuates that Blitz can ONLY humanize those he hurts if they are sad and miserable like him. That the only time you can be loved or seen by him is when you are sad and pathetic, beneath himself. I really hope ya'll are picking up what I'm putting down because I am BEGGING ya'll to stick with me.

Blitz still has his family, his life, his friends, but Stolas has none of those things and SUDDENLY Blitz is further interested in him. Now that he has some pseudo-surperiority- he finds him attractive? He's interested? He wants a deeper relationship?

You can't tell me that doesn't feel so- so backwards right?

Like yeah, wait till the sweet owl man looks like THIS. Oh, yeah, ain't that just fuckin attractive? He's miserable and tried to OFF himself, but no, no that's healthy. It's fine, Amalthea, it's fine that this is the SUDDEN moment Blitz cares. That suddenly he gives a fuck. /sarc

Don't get me started on the fact that before he got to know Stolas he was COMPLETELY fine wrecking a perfectly good (from the exterior) home without considering Octavia, despite being a fucking father himself.

Blitz waits till Stolas is miserable to actually show him an OUNCE of humanity or love or reciprocity.

Yet everyone excuses ALL of his behaviors and problems on his trauma and the pain he has been through, but those same people will call Stolas a deadbeat and terrible person just because he is an awful flirt and a literal DV victim recovering from being COMPLETELY repressed due to the fact that the system that gives him his wealth has worked against him to the point he has no autonomy.

No one seems to ever get why I'm so angry and it's just because- these two have so much potential to work, but at every corner Blitz will make the shittiest decisions and the fandom writes it off as trauma or hurt or whatever, but god forbid Stolas mess up IN SEASON 1 he has to pay for it in Season 2 and be burned at the stake yet while burning at the damn stake the only person he wants to care or worry for him ONLY cares when he is actually set on fucking fire, not bothering to douse the flames or care when he wasn't about to get burned.

I love Blitz, I really, really do, but Mastermind reframed so many of his behaviors for me and made me step back purely because I realized he REALLY does not care unless he can have a false sense of superiority to someone.

I initially said both Stolas and Blitz were at fault for the Full Moon episode, but rewatching the argument I fully blame and fault Blitz for the arguement. Sure Stolas wasn't perfect, but instead of I dunno yelling at the owl man, why don't you- I dunno ASK HIM FOR A MOMENT???

People act like Blitz is some 16 yo teenager, but no thats an ALMOST 40 YEAR OLD MAN WHO CHOOSES TO POORLY COMMUNICATE. He literally could have been uncomfortable and said; "Stolas, this is a lot to process... can I have some time to think? I just- this is a lot."

Stolas wouldn't have forced him to stay! He was willingly letting him go! Blitz complains about the class differences between them but when he tries to fix it suddenly it is a fucking problem?

"But Amalthea, Stolas was hanging his livelihood over his head. He was abusing his power."

See I'd validate that argument and agree with it- IF IT WASN'T ALSO STOLAS'S LIVELIHOOD THE FUCK???? That grimoire was just as important to Stolas as it was to Blitz, more so since it gave him his STATUS, but he WILLINGLY sacrificed all that for Blitz.

Stolas did his due diligence to protect BOTH of them, but yet there is STILL a problem?!

"Stolas made him believe it was just sex between them!!!"

You wanna try again? Do you REALLY want to believe Blitz is so oblivious to this man's advances?

Then explain why he knew Stolas would accept a date to Ozzies. O_O. If Stolas was really just some "ditzy blue blood" to Blitz why would he get dolled up and ready for a date with some measly imp? Why would a Goetic Prince go in public with an imp?

Unless Blitz was FUCKING aware he'd've accepted because he feels so deeply for Blitz. He's so desperately in love he'd do anything to be around him again. Blitz KNEW what he was doing. He KNEW Stolas felt this way, he just chose to be dense and overlook it until it benefited him.

Blitz's insecurities blind a lot of you to the fact he is a CALCULATED and SMART man. Sure, he is a dork who makes us laugh, but he's a CALCULATED dork.

Also I hate to bring up how these two sweetpeas met, but WHO BIT WHO? Who SLEPT WITH WHO WHILE DRUNK?

"But Stolas was flirting with him! He wanted Blitz to sleep with him!"

Yes and no. Initially when Stolas flirts and realizes Blitz wants to sleep with him, he immediately says NO and steps away!

See that kids, that's called a headshake, which means what? Let's all guess now?

NO! IT MEANS NO!

I hate to drive my point this far home, I REALLY do.

Another layer of this is ALL the advances are made my Blitz after Stolas says no.

"Amalthea it's hell! What are you on about morals and consent!?"

Literally because in this situation Blitz had the power. He had the ability to walk away, but started all of this just for his buisness and despite how it all started, Stolas supported him through it all.

It is also before Blitz knows about the abuse and knowing Stolas is a father, still chose to homewreck a family even after Stolas said no.

My point in all of this- anger and frustration is that Stolas has put up with so much of Blitz's BS and stupidity, but only now is Blitz concerned. Only now he gives a damn.

You break into a mans home, sleep with him, rob him, then ruin his life, but you only feel bad when he's lost everything? Sure, that's cool. That's awesome. That's totally fine. /sarc

... this arguement is always hard for me to make, because i just have to watch Stolas be traumatized over, and over, and over and he is always still so sweet and loving to a fucking prick of a man.

Rant over, Amalthea out.

However if you have questions, my ask box is open loves.🩷

Edit 1: While you all can comment, I strongly encourage utilizing my ask box. Moving on I understand ppl may disagree with me. That is okay you're a beautiful individual with your own thoughts and opinions which is fine by me. However please refrain from insulting my intelligence. You can always block me, doesn't hurt my feelings anyway.

[a-continuous-cutting-motion]

Context: I asked in the comments if @ms-demeanor would like advice from someone else in the industry, and she said yes - my response turned into something too long for a comment, so I am reblogging instead.

-

Okay!

So, background on me - I managed a help desk for a while and had to take it from "broken" to "fixed" (and mostly succeeded!). Presently I am a consultant with some juniors under me that tell me they like how I lead them. I also just usually am viewed as someone who gets a lot done with minimal friction at my job and manage to not get stressed out at MSPs, so hopefully this is useful.

I am not gonna cover every topic you mentioned in your post - I think most of it you solved for youself through the power of posting. Two things stand out to me that might be helpful to cover - the small problem of the way the ticketing system is configured, and the large problem of being the designated "bag holder" at your organization.

First, let's talk about the ticketing system - you might know this already, but tickets are often divided into one of three categories: 1) event, 2) problem, and 3) service request. Events are 'something happened!', Problems are 'something keeps happening!', and Service Requests are "Nothing happened, but I need someone to do something anyways."

Your ticket seems to be treating everyhing as Events, which are generally small issues that can be addressed one-by-one, and very often are going to be the same stuff you've seen 100 times before. (80/20 Rule) This happens a lot, because ticketing systems are usually meant to facilitate Tier 1/2 activities first and foremost.

You seem to be handling a combination of Problems and Service Requests. Problems are persistent issues that keep cropping up and are hard to resolve. They naturally are long running tasks with limited options for resolution. They often do not move fast, because they are the kind of thing that requires a lot of pondering and false starts to work through. Service Requests are likewise generally not urgent, and are either open-ended solution-seeking or rote tasks done in anticipation of some coming event (such as a new employee starting).

You should be able to request the ticketing software manager (please tell me it's not you!) implement two new ticket categories with different SLAs and notification profiles that are more in line with the needs of the types of tasks you seem to be saddled with. What, exactly, those settings might be is going to depend on the nature of the Problems you see come across you desk, but you can probably figure out what's actually useful on your own.

Okay, that's one problem talked to death! Onto the bigger problem - Delegation and escalation! This is much less self-contained of a problem, so this may be a bit less cut and dry advice:

So, delegation and escalation are both hard, and leaving things on your plate when you can't just work through them right away is hard too. You are, to put it a certain way, the person left "holding the bag", and it is full of your organization's technical debt. The first thing I would do is remind yourself of that frequently. When I was in your position in last jobs, I got a lot of mileage out of "if they truly wanted it done faster that I can do it, they'd hire two of me!"

First, lets tackle delegation - the first thing to know is that there are two kinds of tasks. There are tasks you can fuck up, and tasks you can't. Tasks you can fuck up include researching, note taking, drafting, and so on - things where if the person doing them turns out to be a complete fucking moron, all you've wasted is a complete fucking moron's time. Tasks you can't fuck up are things like proof-reading, data entry, configuration and implementation, etc. Things where it will cause Problems if you don't get it right the first time. You can delegate both, but it's better to delgate the tasks you can fuck up first, before you trust people with getting their hands dirty.

The second thing to know is that there's always another junior. It's good to give juniors opportunities to develop their skills and learn more, but if they don't work out, you can probably find someone else for less effort than it would take to do all the necessary work to turn them into a competent resource who understands what you want. People don't have to be perfect right away, but if it just doesn't click for them on some level, don't bother exhausting yourself trying to get their style to suit yours. They're better off finding their own area of expertise. (If you don't have juniors available, express the need to your boss, and refer back to the "I am all they got and I am trying my best and doing a good job at it." mantra from above. One person can only do so much.)

This a good segue in escalation! First - it is really hard! You are arguing uphill against an entire organization's worth of inertia, and if your boss was aligned with what your needs were, they would already be met! You have to do all the corporate bullshit of "speaking their language" when you do it - your boss can best advocate for your intiatives if she is already given the argument she needs to use to HER boss. You might understand that something is truly fucking over the company, but if you can't turn that argument into dollars and cents/business strategic goals/'efficencies and synergies', it won't get traction above a VP, and if it requires organizational change it MUST have that buy-in. You're dead in the water if you need to change how other business units function and you can't justify the time and energy spent doing so. (This is where good juniors come in handy - if you have a couple juniors who understand your vision and can make a decent powerpoint, THEY can write the argument for you and you can send it up the chain.)

This leaves us with the things that you know need doing, but you simply don't have the time/resources/spoons to do. This is where you throw them all on a projects board and assign priority to them and prod at the high priority stuff as you have time. Again - they can support you better if they want more than that, and if they don't want to do it, then it must not be very important.

Okay, that's my post! let me know if that is helpful! I am worried it will be stuff you already know or isn't really relevant, but eh… it was fun to write and might help someone else in this stupid industry.

"Every day I get emails" but not in the funny ha ha work sucks I know way more in the ADHD horror story this is legitimately causing problems for me at work way.

[fancyfeathers]

Hi, im the anon who brought up a song by garbage. I was listening to Chicago, like any theater kid does, and I can’t do it alone came on. It reminded me of Ring leader! Villain! Dick, in a way that he would talk about his parents routine and showing reader each move in hopes that they can do it together. (If 🪱 anon isn’t taken, may I be that anon.)

have a nice rest of your night or day

Yandere!Batboys as Villains with Robin!Darlings AU Masterlist

Oh my god I love this idea, especially because as his darling’s day job I picture her as a ballerina/performer because of the parallels between them.

Like I can just imagine she is staying after rehearsal to use the stage to break in a new pair of pointe shoes, she was given the keys to lock up so she is the last one in the theater and she is all cozy in her sweatpants and hoodie over her leotard and has her headphones on, the noise canceling kind since she is alone, or so she thinks. She already called Bruce to let her know that she will be home late because she is locking up.

She pauses when she gets a call, the ringing intercepting her music is what gets her attention. So she huffs and goes back to her bag on the sight side of the stage where her phone is, it’s Bruce. When she answers she is slight annoyed until she actually hears the concern in her adoptive father’s voice…

“You need to get home know.”

“I already said I would be home late-“

“There was a break out from Arkham, the security systems were out.”

She was about to respond but there was a beeping from her end of the line, she looks down at her phone, no signal, but this was the center of Gotham, the phone line had to have been cut. She immediately starts grabbing her things, not even bothering to change out of her pointe shoes, normally she would not care about a break out, well it was nothing they could not handle, but their newest high security patient was in there because of her…

Or was in there…

She immediately feels a presence in the room in the room with her and she has the mind to just get out of there while she still can, or rather could…

“Look up, Sweet Pea.”

She nearly screams when she looks up and sees Dick hanging from the scaffolding that the stage lights hang from. He is smiling down at her like nothing is wrong, but the last time she saw him was when the GCPD finally found her and she was crying in Commissioner Gordon’s arms while he got cuffed by Detective Montoya, she looked just as horrified and now she did not have any of her gear to defend herself.

He jumps down, right in front of her and she looks horrified and shocked at the same time…

“Hey you don’t have to be so surprised, I did tell you I was an acrobat.”

“Get away from me.”

“Hey don’t be like that baby, we aren’t too different after all.”

“You kill people, Grayson. I keep this city safe from people exactly like you, but go on, how are we similar? Besides the dead parents part that is.”

Before she could even react, he grabs her leg and forces it up, pressing it up against her chest because of how flexible she is, pointing straight up in the air and it burns after hours after rehearsals. The way he looks at her makes her feel sick, it is as if he almost loves her, well he did say he loves her when he kidnapped her for over a month.

“Well we are both flexible…”

The only reason why he is able to mess with her in the moment is because she is tired and sore… and also the fact that she knows this was most certainly planned so at the very least she was locked in here with him, she could run and hide somewhere in the theater, she knows the building better than he does, or at least she thinks she does, and Batman would be here soon enough…

He starts dancing with her across the stage, her feet already hurt enough from her rehearsal on top of her breaking in her new pointe shoes…

Her feet stumble along as he dances with her, one of his hands squeezing onto her hand and the other unmoving from her waist. He hums a tune as he dances with her, she knows it well, Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, it’s the tune that everyone knows even if they do not know ballet.

“You know my parents used to have this act together…”

“That’s nice, I am not an acrobat though.”

“Well you do have the build have the build of one.”

She does not like it when he moves the hand on her waist down to squeeze at her thigh, that is when she snaps and tries to kick at him, but instead he manages to grab that leg as well and force it over his shoulder along with the other leg.

“Here… let me show you the steps…”

It goes on and on, her trying to fight against him and him just moving her and contorting her body into several different poses and positions, each one hurting more than the last, and then when she finally tries pushing him back on last time, she gets him to let go but it is her falls and falls hard and there is an audible crack as she falls to the ground and sees her ankle is a position it should not be in, all red and starting to swell

“Oh no… that looks like it must have been painful… oh come here, don’t cry… a broken bone or two are bound to come at some point.”

[burb-ie]

your post talking about how you planned for the TFA Allspark to revive and power TFP Op has my mind spinning?

Thinking about how TFA doesn't have a matrix of leadership to be wielded. No means of channeling past wisdom into a chosen bot. It makes me reevaluate just how MUCH Optimus and his team lived and learned not just about Earth; but about the not so over War and how much propaganda they were under? Looking to Ratchet and his experience-god all these bots are traumatized by the system at the start and end with even more. man.

the TFA allspark itself holds the needed insight for it's people. Yet ? Cannot directly share information with them; looking at How it set up Sari’s pod with Professor Sumdac to craft the needed channeler+technorganic bridge for the future; setup its reappearance to be when team prime was out repairing that bridge. (Depending on what you choose to take from the allspark almanac and post-tfanimated comics of sari-it gets back to revive the well and Cybertron)

I think that old box absolutely resonates with TFP Orion in their first encounter like how it opens up to Sari? This Optimus isn't from here-has given and given and had so much taken- it's an artifact that seems to be benevolent/tries to be something soothing and gentle for this lost and worn spark? Maybe it tries to soothe that his friends back home are okay? (Might be more direct than what I've heard he gets from the og 13.)

tfa transformers seem to have awe at seeing that the all spark does exist; but no-bot appears to have a deeper connection to it unless actively meditating like Prowl or Jazz.

It has me pondering what that first struggle against starscream would be like with the allspark having someone that can Hear it-if not actively understand it's visions.

I feel like it actually gives TFA Starscream a balanced shot against TFP Prime-along with being the first con to surprise everyone; more of a fight to think while tfp Op is hearing it forewarning.? You get a bit TFA Op directing his team like the ep? While TFP Op is getting a running stream-of data of how events could go-of TFA Op’s fate without intervention-of other potential timelines where Starscream gets away with the whole Allspark-

Then if TFP Prime wasn't already tempered by all his own experiences to some of that noise, and pressure he joins the fight when it matters most?

Definitely doesn't make the sacrifice of himself any less tragic-or give the team nightmares/oh TFA Optimus gets to see a version of himself die.

*Head in hands* /(ó_ò)\

Thank you for coming to my tedtalk I'm gonna think about how much TFP Pax changes everything and nothing because shielding them from one event is gonna just bring a series of other events and be unwell. Love this and your art 👍 ✨

this single ask got me reevaluating how im gonna be arranging the allspark's lore in this au

im not gonna reveal anything cus spoilers but let me tell you i enjoyed this tedtalk so much and if you have anymore in you DO SEND THEM pls, i enjoy long analysis asks like these SO MUCH!

[treasureyourfire]

~ Get a little rest ~

Dear Souls! A little later compared to my plans, but I brought you my New Year's Pick a Pile readings. The readings are timeless, find the post in the beginning months of any year (*or even in any month of a year), believe that you need it right then, of course only if it resonates with you. (*If you read it in June, for example, look at the past year going back to June of the previous year. ^^) I've noticed that the piles carry similar messages from certain areas of life, so you may be drawn to more than one image, and that's perfectly fine. Read them all, so if there is a message for you in more than one reading. Wish you the best, and take care! ^^ Arisa

Reminder:

* These are not gender-specific readings, they are about energies. * These are collective, timeless readings for entertaintment. * I am not a professional reader and readings that I do are a part of my learning process. * The tarot can provide guidance, but you manage your own life according to your free will. Feel free to keep what resonates, and let go of what doesn’t.~ * (English is not my mother language, sorry for the mistakes.)

Illustrations belongs to Kristin Askland

~ 1 ~

You can take a breath: What burden have you left behind in the past year: Five of Swords, Reversed Death, Reversed Ten of Wands, Temperance, Six of Wands, Magician, Page of Cups

Just thinking about the image I felt an unusual, intense resistance. At first I didn't know if the feeling was my own - because I was in a bad mood - or not, but then, when I started the reading, I understood that I felt your energy, dear Soul. You suffered such a loss, defeat or betrayal that you hid from the world with deep wounds. Maybe even from yourself. You wrapped yourself up like the kitty in your chosen picture. You were afraid to let change into your life, you closed yourself off, whether it was a change in external circumstances or your own internal transformation and development. Whether you wanted to survive or forget, I feel that you tried to remedy it by taking on more and more burdens the weight of which brought you to the brink of burnout, or maybe this collapse actually occurred. Maybe you buried yourself in work or a personal project, but it could also be that you didn't take on such a many burden of your own free will, but that your circumstances turned out that way. You couldn't grow under those so many burdens. Maybe you have been subconsciously or even intentionally hindering and sabotaging your own growth. A deep, personal transformation awaited you, which of course is often difficult, uncomfortable, and can be very much outside of our comfort zone, when we have to reshape our belief systems, our way of seeing things, and our attitude towards our situation and ourselves. Maybe this was meant to happen for you to some extent, a victory over the ego/subconscious. After many tense internal struggles, the time of ascension has finally arrived, the time to create a healthy balance in your life again. You've got room to develop again, and you've stepped onto the path that you can use to create harmony and peace. It's like you got your Mojo back. The fighting spirit has awakened in you. You embraced yourself, broadened your horizons, and now with more self-esteem, zest for life, more vitality, you switched to creation mode. Now you value yourself more, you have seen the treasures within you, and you are actively working on realizing your dreams to create the life around you that you really want. You have everything for it. The meeting your deeper self opened the door to self-love and new, happier beginnings.

You can rest: What helps you relax/gain strength the most? Page of Wands, Sun, Nine of Swords, Eight of Swords, Knight of Swords

Inspiration (making a mood board at the beginning of the year for example), creativity, dreaming, forms of self-expression. Art can be the best way to relax you right now, which can ease your anxiety. Returning to an old hobby, passion, any activity that filled you with joy when you were younger, or maybe starting something new that helps express yourself and self-realization. For some of you, a trip might mean relaxation, recharging in a sunny, warm place. There may still be holding back beliefs in your head, but don't let these ups and downs discourage you, you have time to heal. Fears, doubts, self-doubt cloud our vision, we get confused. Maybe you need to clear up these confusing thoughts and feelings. If you put them into form, it can be easier to examine and arrange them in yourself. In addition to art, because of the sword cards, I think communication can also help, either verbally or in writing, or if you examine yourself and your thoughts more consciously from a scientific perspective. Whether it's a person close to you, a support community, or a professional, it can help to share with someone what's weigh down your heart.  It is difficult for me to interpret the Knight of Swords in this context. This card usually encourages action and change, not rest. In this situation, it can mean that it is necessary to take the lead, break out of a situation, overcome ourselves, shake ourselves out of the waves of negative thoughts, face our fears and examine their origin. Behind these fears, our true self is waiting to break out. We often think things about ourselves that are not true at all, we don't see the reality, the truth, among the false assumptions. It is difficult to abstract and look at ourselves and our situation with external eyes.

*Note: There is a Youtuber named Thomas Sanders whose videos I have seen in the past and some of those at the time helped me see some things in a slightly different light. Through himself, in an entertaining guise, he reveals to us (I could say that he explains with logic as the Knight of Swords) the workings of a person's personality and mind. Maybe someone else who chose this picture needs this information so I wanted to mention it.

Plan your path: What will you need to the start? / What should you take with you on your path? Hermit Item in your bag: - The Hermit's Lantern

Introspection, stillness. Maybe you need to withdraw from the eyes of the world for a while in order to find your own inner light, the wisdom, the knowledge with which you can go towards a truer, more authentic life. The Hermit searches for answers in himself, he is developing and growing quietly, he only needs himself, he does not let the outside world influence him. The meditative retreat, the practice of your spirituality can become an important tool for you in the period ahead of you, you can find the path that leads to the fulfillment of your wish(es). Let your own inner star, which you keep in your lantern be your compass.

Encouraging/Inspiring message from your spirit guides: Queen of Cups, Reversed Queen of Pentacles

You've reached shore, you're over it. You may have been attracted to the second picture as well, and that reading may partly resonate with you, because it may convey a similar message about your emotional world and the need to take care of the health of your body and soul. It is important to ground yourself, to research grounding techniques and activities, to connect with nature, and to balance your elements, equalizing the proportions against the energies of many previous sword cards with air (mental) element. Observing walks in nature, yoga, craft hobbies, claying, making ceramics, gardening, spending time with animals, practicing living in the present, connecting with Mother Earth. Manage and care your emotions and feelings consciously and don't forget to nourish and care for your body. Pay attention to your health. Nutritious meals, quality rests. A lot of anxiety also weakens the physical body, listen to its signals about what it needs. Take care of your heart, water your garden to gain strength and have the energy to create, to shape your life around you as an artist.

~ 2 ~

You can take a breath: What burden have you left behind in the past year: Queen of Cups

The inner turbulent sea has calmed down, your emotions have become clear, uncertainty has been replaced by stability, clear vision, awareness, and understanding. You already look at your own emotional world with different eyes, you have better understanding about how it works. You have studied yourself, the triple relationship of your thoughts-feelings-actions, as a result of which you have gained a deeper understanding and self-knowledge of yourself, and in the future you will try to handle different life situations and challenges more efficiently and consciously. You take care of yourself and your needs, you have become more understanding and compassionate to yourself and you are already showing more love to yourself.  By the time you reached shore, you realized your own values, you found your inner voice, now you can finally breathe again.

You can rest: What helps you relax/gain strength the most? Queen of Pentacles

Treat yourself like a queen/king. It's time to relax and enjoy earthly pleasures. Taking care of yourself, giving attention to yourself can help you now the most to rest after the toils of the past year. In moderation, but get your favorite comfort foods or pay attention to your health and eat foods that nourish your body, if that resonates with you more. Any form of grounding and connection with nature can also embalm your soul. It can be any activity that relax you, in which you find joy, e.g.; creative projects, baking and cooking, claying, making ceramics, gardening, yoga. Maybe pamper yourself for a few days with a wellness or spa program, beautification, if you prefer this type of relaxation.  Have a pampering intimate time with your partner or with yourself if you are single. Quality rest is important, enjoy, don't rush it. In all of its being (regardless of gender) I feel feminine (including possibly parental) energies from this pile, during this period it may be important for someone to connect to this gentle, caring quality, whether they practice it only towards themselves or by spending time with their partner, children, family.

Plan your path: What will you need to the start? / What should you take with you on your path? Reversed Empress Item in your bag: - Selflove potion

As soon as the Queen of Pentacles appeared, it was as if I felt the presence and essence of the Empress together with her. Strongly feminine, caring energies surround this pile. However, when this card arrived in reverse, I was a bit confused. Even with the Queen of Pentacles, I felt that self-care was emphasized, the Empress has similar energies in a basic situation, I don't think you should take that away from yourself after you managed to recharge. Indeed. Perhaps this is exactly the point, that you continue to pay attention to yourself and take care of yourself first before you do it with others, maintain your inner balance. (Of course, if you are a parent, priorities and balance are usually are rearranged, but don't forget about yourself, your own well-being, and ask for help if you need it and have the opportunity.) Perhaps it also refers to your relationship with others, to pay attention to how much of yourself you give to others and not to shred yourself to please everyone at all costs. It is a wonderful quality of you to care about others and be always there when they need you, but unfortunately this can have the shadowside of giving too much of yourself, consuming all your energy until you have no more to yourself. You love being a mother hen. ^^ Maybe you have taken on tasks for which others should have taken responsibility and solved them. This burnt-out or possibly frustrated state also hinders the development of your creative energies. It may be necessary to set those certain boundaries and not allow others to cross them, taking advantage of you, your altruism and generosity. I feel the main message is to love yourself enough to take care of your own needs first and not get stuck in harmful, destructive emotional addictions.

Encouraging/Inspiring message from your spirit guides: Star, Reversed Three of Cups

For me, the message got around with this advice. Dreams, healing, wishes, goals. Your spirit guides ask you to move forward towards your dream goals. You have heard a higher calling, you have taken the first steps, and your life is slowly starting to take the shape of your desires. Healing, growth, following our life path sometimes go hand in hand with loneliness, but don't let that discourage you. You should let go of fake/superficial friends/relationships, who don't treat you well and don't support you on your way, let them go. "It's better to be alone than in bad company." If they don't represent your ideas of what kind of relationships you need in your life, they hold you back in your development and they are toxic or disrespectful, breaking these relationships can be the beginning of healing and can give you space to later find true partners who really deserve and reciprocate your care and sincere love.

~ 3 ~

You can take a breath: What burden have you left behind in the past year: Reversed Ten of Cups

Relationship problems, toxic relationships/environment, people with low emotional intelligence, hopelessness, lack of love and happiness. Although you were physically surrounded by others, you felt lonely among them. You have been searching your place, where you belong. One-sidedness, overgiving may have characterized your relationships, which did not make you happy or nourish you, but now you have managed to break the chains. Maybe you have been wandering alone for a while looking for your soul tribe, where you will be supported and finally feel loved.

You can rest: What helps you relax/gain strength the most? Reversed Three of Pentacles, Eight of Wands, Magician

Sometimes it's good to withdraw from social life for a longer or shorter period of time (perhaps we pause our studies or don't immediately go back to school after finishing our courrently last course) to be alone, to clear our minds and figure out who we are and what we really long for without competing with others. For this, there are people who travel far away, or even move to a new place, where they can heal, and later, when they feel ready, in the new community there they can start with a clean sheet. Of course, this does not mean that traveling is the solution for everyone who chose this picture, but it is certain that moving forward is necessary, keeping your future in front of your eyes. Let your plans to spear, focus on your own individual goals for faster development and progress. All tools are at your disposal to bring your plans to life. Perhaps you received a message or an offer in the recent past period or you will receive it recently, which may hold out a new opportunity to you or inspire you, reminding you that it is time to get moving and put your ideas into shape. If you need it, unleash your creativity, live your passions and hobbies that you have suppressed or put aside for a while. The period of creation may begin.

Plan your path: What will you need to the start? / What should you take with you on your path? Wheel of Fortune, King of Cups, Three of Cups, Two of Cups, Knight of Cups, Sun, Seven of Cups, Eight of Swords Items in your bag: - A feather of a cedar waxwing - A seashell with the sound of your deep inner sea

Let the feather of this pretty bird reminds you on your journey that you were and are able to rise above difficulties and to keep your good heart. Your karma turns for the better. Your empathetic, giving nature is treasure. You are a good friend who enjoys spending time with others and sharing your emotional and earthly abundance with them, but it is important to maintain a balance. Reciprocity. Make sure that in your relationships you get back as much as you give. Stay aware, see who is worth letting close to you, who can become a true friend/ally, and who is only beautified by filters. Don't let others dim your light, don't give in to deceptions and manipulations. From now on, be the protagonist in your life, shine at its center, like the Sun in our solar system. Maybe the Knight of Cups can also points to make room for romance in your life, let these feelings in if that's what you want. If there is no one who would arouse your interest, be your own suitor, romanticize yourself, your life. Be open to opportunities for more emotional growth and development. Trust your emotional maturity. If a situation still confuses you and shakes your self-confidence, think about what is just a mind game or a delusion, either on your part or on the part of others. Examine your options, which one is the rational decision/available choice for you. Of course, it is often difficult for us to rise above our traumas and fears. Check how real your barriers are. If you don't see the truth at first, you are unsure of what is good for you, which is your path, try to calm down, raise the seashell to your ear and listen to what your inner voice wispering to you.

Encouraging/Inspiring message from your spirit guides: Reversed Ten of Swords, Reversed Hanged Man, Reversed Four of Cups, Reversed Six of Wands, Reversed Ace of Swords, High Priestess, Devil

You are over the biggest challenge, a difficult period has come to an end for you. You have awakened to awareness, and this enlightenment brought a healthier view of yourself and your situation, and initiated you on a more energetically balanced path. Your spirit guides say those who hurt you were not worthy of being part of your life anymore, their betrayal brought you a blessing in the long run, even if you don't feel that way at this moment. Your spirit guides want to help you, but for that you have to do your side too, take action and look for opportunities where you can develop and grow. Clear your thoughts. They ask you to learn from the challenges of the past and turn your experiences to your advantage, rebuilding your self-confidence and regaining your fighting spirit, and think things extensively before making important decisions. Maybe you practiced communicating with them in the past, but you've been holding back for a while? (Re)open the channel between you and them and ask for their help or advice for clarity, if you have doubts, if something is blocking your intuition. The Devil card can reveal addictions that chain you down, hinder your development (even spiritually), prevent you from fulfilling yourself and truly live your life. It may be important to question your beliefs and gain a deeper understanding of your spiritual path. This requires introspection and questioning of existing beliefs. It encourages you to dig deeper into your spiritual questions to seek a deeper and more nuanced understanding of your spiritual journey. Start trusting your inner wisdom and intuition. Stay aware of your negative thoughts, temptations, and fears that can derail you. In terms of your relationships, it can be important too to examine your attachments. What pattern do you cling to, what is toxic, what wasn't healthy in your previous relationships, be it in family, friendship, or romantic relationship.

[meow-moment]

My distoipian short story i hope you like it

I wake up. I turn off my alarm clock (head implant) and leave my house. My mom is already at work, her job as a looping stripper hologram starts at 3am. I get on the city bus (flying) and head to dystopian megaschool. Chris Pratt Generalized Turbocademy, located in central HyperNeo CyberJersey.

As soon as I arrive the custodian android straps me into my infopod. The VR headset thrusts itself onto my eyes and feeds me two hours straight of propagandvertising (portmantaeu of propaganda+advertising). I am then quizzed.

"Who Won The Neon Wars?" It asks.

"PepsiCo," I answer.

"How Many People Died In The Neon Wars?"

"2.6 Trillion."

"Name One Long-Term Consequence Of The Neon Wars."

"The sun got extinguished."

And the quiz continues. I get every question right- if I got two or more wrong, my infopod would liquefy me and send my remains to the cafeteria to be served as lunch. The headset chastises my handwriting and recommends a stabilizer implant for my wrist. (I already have one but the machine is trying to get me to admit it's a bootleg. If I do admit it, I will also be liquefied.)

After that is lunch. They're serving my favorite today: liquefied students. I meet up with my friends Xyrone, Klazzz, and M.I.K.E. and we gossip together.

Xyrone is a hacker with a headset constantly strapped over his eyes and a bitcoin-mining rig surgically mounted to his back. He doesn't need to study because he can break through the school's firewall and change his grades to A's. We keep asking him to change ours too, but he's a Nova-Libertarian, so he thinks if we want it that bad we should do it ourselves.

Klazzz was recruited at age 8 to pilot a mech in the global manhunt for Saddam Hussien. (He'd have to be 900 years old by now at least, but modern medicine is crazy so I dunno.) A bully thinks it's be funny to mimic an explosion sound with his mouth right behind her, and her combat instincts kick in and she vaporizes him and his posse with her arm-mounted neutron cannon. (If anyone tries to remove it from her body, it shuts down her nervous system and then self-destructs, meaning it's classified as a disability aid)(that's why she's allowed to have it in school)

M.I.K.E. is a closeted singularity. He doesn't think anyone knows but he's obviously such a sjklop (slur for AIs) its not even funny. Sometimes I paint captchas on my face so he can't tell its me and then I beat the fuck out of him. I think it's funny.

We realize we all have next period free so we decide to skip class. On the way to our favorite pizza joint we notice a news bulletin being projected onto the sky. Greg (Eternal God-CEO, President, Emperor-Lord, and Judge of the Northern Hemisphere, as well as founder of tech startup Rooblop) is announcing that we're going to nuke Venus, just in case there are aliens there.

We turn around from the news just in time to realize that M.I.K.E.'s pathfinding has malfunctioned and led him into the middle of the street. He's hit by a car and immediately torn to shreds (all cars have sawblades mounted to the front to discourage jaywalking.) The driver doesn't even bat an eye (he's also an AI, his own pathfinding malfunctions a second later and he makes a sharp left turn into a crowded mall.) I save the footage and post it to the cloud. It gains 2 billion views over the next thirty seconds. Ten seconds after that, a rights organization cancels me for glorifying AI murder. On the horizon, I see a drone strike get called in on my Dystopian Megaschool, and I'm glad I skipped class.

We stop at the Dystopian Mega Pizza Shop on the way home. Their pepperoni is guaranteed to only be 90% liquefied high schoolers, and the cookies they sell even have real Khreim! (not to be confused with Cream, Creme, Kreem, Chreamm, or Kchreeighm.) Unfortunately, the entire restaurant is sold out, as the cadre of CopDrones in the corner bought everything edible in the building to fuel their starved appetites. Klazzz throws a disparaging insult in their direction, and in response they shoot Xyrone 87 times in the chest.

I arrive home. My mom is home on her 30 minute break. She's made meatloaf, made with Tomaytoh Soss(tm,) Garlic, Liquid Teenagers, and a whole lot of love. I give her a big hug. She says she has to run, but there's a special birthday treat in the freezer. I open it up to find a whole pint of ice cream waiting for me. My favorite flavor: mint chip.

And you'll never guess what it's made of.

That's right: Bugs.

THIS POST IS SATIRE

[saint-cosmos]

more on gaz with poodle!reader because my brain is fried and i need this out of my system before i can concnetrate.

gaz who doesn't trust anybody else to wash and style poodle!reader's hair. he knows curly hair, and he knows how fussy it can be. spends weeks finding the perfect routine, hates sending you to the groomers because he doesn't trust them to do it right.

don't tell him this, but the petsitter that watches you when he's deployed takes you to the groomers every week for a bath and styling. not everyone is as diligent as gaz is when it comes to your grooming - and the fact that it's nearly impossible to keep you from retrieving every ball you can from the pond at your favourite park doesn't help.

they haven't messed your curls up yet, and so long as your sitter keeps bringing them the products he buys you so that you don't smell any different, he might never know.

something something gaz getting you a giant, plush bed with all sorts of pillows and cushions to rest your pretty head on, only to wake up every morning with you sleeping soundly at the end of his bed, your head heavy on his calves. he should scold you, but he can't find the heart.

gaz who makes the mistake of signing you up for one of the local hybrid pageants in the city, acting all surprised and thankful when his gorgeous pup wins first prize. it's not fun and games, however, when other owners start approaching him, complimenting him on how lovely you are (he knows), asking him if he would consider coupling his pup with another hybrid. what a stupid question :( you're his pup, god damnit!

[runabout-river]

Ability Tree Explanation Part 0

I remembered how I should've started my last posts by explaining the things that are going on here first before I take a deeper look at the individual characters. So here we go, starting with cursed energy.

Cursed Energy: the underlying power for nearly everything in JJK's magic system; stems from Negative Emotions; needs to exceed a certain amount to make one a sorcerer, otherwise you're just a normal human who can nevertheless create curses unknowingly.

Cursed Energy Manipulation: basic steps to wield CE successfully; branches up to Taijutsu, meaning you can enhance your physical strength and endurance with CE. After a certain point of using CEM with Taijutsu comes the possibility where you're able to achieve a Black Flash. A BF is a momentary increase of your CE by the power of 2.5; it can also reset your CE output.

An Innate Domain has been described as one's soul. You can say CE gave you the means to access it. If you're past that point you can create a Curtain, the most basic form of Barrier Techniques used to conceal what's going on in an area and restrict entry and exit. Higher BTs can manipulate that area, space and time as we've seen various curses do. The ultimate form of a BT infused with the essence of your jujutsu is the Domain Expansion.

As seen in the graph, Simple Domain is connected to both DE and CEM, you don't need to be able to expand a domain though to learn SD. Hollow Whicker Basket is a SD, the one we see most often is SD New Shadow Style. Among other usages, SD disables a DE's sure-hit inside its range.

Another branch of CEM is the Domain Amplification. DA is a version of a DE where you coat yourself with the space of one. This space is supposed to have the user's cursed technique embedded into it but because that CT is absent the CT of the opponent gets sucked into it to become neutralized.

From CE we go to Innate Technique. That one is divided into Inherited and Non-Inherited Technique, what's missing here though is Aquired Technique like Yuji's Shrine and Blood Manipulation. Those 4 things describe the same thing eg Anti-Gravity System or Strawdoll Technique. An IHT is one that is passed down, a NIT is one that appears out of nowhere for the first time.

Cursed Technique Lapse describes any application of an Innate Technique as long as it's done with CE. Eg Resonance and Hairpin are the CTLs of the Strawdoll Technique just like Blue is the CTL of Limitless.

From CEM we can go to the Reverse Cursed Technique. That's the process of creating Positive Energy from CE by multiplying it with itself. PE automatically heals a human but is poison to curses.

If you can create PE you can also learn to channel it into your Innate Technique, this gets you Cursed Technique Reversal. In the entire manga, we only saw 2 applications of CTR: one is Red from Limitless and the other Gravity from Anti-Gravity System.

If a sorcerer can use both CTL and CTR, they can also learn to use the Extension Technique. We only ever saw one sorcerer use that so most people would know it more under Hollow Technique, in this case Purple. (I don't know if Hollow Technqiue is the unique name of Purple or if it's synonymus with Extension Technique.)

What's missing here is the Maximum Technique like Jogo's Meteor, simple Shikigami and Binding Vows to make the ability tree complete.

[stillness-in-green]

in an ideal world, how would you have written mha's endgame?

That’s not a question with a short answer, I’m afraid.  There’s a lot I’d do differently, in ways it’s hard to even sum up all of because a lot of what I’ve thought about revolves around things I’d want to do differently with the Heroes (and dating back much farther than the second war, at that) with the changes to the Villain side of things being, I don’t doubt, equally drastic but currently much more vague.  I’ll cover my biggest contention in a general way above the cut, but if you want some of my more specific ideas for how I’d approach changing things, look below the cut!

The most pressing problem is that the story built so many of its themes on a framework of Saving People and then let the endgame dissolve that central idea into an incoherent, mushy slurry of saved and unsaved, alive and dead, smiling and unsmiling, free and imprisoned.  For the story to work under its own established parameters, the kids have to truly save the Villains—not just their souls, but also their lives, and not just the ones the kids personally care about, but all of them.  Nothing less will fulfill the twofold promise the story made to its readers with great specificity: that The Greatest Heroes are those who save everyone and that this is the story of Deku/Class 1-A becoming The Greatest Heroes.

That’s not possible in the Hero System as it currently exists, which is my other big target for the thing that needed to change with the endgame: addressing the problems with the status quo.  Class 1-A has to confront the reality of their failing system and realize it needs drastic change, if it can be salvaged at all.  The kids cannot be hailed in the narration as the group who became, collectively, The Greatest Heroes if they inherit and uphold that selfsame failing system.  Regardless of how positively the story tries to spin things in its epilogue, if society doesn’t treat or conceptualize Villains any differently than it ever did,[1] then none of that society’s long-term problems have been solved.

1: And it doesn’t; the vast majority of the epilogue’s focus is on how the kids’ actions have reduced/are reducing the number of people who become Villains, with little to no focus on how their new-and-improved society deals with Villains themselves—either the already existing ones left over from the war or the future ones who still arise despite society’s best efforts.  An ounce of prevention may be worth a pound of cure, but the pound of cure is still important to have—BNHA’s epilogue very pointedly lacks it.

Saving the Villains who are right in front of you, and making sure the people you can’t be there to help still get saved anyway are ideas that are inherently, inseparably connected.  You can’t do one without the other because each of them requires the other to stick. If individual Heroes don’t give a shit about helping those deemed Villains, then Hero Society will follow their lead, and if Hero Society doesn’t give a shit about helping those deemed Villains, then no help individual Heroes offer will be guaranteed once the Heroes have gone.

Toga is the clearest, sharpest example of the problem, in that no help Ochaco offers her means a thing if the larger system to which Toga is remanded doesn't support Ochaco in giving it. Horikoshi's inability to solve this conundrum is presumably why Toga had to die.  The short answer, then, to the question of how I would write the endgame is that whatever I’d come up with has to be a story in which Toga could be saved in the sense that Shimura Nana meant the word—a resolution that would see her both smiling and alive.

As to specifics?  Well, again, I don’t have the details ironed out because a lot of my ideas are unconnected “I didn’t like how canon utilized its set-up and characters; here’s an idea I like better” spitballing, but if you’re interested in what those ideas might be and how I’ve started lassoing them together, hit the jump.

So, I may have, on occasion, made reference to “the fix-it fic(s)” around here.  This is a pair of scenarios I call “Forward Different” and “Backward Different,” with the idea being that both would be canon divergent from the moment Heroes launch their attack in the first war, but the divergences would immediately go in very different directions based on changes to the underlying material.

Forward Different keeps everything established by canon up to that point as-is, but only what’s been explicitly established, so there could be some surprises with things like character motivations or secrets that had not yet been examined.  Backward Different, meanwhile, would have huge differences incorporated into the backstory, stuff that goes at least as far back as the training camp attack, that would not be made immediately apparent to the reader.[2]

2: The hypothetical reader, I should say, since I have no plans to ever write these out in full, my track record with longfic being as woeful as it is.  But I do want to hammer out the plotlines just to have them, share them, and maybe write some excerpts from them when the mood strikes.

I’m not going to share everything I’ve got in mind right now, but there are a few major points I can talk about, and some fun ideas here and there that I’m willing to share.

The single biggest difference between the two timelines is how they treat Deku, Shigaraki, and (to a lesser extent) AFO’s respective relationships to the One For All and All For One quirks.  Basically, I think it’s tremendously unfair that we see two almost totally incompatible versions of Vestige Fuckery in the story and it just so happens that the main character gets the version that makes everything easier for him while the Villain get stuck with the shitty version that make everything harder.[3]  The fix-it fic AU(s) are in large part about equalizing that balance.

3: And god knows I don’t buy that Deku gets the good version because he’s the good guy and he deserves it because Good Karma or whatever, while Shigaraki gets the bad version because he’s the bad guy and has Bad Karma.  You don’t give bad guys or good guys the fruit of the seeds they’ve sown two-thirds of the way into the story.  That stuff’s for the climax, goddamn.

The Backward Different timeline (the one that’s somewhat better developed at this point) is also called Splintered Wills.  In it, Deku and Shigaraki are both dealing with multiple vestiges that have minds and desires of their own who can choose to be helpful or to cause problems.  In effect, it’s giving Shigaraki access to the same potential benefits Canon!Deku enjoys while making Deku deal with the same potential downsides that Canon!AFO (who’s basically working with Deku’s version of the vestige mechanics; his vestiges just all hate his ass) has to deal with.

In Shigaraki’s case, that’s a huge step up from his canon situation, where he gets devoured by one (1) uber-powerful vestige and spends the vast majority of the last two arcs totally out of action.  Instead, he finds that his head is now full of quirk ghosts and, while many of them want no more to do with him than they did AFO (especially the vestiges of civilians and Heroes), plenty of others have no great love for Heroes or their status quo and thus are much more open to helping him.  Maybe they’re willing to hold back more hostile vestiges like AFO's; maybe they have memories or experiences that could be useful.

Shigaraki also pulls away a chunk of OFA the first time he and Deku fight post-surgery.  Specifically, he picks off All Might’s “vestige,” and All Might’s vestige, unspeaking though it is, and technically powerless, has lots of opinions on who he’s more inclined to help when given the choice between his career-long archenemy and his master’s grandchild.

Meanwhile, on Deku’s side of things, Deku’s newfound desire to save Shigaraki Tomura combined with Shigaraki Tomura stealing one of the eight spirits in One For All sends his headspace into a tailspin.  He spends much of the post-war arc with his powers on the fritz, as the OFA vestiges clash and argue and have mixed feelings (or very strong negative ones) about what he and they should do going forward.  He no longer benefits, as his canon self did, from OFA behaving as basically a unified collective; Yoichi can’t win Kudou and Bruce over for him with a sweet line or two.  Indeed, Yoichi doesn’t even want to because Yoichi is inclined to agree with them, though he’s not without sympathy—he never did stop wanting his brother to change, after all.

The other big factor influencing Backward Different/Splintered Wills is that the class size steadily shrank over the course of the backstory.  Aoyama was revealed as the traitor all the way back at the training camp.  Momo’s parents pulled her out of UA after the attack and enrolled her at Shiketsu instead.  At least one student will turn out to have Liberation Army ties that pull them away from the group.[4]

4: Probably Iida, but I’m not firmly decided yet.  MLA!Iida is very near and dear to my heart, though, so he’s definitely going to be in one of these timelines.

Several students aren’t allowed to do active Hero work because, without Aoyama to rally around during the license exam, they failed the first round, not even making the cut for the remedial course.  One transferred out of the Hero course for less dangerous work.  Maybe one gets critically injured during the first war.  Maybe some aren’t willing to buck the system enough to follow where Deku is going.  And so on.

The smaller class size serves two purposes, one character-based and one meta. First, starting big and winnowing down allows the story to actually write the students as distinct people rather than having them melt into an undifferentiated blob of Unified Niceness.  We shouldn’t have had a story with twenty kids who all, ultimately, react the same way to the crises they face!  If modern heroics has a problem with people who are just in it for the fame and money, or people who expected it to be relatively easy work due to the peace All Might established, then we should have seen that reflected in the class, too!

(That’s not to say no one who leaves or fails can ever show up again!  I have specific scenes in mind already for how Aoyama and Momo return to the story as allies, for example, and Shishikura plainly shows in the canon that failing the license exam in the first round doesn’t mean you can’t still find yourself doing Hero work anyway.  But the students’ paths should be ongoing threads that diverge and reconverge throughout the story, not a solid monochrome stripe that runs across the entire story-cloth like someone fell asleep at the sewing machine.)

Secondly, the smaller class size facilitates one of the major changes I have in mind for this timeline, which is that when the class confronts Deku post-first-war, they do it not with the intention of dragging him back to U.A., but of joining him in staying outside.  I have a ton of stuff I want them to see and interact with and be forced to acknowledge and reflect on, and that doesn’t happen if they just go back to school and wait for their next assignment.  Navigating all of that as a group trying to feel their way to a better future against the efforts of both jaded authority figures and Villains who’ve been burned one too many times to trust so easily is just simpler with a smaller, more focused, more strongly characterized group.

So, the Splintered Wills timeline, in summary, goes all-in on OFA being a repository of different people who are allowed to have different opinions and reactions to things, paralleling the dissolving of Team Hero’s united front; Deku & Friends have to struggle and clash, learn when to compromise and when to stand their ground, in order to build their way back up to unity, while Shigaraki is allowed the chance to continue coalition-building and consolidating resources under his own banner mentally in the same way he spent the entire series doing physically.  As Team Hero’s collective grasp on society collapses, Shigaraki’s grows stronger, reversing their positions such that Deku and company have to come back from the actual underdog position they fall into compared to BNHA, where they never 100% fall from the seat of power the way readers are encouraged to believe.

The Forward Different timeline is also called, for now, Creepy OFA.  It goes in the opposite direction by making Deku deal with the same kinds of problems Canon!Shigaraki has to deal with vis a vis being possessed of/by a quirk with a single domineering will of its own.  While Splintered Wills portrays OFA and AFO alike as being full of people, each with their own unique motivations and desires, this story underlines and reunderlines that quirk vestiges are ultimately biological impulses, not people.

OFA is an originally simple force that’s been compounded in complexity and appearance of rationality every time it’s been passed down, but is still ultimately just a quirk, mindless, unreasoning, imprinting its bearer with its own dictates and not caring a bit if the bearer likes or agrees with those dictates.  “OFA must be passed on,” “AFO must be destroyed,” “The bearer must be the Symbol of Peace,” and so on.

Making Deku and Shigaraki have to struggle against this loss of autonomy due to an out-of-control quirk vestige puts them on a similar level of challenge, the better to give them some common ground for understanding.  Whether they have to fight or help each other in the end, they’ll do it as free agents, people who have both had to figure out a way to throw off the weight of the lineages trying to mold them into  a desired shape. The help of their respective friends and allies—and maybe even some of their enemies?—will, of course, be immeasurable with this.

Some ideas I want to incorporate (or have already so started) into one or the other of these timelines include:

I want the PLF to do better no matter what timeline we’re in.  Currently my idea is that in one timeline, they had a well-placed mole somewhere whom Hawks and the HPSC didn’t sniff out, so the PLF knows the raids are coming and have laid traps for the attacking Heroes.  This could still go haywire, of course, ‘cause Heroes are very good at what they do, but it definitely won’t be a total blowout as it was in canon.  Then in the other timeline, the PLF don’t see the attack coming, but are given more license to act like the organized, effective threat they were initially portrayed as—they have sentries and security cameras posted, so while they only get a minute or two’s warning, it’s still better than absolutely nothing, and the outcome is way more chaotic and fraught for both sides, such that the country ends up dotted with PLF holdouts in situations that are part-siege and part-extended hostage negotiation. That gives an opportunity to show at least a partial version of what a PLF takeover might look like in practice, though it remains compromised by the ongoing conflict.    

As part of treating the PLF better, both timelines will have characters revealed to have MLA ties.  As mentioned, MLA!Iida is for sure in one of them; my strongest concept for a second choice is Ochaco having to grapple with the government’s heavy-handedness getting her parents arrested when they barely know anything about what they got themselves into,[5] but really, it could be practically anyone, including parents or mentors.  All I require is that the kids have a reason, any reason, to care about the fates of the tens of thousands of people the government sent them out to mindlessly arrest. 5: This would be a scenario in which I just went with the makes-more-sense-as-canon-anyway idea that being a Hero is the only way to get a quirk-use license so Ochaco is pursuing Heroism because she can’t get permission to use her quirk to help with her parents’ construction business.  She doesn’t wind up MLA herself, but her parents—trying to be supportive but not thrilled that their daughter decided to pursue such a dangerous career for that reason—get handed some dodgy pamphlets, after Uraraka moves out to attend U.A., about a group trying to get the laws changed to be more in-step with the universality of quirks and the principles of bodily autonomy and economic self-determination.    

I think the time between the first war and the last confrontation should be longer, introducing more new characters and developing many characters BNHA showed only in passing.  I have ideas like new heroic types (students or pros) who are brought in from other parts of the country because they have useful quirks for the raids, a heteromorph ex-Hero student who bails on his school when he realizes that the people handling its shelter operations are turning away heteromorphs, someone who catches Nagant’s backstory confession on video and has to decide what to do with the bombshell about black ops extralegal Hero assassins, a support/protest group consisting of people who’ve become jaded about Heroes after things they see on the day of the initial attacks (people like Can’t-Ya-See-kun, the medical staff who tried to defend their beloved Doctor Garaki, people who lost family to the mass arrests and so on), people from branches of the government that aren't specifically associated with law enforcement, etc. Seriously, I want a story that acknowledges that there are people who could possibly be relevant and important to events that we haven’t already met circa the first war because something like The Total Collapse of Society will naturally stir up activity all across the country!  Maybe people who the 1-A kids have never met before could bring valuable input to the table!!  Gosh!!!    

Changes to the traitor plotline.  I mentioned Aoyama being outed circa the training camp for one; I’d like to run with Traitor!Hagakure in the other.  I’m thinking she goes missing during the first war and the students are worried sick about her because no one’s sure what even happened.  Did she run away?  Was she hurt?  Was she killed?  Would anyone even know, if she stayed invisible even as—as a—as a dead body, Bakugou is the only one willing to actually say out loud.  She is, of course, not dead, but the class won’t find that out for a while.    

Changes to how Hawks and Endeavor’s partnership plays out.  I want Endeavor to die during the first war in one story, allowing the rest of the family space to navigate that plot without him even as it pushes Hawks off the deep end, leading to him going rogue such that he gets what was in canon the Lady Nagant fight.[6]  In the other story, Endeavor survives but tries to make better decisions about how to handle Touya, leading his and Hawks’ stellar partnership into rough waters when it comes out that Hawks very much just wants Touya dead. 6: And freeing Lady N to show up elsewhere in some totally different capacity.  There may be ample evidence that her fight was originally intended to be for Hawks, and in that version of the story she probably never existed at all, but I love her potential far too much to erase her completely, even in a timeline that reverts her plot back to Hawks.    

Gran Torino living and having a change of heart about saving Shigaraki in Splintered Wills, but dying and becoming a loss Deku has to weigh against his desire to save Shigaraki in Creepy OFA.  More named and important losses in general, actually, and more time for the characters to react to those losses, be it with grief or with mounting rage.  Students who lose teachers and mentors, Heroes who lose peers and sidekicks, Shishikura losing his father, the League losing Twice, civilians who are allowed to be justly angry about their losses without being drawn like unreasonable screeching harpies for it, and so on.    

The Lady Nagant fight cuing up the way it did in canon only to abruptly end when Deku just straight-up agrees to go with her willingly because finding AFO and Shigaraki is what he wants, so why would he turn his nose up at the opportunity?  This leads to him getting a lot of exposure to Alternate Perspectives via Lady N’s history, Overhaul’s shattered state, and whatever’s going on with the League in this scenario before he eventually escapes or gets rescued with neither him nor AFO/Shigaraki able to make concrete progress on saving Shigaraki/stealing OFA.    

Playing more with All Might’s mental connection to OFA.  In Splintered Wills, Shigaraki gets his vestige, which means he loses the connection to Deku/OFA completely and instead starts having horrible nightmares of rage and death and Decay.  I’m still making up my mind about how things go in Creepy OFA, but I like the idea of All Might having his own mind back after 30+ years of being under OFA’s influence, and having a front row seat for what that influence is starting to do to the teenager he so unthinkingly gave that power to (or, more accurately, gave to that power?).    

Ditching the stupid mech suit in one timeline and letting Toshinori Yagi find ways to be relevant and meaningful without it; alternately, letting him keep the mech suit only to run it square into the rogue AI teeth of the lone free-willed survivor of the U.A. robot uprising, the R2D2-looking PLF advisor in Toga’s chain of command.    

Consequences for Deku’s fucking arms. He developed a kick-based fighting style; he can damn well use it. Also handle his problem with losing his temper by making him fuck up something that can’t get unfucked by having an ally nearby to save him from the consequences of flying off the handle.    

More, and different, interactions between Stain and All Might.  More extended ones, for a start; I want Stain to rescue a heavily injured All Might from the car attack and for them to then spend days together while Toshinori recuperates enough to be moved.    

Better material for Kurogiri and Gigantomachia.  And plenty of other Villains too, really, not just the PLF.  I’d like the Tartarus escapees to be human beings suffering a variety of ills from their extended solitary confinement; I’d like the Shie Hassaikai to make another appearance; I’d like Mustard to be relevant again. Et cetera.    

Let stuff like the quirk erase bullets and quirk singularity have more significant airtime.    

Spinarakiya.  AHEM. My willingness to be self-indulgent about ships I know good and well would never be canon has yet to be determined.

And that's some ideas! I have lots of others, but I don't want to completely turn this ask reply into a dumping ground for the many (many) ideas I have for that dyad of stories. If you read all of these, know that I appreciate you deeply. And thanks for the ask, @friedeggpajamas!

[graylinesspam]

One thing i need you to understand about Fives (the way I write him) is that he is fundamentally a middle child that wants to be a cool older brother so bad. This man is hungry for attention. He wants all the young men too look up to him as the rebel older brother. And he wants all of the older men to look at him as the kick ass ARC trooper. He needs to be everyones favorite brother or he starts taking mental damage from the stress of not being liked.

He is not nearly as cool or as rebellious as he thinks he is though. He's stuck in the middle generation of clones. Not a gen one but not young enough to understand what it was like to be a cadet on Kamino during the war. He doesn't get the new slang, and he's only just learned the old slang.

He remembers learning the old operating system just in time for it to be replaced, and he wore the old style of armor but barely got the chance to paint it before they made the switch.

In his drive to be so cool and so well liked and so looked up to, he will do some truly hilarious bullshit. He will make a fool of himself. And he will laugh it off. But he is not easy going at all. And one sure fire way to set him off is to be more of a rebel or a rule breaker than he is.

This man has spent his whole life having to listen to Echo explain the reg manual front to back. He knows what he can and cant get away with. And if you try some shit that's gonna have real consequences??? he is gonna be up your ass like swamp water. You pull some shit that might actually get somebody hurt? you will not be able to escape him.

He is the cool, ranks don't matter, The war is stupid, Sure i'll let you hit my smoke brother. He will cover your ass if whatever you did was funny enough. But if you make him actually have to be responsible, he's gonna make you suffer for it.

He is also arguably one of the most attached to Ahsoka. Like easily top three clones who are just unwell about her. Being her favorite vod is a very real priority for him. He is the "you want me to kill that guy for you. cuz i'd totally kill that guy for you." brother for her. Ahsoka is seeking approval from everyone other clone and Fives is on the sidelines with a pompom and a foam finger cheering her on. He ADORES her.

which puts him in a really awkward position when Ahsoka is the one actually doing stupid shit and getting herself in trouble because his brain buffers so hard trying to figure out how to respond. His whole program freezes and Echo is usually the one that steps in and pats Ahsoka on the back. And tells her to stop doing that shit.

Echo loves her too but he's a bit more of an actually chill chaos entity and isn't quite as overprotective.

If they were to catch Ahsoka like idk, Smoking, Fives would legitimately not be able to speak a whole sentence.

mans would be like "AHSOKA! You-...Those are-...That's not-....NO!"

meanwhile Echo *sigh*"C'mon 'soka, rule number one is don't get caught." *shakes head in dissapointment*

Cue Fives "NO!" but at Echo this time.

[call-me-liquid]

As someone both currently on adderall, with ADHD, is also Canadian, and is a former drug addict, I'm commenting to back up everything Crim is saying here.

I'll reiterate here also what I've said in other posts:

1. I'm on a larger dose of Adderall than most people because of my specific circumstances. I do experience more significant side effects because of that, and I do get adverse effects from not taking it regularly. Partially because of thr high dose, partially because I have (what I've heard to referred to as) "chronic dependence," and/or "reward deficiency syndrome." My brain can't like, process dopamine correctly. So, to an extent, the type of ADHD meds and the amount could potentially explain some of what she's experiencing.

--> SOME.<--

2. With that said, there is a distinct difference between being "high" on uppers and taking uppers as medically prescribed to treat symptoms of a mental health issue. To me, out of pure conjecture (but as someone who abused uppers, among other substances in the past) Lily is displaying behaviors of someone HIGH on uppers. For comparison, despite the high dose I'm on, I can, will and do on my days off, take my Adderall and fall right back asleep. It DOES NOT keep me awake, get me up, make me start bouncing off the walls, etc. It just keeps me from wanting to rip my own face off out of a desperate longing for sufficient mental stimulation so I can be functional.

3. In light of recent posts, what Lily may be doing is "saving" her pills up to take "during her work days," taking multiple doses in one sitting/throughout the day. Lily may be rendering the medication in a manner that bypasses the slow-release functions and taking it in a way not medically advised. Even prescribed a smaller dose, doing any of that would cause her much more severe come downs.

The one thing I will add though, again, based on my personal experience: is that, despite being a controlled substance, I think it's more likely Lily was """"legitimately"""" prescribed Adderall. Or at the very least, it's more likely that she got ahold of a fake prescription than it is for her to have gotten ahold of the drugs THEMSELVES illegitimately.

Chronic substance abuse of shit you're not supposed to have is WAY more expensive than people think it is, and it's just way easier to abuse meds you have some kind of "legitimate" access to. It's easier to casually steal someone else's prescription (if you have access to their living space) than it is to buy it from a plug. It's easier to go doctor shopping until you find one that will give you what you're after than buy from a plug. If the circumstance presents itself, it's easier to get your hands on a bogus prescription than it is to buy from a plug. Cheaper, more accessible.

It depends on the substance-- and like, if you bring prescriptions for the magic 3, or the triforce, or the holy trinity (whatever the local street name is in your area for that popular drug cocktail-- if you know you know. If you don't I'm not telling you) all at once to the same pharmacist you're going to get dinged-- but.

Let's just say, you would be surprised what kinds of stunts you can pull game the system-- controlled substance or no. I'm not going to get more specific, sorry. You're going to have to just trust me, and all be good beans and never do any of that shit yourself--

Heed my warnings, it is not fucking worth it.

My hypothesis is currently this:

Lily "struggling to get a pharmacist to fill her prescription because of the Adderall shortage" was her struggling to find a doctor WHO WOULD give her a prescription, because she was doctor shopping. She found one and either convinced them to give her a ridiculously high dose, or she is hoarding her pills to take in big doses to get high. She may not actually have ADHD, or she may be on the wrong type for her specific needs as a person with ADHD.

She indicated several times that she was specifically looking for Adderall, and use it for "benefits" that Adderall is NOT supposed to treat.

Who knows for sure, but that my ex-druggie opinion.

Now for some good ol' Fashion Crim Fact Checking.

As you may know, Lily/CD-Call and I have many things in common. We both live in Halifax Nova Scotia, we're both trans, we're the exact same age, and, it seems, we both have ADHD that we both started getting medicated for again earlier this year. Honestly the coincidences weird me out a little but if you've been paying attention you might know some things.

This is a weird post. I can think of one of two situations. 1: the dose is too high and she's crashing. 2: glasses effect. (People that start wearing glasses tend to notice their blurry vision more now that they know what it's like to see properly.)

Never in my life would I suspect this.

For one thing no ADHD medication should do that if you're taking it properly. IE, you take your scheduled dose, and it wears off within the next few hours, and you have at least 12 hours break from the chemical being active in your body. That's how these drugs are meant to be taken. Sometimes, patients will be prescribed in such a way that they only take their medication Monday through Friday and let their bodies rest on weekends. This tends to be the case for younger people, for people worried about things like heart conditions, and other considerations. You should only do this upon instruction of a Doctor or pharmacist. And obviously, skipping a day by accident won't cause negative side effects. You'll just be your regular unmedicated self.

That being said something isn't adding up here. To my knowledge an experience, since ADHD medications are a controlled substance, there is a mandatory meeting with your pharmacist once you pick up the prescription for the first time. I was on concerta several years ago, and got re-prescribed in January. They still made me do the meeting this time even though I've been on it before. They tell you how to take it, what side effects to expect, and make safety plans to avoid an eating disorder developing or potentially developing a heart condition. Doctors and Pharmacists don't fuck around with controlled substances.

But Lily apparently didn't have that *mandatory* talk. Suspicious.

Moreover, Lily had many complaints about how hard it was to get on Adderall. Because of shortages or whatever. for me, I went in to see my doctor and got my prescription filled the next day. Suspicious.

She has also been... Shall we say, high-strung, more so than usual, since she started taking them. She's spoken at length about abusing them to lose weight.

Here is my opinion/theory. None of this is fact, I am not making any accusations. Just giving my opinion based on what I've seen.

I don't think Lily's prescription is legitimate. I think she got them from somewhere under the table, which is why it was so difficult to get them and why she is so uneducated about them. She got them from a dealer illegally.

[icewindandboringhorror]

On average, what is the total MONTHLY amount that you spend on dining out*?

*(This doesn't only count going out to restaurants, but also stuff like picking up fast food to bring home, getting a coffee on the way to work, getting a premade sandwich from a grocery store deli during lunch, buying a quick snack from a convenience store or food cart whilst walking somewhere, ordering a pizza or any other food to be delivered to your home, etc.)

*(If you often dine out in groups/as a household: calculate and divide the costs so that you get a Per Person average. This is for YOU individually, NOT the total household/group costs)

(I'm sure polls similar to this have been made before (very common topic), I just haven't personally seen one that I can remember, so, I was curious to do my own! I was discussing this with a group of people today and it was very interesting to see how widely the number varied between individuals. :0c )

(Reblog for bigger sample size if you can, and feel free to explain your answer in tags if there's anything extra to add!)

[nientedal]

"but if we abolish prisons, what will we do with violent criminals? should we not lock them up so they can't hurt more people?"

questions for questions. one: are there are people who, given every support and every attempt to rehabilitate, every mitigation strategy, given resources and therapy and money and time, will still choose violence? i don't know. YOU don't know. but anything is possible, and i will freely admit i don't have the answer to that yet.

but also, two: yeah, what about them? because what i DO know, and what i need you to try to understand, is that prison already does not prevent violence. the threat of it doesn't deter violence to begin with-- look around you-- and it doesn't stop violence after the people deemed "too dangerous" are locked up. they simply commit violence against other prisoners instead.

so, the thing you're concerned about losing? the ability to prevent someone from committing violence? that's already not a thing. it is not happening. the thing you're worried about losing HAS NEVER EXISTED. "but how will we stop violent criminals from hurting people" is the first thing out of anyone's mouth in response to the idea of prison abolition, but we already don't have a solution to that! that is NOT SOLVED! you can't see the violence anymore, but it is still happening! at the hands of the guards, if not these "violent criminals" you're so worried about, so the problem of violence IS NOT SOLVED by locking people up, do you understand? no one is locked up to keep them from hurting people, they are locked up to ensure they can only hurt people whose pain has been deemed acceptable.

instead of saying, "we can't abolish prisons because violent criminals will hurt people," please ask yourself: is the current violence against disenfranchised, systemically vulnerable people so much more acceptable to you than violence against the public that you will advocate against helping people, instead of hurting them?