#I know my bio isn’t the most informative but would it kill you to click on the goddamn link and see who I don’t want to talk to

[soullessjack]

hey erm why do wincesties keep following me ..

[soulmate-game]

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Day 1: Meeting for the first time

Not my best work, but decent. I hope you enjoy!

—*—*—*—*—*

Mari was intelligent. That much could not be disputed— and despite her dislike for the sciences in general, she was fully capable of comprehending them when she wanted to. She just usually didn’t care enough to try. But genetics? That was kinda cool. So, when she was ten years old and they began their short unit on it, she was obsessed. And by obsessed, she dove in head first. Like, the fact that her eye color didn’t match either of her parents or grandparents. How could she have blue eyes when none of them did? She delved in deeper and deeper until she uncovered a truth her parents hadn’t wanted her to figure out quite so soon.

She was adopted.

Mari never told her parents about her discovery, the epiphany only managing to sate her curiosity. Who needed blood relation when her parents loved her like real ones anyway? But as the years passed and certain life changes came up, she couldn’t help but feel intrigued by the mystery of where her DNA came from. The heroism thing had to have some root in genetics, right? Okay, so maybe she was just looking for someone to be mad at besides Master Fu. But still, could she be blamed?

So, when Marinette was thirteen years old, she traced her DNA back to her biological parents. And for a while, that was it. She had once again sated her curiosity. She didn’t need anything else. Her mother was dead, and she doubted her biological father knew a thing about her. So Marinette forgot about her discovery, or at least let it sink into the recesses of her brain. And there it stayed, until she was eighteen.

—* — * — * — * — *

It had to be one of the most accidentally dramatic days possible. Top floor of Wayne Enterprises, in one of Bruce’s massive conference rooms with every member of his large family in attendance. Even Kori and Mar’i were there, and Jason’s boyfriend Roy. Everyone was getting fairly restless, considering that Bruce had only informed a few of them (Read: just Dick, who was vibrating in his seat and not soothing anyone’s nerves) about what they were even all called in for. In their civilian identities, no less. It was very odd. Damian, not least of all, was sitting beside Bruce with his jaw clenched but eyes scanning the room in curiosity. He had come a long way from the surly ten year old, and he hadn’t even killed anyone in four years. He had well and truly become a Bat, and with that progress came the lessening of his old temper and brattiness.

Make note: lessening. Not erasure.

It wasn’t long, maybe ten or fifteen minutes of Bruce checking his phone and grinning secretively without answering anyone’s questions, before a businesslike tap-tap-tap sounded on the door to the conference room. Immediately, everything went silent. Kori, Tim, and Jason stopped trying to get Dick to say anything intelligible and went instead to just keeping the man in his seat at all. Bruce let out a rare, soft chuckle before raising his coffee mug to his lips. He called out:

“Come on in, miss MDC. We’re ready for our meeting,” before taking a long sip.

And as soon as the door opened all the way, admitting a short woman of asian descent with navy black hair brushing the bottom of her shoulder blades and piercing (familiar. Too familiar) deep blue eyes, he promptly choked. Trying his damndest not to get coffee everywhere, Bruce devolved into a coughing fit even as his eyes continued to flitter up to the figure just admitted into the room. The woman pretended not to notice his suffering, closing the door behind her and walking forward towards the side of the rectangular-set-up ring of tables that was closest to her and also unoccupied. She plopped a heavy bag down onto the table, reaching in and pulling out a large red and white polka-dotted journal from within, along with a black pen. But despite her businesslike movements and her silence, nobody missed the way that her far too familiar stunningly blue eyes twinkled in suppressed mirth. She didn’t seem surprised at all.

That was the last time Bruce was ever gonna let Tim do someone’s background check on his own. He should have at least looked at the file Tim had made, but of course not. Tim was capable, he trusted the boy with half of their entire family’s company. One background check on one highly reputable designer? Of course he could trust Tim.

Except apparently not. This is what Bruce got for keeping secrets.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Bruce spoke once he got a handle of himself, pushing back his chair almost hurriedly and standing. Damian followed suit, laser focused on his father along with everyone else who knew just how out of character the older man was being just then. It was hard to fluster Bruce at all those days, let alone make him choke and hurry to stand. “I— Welcome to WE. I’m—“ Bruce was cut off by a soft chuckle.

“Bruce Wayne, my biological father and employer for the next few weeks. I know,” Marinette interrupted, sending a sly smile his way. “I had a feeling somebody didn’t actually tell you my name. I was planning on coming to Gotham later this year after I graduated Lycee and demanding to get to know you, but it looks like you did the hard work for me without even knowing. But,” her smile widened in good humor as she walked up closer to Bruce, holding her hand out for a shake. “I do have to say, now that I’ve seen you in person I feel a bit cheated. With how tall you are, you’d think I would have inherited at least a couple more inches.”

“Excuse me? Who do you think you are, claiming to be a Wayne?” Damian asked, tone sharp and his emerald eyes glaring straight towards her. Bruce just took Marinette’s hand, shaking it gently from surprise, but his foot gently kicked his son in the ankle.

“Damian,” Bruce said simply, the single name laced with warning as it came out of his mouth. He turned his attention back to the girl in front of him. “It is nice to finally meet you in person, Marinette. I admit, I did not know of our relation until a few years ago, and I wasn’t in the right mindset back then to welcome another child. Besides, I had it on good authority that your adoptive parents are more than wonderful to you.”

Marinette shrugged. “I don’t mind. I didn’t look into who my biological father was until I was thirteen, anyway. I don’t think things would have ended well if you had just shown up in Paris one day asking to be involved in my life. Enough of that though,” Marinette turned to the sixteen year old by Bruce’s side now stiffened and wide-mouthed. His entire expression, subdued as it was, still managed to clearly telegraph betrayal. And then those eyes locked on Marinettes, and the emerald simmered into something much more vile and acidic. Marinette was not perturbed, merely giving the younger boy a smile and holding out her hand for a shake.

“You must be my half-brother, Damian. I expected someone carved out of stone, with how the tabloids paint you as unfeeling and cold,” she joked. Damian glared harder. She raised an eyebrow. “You seem pretty heated and angry, like a hissing cat, to me. And by the way, I never claimed to be a Wayne. My last name is Dupain-Cheng, and I don’t plan on changing it anytime soon. Having the same blood relation as you does not mean I plan to throw away the name given to me by the ones who actually raised me. But, it does mean that I will get to know you one way or another. I’m not easy to get rid of, and I’ve always wanted a sibling or two.”

That was when the room couldn’t hold it any more; everyone bar the three in the center of the room burst out laughing. It wasn’t too raucous, confusion dampening the hysteria that usually would have taken over, but there was a good round of chuckles and laughter. When it settled down, Damian’s shoulders had slightly relaxed but he still hadn’t taken Marinette’s hand. Instead, he turned to his father again.

“Explain.” He demanded. Bruce sighed, his gaze connecting with Marinette’s own identical one. He searched her for any hesitation, but only got a flash of a bright smile in return. Bruce straightened his shoulders, clasping his hands behind his back and turning to face Damian and the rest of the room.

“I found out about Marinette shortly after Damian was… introduced to the family,” Bruce admitted, resisting the urge to glance at Marinette after the hedged mention of how he met Damian. “I decided to scour every resource I had to make sure I couldn’t be surprised by another biological child. And, lo and behold, I found out that I was right to do so. Her biological mother passed away in childbirth however, so she was adopted by a couple in Paris. I did not see any need to contact her at the time. A friend of mine did happen to be in Paris back then though, and hung around to make sure Marinette was being treated well before leaving again.”

“You sent a friend of yours to spy on me?” Marinette asked, but she just sounded thoroughly amused. “Geez. Now I know where I get it from. When I was thirteen, I had a bit of a bad habit of spying on my friends when I was worried instead of confronting them head on. It took a while to grow out of, and even now I can easily slip back into the habit if I’m not careful. But, as great as this reunion is, it isn’t what I’m being paid to be here for,” Her grin turned downright wicked as she snapped open her sketchbook and clicked her pen.

“I am MDC, the owner and CEO of the up and rising fashion label Spotted Designs, where every look will turn heads and ensure confidence. Monsieur Wayne,” her grin turned into a sly smirk when she said his name, which visibly made Bruce twitch. “Has hired me today to design all of you a new outfit for his gala in four months time, as well as a casual outfit of your own choosing should you want one. Before I get started, I would like to ask you to please sign your NDAs, which my assistant and best friend will bring in for you in a few minutes, before we conclude this meeting. I go by an alias for a reason, I value my privacy, and I would prefer it if word did not get out about my being MDC just yet. Being CEO of a business I started from scratch when I’m only eighteen right now will garner attention that I am not patient enough to deal with right now.”

The silence was near palpable until Jason huffed in amusement and remarked: “Yup. I can see the resemblance.”

“Resemblance?” Duke asked, leaning forward with an incredulous look on his face. “It’s like seeing a tiny, genderswapped, innocent copy of Damian. Is anyone else terrified right now?”

“Tt,” Damian tutted, letting a heavy breath out through his nose before shoving his hand forward. He didn’t look pleased, but neither did he look venomous or betrayed anymore. “Miss Dupain-Cheng. I am Damian Wayne, and I look forward to working with you.” He greeted as if the past few minutes hadn’t happened at all. Marinette beamed, letting out a short belt of delighted laughter before clasping his hand firmly with hers.

“My competence always wins people over,” she teased.

“Only if they don’t see you trip over empty air first,” a new voice joined in, lightly joining the teasing. It belonged to a tall, blond haired green eyed man that looked about the same age as Marinette herself. He came carrying a large two-foot stack of papers as easily as if he was only carrying one sheet. Closing the door behind him with his foot, he went around the large square of tables distributing NDAs to everyone who hadn’t already signed one. “Mari’s the clumsiest person I’ve ever seen, but I’ve also seen her hand sew a double sided ball gown with a layer of knife-resistant fabric in less than thirty hours and still threaten anyone to come near with a needle to the eye, so I’ve learned to just not take anything about her at face value anymore.”

“Oh shut up,” Marinette snapped back cheerfully, rolling her eyes. “This is my best friend, assistant, and business partner Adrien Agreste.”

“I deal with all the paperwork and spotlight that she doesn’t want to handle,” he agreed, nearly blinding everyone with his beaming smile. “Now. Please sign these NDAs, and you can experience Marinette’s skill firsthand.”

After papers were signed and Adrien left, Bruce tried to start another conversation with Marinette.

“So, when did you find out—“

“I’m going to start with taking all of your measurements, if you don’t mind. You first, Monsieur Wayne.”

Bruce blinked, not used to being interrupted. “Ah. We can do this tomorrow, I wasn’t expecting—“

“That’s not my fault, Monsieur Wayne. I came here knowing exactly who I was going to deal with, and you want me to make a quite frankly horrifying amount of clothing in a very short amount of time. Any designer lesser than me would be completely incapable of meeting your deadline. I plan on sticking to my schedule, which means that we are going to get everyone’s measurements and a baseline of the kind of designs you all want done today before the end of our scheduled appointment.”

“Marinette, I would really like to talk about—“

“Arms out. And take your suit jacket off, I can’t get an accurate measurement with it,” she once again interrupted, businesslike and efficient as she took her measuring tape and lined it up against various parts of his body, jotting down the results. She didn’t entertain any of his attempts at conversation in the meantime, instead using the dead time to grill Damian on what he wanted for his suit design.

And, like a partnership that never should have existed, Damian merely smirked and played along with her game. He answered her questions thoroughly but precisely, never allowing their father a chance to make actual conversation. Next thing the poor eldest Wayne knew, Marinette had already taken everyone’s measurements and almost an hour had passed. No less than ten pages of her notebook were already filled with neat lines of notes and numbers.

“You really take this whole thing seriously, don’t you?” Tim asked, in the middle of describing his ideal suit to Marinette. She hummed, grinning up at him mysteriously. As if she was in on a joke he hadn’t heard.

“Designing is my life, Monsieur Drake. This company is something I’ve been building from the ground up since I was thirteen, I’ve made my own clothes since I was ten. Of course I take it seriously. Now. I believe that is everything I need,” she stood up, asking a few last second questions as she gathered up her things. Seeing his chance, Brucie walked her to the door.

“Really, Marinette, I would like to talk to you more. Would you like to come to the Manor tonight, for dinner maybe?”

Marinette smirked, opening the door before Bruce could and turning her head to say over her shoulder: “Not tonight, but maybe tomorrow. Do me a favor though, and try not to get too injured on patrol. I need you all in good enough shape to stand while I do your initial fittings later this week. Gotham might need it’s vigilantes, but you will all regret it if you break a bone before I can fit my prototypes to you.”

Nobody was able to say a word before she closed the door behind her and continued briskly to the elevator. Bruce stood, dumbfounded. Tim, Jason, and Dick, after a moment, started cackling.

“Oh yeah. That’s Damian’s sister.”

“Tt. At least this proves it.”

Bruce, suddenly very exhausted, turned to his son while rubbing his forehead. “Proves what, Damian?”

His trademark razor sharp smirk overtook his face as Damian replied: “Your blood children really are much more competent and effective than the strays you took in.”

“Hey!”

—*—*—*—*—*

“You didn’t have a full conversation?” Adrien guessed, looking exactly like the cat who caught the canary. Marinette had her head in her hands, her entire face red.

“I didn't know how to have an actual conversation with them, Adrien! You should have seen it, Monsieur Wayne—“

“You can just say your father, you know.”

“—Wanted to talk about feelings. Emotions! Gooey, family stuff and probably sentimental things. In front of so many people, too. I panicked!”

“You panicked and went full Business Empress mode,” Adrien agreed, patting her back in both comfort and condescension. “It’s okay. You at least agreed to dinner tomorrow night.”

“Fuuuuuuuuuck, I diiiiiid. Quick, let’s come up with a way to fake my kidnapping.”

“No.”

“Damn.”

[softboywriting]

Sunflower | Nathan Bateman | Ex Machina

Summary: You’re the opposite of everything Nathan is, and he adores you. [fluff][female!readerxNathan] [Plus size/curvy Reader] [Mild NSFW themes] [Light love at first sight trope] 

Word Count: 1.8k

|Masterlist In Bio|

The day you walked into the living area of the facility Nathan knew you were going to change his life. From the sunshine yellow dress to the neon orange luggage, your soft round thighs in bumble bee striped tights and your round face beaming at him from behind a pair of round glasses. Everything about you was the opposite of everything he knew and loved. Nathan was a man of simple things, neutral and natural tones, quiet and practical. How had you managed to end up here? Well. To put it simply you were the top programmer in the Blue Book internship and Nathan had noticed your work almost immediately. He wanted to meet you. How better than to allow you a month long internship with himself?

The first week provided much information for him. You liked to talk. You liked to share. You liked to touch. Oh the first time you touched Nathan he just about went berserk. It was nothing inappropriate, just a simple arm touch. But Nathan had been so starved for human affection it just about short circuited his brain. Not to mention you're the most adorable, beautiful, dorky woman he's ever met. You're so very much the opposite of everything he ever thought he wanted. You're perfect.

"Good morning." You say as you walk into his lab on the dawn of the second week. You've made yourself comfortable, familiar with everything he does. "No sleep?"

"Few hours." Nathan looks up from his work table and raises his eyebrows. "That's a new dress."

"It is. I wasn't sure if I'd like it. I got it before I left and I thought maybe it was too short." You pull down the back a bit. It sits just above mid thigh but your butt makes it lift a bit higher. "I think it's okay?"

"Turn?"

You turn around slowly and Nathan hums. "It's too revealing isn't it?"

"No, I like it." He smirks and you flush hard. "Don't tell me you didn't wear that on purpose. I know you're not that shy."

"Of course I wore it on purpose, I picked it out."

"You know I meant for me." Nathan sets his work aside and circles the end of the table to stand before you.

You swallow hard and he looks at you over his glasses. "What? Stop staring at me."

He hums. "You're hard not to stare at in a bright red dress. I feel so distracted. How ever will I work?"

"Maybe get your head out of your ass?"

"Oh you know I like when you talk dirty." He teases and you shove his chest making him giggle. This is how it's been since day one. Nathan made sure of that. He said fuck the employee employer relationship and just be people. Just be two people hanging out and doing cool shit. It wasn't too hard. You and him have a lot of the same type of humor and thought processes. Teasing came naturally.

"What am I doing today? Coding something? Programming some wetware?"

Nathan looks over at his work table. "I've got something else to do. Let's take a day off."

"A day off? I'm an intern. I don't really get days off. I'm supposed to-"

"Yeah yeah." He raises his hand to cut you off. "I wanna watch a movie with you."

"That doesn't take all day."

"A few movies." He takes your hand and pulls you along to the hall. "I'll even make dinner later. Lunch first and some breakfast. Whatever. We'll snack or something."

"Is this a date? Nathan, are you asking me on a date?"

Nathan looks back sheepishly. "Maybe?"

"How long has it been since you went out with someone?"

"A while."

"I figured." You thread your fingers into his. "Usually people ask each other out on a date, not just say they're gonna go on one with them."

"Right." Nathan spins you around with your guidance and you giggle. "What are you doing?"

"Dunno, just wanted to see if you'd spin me."

"You're so strange." He pulls you in and your heart stops as you press against his chest. Suddenly you're nervous because surely he can feel your tummy against him. He's so fit and you're not nearly as such. "Would you mind if I ask you on a date?"

"You're sure?"

"I don't mince my words, you know that."

"I mean even though I'm not like...your AI?"

Nathan looks confused. "What?"

"You make them how you prefer women right? Skinny? Small chest?"

"Oh, oh I see." He lays his hand on your arm, thumb rubbing just under the sleeve of your dress. "Let me tell you a secret."

"Uh huh?"

"I make them like that not because it's what I prefer, but because it's easier to fit the synthetic skin on the body frames. Sure I could make the frames larger but I don't need to because they're just prototypes based on a standard human muscular and bone structure and I use them for parts when I decommission them. It's easier to reuse the same size parts over and over. My finished product will come in all sizes."

You nod. "So, you still wanna date me, or rather go on a date with me?"

"I'd like to do much more than that but one step at a time." He chuckles and pulls away from you. "We'll start with breakfast and a movie. Deal?"

"Deal."

___________________

Another week passes and you're not sure where along the lines you went from internship to relationship with Nathan. All you know is that in a week you're supposed to leave, return to your life in New York and right now you're laid out on his bed while he works at his computer a few feet away.

You shift, the soft sheets slide against your bare skin. It feels so good, warm and safe. Nathan even has the lights down low, the tint on the windows set to evening mode. It seems to be early morning, the sun just barely rising.

"You're up early."

Nathan turns and looks at you, stretching his legs out. He's got on a pair of shorts and that's all. "Good morning, Sunflower."

"Sunflower?" You giggle. "That's my new nickname?"

"Absolutely."

"I don't hate it."

"Good." He turns back to his computer. "Go back to sleep. It's too early for you."

You stretch and curl into his pillow. "Come back to bed with me. You look exhausted."

"I'm working."

"I'm cold."

He scoffs. "No you're not, the bed is heated."

You huff softly. "Nathan, I'm only here one more week. You shouldn't waste time."

That gets him to stop. He doesn't turn but just stares at the screen.

"What's wrong?"

Then he turns and crawls on the bed, lifting the blankets to get in with you. He doesn't stop until he's on top of you, holding himself up on his elbows, knees bracketing your hips.

You run a hand over his short buzzed hair. It's so soft. "Use your words Nathan."

"One week?"

"Mmhmm. I'm only supposed to be here until the fifteen of this month."

"Do you want to stay longer?"

"Do you want me to?"

Nathan drops his head to your shoulder, kissing down until he's mouthing at the soft flesh above your boob. "I definitely don't want you to leave yet. I'm not done exploring."

"So I'm an experiment now?" You giggle as he presses his nose between your boobs, pushing them up with his hands.

He hums. "Maybe. If I were doing an experiment in falling hard and fast for a woman who is my polar opposite."

"Are you serious?" You grab his face and pull him up to look at you. "Nathan, do you really like me that much?"

"It kills me how much I like you. I thought maybe it was just because I haven't been with anyone or even been around someone in a long time. Maybe that still is part of it, but I can't get enough of you. You're so sweet, and smart and cute."

You pull him close and kiss him softly. "Everyone told me you were a hardass, a real stuck up piece of shit. That I shouldn't take this internship, that your last intern went home in tears. So you must really really like me."

"Well that's not very nice." He ducks his head and kisses along your shoulder to bury his face into your boobs again. "I do really like you though. I like your soft skin, and your soft tummy." He pushes your boobs up, filling both hands. "And these tits. Fuck I love them." He latches on to your left nipple with his lips and you squirm. After a moment he releases you and crawls lower, kissing down your chest as his beard tickles your skin. "I like your bright clothes and your soft hands and your sweet pu-"

"Nathan!"

"Yes, Sunflower?" He looks up, kissing gently along your bare navel.

You push the blanket back to expose him to the cool room. "Promise me that you want me to stay."

"I promise." He moves back up and lays his cheek on your boob and rubs his beard against it. His weight against your body is warm, comforting as he settles into you. "I want you to stay with me and be a part of the greatest thing I've ever made. I want you to stay and make me think, make me question everything I thought I knew."

"You're such a softie."

"Just for you. Everyone else can fuck off."

"That sounds more like the Nathan I first met."

He grabs the blanket and pulls it back over his head before taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking hard. His beard tickles against your skin again and you squeal, squirming under his affection. "Did I mention I love these?" He mutters and you hum in response.

"Only every time you touch them."

"Can't let these babies go." Nathan changes to your other nipple and you arch up against him. "So responsive." He looks up from under the blankets and you take his glasses off, setting them on the pillows above your head. "You should be proud of these."

"They weren't my favorite until you got ahold of them honestly."

He clicks his tongue. "They're nothing short of perfect."

You shove his face and he laughs, resting his head against your chest once more. "You seem tired. Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Not much. Couldn't get my mind to settle down."

You rub over his soft short hairs, massing along his temple. "Then let's sleep together. You don't have to worry about me leaving in a week. We've got all the time in the world to build AI. Close your eyes and go to sleep."

Nathan nuzzles his face against you, sighing softly. "My soft Sunflower."

"Mmm all yours."

"All mine."

end 

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Header by delicate-venus

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you read or enjoyed and support content creators like myself - A

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

[ayuuria]

Yashahime Translation: Animage Magazine February 2021 Issue

Please do not repost this translation without my consent! This includes screenshots of any type and amount. If you wish to share this translation, simply link to this post.

For more information regarding the use of my translations, click here.

Regarding the Boy Whose True Colors Are Unknown

Riku, the mysterious person with a good smile and speaking words with profound meaning. He enshrouds not only Towa and the others of course, but also the viewers in smoke. Is he actually the Yashahime’s enemy? Ally?

The boy who proclaims to be “A pirate come ashore”, Riku. The figure of him showing a kind smile and talking quickly makes him seem like your typical nice guy at a glance. However, his speech has every bit of shadiness mixed in it.

The first sign was when he called the apple he received from Towa a “Forbidden fruit” (translator’s note: this was written in English). Most likely, he likened it to the story of the Adam and Eve written in the Old Testament; but why does he know about it when he lives in the Feudal Era? Also, the part where it seemed that Kyuuki of the Four Perils and Riku knew each other is of interest. Then above all, there is the dangerous statement he made to Shikabaneya Jyuubee, “I will take care of the Yashahimes, who hold three of the Rainbow Pearls, myself”. What exactly is the reason for him to go so far for the Rainbow Pearls…?

While leaving a strong discomfort, it seems that Riku will be on the move again in episode 14 after disappearing from the center stage for some time. What is the expression Riku shows before the evil mountain god, Homura, who’s heart has been stolen by a human girl? Even continuing into episode 15 which according to Riku’s voice actor, Fukuyama Jun, will be “A pretty big episode”. There is no mistake that Riku’s existence holds the key to the story of “Hanyō no Yashahime”. The strict prohibition on his words down to the details cannot be overlooked.

Character Bios

Riku The person who requested the subjugation of the Four Perils to the corpse shop. He is gathering the Rainbow Pearls and after Kyuuki’s death, he retrieved the purple Rainbow Pearl that she held.

Shikabaneya Jyuubee The owner of the “Corpse Shop” that deals in demon bounties. He lends money to Moroha and has her slay demons as repayment. He possesses the green Rainbow Pearl.

Takechiyo He can transform into a giant and fly the sky, so he runs around a lot as a means of transportation for Towa and the others. Miroku seems to be involved behind why Takechiyo works at the corpse shop.

Towa She has a kind personality, but she does lose her sense of reason when her little sister, Setsuna, is in danger. As she is a half-demon, she loses her demonic powers and turns into a human at the start of the lunar month (new moon).

Setsuna Normally, her “seething demonic blood” is sealed with Miroku’s Buddhist powers. In episode 13, the seal is released, and she repels Tōtetsu of the Four Perils. Unlike Towa, she does not turn into a human at the start of the lunar month.

Moroha A bounty hunter. Lately, she has been unable to retrieve the heads of the demons she defeats and collect bounties which has been the source of her worries. Just like Setsuna, she does not transform into a human at the start of the lunar month.

The Corpse Shop’s Big Client

Riku, who puts a large bounty on the Four Perils’ heads, is a “special client” to Jyuubee. To Riku, Jyuubee is someone who he told “I only kill those I love” and revealed part of his thoughts to. It appears that the green Rainbow Pearl that Jyuubee possesses also has something to do with Riku. We are curious about the two’s past!

Darling Yashahime…?

Riku and Towa met when a lost Riku asked her for directions. Then he introduced himself to Setsuna and Moroha after they fought Kyuuki. According to what Riku told Jyuubee, since he loves the Yashahimes, he is thinking of finishing them off himself. What is the reason…?

Hatred Towards the Four Perils

Riku’s prejudice against the Four Perils is to the point that he bluntly says “This is why I don’t like you” to the dying Kyuuki. He says the reason is because “(They are) unrefined”. On the other hand, Kyuuki knew Riku’s name and it appears that Riku and the Four Perils are acquainted with each other. Does he also have some sort of connection to Kirinmaru who controls the Four Perils?

The Evil God Who Loves a Human

In episode 14, Riku gets involved with Tamano, an extraordinarily beautiful human girl, and the evil god who loves her but has an excessively burning jealousy, Homura. A human and an evil god. When Riku sees a love that goes beyond race, he shows an expression different from what he’s shown Towa and Co, Jyuubee, and the Four Perils so don’t miss it.

Riku Knows Everything?! The Voice of Riku, Fukuyama Jun

Forbidden from revealing anything, even to his fellow voice actors?!  The young man full of mystery, Riku

— From the beginning, what sort of impression did you have of the work “Inuyasha”?

Fukuyama: It was a show that started around the time I started receiving roles in animation work as a voice actor. At the time, it was a long series by Takahashi Rumiko-sensei that came after “Ranma ½” so from the start, it was getting a lot of attention when it began serialization. There were even talks of an anime adaptation. I remember there was chatting among the young people like “Who exactly is going to do the voicing?” “It can’t be anyone other than Yamaguchi Kappei-san?”. The work continued for many years and many of my fellow voice actors took part. I myself did not make an appearance but I had the impression that it was a “far away but familiar work”.

— This time, did you audition for the role of Riku?

Fukuyama: I did not. It was a discussion that happened suddenly, but I received a direct inquiry. It was right about the time when my schedule was a mess because of the COVID crisis, and I remember the correspondence being like “Are you able to take part in the recording schedule?”. For roles without auditions, generally there are multiple candidates so it’s normal to wait a while until the decision is made. However, this time I got the role soon after I received the inquiry, so I was a little surprised. Then, about the same time, the production of “Hanyō no Yashahime” was announced. After that, I started looking for the work that it was based off, but it didn’t exist. I became doubly surprised like “Oh, this is an original work!?”

— Riku is a character with a lot mysteries, but exactly how much do you know about Riku’s back bone?

Fukuyama: The information is to a level that I can’t say anything at this time. They explained to me his position within the work and what would happen to him before hand at the recording studio. Using that as the standard, during the first recording, I had a feeling they told me detailed points. Riku can appear to be androgynous when he doesn’t say anything, but when he actually speaks, he addresses himself as “Oira”, purposely says expressions in a tone of voice that’s almost like a fool, and knows words that he shouldn’t know. The biggest impression I got from him was that he could be considered a major supporting character and I felt that moving in secret isn’t quite what his position is. On top of that, after finding out additional information that I can’t say yet, he’s a more important character than I thought. The staff have told me “Please don’t say anything about Riku to the other cast members.” “We want them to enjoy this too” (laughs)

— That is amazing! It seems Riku’s mystery has a connection to the core of the story.

Fukuyama: Please look forward to finding out (laughs). In the first place as of right now, not only do we not know what intentions Sesshōmaru had behind his actions, but it’ll be a little while longer before we know the full story of the drama that is being spun. To viewers, I think this aspect will make them excited, uncertain, and anxious.

By Being Outwardly Suspicious, His True Intensions Are Wrapped in Smoke

— In contrast to Riku’s Edo-like phrases, you somehow feel a sense of refinement from him. Do you take care in that aspect when playing him?

Fukuyama: When reading the script, I wanted to effectively capitalize on the foolish tone of voice. As I continued to act like that, I think I started leaning towards the feel of an Edo person. However, you can blend the “impression felt from the script” and the “impression created from the image” in animation, so as a result from matching up the length of the lines to the image of the story, that may have become the impression that TV viewers got. Now that recording has progressed, when I think back, I’m glad I didn’t stick with the impression I got from the first script. The expression he shows Towa and the others, the Four Perils, and to other people are subtly different from each other so if I had completely contrasted those, his character image would probably have either changed or become blurred. When I first started, I was glad the image kept me in check.

— So Riku’s character comes together from combining the voice acting and the image acting.

Fukuyama: Yes. In today’s recording (the day of the interview), different from the way he speaks to Towa and the others, he showed an expression that he hasn’t really shown until now. In terms of what’s being broadcasted soon, Riku’s way of speaking breaks the 4th wall in episode 15. He’s a person who shows a lot of different faces so until we reach the heart (of the story), I want him to remain a character that’s hard to grasp.

— In terms of acting, do you receive any instructions from the staff?

Fukuyama: I was given the following order “We want you to bring out more shadiness than what’s depicted”. In terms of Riku’s position, as a way for me to show the character, I moved in a way that made it difficult to figure out what he is as much as possible. If you can visually see that he’s up to something, I would make it not show with my words more than necessary. However, I also thought “There’s no point hiding that he’s obviously acting shady, so I actually want viewers to really understand that”. By doing that, his intentions instead become less obscure as result is what I’ve come to understand as I play him.

— He certainly seemed like a good person but also felt shady when he made his first appearance in episode 7. It was completely suspicious for him to call the apple a “Forbidden Fruit”.

Fukuyama: In beginning, I thought I wouldn’t show any suspiciousness in front of Towa. While the base of the character is the same, I didn’t want Towa to harbor any sort of suspicion. However, with that line, I was told “You can bring out his shadiness”. In order to wrap the story in smoke, I think they’re going to show everything in that way.

Riku Seems Like He Can Obtain Things That Modern People Cannot Have

— It seems that recording is done with only a few people, so who do you record with?

Fukuyama: It’s quite spread out. We record with people we interact with the most in that episode so the group changes with each time. The first time, I was with Hosoya (Yoshimasa) who plays the role of Kirinmaru and then after that I was with Koyama-san (Tsuyoshi) who plays the role of Shikabaneya Jyuubee. On top of that, there was a time when I was with members of “Inuyasha”… By the way, today I was with Fairouz Ai (the role of Takechiyo). This work is the first time that I’m co-acting with her but man she’s a lively young person (laughs). You can tell she’s really enjoying the work, so it makes things easier.

— Please tell us if you have any memorable moments in the recording studio.

Fukuyama: When I’m with the cast of “Hanyō no Yashahime”, I get the impression of “This is a new show”. Around the time when Riku debuted in episode 7, there was a nervousness like you’ve only just started running. However, when I was with the “Inuyasha” team, it felt like a class reunion. The air between Yukino Satsuki-san (the role of Higurashi Kagome) and Kappei-san (the role of Inuyasha) felt like they’ve been working together for a long time and I thought “Oh, so this is “Inuyasha”!” The “level” of difference between each of the recording (groups) is what I found interesting.

— Among the episodes that have already aired, which scene was especially memorable for you?

Fukuyama: The episode where Riku debuted left a big impression on me. His aura when he’s moving behind the scenes and his aura of “No no, he’s shady but he doesn’t seem to be two faced” when he met Towa. The difference in his behavior was fun to act out. Like when he spoiled that Kikujuumonji was something he stole right after giving it to Towa or when he suspended the river water, drank it, and said “Anyone can do it if you focus your mind”. For a first appearance he had a lot of information, so viewers were probably confused. Towa being Towa, she didn’t seem bothered at all and it’s like “At least be a little cautious!” (laughs). I think you will understand the back and forth (between them) better if you rewatch it after watching more (of the story). With the expression “Pirate come ashore”, you’d probably think “Then isn’t he a bandit?” but there’s probably a fixation to that. That expression is also important.

— Now then, what are the highlights going forward?

Fukuyama: In due time, I think you’ll understand that “Riku knew everything”. However, on one hand if he’s an enemy, it would be contradictory and if he’s an ally, there’s a lot of things off. You’ll end up coming back to “Then what’s his objective?”.  With that, I would like everyone to enjoy imagining what his position and future development will be. Among the latest upcoming episodes, episode 15 is a big one. While many mysteries will be revealed, instead of feeling refreshed, I think you’ll end up wondering what’s going to happen from there on. Once again, I feel it’s a very elaborate screen play. Also, in episode 17, Riku is going to move a little differently than he has up until now and in episode 18, Sesshōmaru and Kirinmaru will be making extensive appearances. I think this is going to be a very satisfying episode for “Inuyasha” fans so please look forward to it.

— We would love if you could comment on this month’s illustration (P. 37~)

Fukuyama: I see it’s an illustration of Takechiyo telling the reader “Your head’s too high!”. But in actuality I don’t think Takechiyo really knows who Riku is. I’m sure Takechiyo most likely sensed that he’s someone that you can’t reveal his actions to other people but in the end, Riku is a client. Riku’s immeasurable aura is properly expressed in this illustration. Boy does he have the nerve to show this attitude in front of people (laughs).

— Going forward, could you tell us an illustration scenario you would like to see?

Fukuyama: I’m sure “Inuyasha” fans will want to see “Sesshōmaru comforting a newborn Towa and Setsuna” right? Maybe Jaken getting his body pulled all over the place by the two babies is something that might appear in the main story. However, I have a feeling we won’t get to see Sesshōmaru protecting the kids. Thinking with Riku… How about something like Riku holding a PS5 (Play Station 5). Riku seems like he would have things that even we modern era people can’t get our hands on (laughs).

— (laughs) Now lastly, please give a message to our readers.

Fukuyama: I can’t say yet what sort of actions Riku will be taking from here on, but by the time all of you are reading this, I think you’ll have figured out his stance somewhat. I’ll be happy if you’re able to anticipate what’s to come while imagining it, but probably at this stage, I think what you can image so far will be different from the direction that the story is going (laughs). I will also be looking forward to what will happen to not only Riku but to Sesshōmaru and Kirinmaru as I attend recordings. It would be great if you can fully enjoy it until the end.

Q. Who’s Your Favorite Character?

“I like Homura who appears in episode 14. How do I say it, he feels like a person who’s true to his desires. The result that awaited him afterwards was impressionable. Also in episode 2, there’s the cameo appearance of the hoodlums from “Urusei Yatsura” that looked old fashioned, which was great. Then there’s Kagome’s younger brother, Souta! Though he knew about the existence of demons and time travel from his childhood days, it feels like he’s someone who has transcended (laughs)”

Q. What Is Your Impression of the Three Girls?

“I interacted with Towa in episode 7, but regarding Setsuna and Moroha, I heard their voices for the first time on air. I watched without gaining information beforehand, so I felt moved in a sort of refreshing way. The cast is either 12 years or younger than me, but I could feel the world of “Inuyasha” begin continued in their acting. They made me interested in “what will it feel like recording together with them?”. Including Fairouz-san, I’m happy that there are so many talented female voice actors.”

[mysterioh]

The Ignorant Beauty and The Beast of New York - Ch. 11

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

Synopsis: Y/N is an exhausted bio major. Steve is danger with a capital DANGER. She thinks he’s a sarcastic prick with an impressive knowledge in art history. He thinks she’s cute even if she’s only running on one brain cell. All he wants is a single date, but she’s adamant upon denying.

Masterlist

A/N: just a short filler chap.

Like Peanut Butter and Jelly

"So you're a mobster now?" Quentin interrogated like a cop. A very judgemental and somewhat betrayed cop.

You look up from your book. "No, where did you get something stupid like that from?"

"You just said you're friends with that jerk!" He spat for the whole library to hear.

"Would you stop shouting we're in a library," you hissed.

"He's a fucking criminal," Quentin jeered.

"Listen he isn't so bad," you explained. You weren't defending him. You were just being honest. "He's kinda nice. He beat the crap out of this guy for me."

"Now you're making him kill for you?" He asked incredulously,  "God, what's wrong with you?"

You rolled your eyes in aggravation. "I'm not doing anything like that!" You snapped.  "He just so happened to be at work and helped me."

"Uh-huh, yeah," the brunette scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping in his chair. "Ever thought he might've put that guy there to do that to you?"

"What are you talking about?" you squinted at him, leaning towards him and against the table, slightly peeved by his attitude.

"What if it was all planned?" Quentin suggested. "What if he did it so he could make you like him?"

You shook your head in denial. "He wouldn't do something like that. He's not that kinda guy." Okay, why am I sticking up for this guy?

"Oh and you know a lot about him for some reason," he taunted whilst shaking his hands back and forth.

You grumbled audibly, slamming your book shut. "If you're gonna be an asshole Quentin, I'll just leave."

His hands drop and so do his shoulders. The curve of his lips runs crooked and you can tell he feels sorry. It wasn't so hard to read him. He knew you inside and out, and you knew him outside and in.

"Sorry, I'm not trying to be," he sighed regretfully. "I'm just worried about you. This guy's bad news, Y/N," he warned.

"He's in the damn mob. Hell, he is the mob. He runs the entire New York crime syndicate for crying out loud!" He shakes his arms animatedly. "Extortion, racketeering, drugs, all the worst things you could possibly imagine probably has something to do with him," he drops his arms and you could see he's doesn't like any of this. "I just don't want you to get stuck in that kinda life."

You blush a tiny bit and sit back in your seat. You twirled a piece of hair around your finger, trying to avoid his eyes by looking at your book. "But he's never really talked to me about the mob stuff. Sometimes I think he doesn't even remember he's in the mob."

"That could be for now. You don't know the future. What if he does a total 180 when he's got you in real deep?" He asked.

"It's not like that." You replied. "We're just friends."

"Just friends?"

"Just friends," you stated firmly. "Besides weren't you the one who told me to make friends? To get out of my comfort zone?"

"Yeah, but I didn't tell you to get all smoochy-smoochy with a criminal," he counters.

"It was nothing like that!" you defended yourself. "You're such a jerk!" You crossed your arms and looked away with a pout.

He chuckled, finding your reaction really cute. "You sure there's nothing I can do to change your mind?" He asked one last time.

"No, there isn't," you shake your head, defiantly.

"You crushing on this guy or something?" He dropped.

A burning hue of red darkens your cheeks and your face tells more than words could ever say.

"Oh my god, you are!" He groaned loudly, almost teasingly, slightly obnoxious. He slapped his forehead with his hand and wove his fingers into his hair. He shook his head in disappointment. "Where did I go wrong?"

"S-shut up!" You stammered.  

"She's in love with a mobster," he repeated to himself as if he didn't believe it the first time.

"Shut your face before I do it for you." You leaned over the table, pushing it slightly towards him in an attempt to intimidate him.

He points at you while laughing. "Look at you!" He roared, loud enough to earn them a few glares from everyone else. "You're blushing like crazy!"

"N-no I'm not!" You refuted, cheeks burning brighter than ever. Why did you even tell him in the first place? Oh right, he's your best friend. Your very stupid friend who laughed at the dumbest things. You kicked him from underneath the table. He winces in pain but doesn't dare stop laughing.

"Ow, you tryna kill me, mob woman?" He asked between fits of laughter.

"I hate you."

"Mrs. Y/N Rogers," he hums while thinking, "has a nice ring to it."

A vein in your forehead snaps and the next thing Quentin knows, he's kissing a really heavy textbook, and wondering what his post-mortem was going to look like.

Quentin Beck. Male. 22. A whole idiot.

Cause of death: Bludgeoned to death with a Campbell Biology textbook. (She thick as fuck).

"So I take it things went well?" Bucky asked with a smirk, sitting across Steve in his office.

"Better than well." Steve beamed. "Amazing. Fantastic. Superb. Had the best damn time of life," he exclaimed.

Sam rolled his eyes. "All she did was kiss you on the cheek," he deadpanned.

"It's a step in the right direction," he stated positively. No bad vibes in his neighborhood. "This is monumental. We're really going somewhere. I could see it in her eyes. They were sparkling. I mean they always do but like more than usual."

"Y'think she even wants anything to do with the mob?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, but I sure as hell won't stop now," he countered.

The days following his lovely talk with you by the bus stop only consisted of daydreams and giggles, scene by scene replays of his favorite parts. The way your eyes shined under a starless sky. The feel of your lips on his skin. The feel of your lips on his skin.

Though it was short and quick, you kissed him. That had to mean something right? Something really good? There's a lot he still needs to know about you. But from what he did know, he knew you wouldn't just kiss any guy. You're a tough shell to crack and it might take time for him to chisel through the stony layers surrounding your heart, but he was getting somewhere.

Steve wasn't complaining. He was excited and determined. If this is what it felt like with just a meager kiss, then how would it feel to hold your hand? To share those cozy moments you said you liked so much? To be the only one you'd share your warmest smiles and most passionate kisses with?

The thought of that alone had Steve riled up like a shaken soda can. Fizzling inside and ready to burst the minute someone popped him open. God, if only you knew what you did to him.

"She's a bit of a firecracker. I think she'd make a nice addition to the family." Sam smirked, knowing full well he was striking a chord in the man's heart.

Steve lets out a breathy chuckle. Shaking his head lightly, he thinks about it just for a second. "Yeah, she's great."

"Now to more serious matters," Bucky interjected, reminding them why they were in the first place. He pushes a file in front of him. Steve opens it to find a picture of a man along with some papers. "Guy by the name of Rumlow wants to talk to you."

Steve raised a brow while looking through. "Who's he?"

"They call him Bullseye. He never misses a shot. He's also a bigtime narcotics man," Sam replied, "Gotta big field all the way in Morocco."

"Says he wants to expand the business," Bucky continued. "He's working with the Lucchese family, Helped him buy a warehouse and fronts to get set up."

"We've already got guys like him," Steve dropped the folder back onto the desk.

"Yeah, but this guy's different." Bucky pointed out. "This stuff that he's got is top of the market. And if we don't get in on this action it's gonna be a major loss." He stated. "Maybe not now or tomorrow but in the next ten years. I mean who knows?"

Steve frowns slightly while scratching the side of his neck. "I don't know. I don't trust him," he said doubtfully."Sam?"

Sam shrugs. "It's all on you big man."

Steve huffs. "Fine, I wanna meeting with this guy," he gets up and pulls his jacket off his chair. "Sometime tomorrow. And before that, I want every piece of information you can get on him on my desk in the morning. Send Clint and Scott."

Steve put his coat on and slipped his phone in his pocket.

Bucky raised a brow. "Where ya going?"

"Out," he replied curtly, heading for the door. He opens the door and they already know where he's going. Steve pops his head back in. "Oh and tell 'em to take the kid with 'em. I don't pay him to sit around all day," he reminded them. "Teach the kid some ropes and make sure he doesn't get shot in the head for saying something stupid, alright?"

"He's a pain in the ass," Bucky deadpanned.

"Never said he wasn't," Steve retorted. "But I don't need his auntie on my bad side. So do me a favor and deal with it," he stated firmly.

"Easy for you to say," Sam jabbed. "You're not the one who's stuck listening to him yapping about Star Wars or some crap. Kid's a nerd," he grumbles.

Steve chuckles while leaving. "Leave him alone. He's a good kid," he contended. "Anyways, I'm off."

"Why are you here?" You deadpanned.

"You don't seem very happy to see me," Steve said, sitting on one of the barstools lining the granite counter with a mischievous grin splayed on his face.

"That's because I'm not," you said flatly, wiping down the counter.

"Ouch, that hurt me right here," he winced while clutching his heart.

"That was my intention," you remarked, unable to stop the smile creeping onto your face.

Steve notices it. He obviously did. Nothing ever went past those pretty blue eyes. He leans over the counter with his arms crossed on top.

"Doesn't seem like it," he teases.

You click your tongue and push his face out of yours. He chuckles and you couldn't help but let go of a chuckle or two.

"You're an idiot, Rogers," you remarked.

Steve props the side of his face with his hand, watching the way you move around the place, frolicking from one spot to another. He watched you like you had the stars in your hands and hung them up in the sky. Even in a dull all-black uniform and hair twisted in a loose bun with a few strands running rampant, there's a glow to you that has him warm on the inside. Your face was bare, only marked with an acne scar here and there and dark circles underneath your eyes due to a lack of sleep and yet, he thinks you're the prettiest thing in the world.

"What?" You asked puzzled and slightly embarrassed.

"Nothing," he smiled, a tint of pink spreading on his cheeks.

"Don't you have anything to do?" You asked. "Or is the mob all talk and no work?"

"I finished early," Steve replied with a chuckle. "So I thought I'd meet my favorite waitress."

"Oh, I'm so honored," you replied sarcastically earning a roll of the eyes from him. You leaned over the counter in front of him with a smirk. "And what have I done to earn a visit from the high and mighty kingpin?"

"Stole my heart," he murmurs.

"What?" You asked standing straight. I didn't hear that. Let's pretend I didn't hear that.

"N-nothing," he quickly replied.

You shake it off as a trick of the mind. "Well if you're here we might as well do something," you dug your hand into your pocket.

"Good idea!" He exclaimed.

"Here," you slammed a stack of cards with a rubber band twisted a few times around.

He furrowed his brows. "What the heck is this?"

"My flashcards. You're gonna help me study," you stated calmly.

Steve groans. "I thought we'd do something more heartfelt to get to know each other more."

"There's the door if you wanna leave," you deadpanned.

"Fine," Steve huffs. "Gimme that." He snatches the cards from you.

Slipping off the rubber band, he flips through the cards and picks a random one.

"Alright," he reads the flashcard. First, he squints then opens them wide in confusion. "I don't understand what this says. It's not even in English."

"Lemme see that," you took it from him.

"It says deoxyribonucleic acid."

"What the fuck is that?" He questioned, his nose scrunched in disgust.

"Its DNA, stupid head," you retorted, slightly annoyed.

"Then why didn't you just write that?"

"Cause I wanna practice spelling it, moron, and cut the sass before I end up kicking your ass to next Tuesday."

Steve smiled, feeling a streak of mischief. "Damn, sweetheart, you sound so pretty when you talk like that. Keep going." He cooed.

Your cheeks burn read. "D-don't say things like that! You're such a weirdo!" You stammered with an angry pout.  

"Oh, my heart!" He exclaimed while clutching his chest. "You're making me see stars!”

"Shut up, you idiot!"

"Why don't you make me with those pretty lips of yours?" Unable to say anything you yank on his ear hard and he yelps. "Ouch, that hurts!"

"Fucking good!" You shouted still pulling on him.

Wanda watched from the small window of the kitchen with a smile. "They make a good match, don’t they?" She asked May. May chuckles while watching you pour out your rage on the poor mob man.

"Like peanut butter and jelly."

A/N: School starts next week for me so updates will get slow. 

TAG LIST:  @ashwarren32​ @rootcrop​ @siriusement​ @savedbystark​ @little-dark-empress​ @great-goddess-of-sin​  @boxofteenageideas​   @imsonick​  @scuzmunkie​ @achishisha​ @calwitch​​ @chuckennuggets1213​​ @captainchrisstan​ @thirstybunz​ @voltage-my2dlove​

[demi-shoggoth]

COVID-19 Reading Log pt. 11

56. Plants that Kill by Elizabeth A. Daucey and Sonny Larson. This book is about the chemistry and social history of poisonous plants, with full color photography. It starts with first principles, in that the first two chapters summarize plant biology, organ systems and the theory of evolution. Maybe you’d want to skim these if you have biology training, but they do contain some good information about chemical structures, endosymbiotic interactions between plants and fungi, and sequestration of plant compounds by their insect predators. Then we’re off to the races with the plants, which are organized by the modes of action of their toxins. This gets a little messy, since many plant poisons have wide acting effects, but it’s a loose organization and the book is well indexed. Even though I’ve read several books about poisonous plants before (including for this project!), I learned a lot from this book. Recommended.

57. Meerkats by Grant M. McIlrath, the Meerkat Man. The fact that the author credits himself as “the Meerkat Man” on the cover of the book tells you a lot of what you need to know. The book is a weird mixture of thorough and skimming over some important information. Part of that seems to be that the author is so embroiled in South African culture that he can’t imagine that his readers aren’t (are yellow mongooses seen as pests in South Africa? I’m inferring this from the book, but he never comes out and says it). Part of it is that the author loves meerkats to a possibly unhealthy extent, and valorizes and anthropomorphizes them shamelessly. He skirts around inter-clan warfare and intra-clan infanticide, as well as minimizing the conflicts between breeding females much more than is seemly. There’s also meerkat poetry in the book. The photographs are nice, but there are only so many different pictures of a bunch of meerkats sitting in a pile you need before they start to get repetitive.

58. The Geometry of Pasta by Caz Hildebrand and Jacob Kenedy. This is an object lesson in literally judging a book by its cover. I picked this up at a clearance sale that was literally “one bag of books = 10 dollars), and it was sealed and had a display cover on it, so I got nothing but a title and some graphic design. I figured, oh hey, a book about the history of pasta, and threw it into the bag. There is some history of pasta here, but it’s mostly a cookbook. If I had to sum it up in one word, I’d say “bougie”. Nigella Lawson seems to think the author is “stylish, knowledgeable and witty” (so says the back cover). I got more “pretentious, condescending and snide”. Quite a few of the recipes include split-second timing, equipment and ingredients out of the reach of most home chefs. The graphic design is pleasant, but that’s about it (and the “graphic designer” who gets cover billing isn’t actually the person who drew the pasta, merely arranged other people’s art).

59. Spiders of the World, edited by Norman L. Platnick. This is a survey of the spiders of the world, just like it says on the cover. The book is arranged loosely taxonomically, but as the authors state, they’re using the most widely used classification system rather than the newest, because family level taxonomy changes so rapidly in arachnology (several revisions had been made during the writing and editing processs). Lots of obscure groups are covered here that I’d never heard of, and the photography is generally gorgeous. We of course end with the jumping spiders in the Salticidae, the rockstars of the spider world—the family gets three full page spreads. I honestly wish that there were more books like this for other groups of animals and plants. This might be my favorite book of the reading log project so far.

60. Welsh Monsters and Mythical Beasts by CCJ Ellis. I backed this project on Kickstarter, and the book just arrived in the mail a few days ago. This is a small art book of Welsh folklore, with gorgeous illustrations, some in color and some in black and white. Some of the entries include folktales about the creature in question, and a few (like the pwka and gwiber, contain fun faux natural history details. The author and artist is an independent scholar, and her bio in the back states that she’s received a grant to do a similar project on Chinese mythical beasts. A similar book on the Guideways through Mountains and Seas would be incredible. This book is something in publishing limbo at the moment—Kickstarter backers have their copies, but a wide printing of the book won’t be available for several months yet. Keep an eye out for it if you’re interested in monsters and folklore. If you’d like a preview of some of the illustrations, click here.

[emperorsfoot]

OC Spotlight: Lord Hode

I got a lot of positive feedback about my OC Hode from my fic series for She-Ra, “A Song of Steel and Light”. So, guess who’s featuring in my next OC Spotlight! 

This post contains spoilers for the fic. If you do not want spoilers, stop reading and scroll past now. 

Hode is one of the clones of Horde Prime, the same as Hordak. He is from an older generation than Hordak and, at the time that the main plot of the series takes place, he is dead. His character arc is told through flashbacks. 

Click the “Keep Reading” for a complete bio. 

When Hode was a fresh new clone, his name was not ‘Hode’. In my AU, only Prime’s generals are allowed to have names and at the time, he was just a soldier with just a serial number. 

66634-19-086

And he was assigned to the garrison occupying the planet Eternia. 

He was a competent soldier and became promoted to sub-Commander fairly quickly. Around that time, Eternia had an active rebel faction that was trying to combat and push out the Horde. Their leader of King Hiss and was at the top of the Eternian Horde’s ‘Most Wanted’ list. 

Zero-Eight-Six managed to deduce the location of King Hiss’ base -it was Snake Mountain- and he snuck in to assassinate the rebel leader. Zero-Eight-Six and a small contingent of soldiers managed to fight through Hiss’ Snake Men, allowing Zero-Eight-Six to get to the throne room where Hiss was. 

But someone else got there first. 

Zero-Eight-Six arrived just in the to watch an different Eternian -a Gar, a member of the blue skinned race- kill King Hiss instead. 

It was this Gar: 

Only younger than he appears in that picture. There are no young pictures of this character from the MotU franchise. 

Zero-Eight-Six is so confused. Weren't they all Eternian natives? Why would the Gar kill one of his own. (Spoiler: He had personal reasons, but this isn’t his bio, it’s Hyde’s.) When Zero-Eight-Six asks this, the Gar gives him this really maniacal grin, takes one of Zero-Eight-Six’s weapons and impales the already dead body with it. 

“I didn’t kill him. You did.” Says the unnamed Gar. “Congratulations, clone, you just killed Eternia’s Most Wanted.” 

He leaves. 

Zero-Eight-Six is left just standing there, blinking. Equal parts confused and impressed. His soldiers come in and see their sub-Commander standing over the rebel leader’s dead body with his weapon in it and they assume he was the one who killed him. There’s a round of congratulations and they go back to the capital victorious. 

The cabinet Lord who was overseeing the solar system at the time was so impressed that he promotes Zero-Eight-Six to Territory Captain. Zero-Eight-Six is not the highest ranking Horde officer on Eternia. He basically rules the planet now. 

Some time passes. Not much. Like, a year. Maybe two. 

A new rebel picks up where Hiss left off. King Miro this time. Calling himself the “rightful ruler of Eternia”. He has a stronger following than King Hiss did. Hiss was only supported by members of his own race, the Snake Men, while Miro has support among all the peoples and tribes of Eternia. He is a much, much bigger problem. Zero-Eight-Six is always stressed. He tired and over-worked. He tries deducing where King Miro could be hiding like he did with Hiss, but every place his soldiers raid, there are signs that rebels had been there, but no solid arrests. 

Until, one night, that same Gar from Snake Mountain appears inside the palace in Eternos -where the Horde set up their seat of control. Zero-Eight-Six has no idea how he got it (spoiler, it was secret passes, he used to live there). He is flustered, and angry, and bordering on hysterical. This isn’t like when they crossed paths at Snake Mountain, then the Gar had been calm, and cool-headed, almost icy and cruel. Here he was hot-headed and flustered. Cheeks flushed (a different shade of blue) and eyes puffy as if he’d been crying. 

The Gar glares up at him and growls darkly. “I can give you Miro.”

So, Zero-Eight-Six captured Miro. Alive at first. Then executes him. 

The Gar watches the execution with mixed and conflicting feelings. Afterwards, Zero-Eight-Six confronts his Gar informant for an explanation. 

The Gar explains that he is actually Prince Keldor, the eldest son of King Miro, the dude Zero-Eight-Six just executed. Keldor always assumed he was going to succeed his father as heir, but Miro decided to pass Keldor up for his younger brother, Randor. Keldor goes on to explain that Miro’s organization was much more organized than King Hiss and he might have killed Miro, but his lieutenants -and his heir- are still free and able to fight the Horde. Zero-Eight-Six  would need his help if he really wanted to put an end to any unrest on Eternia, once and for all. 

So, they became allies. 

Over the course of their alliance, Keldor helps Zero-Eight-Six become more familiar with Eternian culture and how Eternians think. All the different languages of the different peoples and tribes (most of which are not languages clones are programmed with). Keldor also teaches Zero-Eight-Six to READ the Eternian written language. Clone are programmed with the spoken language so there is no verbal language barrier between them, but clones cannot read the sigils of their writing. Reading Eternian writings, he learns about modern Eternian, middle-Eternian, and olde Eternian. (This becomes important later as his name, Hode, is derived from olde Eternian.)

Impressed with all his successes on Eternia, Horde Prime promotes Zero-Eight-Six to his cabinet. 

Zero-Eight-Six leaves Eternia. 

The night before he leaves, he tells Keldor that he’s being promoted and that its been fun but he’s got to go. 

Keldor tells him that he could still be useful. In such a short time, he went from sub-Commander, to Territory Cabinet, to the Emperor’s own ruling cabinet. Why stop there? Why not make a grab for the throne? Keldor could help. He’d been playing court intrigue and “game of thrones” (ha ha) his whole life. 

Zero-Eight-Six refuses at first. No one can replace Horde Prime. He’s not just their Big Brother. He’s their god!

Zero-Eight-Six leaves Eternia. 

Some time passes. 

Some sort of cathartic epiphany happens but this author hasn’t exactly decided what yet. 

In a moment of role reversal, Zero-Eight-Six comes to Keldor on Eternia. Flustered, breathing hard, the color high in his cheeks, second set of eyelids blinking frantically. He tells Keldor that he was right. Prime isn’t a god. They can supplant him. 

If they word together. 

That’s when he tells Keldor the name he chose for himself as a cabinet Lord. Its an olde Eternian word. 

Hode. 

Which means ‘to hide’ or ‘to conceal’. 

Hode puts Keldor in touch with other rebel faction across the known universe. Helps then get organized. Makes then stronger and a more significant threat. Chipping away at the Horde Empire from the outside. 

While Hode slowly takes out the other members of Horde Prime’s ruling cabinet and replacing them is people he knows he can manipulate, weakening Prime’s power base form the inside. 

Its a slow process. They went in for the long con. 

They meet occasionally in person. To give each other updates or information too sensitive to be sent over transmission. 

Over the years they grow closer. From allies to friends. 

As their plan becomes more and more complicated and they grow closer and closer to their goal, they have to meet more and more often. One time, during one of their rendezvous, one of them kisses the other. I haven’t decided which one yet. 

Then, BOOM, from friends to lovers! 

Suddenly they’re not meeting just to share the plan anymore. Now they’re meeting because they miss each other and wanna see each other. 

Keldor tells Hode about the original King Grayskull, the two swords, and teaches him the “Song of Steel and Light”. 

Since Hode had been consistently manipulating things to make the rest of the cabinet look incompetent, or framing some of them as traitors, Horde Prime comes to rely on Hode more and more and Prime eventually allows Hode into his Inner Sanctum. There, Hode sees a sword hanging on the wall and it looks exactly like the picture that Keldor showed him of the legendary swords. Hode plays it cool in front of Prime, but the moment he is able to get away, he goes straight to Keldor and tells him that Horde Prime has one of his legendary swords. 

Suddenly, their carefully laid plan goes out the window. 

Fuck the long con! Let’s get that sword! 

Keldor convinces Hode to sneak him onto the Velvet Glove and break into Prime’s Sanctum to steal the Sword. 

They do. 

They are inside Prime’s Sanctum. 

Keldor is holding the Sword in his hands. 

For one brief moment, it feels like they’re already won. Everything’s right with the universe and they’re victorious! 

Keldor raises the sword above his head and speaks the words:

“By the Power of Grayskull!”

But nothing happens. 

Keldor looks so betrayed and confused. 

But they don’t have time to ponder it, as Prime and a whole bunch of guards burst in. 

Hode grabs Keldor to get him off the Velvet Glove ASAP. Keldor drops the sword, but Hode won’t stop so Keldor can pick it up. Hode practically carries Keldor to the escape pods and shoves him in. But he can’t escape with him because Prime’s solders grab him and pull him away. Hode kicks the release button to launch Keldor’s escape pod as he’s being dragged away so that at least Keldor can live. 

Hode it thrown down in front of Prime. 

They exchange some words. 

Then Prime cuts his head off with the Sword of Power. 

Hode dies. 

((Meanwhile, Keldor’s pod enters the atmosphere of “Horde World” Capital Core, which has a highly acidic atmosphere. Trying to get back to Hode, Keldor damages his pod and a tiny bit of the highly corrosive atmosphere sprays through a breach in the air-seal. It melts Keldor’s face off and- well, if you look up Keldor on the Grayskull wiki, you’ll know what happens to him.))

[teakwoods-ghost]

Blooming Pain

Ships: Jackson x Jinyoung

Genre: Hanahaki disease, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Word Count: 1.4K

Status: Chapter 7 of ?

Warnings: Mentions of blood, Mentions of violence

Chapter Excerpt:  Jinyoung slowly stood up. Once he was eye level with Jackson he wrapped his arms around the other man. The hug was gentle at first. Jackson couldn’t really feel Jinyoung hugging him. But soon it had fully hit him. This was his Lee Ahn. This was the prince that haunted his dreams almost every night. This was the man he had been pining over for the last two hundred and seventy six years. And now that man was holding him. When the information finally sank in Jackson returned the hug tenfold. He squeezed the other man, sobbing into his shoulder. Jinyoung, despite being a little fearful that Jackson was going to break him in half, returned the hug. He whispered soothing words into Jackson’s ear. He rubbed comforting circles into the man’s back, letting him cry it out.

Link to full Masterlist in bio

“You know me?” Jackson said as he looked at the elderly woman just standing at the edge of the door frame. Jinyoung’s grandmother nodded.

“He isn’t lying. He really is Lee Ahn. You can even test him. Ask him any question that only Lee Ahn would know and you’ll see.”

Jackson didn’t trust the woman one bit. But he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. What did he have to lose anyway? He thought for a few minutes about everything he had ever told Lee Ahn. After fighting with himself over which question to ask he settled on one only the real Lee Ahn would know.

“The night that you were killed, what were the last words I said to you before you ran into the maze?” Jackson asked, confident that Jinyoung wouldn’t know.

Jinyoung blinked a few times, trying to recall what Jackson had said that terrible night. That night that his mind had forced him to forget for years. And then he remembered.

“Before I ran off into the maze you said, ‘I know you don’t understand, but I would become a monster one hundred times. I would lose my mortality a thousand times. I would do anything it takes to become one of the royal guards.’ I didn’t want to hear the rest of what you had to say, so I ran into the maze in the garden. And that was when I was attacked.”

Jackson turned pale as a ghost. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. There was no way. Jinyoung was spot on. Every word he said was true. 

“Lee Ahn?”

Jinyoung smiled widely.

“Yes Jia Er. It’s really me.” 

Jinyoung slowly stood up. Once he was eye level with Jackson he wrapped his arms around the other man. The hug was gentle at first. Jackson couldn’t really feel Jinyoung hugging him. But soon it had fully hit him. This was his Lee Ahn. This was the prince that haunted his dreams almost every night. This was the man he had been pining over for the last two hundred and seventy six years. And now that man was holding him. When the information finally sank in Jackson returned the hug tenfold. He squeezed the other man, sobbing into his shoulder. Jinyoung, despite being a little fearful that Jackson was going to break him in half, returned the hug. He whispered soothing words into Jackson’s ear. He rubbed comforting circles into the man’s back, letting him cry it out. 

When Jackson had stopped crying he refused to let go of Jinyoung. It was almost like he was afraid Jinyoung was going to fly away from him. That didn’t stop him from asking the new question that was plaguing him. 

“How?”

Jinyoung’s grandmother looked confused. 

“How what my dear boy?”

“How is Jinyoung alive? I saw him get murdered right in front of me. I even felt for a pulse! And you! How are you alive? If you’re really Jinyoung’s grandmother how are you alive?”

Jinyoung’s grandmother sighed. “You might want to sit down for this one. It’s a little difficult to explain.”

Jackson sat on the inflatable mattress, and he settled Jinyoung on his lap. 

Jinyoung’s grandmother sat on the other mattress, ready to tell the story of her ancestors.

“You see Jackson, my grandfather was a general in a terrible war. He was one of the cruelest generals from what I had heard growing up. He was heartless, destroying villages he deemed to be the enemy. Some of those villages were filled with innocent people, but that never stopped him. One day during the war he was stopped by a woman in the woods. The woman warned him not to destroy the village he was heading towards. He was asked to show mercy to the little village, which was filled with healers. My grandfather didn’t listen to her. In fact, he burned the entire village to the ground.”

Jinyoung’s grandmother looked sad, as if she had some sort of hand in what her grandfather did. Jackson placed a hand on her knee to try and comfort her. It seemed to work since she took a deep breath and continued her story.

“The woman from the woods turned out to be a witch. The village seemed to mean a lot to her. So when my grandfather did what he did she cursed him.”

Jinyoung’s grandmother scoffed.

“Of all the things she could have cursed him and his bloodline with, she chose immortality. She took away the one thing he wanted the most, to die with honor. He was forced to watch everyone he ever loved die. He had to bury his wife, and most of his offspring. Every battle he had to watch his men get slaughtered in front of him. Eventually he gave up living. He spent the rest of his days laying in bed, regretting his choices. Eventually he had children with his second wife, and one of those children was my mother. My grandfather didn’t know that his new offspring were cursed as well. And that is what has led us to today. Jinyoung, his mother, his sister, and I are cursed because of my grandfather’s actions.”

Jackson’s eyebrows furrowed.

“But I don’t understand. Where is your grandfather now? If he is immortal than shouldn’t he be here?”

Jinyoung’s grandmother shook her head.

“My grandfather is dead now. A few hundred years ago we learned that if you drive a stake through our hearts and leave them there we can achieve something close to death. As long as the stake isn’t removed of course. That was how Jinyoung survived the attack. The leader of the other army left the dagger in Jinyoung’s heart, and you were too distraught to remove it, so we waited until we were in a safe place to bring Jinyoung back.”

There was silence as the two other people in the room processed what they had been told. 

Jackson thought it now made sense why Jinyoung and his sister were taking so long to heal. It was because their bodies probably healed differently from those who were mortal. But there were still so many questions he had. Like, why was Jinyoung still so young looking while Jinyoung’s grandmother looked elderly? He didn’t realize he had asked that question out loud until he received an answer.

“We do still age, but we age a lot slower than mortals. For example, I’ve been alive for at least a thousand years now, but I look no older than ninety five.”

Jackson was amazed to say the least. 

There was a question that was bothering Jinyoung about this entire situation.

“If this is all true why did you never tell me? And how do you remember all of this so well and I just got my memories back because of Jackson?”

Jinyoung’s grandmother smiled sweetly at her grandson.

“We didn’t tell you because we wanted you to live a normal life. Our family ages normally until our twenty fifth birthday. And before you ask my grandfather was twenty five when he was cursed which is why that happens. So we wanted you to be as normal as possible before it happened. We were going to tell you, but there never seemed to be a good time since you were always hanging around with a certain royal guard.”

Jinyoung’s grandmother sent a smug look Jackson’s way.

“As for your memories I’m afraid that was our fault as well. You were basically catatonic for such a long time. You didn’t eat, you didn’t sleep, and you never left your bed unless someone carried you out. You didn’t even realize that two hundred and seventy five years had passed. And it was all because you thought you lost Jackson in the battle. So we had to lock away those memories to get you back to us. We were lucky to find a witch that was willing to do that for us.”

Jinyoung looked shocked. He remembered that time, but had he really just laid in bed for that long? It only felt like a year had passed during that time. 

Jackson was just as shocked. Jinyoung had been that distraught over losing him? Jinyoung was so upset by the thought of losing Jackson that he didn’t move for more than two hundred years? Wasn’t it painful? He may be immortal but he had to still feel the pain that comes from not taking care of himself, right? His grip on Jinyoung tightened a little bit. 

Jinyoung’s grandmother stood up then.

“You two have a lot you need to talk about. I’m going to go and make some food since it’s almost time for breakfast anyway.” She said as she walked over to the door.

          There was silence in the room as the door closed with a click.

[autisticblueteam]

Your Friend, Connie (TexCT)

[AO3] [Ko-Fi in Bio]

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 4849

Summary: Connie’s running out of options when a mission gone wrong gives her an opportunity she never expected to have: the chance to talk to Texas, one-on-one. But complicated problems rarely have such simple solutions.

Notes: Final fic for @rvbfemslash February! An immediate heads-up: this fic is not as overtly shippy as I first intended and whilst it’s certainly intended to imply TexCT, it’s not explicit and it focuses more on the potential in their relationship. So it’s toeing the line of counting for this month, but it was written with the ship in mind.

This was ridiculous.

Connie huffed, twisting her wrists in their bindings a little more, trying to get the right angle. There was a little give now, but not enough to get her hands free without breaking a couple of bones and dislocating a couple of joints. She’d rather not do that. Easy fix with some knitting polymer back at the ship or not, it wasn’t pleasant.

She couldn’t believe this had even happened. She was better than this, she didn’t get captured by untrained goons and thrown into the back room of some shady warehouse that smelt like centuries outdated petrol and god knows what else—noxious and distracting, painfully so. Yet here she was, in exactly that situation, with her wrists tied behind her back and her armour nowhere to be seen.

This wasn’t going to help her tenuous standing at the Project. Getting captured two times in as many missions was going to catch much too much attention from command.

If only it hadn’t come so soon after her last intel drop. Sending intelligence over the Project’s own communication networks, even routed through a variety of proxies and other safety measures, was getting too risky. So, rather than take that chance, she’d arranged for her contact to ‘capture’ her on her last mission. It was simple enough; she tripped an alarm that she’d never have fallen for in an actual infiltration and let Sleeves, their muscle, grab her. Cutting off her own comms was easy and the drop went smoothly; by the time someone had made their way to retrieve her, her contact had retreated and she pretended that she’d escaped part way on her own.

Simple. They got what they needed from her, she kept herself out of the suspicions of the Project.

Whether or not that would last now, she couldn’t be sure. Things were getting… precarious.

Time was running out and she couldn’t see the countdown.

Shaking the thought away, Connie focused back on the bindings wrapped around her wrist and the situation she was in now, not the one she faced when—if—she got out of here. The warehouse was far out of the way; it had come up on the Project’s radar only after reports of them using—maybe even attempting to sell—experimental equipment had reached the UNSC.

Going by the strange way her armour had locked up, allowing them to grab her without her even throwing a single punch, those reports were true. Experimental or not, it did its job and completely shut down her armour’s systems, she hadn’t even been able to trigger her emergency beacon to call for immediate help.

Hours had passed since and she knew that, by now, they had to know she was in enemy hands. Or, more importantly, that her equipment was.

Agents were disposable, if worst came to worst. But their armour, their modifications? Never.

So she knew someone would come, eventually. For her gear, if not for her.

The two guards that stood over her changed out fairly regularly, as someone got bored or they were needed for another duty. Watching them gave away no organisation or pattern of any kind, so that was a bust. Even with her bindings almost loose enough to remove, to do so without access to a weapon or her armour, with armed guards so close by? It would be suicide.

And so it became a waiting game.

More guards came and went. No one seemed to know what they were going to do with her, not-so-subtle whispers passing between the assortment of grunts about their options—should they have killed her already? Dumped her somewhere? Tried to actually interrogate her and find out what she was here for? Something else entirely? No one knew. Capturing a UNSC-sponsored prisoner was clearly not part of their plans for the day.

At first, she didn’t notice when those whispers shifted target. She’d almost tuned them out entirely before a sudden yelp came from one of their earpieces, the high-pitched sound of someone being struck down mid-word.

The guards shared a look.

“I’ll… go check what’s going on,” one said, taking a few, reluctant steps away. His current partner, who looked somehow even less enthused about the concept of investigating than he did, just nodded.

“You do that,” he said, before turning to Connie with his rifle raised. Connie tensed her shoulders. “And don’t you try any funny business. I can still shoot quicker than you can move.”

That was almost certainly true.

Unfortunately for him, they wouldn’t have chance to find out. Moments after the words left his mouth there was a loud CRASH behind him as his buddy was slammed against the wall with inhuman force.

He jumped out of his damn skin, turned his attention away from Connie—

—who tore herself free from her bindings, planted a hand on the floor and swept his legs from under him.

A yelp, a clatter, a shimmer, the snap of bone—

He dropped to the floor dead.

Connie landed back on the floor, her heart pounding at the rush of adrenaline after hours of sitting still. Looking up at her rescuer, she exhaled; it could only be one person. “Texas.” The clean-up crew.

The shimmer in front of her solidified, smooth black armour reappearing in swathes of reality and an outstretched hand. Eyeing it for a moment, Connie took it and let herself be pulled to her feet.

“You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were showing off with that entrance,” she said, rubbing her wrists. They’d definitely bruise. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment of blankness in Tex’s posture, before something clicked into place and she chuckled. Delayed social reaction. That checked.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. You okay?” Tex stood almost an entire foot over her. She’d be imposing, if Connie didn’t know as much about her as she did. Oddly, it made her more… human, knowing that she wasn’t. “No injuries that are gonna stop you moving?”

“No,” she shook her head, “I’m fine. They didn’t subdue me physically, it was tech that got me.” Speaking of… “Did you get my armour?”

“Not yet.”

Connie raised a brow. “I’m surprised. Shouldn’t you have been grabbing the important stuff first?”

Tex’s tilted head held the same sarcastic confusion. “Yeah, well, my orders are to prioritise your armour and the tech, but hey, I found you first, what am I supposed to do? Backtrack on myself? Nah.” Then, a shrug. “Besides, I know you’re our best intelligence agent. That seems pretty important to me.”

Stance relaxing a little and her face softening, Connie sighed.

“But hey,” Tex continued, “you don’t wanna be saved I can just leave you here, go grab the armour and swing back to you if I have time, no skin off my back.”

“Alright, point taken,” Connie said, before pausing. “…and thanks. I don’t mean to sound… ungrateful.”

“Don’t worry about it, you’ve been stuck here for hours, I’d be grouchy too. You know where your armour is?” Tex said, taking a pistol off her thigh and offering it to Connie. She took it. “Fully loaded. Haven’t touched it.”

“Didn’t need to, I’m guessing.” A knife would have been preferable, but a pistol was better than nothing. “I have a rough idea. I imagine it’ll be wherever they’re keeping their other tech. They have some kind of armour locking technology, more advanced than things like the paint. It locked my entire body up with some kind of energy field.”

“Huh. That’s the kind of shit you’re out here for isn’t it?” Tex nudged the dead guard with her foot and glanced over at the other one—not dead, just unconscious and collapsed in a pile of broken crates. No threats in the room.

“Essentially. So, all going well, we’ll be able to complete the mission anyway.” Connie took a deep breath in. Being without her armour on a mission she was meant to run with armour was a new kind of vulnerability she didn’t appreciate at all. “Okay, let’s get this over with before I think too hard about the fact I’m only wearing a kevlar bodysuit.”

“Don’t worry,” Tex said, cracking her knuckles, “I won’t let anyone hit you.”

There was a kind of surety to the statement that only Tex could give off; it wasn’t just a promise, it was a statement of fact. With her track record in the field and training backing that up, Connie felt a little of the tension in her shoulders release.

“Alright, I’m holding you to that.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

The warehouse wasn’t kitted out with alarms, but the mess in the open rooms they passed and the sound of distant voices betrayed the panic that had quickly spread once the invisible, wrecking ball of a woman had torn her way through. The halls had been vacated, besides a couple of people grabbing the injured, but alive, members of their group and dragging them away.

There was no point in fighting them if they weren’t an active threat, so they let them go. Going by the buzz of turbines above them, the second assault had provoked an evacuation.

“Think I scared most of ‘em off?” Tex said, nodding towards the ceiling.

“Most of them. I doubt they’ll want to leave behind all their tech and they certainly weren’t moving out before you turned up,” a silent infiltration with no casualties never did have the same shock factor as a true assault, “some of them will have to be near wherever they’re storing it, packing it up.”

“Okay, so where we heading? Where would you keep all your top secret, fancy tech?”

A laptop secured against the underside of her bed. A signal scrambling system built into her personal Data Pad. Her medical information used as a layer of defence over the top of a whole drive’s worth of stolen intel. Innocuous places people would never think to look, hidden in plain sight if anyone even bothered to search in the first place.

“One of the standard warehouse rooms, but the furthest one away from where they were keeping me tied up.”

Tex nodded. “Got it. Stick behind me.”

Connie was right. A few halls away they heard voices; orders to hurry up and attitude in return, interrupted by the scraping sound of crates being dragged and the sputter of an old engine. A quick peek inside and they could see them packing crates up into a very outdated van. There was a growing pile of opened and unopened crates beside it, whilst a couple of the group wrangled others into the back.

Stacked on top of one such crate was Connie’s armour.

“You think you can sneak around to your armour whilst I clean up the rest of them?” Tex said. A moment later she was nothing more than a shimmer, distorting the blank wall behind her.

“I should be able to, yeah,” Connie said, double checking the pistol. “See you at the other end.”

The shimmer shifted slightly—an arm being lifted, perhaps—and then it was gone, disappearing into the rows of shelves between them and the vehicle bay at the back.

Connie waited until she heard the first person take a punch and then she was on the move, too.

Moving quickly but quietly, finger rested close to the trigger and on high alert, she slipped down the aisle closest to the entrance. Thuds and bangs and grunts travelled through the shelving—crunching from unarmoured fists against metal and heavily armoured fists against bone, scampering feet and a crate smashing against the floor.

Connie shuddered. Thank god she’d never had reason to be on the wrong end of her strength.

She was at the end of the aisle when one unforeseen side effect of Tex’s distraction made itself known: a couple of the group had ducked behind the crates. Her path was no longer clear, but their view of her certainly was; movement in their periphery drew their attention the moment she got close enough to register they were there.

Emboldened by her lack of armour, they stood to try their luck. That was their first mistake.

They didn’t have guns, so when they ran at her Connie didn’t feel anywhere near as vulnerable as being in open hallways where someone with a weapon that could tear through her suit with ease was a threat. She didn’t even level her own pistol. Soon, they were in range, fists clumsily raised and—

Connie ducked, swept beneath them and half-knocked their legs from under them. By the time they’d steadied themselves she’d already grabbed one of their arms, twisted it up behind their back and slammed her foot into their spine, knocking them down again. As the second of them turned to face her, she bolted towards the end of the aisle. Gave herself room to move and react.

When he came at her again, she ducked, threw a punch into his gut and dodged around him. With a knife this would have been over in seconds. Instead, he came for her again, the first guy grabbed her ankle—

And then he was thrown into the shelves and their arm snapped between the ground and Tex’s foot.

That was their second mistake.

Connie exhaled. Okay.

Tex kicked the first guy in the head and knocked him out. “Told you I wouldn’t let them hit you.”

“You sure did. The others—?”

“Dealt with, get your armour on. I’ll tear open some boxes.”

As soon as the final piece of her armour clipped into place and her HUD lit up, the last of the hairs on her neck settled. Even her knives were still there and she gladly attached them back to their respective hard-points, resting her fingers against the hilt reflexively. There were no more threats, but being in the field was always easier with multiple inches of armour plating between your vital organs and everything around you.

“What did the thing they use on you look like?” Tex called, the sound slightly muffled by the walls of the van.

Connie hopped up into the back with her. Most of the crates had been pulled open by force, their contents now easily seen and examined. Most of them seemed to be weaponry, much of it completely familiar, but one or two contained more… interesting things.

“I didn’t really see, but if I had to take a guess…” Her HUD was scanning and highlighting things that gave off unique energy signatures. Slowly panning past the guns and ammo, she settled on a box of square units that were highlighted as being electromagnetic. “Those things.” Tex reached out, but Connie grabbed her arm. “I wouldn’t. I don’t know how they activated them and I wouldn’t know how to deactivate it either. Find a smaller box and I’ll take off my gloves, minimise the risk of it touching armour.”

Tex tilted her head, but she stepped away.

Connie exhaled. How one would have reacted to Tex’s body, she didn’t know. And she didn’t want to take the risk. Tex had to know eventually, but… not like that.

Taking off her gloves, she picked up a couple of the units. When Tex returned with a suitable box she set them down carefully, padding between them with packing from the original crate to keep them from touching.

“There. Alright, call for extraction.”

“Already on it.”

Turning back, Connie could have sworn she saw Tex… staring, at her? Staring may have been too strong a word, but looking at her, for sure. Maybe that wasn’t notable, but…

In the back of the Pelican, Connie spoke up. “Hey, Texas?”

Tex’s head snapped up, shattering the eerie stillness that had lingered since she sat down. She didn’t share transports often. “Uhh… yeah?”

“I know you’re busy, with briefings and training and all, but… when you have a free hour or two, do you think we could meet up and talk?” It was reckless. Riskier than anything she’d done before now. But she was more aware than ever of that invisible timer, counting down until she’d have to make a choice.

So she was making one.

Tex stalled. That split-second delay she’d noticed before lingered longer this time—ingrained protocol warring with social rules warring with personal desires warring with whatever else was on her mind.

But, eventually, it passed.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll… set some time aside. I think I have an hour between training and briefing in a couple days? About 1300,” Tex said, shifting a little in her seat. Nerves?

“I can make time. Do you know where the observatory deck is?” Quiet, mostly private. Especially during the day.

“Yeah, I know where it is. Guess uhh… guess I’ll see you then.”

Connie offered a smile. “See you then.”

Tex may have tried to smile back, but it was hard to tell behind that helmet she’d never seen her remove. Regardless, the silence felt a little more companionable after that.

A human connection, first and foremost, that was what Connie wanted to offer. Break the isolation that Tex had been experiencing since she came into existence. Maybe, just maybe, if she was able to get past that… maybe she could tell her. Maybe she could do something without having to leave.

It wasn’t a sure thing.

Still, Tex deserved to have a friendly face to turn to. Her unusual circumstances had dictated her isolation and no one had made the effort to change that, not even Connie herself. Tex was owed that much, surely.

Upon their return, everything went as Connie had expected. Without even so much as a ten minute diversion to check her physical condition, Connie was dragged into a dressing-down disguised as a debriefing. She stood there and took it, zoning out and saying ‘yessir’ and ‘it won’t happen again sir’ in all the right places to placate his anger at her incompetence. It didn’t matter, anyway; that board hadn’t changed since the AI started going out, she wasn’t being demoted to Beta Squad now. Even if she was, it would hardly change anything.

It ended, she left, she passed out in bed with only a wave at South.

Tex was nowhere to be seen for the next two days, but that was expected too. It was a miracle she’d even found one hour of free time to promise. So Connie went about her business as normal, continued her work, kept up appearances.

But when that hour came, Tex wasn’t there.

The observatory deck was dark and empty, so silent that the hum of the engines was no longer just background noise. Connie waited there for three hours, just in case—it didn’t make a difference, Tex didn’t come.

Maybe she should have expected that, as well.

After that mission, everything at the Project seemed to move faster than ever and Tex was somehow more absent than she’d ever been before. No one saw her for days, then a few weeks. Never caught so much as a glimpse. AI production showed no signs of stopping and Connie found herself backed further and further into a corner. Every new piece of intel she stole upped her chances of getting caught and the pressure from Jarrett to leave was piling by the day. Tex had been one of her only other avenues of action and that had clearly closed.

Connie was racing that invisible countdown and she couldn’t keep up.

Eventually, she knew something would have to give. Opportunities to drop her intel discretely had faded. Her next chance involved ignoring direct orders, abandoning a mission and risking exposure. Or, perhaps worse, having to leave before she was really ready to make that decision.

So the night before, she found herself back on the observatory deck, amidst the eerie silence of space that made her lungs feel compressed and her mind run in circles about the what ifs of the void in front of her. Unpredictable and infinite. Absolutely terrifying.

And then a voice broke the silence. “Room for another?”

“I’m certainly not going to stop you.”

Texas emerged from the darkness, her pale face and light hair a stark contrast to it and her black clothes. It was the first time Connie had seen her face outside of the files that recorded every detail of her existence, from the exact shade of her hair to the beauty marks that, if pressed right, would open her power cell compartment.

She knew more about Tex than Tex may ever know about herself and it felt as wrong as it was.

The AI who knew nothing of what she was sat beside her, leaned back upon her palms and stretched her legs out in front of her. Stared out at the abyss in front of them, all of the distant stars that only Maine seemed to know the names of, and said nothing more.

Connie glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, watched her. The slightly too even rise and fall of her shoulders, the unnatural stillness of her position—all the little things. Maybe if she’d been around them more, she would have adapted her patterns to match, began to act more human. Then again, what did it matter? She thought she was human, she acted human in all of the most obvious ways.

Shattering that illusion required more trust than Tex had been given time to place in her. She couldn’t do it now.

Quiet ruled the room for almost ten minutes before Tex spoke again.

“Sorry I stood you up. Shit got kinda busy after we got back, I didn’t have the time.”

“It’s fine. You’re a busy woman.”

Another pause. Connie picked at the scar across her palm and took a deep breath in.

“You ever have to make an impossible choice, Tex? One that could either fix or ruin everything all at once?”

Tex hesitated, but this time it felt more… real, not like a software delay. “Not really. Things have always been… pretty straightforward, for me, I guess. I do my job, do it well… don’t have to make the hard decisions, just gotta follow orders when I get ‘em.”

“Hopefully it stays that way,” Connie sighed, pulling her knees up to her chest. Another beat. “You on the mission tomorrow?”

“Technically, that’s classified, but… nah, not tomorrow. Got me hanging back on the ship, ready to go if things get dire, but,” she shrugged, “pretty sure you guys can handle this one.”

Connie rested her head against her knee, turned to face her. “Even me? The one who’s been captured twice?”

“Hey, from what I heard, the first time you got out on your own. Second time, you only got caught because they had some weird tech. I think you’ll be fine,” Tex said. Nudging Connie with her elbow, she offered the first and last smile Connie would ever see her give.

“…thanks.”

“Next time I get a break, I’ll try and let you know. See if we can find time to really have that talk you wanted to have. Seems like something heavy, if that dramatic question was anything to go by. Like, seriously; that was a hell of a welcome.”

Connie muffled a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Sorry. I suppose I have a lot on my mind right now. Hence the staring out into space thing.”

“Literally,” there was a note of amusement in her voice, in her eyes. Connie smiled and nodded.

“Literally.”

“I’d ask what choice you gotta make, but that might be a bit personal for a first meet-up.”

“Ask me next time you see me,” Connie said, “I’ll have made the choice by then, it won’t matter so much.”

“Can I hold you to that?”

“Yeah. You can.”

“Well alright then, I gotta get going so…” Tex hopped up to her feet, stretched her arms above her head. Even out of armour, she was built like a brick wall. “Guess I’ll have to ask you next time. See you around, CT. And good luck tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Tex. I’ll see you around. Hopefully we have more time next time.”

Tex gave her a mock salute and vanished back into the darkness of the connecting hall, gone as quickly as she’d come. Connie was alone again and as midnight hit, her countdown was no longer invisible. The mission clock projected itself on the glass in front of her.

Eleven hours, fifty-nine minutes and fifty-six seconds, fifty-five seconds, fifty-four…

One way or another, she was going to have to make her choice.

Pushing herself from the ground, she marched through the halls until she reached the locker room. Empty, this late at night, with camera blind-spots that were easily exploited. Finding one, she set her helmet up on a bench and sat against the lockers behind it.

Taking a deep breath, she set it to record.

“Agent Texas. Allison. If you’re reading this, then that means I escaped. Or, well, at the very least, I’m probably not around anymore…”

It took a few takes. The words flowed by with ease, but her voice was unsteady and her tone was off and her heart pounded so loudly in her ears that she couldn’t even hear herself. Recording this was admitting something, something she didn’t want to face. Not yet, not until that countdown was over and things would change irreversibly.

Maybe she hadn’t been able to tell anyone whilst she was here, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t try even when she was gone. Texas was still her best bet, the one at the centre of all of this.

Things could have gone differently, in another world. Where she’d spoken up sooner, where she’d made the effort to reach out and give her that human connection before it was too late for it to make a damn difference. Where maybe they’d have had the chance to know each other, before Connie had to shatter Tex’s concept of her own existence.

Where the sentiment behind, “…your friend, Connie,” could truly have been realised.

But this wasn’t that world.

Choices had already been made.

Within a couple of months, branded a traitor and a liar and risk to UNSC security for the second time in her life, Connie was dead.

Bled out, alone in an escape pod. As alone in death as she’d been in her final months in the Project and in all of her efforts to make a difference.

And, eventually, Texas would open her locker. Find a set of dog-tags that didn’t belong to her. See that name.

Watch the video.

“I want to leave behind all the data I've been collecting about Project Freelancer. I never could shake the feeling that something was wrong with the program. The secrets, the lies, the manipulation; smoke, all of it, obscuring a big damn fire.”

Everything clicked into place. Everything Connie had said, the strange way she’d looked at her, the way she had tried to reach out… the reason she’d left, the reason she’d provoked her, the reason the Director gave no order to preserve life.

“I did some digging, and now I know what the Director's been hiding. What he did.”

The reason something had felt off for months now.

“He broke the law, Allison. The one law they don't just slap you on the wrist for. I'm taking the originals with me as an insurance policy. I leave this copy for you not because you are the best soldier in the squad…”

Constant training and meetings. Carolina’s increasingly bitter attitude towards her. The AI. How she never had even a spare moment to interact with the team. The fact that Connie had to have been the only person she’d ever shown her face to.

“…but because I know that I can trust you the most.”

Before she killed her.

“After reading these files you will understand why.”

There was a long list of things that Texas would regret in the years to come. At the top was what happened in that bunker. What she’d done.

In another world, things would have gone differently. Connie’s attempt to reach out wouldn’t have failed. They’d have had the chance to talk, to know each other beyond the surface level banter and offerings of friendship that had at least proven the concept—that they would be a good team, that they could be good friends or even something more.

Maybe, even if she’d still been forced to leave, Tex would have realised something was up and found the message sooner. Soon enough to matter.

In another world, things wouldn’t have been perfect, but they would have been better. The things that could have been lingered in the back of Tex’s mind.

But this wasn’t that world. In this world, they’d both been just a little too late.

Tex rested her hand over the image and made a promise.

If nothing else, she’d finish what she started.

“Good luck. Your friend, Connie.”

[naturesloopholed-a]

Introduction

welcome to my private, selective hope mikaelson from the originals and legacies.

Mun

mun is 20 years old (6/21 birthday). jennifer. eastern timezone.

Contact

discord is a very good option to contact me. You can ask for my discord information or skip to the discord section of the rules

ims are generally for people that I roleplay with but I will not rp in the ims feature.

ask box is also a good way to contact me if the other two options don’t work

Tagging

triggers are tagged with the trigger first and then tw. abuse, for example, is abuse tw.

all interactions are tagged with my interaction tag, a tag for how for the kind of thread it is (one para, novella, one-liner, etc), the verse, your url. 

I do not comment in the tags as it makes me really anxious but I read all of your comments in the tags.

please tag all your mentions of overdose and drugs. my uncle passed away from drugs and ever since then, I have a habit of crying and becoming a mess when I see things about it when I am already on edge. my therapist says it sounds like a trigger for me.

if I do anything with someone one that mentions drugs or overdose, I will be doing it will someone that I can talk with and they know that replies can take a while. the drug that makes me a crying mess the most is heroin. weed is a different story and if you character is a smoker of weed that is okay to mention in replies.

Face Claim

danielle rose russell is teenage/young adult hope

alexandra daddario is  alt adult hope 

elena saltine is Hope’s adult fc

Sophie Turner is Hope’s alt fc

summer fontana is child hope

Exclusives

I do have exclusives and mains. you can find them on mains and exclusives

Smut

I am an adult in all countries meaning it is legal for me to smut.

I will not do anything with minors in this area. sorry, not about that life. do not lie about your age

I have not done a lot of smutting so I am new to it (just a heads up).

 NSFW (Other than Smut)

other not safe for work content is likely to be on this blog. hope’s backstory is traumatic. her parents are dead (in canon), she watched her mother be tortured, she has thoughts of suicide ((i will talk to you before i put anything like this in our threads as this is highly triggering)). she has ptsd, anxiety, and struggles to control her magic and isn’t afraid of the darkness inside of her

blood, killing, murder, all of the things that generally are in supernatural are present. hope is a tribrid of three different creatures (vampire, werewolf, witch)

Memes

you can send memes in to start a relationship off with hope if that is easier. please try not to send in romantic ones though without at least talking to me first.

if you want to continue the ask meme reply of mine please move it to another clean text post or I will not reply.

Canon Divergent

there are some things that I will not be following in canon. I will let everyone know what that is.

hope has an abilities page that I made up with my own headcanons and tidbits and I will not shy away from them.

nonplayable characters that I make up are really for me to enhance the story of hope mikaelson. she has had teachers, friends, family all that make an impact on her and if one is mentioned that isn’t from the show(s) it is likely a nonplayable character in that nonplayable character tag.

 Non-playable characters

do you see a character mentioned in my blog that you like and would want to make as an oc? need help with it? come and ask me about playing them and I will likely say yes. these characters are my babies, made to enhance my version of hope but if you do make one, I will not say you can’t interact with other hope’s as well just note that part of the character is mine in terms of the idea of them etc.

any questions on nonplayable characters? just ask! want to hear more about them? see if they are open for you to nab as an awesome oc? my ask box is open always for that

Hate

any and all hate will likely be deleted unless I have something sassy to say. most of the time though you will just be blocked right on the spot and that will be the end of that. I am not here to spread a hateful environment, never have sent anything hateful and believe that it is a pointless thing to do.

I will not vague blog about someone on this blog, this is something that so many have anxiety over.

Ask Box

at any time I post something you don’t understand, you are free to message me. you can ask questions on or off anon. (do not send hate as mentioned above).

Personal Blogs

drabble requests? questions on something?  requests on gif sets for hope? feel free to send them in!

do not reblog my threads with other people!

stealing my headcanons or reblogging them will get you blocked. it makes me uncomfortable.

do not reblog my ooc posts!

Duplicates

anyone that loves hope like I do and makes a muse for it? I will support you. we can do twin threads, talk about hope, share headcanons, and more.

Queue

my queue is something I use often when it comes to hope’s blog. a lot of my replies go straight to my queue! if you are unsure where your reply is, just ask me! don’t badger me though to reply or post straight away

Connections

I am really open to original characters and things that have a connection to hope so feel free to bring me all your amazing ocs without shame. have a bio page though or at least some stats as that is something I look for.

Following 

have a rules page, an about page! rules are a big one for me as I want to read over things and be comfortable knowing when I am crossing a line

a clean tagging system. need help creating one? just ask me!

if I see our character’s interacting

Unfollowing

lots of negativity, hateful messages sent to people, ship bashing are all things that will get you unfollowed.

if we haven’t interacted or talked at least once in the first like three months that I followed you, I will unfollow

inactive blogs (for three months) without a hiatus notice. if you come back, feel free to message me and I will refollow you.

if you constantly are changing your muse (as in once every two weeks) and show no steady sign of keeping to a character. this does not count on multis as that is a different story. I want to build relationships with characters.

Shipping

shipping with me is based on chemistry. we can have a trial run though if anything.

I ship hope with landon, josie, lizzie, rafael so far in legacies.

Replies

I can be slow as a turtle at times. a lot of my time is spent rewriting things as I do not always like how it was written when I first did it.

things tend to go on into the queue as I have mentioned before or straight into my drafts for me to write a thousand times.

I don’t really do fancy formatting. small text, some italic for thoughts, some bolding sometimes, and an icon that I made is generally how things work. if you are looking for hope icons, send me an ask over here and I will lead you to where they are.

double small text will be resized if I notice it so that others can read it on my blog. nothing against your formatting but I want to be readable on font sizing.

I do use a generator for the first line of text that isn’t mobile friendly but if you need me to change it because you are unable to read the text for your threads, just let me know.  𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖!

Discord

Username / id on discord is  thingsmissed#4353

I do rp on discord as well and have a room set up with my tumblr url. You can enter the room and I will give us a few channels that only you and I can see. Want to enter the server to rp there? Click here!

Extra

I love to get to know my rp partner’s. I do find it easier to write with them if I talk to them even just a little.

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires 85

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Title & Song: Breakdown

Summary: Genevieve’s behavior comes to a head and Alfie is forced to act as the harsh voice of reason. He's left to act in his personal life as he does in his business where he does the things no one else wants or is willing to. But he'd do anything for his Genny. Song is Breakdown by Tom Petty.

Warnings/Tags: Language. References to assault and violence. PTSD. Angst. Drug Abuse. Trauma. Self Hatred. Fighting, verbal and physical. 

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

There had been a shift in the energy of the house after Claire and Genevieve’s altercation. Genevieve was trying to behave but finding it nearly impossible. The pull of the promise of relief from her medicine was too seductive to deny for long. Each dose was reacted to like some rare delicacy, with closed eyes and moans. She couldn’t control herself. Her mind was crowded with so much the more time passed. More memories and complicated waves of emotions she didn’t understand, left her feeling overpowered no matter what she did.

She was trying and it could be seen by everyone, but she would drop everything for her medicine and it was obvious there was still dependence there no matter how little they gave her. A nervous tick when it got close to the time for it, nose twitching and eyes fluttering, trying to stay still and waiting for someone to mention it because she knew she couldn’t first. Then she’d be given that look again, and she hated the humiliation that came with it.

She tries to fill the shame, the hurt and the anger with something. She studies, but that leads to headaches and a sore throat. She paints and the things that come out are dark and twisted and make those around her uncomfortable and worry about her. She dresses up, trying to see herself how she was, but it all felt like a sham. There was no confidence where it once lived. She eats and bakes, finding a productive distraction and gaining a slight bit of weight from where she’d lost it. But her appetite was still lackluster, the medicine saw to that. She wasn’t ready to try to add her former most favorite vice, sex, to the list but at least she could fathom the idea of it without becoming physically ill. Maybe things were getting better. But the voice in her head told her no as soon as the thought passed. That she was still very much broken and a failure, feeling slow in both mind and body still it was hard for her to be positive about anything. The depression was starting to set in.

With a memory that left something to be desired still, she’s grown the tendency to be forgetful. Clumsy and forgetful was preferred to hallucinating and passed out to everyone but her. The constant state of being aware of controlling herself left her exhausted most days and always on edge. She has the occasional tantrum, it couldn’t be helped, and with the lack of medicine given to help her calm down, it only made her angrier and fueled the fire of her fits. They were less often now, but more intense when they did happen. Big sweeping mood swings that took her wherever they wanted and she was was left to be used by her whims, whether the actions she took were something she wanted to do or not. They left her a crying mess. She only wanted to feel normal again. She didn’t know who this woman was that she’d become. She hates the anger she felt about her cravings for the medicine. She hates the flux of the ups and downs from it, but in her desperate moments, it’s the only thing that gives her some stability. She didn’t want to need it the way she did, another layer of anger born from shame. She felt weak and that was something she didn’t have much experience with.

On an afternoon spent dressing herself up for no reason, just passing time and listening to music to keep herself in good spirits she’s met with an undiagnosed stressor that had slipped between the cracks. A gossip hound by the name of Dorothy who did not have Genevieve’s best interests at heart. She was paid for information, not to tell that she was doing better. A saboteur sent in by one of the posh Jewish elite who did not approve of the Alfie and Gen’s underground lifestyle. Striking while the iron was hot and they were both at the most vulnerable they’ve ever been, Dorothy was there to make sure things didn’t run too smoothly for too long. Coming from the former biggest gossip in all of London’s employ, she knew how to stir a pot. And poor Gen, trusting those around her, as she had no other choice but to in her condition, never saw it coming.

“The horn section is lovely isn’t it?” Dorothy states, dusting around the gramophone.

The use of the word makes Gen’s nose twitch just as the maid knew it would. “Yes it is.” she answers with fluttering eyes and reaching for her large powder puff to fan herself with.

“I say, you’re looking rather glowing today, Miss. Like an inner light is coming out. I’m sure Mr. Solomons loves that you’re putting forth the effort in your appearance, hmm?” she makes casual sounding backhanded compliments as she moves around the room.

She sees Gen’s body language tighten and she keeps smiling as she works.

“You’ve put on some weight too I see. Filling out nicely. Looking healthy. All good things.” she chirps. “One would think there could be a little Solomons on the way with how you’re looking.” she gives an innocent scrunch of her nose and a kind smile. “Absolutely radiant.” she ends with a flourish. “And wouldn’t a baby be lovely? An excuse for all those sweets you’ve been making!” she lets out a light-hearted laugh. “Afterall, not many men would’ve stayed around through all this. You’re so very lucky to have Mr. Solomons. What a patient man.” she speaks softly.

“Yes. I am.” she mumbles, face turning downward now.

“Well, I’m finished in here. Anything else you need miss?” she asks putting a hand to Gen’s shoulder.

“No. Thank you.” she replies softly, eyes not meeting the maids, staring at her reflection in the vanity mirror.

“I don't care what anyone else says, I think you’re progressing just fine.” she gives a supportive nod. “Especially for what you’ve been through. My goodness. What a tragedy to befall such a woman who had such strengths. Surely a test. One you’re still working on mastering. We’re all waiting and watching...rooting for you Miss Durand. Have a good afternoon.” she says trotting out of the room, knowing the seeds were planted to make an eventful evening.

Every line had felt like a slap to the face for Gen. Every worry she had, some she hadn’t yet, all brought back out to the surface in a single conversation. If Gen had been herself she would’ve been impressed with the woman’s skill. Then she would have killed her of course for saying such things, but in this emotional state, she only felt sorry for herself. She looked at herself in the mirror. Were her breasts bigger? Was she getting too fat? Everyone was waiting for her to screw up again, she knew it. Apparently people were saying she wasn’t healing fast enough, but of course, they were. She wasn’t. And poor Alfie...he had been on the sidelines, merely a bystander in all this. It truly was a miracle he was still around. At this point he would be better off without her she thinks. She was only making his life harder.

Her eyes trail down to her stomach and she feels it flip with nausea. She had asked the doctor every time they were alone if her not bleeding was normal. There were no signs of pregnancy he said and the body can react wildly after trauma. That there was nothing he saw to worry about. But it didn’t stop the panic rising in her chest and bubbling up and out her throat in a choked sob. What if she was? What if a constant reminder of her weakness and this awful period of time we’re sitting right there. Taking root. It was her greatest fear and Dorothy had played into it seamlessly. All she had wanted before was to be pregnant. A happy accident, despite her timing the inward emissions of Alfie in her favor. Her mind had been all babies and happy thoughts attached and now it was of shame and upset. By far the biggest trigger of them all. She thinks of the children she’s seen. Wondering if they were a sign. Her dreams came true on occasion, so why not hallucinations?

Her hands clutch at the dress she wears, feeling sick rise in her throat. She gets intrusive thoughts of the time held captive again. Blood. So much blood. These were new, these weren’t her normal violent flashbacks, her eyes well up with tears and she starts to sob, feeling it all over again. Why was there so much blood she wondered? She feels it as if it’s real. Blood thick and caked on her skin, from her temples to her thighs, the sticky and awful feeling, the constant reminder of how battered she was. The constant worry there was too much of it, that was something was wrong with her. That panic takes hold of her and she starts wheezing, not catching her breath, holding her chest and gasping. She raises, wild-eyed and tries to make it to the bed to lie down, count like the doctor told her. But it was no use. This was too strong and she was too weak she thought. She knew what she needed.

She races in her tiny heels to the back innards of teh house to Aggie’s room. She’s in such a state she doesn’t hear Alfie calling for her as he sees her making a mad dash. Of course, his instinct is something is terribly wrong. And in a way it was, so he follows suit. He finds her on her knees with one of her hairpins in Aggie’s locked door.

His worry is replaced with hot anger, having to watch Gen give in and relapse in front of his eyes. “Gen!” he booms out and she doesn’t even notice. She barrels through the door and rummages loudly through Aggie’s things, finding the bottle of Morphine and finding it severely lacking in its contents.

She whimpers and whines, shaking it over her gaping mouth as she cries, mascara running down her face. She keeps wheezing, now at a total loss for how to handle herself.

Alfie barges in like a bull, one big swipe knocks the bottle out of her hands and it breaks against the wall. Her eyes turn large and terrified to him, but he doesn’t feel sympathy in the moment, only disappointment and anger. “Fuck’s sake Genevieve! Get ahold of yourself!” he says loudly as she cries, looking back over to where the bottle had broken.

“I can’t! I need it! I need it to STOP!” she wails loudly her head shaking back and forth dramatically.

“Gen!” he shouts again and she doesn’t stop, hands in her hair and groaning.

She was so desperate to make the fear and thoughts stop. But she just saw him there, silhouetted by that shifting yellow light over her. “I’m too weak. I can’t. I’m pathetic. It won't stop.” she pants, her face contorted into an ugly mash of pain and confusion.

“Get ahold of yourself woman!” he shouts, grabbing her tightly by the arms, making her stop hurting herself.

The rough handling of her snaps her from her self pity and kicks in her fight response. Her head snaps up, eyes dilated and black, intense as they glared into his own. “Don’t touch me!” she screams and struggles.

“I can’t fuckin’ trust you can I? Ya gonna fuckin’ hurt yaself!” he growls back as they wrestle back and forth. She was a lot stronger in the moment that he thought she could be in her condition.

“Stop it!” she fights back, kicking at him as he holds her up from falling and hurting herself, hitting something on the way down to the ground.

“No!” he yells angrily. “Look at you! Gen! Fuckin’ ‘ell girl CALM DOWN!” he roars, having to haul her back onto her feet.

She stops struggling and stands, face now full of betrayal as she shakes with the underlying anger.

“You need to get a grip on yaself Genny! Look at you! Why are you actin’ like this? Like a fuckin’ fiend! Are we going to have to lock you up next? Can you not be trusted anymore?” he asks with a low brow and harsh delivery.

“Let me go.” she demands, struggling against him mildly, her eyes looking more her old self in their fury.

“Fuckin’...NO! Why would I? Look at how you’re actin’! What is wrong with you?” he groans out loudly as her jaw clenches and she slaps him across the face, resulting in him very calmly letting her go and clenching his hands into fists at his sides. His nostrils flared and his eyes remained shut. He wasn’t going to hit her back. He wasn’t that sort of man. But she was bringing out the worst in him. They were bringing out the worst in each other.

“Don’t fucking touch me like that!” she shrieks, adjusting her dress. “I have a reason for acting this way! What about YOU?” she responds, shoving him out of the way and running off down the hall.

With her dress pulled high, she needed to escape. She needed out and away. She heads straight for the door, Joseph tottering after her as the staff had gathered cautiously to see what was happening.

“We’re going to London Joseph.” she announces with wild eyes and confidence to her face she hadn’t felt and no one had seen in some time.

“Miss I don’t think-”

“You are going to drive me to London or I will fucking DO IT MYSELF!” she screams as he hunches down and does as he’s told. What other choice did he have? “I’m not staying here. I can’t. I need to get out of my own head. I can’t stay. I can’t do it.” she mutters to herself, head shaking back and forth as they drive off as were her orders.

“Why are you just standing there! Go after her!” Aggie shouts in Alfie’s face, him standing where Gen had left him as he rubbed his temples.

“Send some of my boys after her. Watch her. We know what she’s fuckin’ doin’.” he shakes his head, his voice quiet and even.

“How are you so bloody calm?”

“Aggie... sweetie... calm is the last thing I am right now.” his voice was a deep hiss, his eyes almost hidden behind low brows. “But I...in my line of work have MUCH practice in withholding my true emotions. And I am using it to its full extent right now.” his jaw is tight, speaking through clenched teeth as he cracks his knuckles.

“But she’s ran away?”

“No. She’s going to get well pissed. That’s what she’s doin’. There wasn't enough of this fuckin’ JUNK to ease her and now she’s reverting to her immature behavior.”

“She’s not well Alfie, you need to remember.”

“IT’S ALL I FUCKIN THINK ABOUT YEAH?” he shouts in anger before composing himself and Aggie takes a step back. “I want to be so fuckin’ furious at her for this. I know I should be sympathetic. I know she’s not herself. But I am so close to just fucking off right now. And I know I don’t want to do that. And it’s all making me MORE angry because I can’t fuckin' control it. I control things Aggie, that’s what I fuckin’ DO. And I can’t her, right?”

“Neither can she. Remember that.”

“Oh, I do. And it just makes it worse.” he throws his arms up in the air. “I’ll go get her. Fuckin’... AGAIN.” he sighs and shakes his head. “I was prepared, yeah? To deal with the healing. I can grasp that. I can respect it. But this…” he motions to the broken bottle on the floor. “I’m having a bloody hard time respecting this.” he says with a groan. “This is just... weakness. This isn’t her. She’s not Gen when she’s on this shit.” he tells, walking around the bed and crunching the glass under his work boots. “There’s no more of this. Fuck that!” he says pointing to the same spot. “I’m done wif it. I ‘on’t care if the doctor says it’s helpin’, it’s fuckin’ not, right? Don’t get no more. Those are orders. You hear me? I know you’re soft Aggie but it’s time for some tough love for the old girl. Don’t ya think?” he asks, leaning over the small woman as she scrunches her face in a scowl. “This soft fuckin’ treatment innit doin’ a fuckin’ thing. She HATED bein’ coddled before. Remember? Do any of us ever remember fuckin’ BEFORE now?” he sighs and groans, rubbing his face.

“Yes sir.” she says coldly.

“Oh don’t give me that.” he responds with an aggressive nod. “Do you not think it’s time to reign her in?”

“I do. But I don’t like it.”

“Well, I ‘on’t fuckin’ LIKE it either! You think I want to be cruel to her? The woman I’ve promised to care for? To respect and protect?”

“It’s hard to tell with you lately.”

“Well, I fuckin’ don’t. But with someone like her…” he points in the direction Gen fled. “In a situation like this, perhaps sympathy isn’t what is needed. She needs a swift kick to the arse to make her see how she’s actin’. And I’m the only one what will tell her what she don’t wanna hear.”

“I hope you’re right. I’ll call the doctor and tell him no more medicine. In case she tries to get it herself.”

“Good girl.” he says giving her a strong pat the back and sauntering down the hall with hard steps that make his shoulder sway even more than usual.

-----

Genevieve had done exactly as Alfie knew she would. His men were out on alert for her in the city and they found her quickly. Out getting pissed at some east end shit hole where she didn’t have to pay for a thing.

“Alright. She’s had enough.” Alfie instructs, putting his watch back into his coat pocket. “Bring her out.” he orders with a flick of his wrist. “Be gentle but...make her. Try to appeal to her vanity. That usually works.” he states with a stern point of his finger to the lads given the job.

Gen, of course, did not want to leave. She didn’t want to see Alfie or hear about him or any man really. She wanted to be lost in the sounds and movements and be young and wild and free again. But the reality that she could no longer be any of those things, truly, would always come knocking. And in this instance, it was a few of the big boys of Alfie’s she knew. The muscle.

“Miss it’s time to go.” one says in her ear.

“No.” she declares defiantly. Like a child, really.

“Miss I must insist. We’re here on Mr. Solomons orders.”

“Fuck his orders.” she sass’s back and turns away and he takes her by the arm.

“We can take you out of here kicking and screaming but what would the gossip sound like if word were to get around, eh? So why don’t you walk out with us, and no one has to be any wiser as to what’s happening.”

She gives him a look that would normally make him worry, as he had heard about the things she’d done. “Don’t fuckin' touch me.” she growls, jerking out his grip. “Where is the bastard?” she spits out as she begins walking towards the door.

He waits, and it does take longer than expected. But there she came, mad as a wet cat, stomping, and hissing just the same towards his vehicle. She was uneasy on her feet, not stumbling but a drunken sway that told him he’d stopped her at just the right time.

He sits in silence, his hat on, cane in hand and posture straight as he makes her sit with her thoughts as they travel down the road. He eventually turns towards her and she’s pouting out the window.

“Gen, look at me.” he orders.

She, of course, doesn’t even acknowledge him. Sitting with her arms crossed and body language very clear she wanted nothing to do with him.

“Genevieve…” he warns. “Can you even hear me? Ya fuckin’ pissed innit ya?” he scoffs and waits.

She lets out a defiant huff through her nose.

“Fuckin’ look at me, woman.” he moves and takes her by the chin. He met with glossy and unfocused eyes and pouting lips. “Look at you…” he shames her and her lip quivers. “Fuckin’ mess.” he tsks and shakes his head. “Can you even respond to me ya little drunkard?” she speaks nothing and tries to move out of his grasp but he’s holding onto her too tightly. “Fuck’s sake Genny.” he presses his lips and sighs.

“I can.” she snaps back. “But what’s the fucking point?” she snarls.

“Because I asked you a fucking question dinnit I? Because you should explain this childish behavior. You’re not a fucking child. You’re not even that young, you’re a grown woman. You know better.” he speaks intensely but with a smooth delivery that makes her wants to slap him again. He was being too condescending. So patronizing it made her sick.

“Clearly I don’t.” she ejects back with a rough turn of her head that knocks her chin out of his grasp. He returns it slowly to the top of his cane.

“You’re some fuckin' junkie now and you’re just gonna give up? One bad thing happens and you just roll over and let your jellied brain just fuck you, eh?” he delivers harshly, knowing the words would hurt her, but it was his role to put the wild thing in her place before, and it only made sense he’d be the one now. He could handle her hating him. More people hated him than liked him, it wasn’t a bother to him. He knew that if she’d see a true relfection of herself, that she’d thank him one day for the honesty.

“One thing?” she shouts. “One fucking thing?” her voice cracks with emotion as she begins speaking with her hands. “My life has been nothing but bad things Alfie!” her voice was exhausted. ”One after another. Every fucking day!” she turns on her knees and screams at him. “I was there for DAYS, the things they did to me?! And you want to say it was ONE thing?” her French accent comes out, her finger pointing in his face as she let go of all that was building up inside her that the Morphine wouldn’t let her feel or communicate. “When you know how I was raised? What my father and his friends did to me? The kind’ve men I’ve had to get close to? The shit I’ve had to eat because of being a woman. ONE THING?” she screams in his face.

“And what good is complainin' and throwin’ a tantrum like a fuckin' little girl gonna do, eh?” he keeps his calm, and it makes her angrier. He should be as upset as her she thought. It wasn’t fair he got to be unbothered and she was left a mess.

“Fuck you Alfie!” she barks, sitting back and crossing her arms, looking out the window.

“I’d rather hear that then you feeling sorry for yourself.” he snarks with a raised brow. He was proud of her, actually. This was the most she’d talked about what had happened. She needed to feel these feelings, get them all out and that medicine had stopped it, stunted her and left her in an emotional purgatory.

“We can’t all have steel traps up here can we?” she replies, tapping her temple “We can’t all be fuckin’...made of stone and just push forward no matter what happens. Some of us are SOFT and FEEL things.” she answers with a quieter voice, but that did not mean she was less angry.

“If you think I don’t feel things you’ve not been payin’ attention.” his voice even, and lips pursed.

“So your reaction to my problem is to shake me and shout at me? To give me barked orders like a dog?” she questions incredulously.

“You haven’t listened to anythin' else.” he gives her a side-eyed glance and he can feel the heat radiating off her towards him.

“What else have you tried lately Alfie? Huh? I don’t even remember when I first came home, and I don’t remember you being soft with me once as of late. You’ve just given me that… fuckin’... look.”

“A look?” he answers a mild chortle.

“Yes like that! Like a disappointed father. Like you don’t even want me anymore. I’m just some burden to you.”

“Genny this behavior is a burden for a man like me.” he speaks plainly and it cuts her like a knife.

“Then why don’t you just fucking leave? If you hate me so much?” her eyes welling up with tears now, the anger shifting into hurt.

“I don’t hate you, but you’re actin' like a daft cu-.” he sighs. “I don’t hate you. If I did I wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t have been dealing with the things I have for you... from you.” he answers with a curt tone, his hand laying out his point as he spoke.

“Do you think what a woman like me needs right now is cold indifference?” her head shakes back and forth, in disbelief at how he was speaking to her.

“I don’t know what the fuck you need any more to be honest. This whole thing has turned you into someone I don’t know.” his eyes were more honest now, she recognized it.

“I could say the same.” she glares back, hiding the swell of emotions inside her. She didn’t want to break down again. She didn’t want him to have the satisfaction. And that was exactly what he had wanted out of her. He didn’t care if she had to use him and spite for him to gain the want to control herself. He just wanted her to control herself.

She sulks the whole way home, the anger fading, turning to sadness with the tiredness that overtook her body. He followed her into the bed room, as if nothing was wrong.

“Why are you staying around me?” she snaps as he sees the softness in her face.

“Because I have to, love.” he replies as he takes off his coat. He knew another flare was incoming.

“Why are you being so mean?” her hard exterior breaks and tears start to fall.

“You want to know? Truly? Can you handle it Genevieve?” he asks with a mean face that shows so sympathy for her tears.

She nods, “Yes. I can.” she says defiantly through tears.

He takes a deep breath and gives her the truth. “Because I just want my Genny back.” he admits with a shake of his head. The brief softness in his eyes making a sob bubble up in her throat. “I don’t know who this drugged up woman is that runs off in the middle of the night.” his voice lacked bite, but still felt harsh as it came out. “You did it once, and I was sympathetic, your sister passin’ ‘n all. But not with this. Not after all this time.” his face hardens, straightening his posture and looking her up and down, judging her. “You’re smarter than this Gen.” he says with exasperation. “You aren’t who I agreed to be with right now. And I just fuckin’ want some relief, I just want my Genny back, love, that’s all.” his brow was hard, his words even more so as they hit her in the chest like a kick.

“I am your Genny.” she sobs, voice so small. Her heart was broken, her faults laid out plainly for her to see. She could no longer ignore them. “I am. I’m just... I’m…” she breaks down and begins to cry. The fog she’d been in gone, the cold reality of her behavior hitting her now. Feeling every little thing, most importantly shame for the right reasons for the first time since the incident.

“But you’re not though are ya?” he leans towards her, his face still cold to her. “You’re not her right now, sweetie. Cause my Genny? She wouldn’t do any of 'is.” he motions to her, half bent and sobbing into her hands as he begins to walk away to leave her to her catharsis.

“I am your Genny!” she shouts and her voice breaks and cries, tears and snot and the whole mess, months of backed up and delayed revelations coming at her, feeling alone and ashamed. She watches him leave the bedroom as she calls out, not seeing the hurt on his own face for putting her through this. But he knew it had to be done, it was his role to be the one to do the things no one else wanted or could.

He sleeps in his old room that night, giving her time to wail it all out. And she did. She cried herself sick. But she didn’t drink, she didn’t ask for medicine, she didn’t ask for anything. She sat in front of the fire, thinking about the past few months and let out everything in wails and sobs. A cleansing she’d desperately needed.

——-

The next morning Alfie's conscience is weighing heavy. It didn’t happen often and he hated the feel of it. But he’d slept like shit and heard her crying all night and had to deal with the dirty looks from Aggie and Claire as he rose from the spare room. He wanders into the kitchen, asking for Genevieve’s favorite tea and sweets. It isn’t questioned and he shuffles his way to her room with the serving tray balanced in his hands. House shoes scuffing the stone floors while his pajamas slicked together from the soft fabric Gen insisted on them being.

She’s asleep in the floor, laid out on pillows and blankets in front of a dying fire. Her hair was covering her face and most of her body, a silk nightgown just visible underneath the veil. He stokes the fire and feeds it, then standing over her and clearing his throat, causing her to stir.

She whines and rubs her face, pushing her hair out of the way of seeing before focusing her eyes on his shoes.

“Oh.” She says sleepily, “It’s you.” She lets him know she wasn’t too keen on seeing him.

“I brought ya your tea and biscuits.” He offers in a friendly voice. Much more polite than anything they exchanged the night before.

“Thanks.” She grumbles, pulling herself off the floor and onto the couch.

“Would you like me to make your tea? Fetch you a robe?” He inquires.

“No.” She answers quickly, moving to prepare her tea herself. “I don’t want to be fucking coddled.” She forced out through a smart tongue.

He doesn’t find himself annoyed at her behavior. Even though that was clearly the case for her towards him. She was a crumpled, sickly looking mess but she was indeed herself. And that’s all he’d wanted. He’d missed that spark, that justified emotion, even anger towards him. He knew she was feeling more herself with her demand and he felt a small glimmer of hope.

“How are you feeling this mornin'?” He inquires with a tilted head her way.

“Like hell.”

“You do favor it, sweetie.” He says with a rub of his chin.

She raises her eyes in a glare his way but finds his face not aggressive. ”You look just as well Alfie.” She snarls back.

“I’d not only agree but say I feel much the same.” He nods and purses his lips I’m hesitant agreement.

“I’m going through withdrawal and dealing with a bastard of a ma What’s your excuse?”

“Dealing with a woman going through withdrawl and being a right bastard.” He retorts.

She actually felt inclined to smile at the remark. That would’ve been the first in months. The first non-drug induced one anyway. Normally the comment would’ve been met with a laugh and a little pinch of the cheeky man. Perhaps even a kiss for the self-deprecating humor. But all he saw was a flash of sarcasm in her eyes, but that was indeed enough to satiate him for now. A “Mmph.” nodded is all he is given in the meantime.

“Do you need anythin' this mornin'?” He asks cautiously. She always asked for her medicine with breakfast when it was not freely given.

“No.” She sighs out, teacup resting on her thigh. “I’m afraid I don’t have an appetite for much of anything else anymore.” Her voice is even but her hands shake. Her color was poorly, dark circles under her eyes and a pale complexion. A light cast of sheen from sweat on her skin. Her stomach growls and she rubs it with a wince. “Just send Aggie in. I’m feeling rather weak in the absence of the medicine and I’ll be taking to my bed today I believe.” She rises and puts the back of her hand to her mouth for a moment, nausea sweeping about her insides.

“Will do, love.” He says with a polite bow. “Any cause to call the doctor?”

“No. There’s nothing he can do for this.” She shakes her head. “I’ll just have to suffer until it’s out of my system. And what is more suffering for a woman like me?” She shrugs and looks his way. She was tired, bless her, in so many meanings of the word.

“It is nothing for a strong woman.” He states supportively.

She lets out an amused laugh, a single forced exhale of “Ha.” A scoff really. “When I see one I will be sure to give her my problems.” She rolls her eyes and rubs her stomach again as it growl and squeals.

“Mirrors in the bathroom.” He motions and she shoots him a side-eyed glance. “If you need me further I’ll be only a phone call away.”

“I won’t require you.” She answers curtly, not looking his way. It was the first time she’d not pouted when he mentioned leaving.

“I will be home for tea. Perhaps you will feel up to having it with me?” He questions as he moves toward the door.

“Perhaps.” She calls out in response. She pauses in the bathroom doorway as he does the same to the hall. “Perhaps not.” She says with a shrug and an almost sarcastic face.

He only gives her a nod in response, shutting the door behind him. He should’ve felt a burn of her being cold. But he didn’t. He knew she’d be mad with him for some time. But he was ready to weather it. She could be as angry as she liked, didn’t matter to him. Not when their well being, their business, and her recovery were at stake. He’d take all the anger from her in the world to get his Genny back.

Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

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[eddiemylovc]

Cupid’s Choice - Part 1

Pairing: Reddie

Words: 2,583

Other Chapters: Part 2, Part 3

A/N: This was just an idea that I came up with the other day that I needed to write, I only plan on doing a few chapters so it probably won’t be too long.

Summary: Valentine's Day is coming up so Beverly convinces Eddie to sign up for a matchmaking program to help him find a date. He meets Richie and everything that happens after is far from what he expected. (Fake dating au)

AO3 Link

It’s Valentine’s Day in five days and Beverly will not let up on trying to convince Eddie to find a date.

“Come on, it’ll be fun! You, me, Ben, and whatever nice-looking guy decides to come your way.”

Currently they are in Eddie’s room, sitting on his bed, and she is trying to convince Eddie to sign up for this matchmaker program where singles fill out a survey and it matches you up with another single who you meet at a special event so you have a date for Valentine’s Day. Eddie thinks it’s ridiculous.

“Beverly, I’m not signing up for some stupid matchmaker site. Who knows what kind of creeps are on those things looking for god knows what.”

“Pleaseeeee, it’s just for one night. Well, technically two, but the first doesn’t have to count. Come on, live a little!” she pleads.

“No.”

“It’s the same every year for you. You always sit at home by yourself on Valentine’s Day, and I’m left feeling sorry for you while I’m out having fun with Ben.”

“So now you’re guilt tripping me. Gee, thanks. Besides, who says I don’t like sitting at home by myself on Valentine’s Day?” Eddie lies—to some extent.

“I don’t mean it like that, I just think it would be fun if we did something different for a change, like going on a double date. I mean you could just join us, but then you’re left feeling like the third wheel. And what kind of friend would that make me?”

“A generous one for staying out of my love life.”

“You don’t even have a love life. But, if you listen to me, however-”

“Alright, fine! If I sign up for this thing will you finally leave me alone?”

“Yay! Eddie, this is going to be so much fun!” She wraps her arms around Eddie excitedly. “Maybe if you’re lucky enough you’ll finally get a boyfriend!”

Eddie puts an arm around her—less excitedly. “Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves now. I’m only doing this to make you happy, there isn’t going to be any long-term relationship happening anytime soon.”

“Stop being so negative. You never know what could happen—you might even find your soulmate.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively and pokes Eddie’s side teasingly. Eddie pushes her away.

“As if those sorts of things exist,” Eddie says, although he would never admit that he does like to wonder sometimes if there really is someone out there, made just for him. "And I highly doubt that my ‘soulmate’” he makes air-quotes with his fingers “would just so happen to be on some matchmaker site.”

“Never doubt the work of Cupid, Eddie,” Beverly says with a wink.

“Whatever. Let’s get this over with I suppose.” Eddie gets up and makes his way over to his desk, and opens his laptop. “What’s the name of the website again?”

“It’s ‘www.cupidschoice.com’.”

“Kill me now,” Eddie says as he types the address into the search bar.

Beverly moves off the bed to hover over Eddie’s shoulder. “And then you just fill out all of your information and answer a few questions. Two days before Valentine’s Day it will email you your match, whom you will be meeting at the event that night.”

“How will I know what they look like?”

“You won’t. Everyone will have name tags and it will all be split up into different age groups. You’re eighteen, so you’ll be in the youngest age group.”

“Great, so I won’t even know if I’m meeting a psychopath or not. I could just be signing up for my death right now,” Eddie says as he begins filling out the information.

“What an optimist you are. Stop worrying, it’s at the Derry town hall and I’ll be on speed-dial, you’ll be fine.”

“Whatever you say, Bev. If I die, this is on you. And—even if he doesn’t turn out to be a psychopath—what if I don’t even like the guy? What if he’s a complete douche?”

“It’s just one date, Eddie—a double date at that. You’ll manage. If anything gets too out of hand, Ben and I will come to your rescue, but I’m positive this will work out. I only want to help you find someone worthy enough of your love, Eddie,” she says with a big smile.

Eddie can see that Beverly really does believe that this will work out. She looks so happy and thrilled that he’s finally putting himself out there. Eddie doesn’t want to destroy her happiness so he stops protesting and sighs as he presses submit on his answers.

I really hope this will be worth it in the end, Eddie thinks.

* * *

(1) unread email from Cupid’s Choice: The results are in!

Eddie stares at the notification on his computer, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He’s almost tempted to grab his inhaler off of his dresser. He doesn’t understand why he’s so nervous. It’s not like he’s waiting to hear the most important news of his life, but then again, it has been a while since Eddie’s been in the dating field.

“Here goes nothing,” he says as he clicks on the email.

Thank you for signing up with Cupid’s Choice! You have been matched with:

Richard Tozier Age: 18 Gender: Male Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Interests: Music, comic books, your mom Bio: Richie Tozier is my name, doing Voices is my game. My friends call me Trashmouth, but you can call me anytime. Ha! Looking for someone who’s willing to have a fun time 😊

Congratulations on your match! We look forward to seeing you tonight!

Eddie isn’t sure whether he’s relieved or not. He doesn’t sound like he’s a serial killer, which is a relief, but he doesn’t quite sound all that serious either. Eddie snorts and rolls his eyes at the ‘your mom’ part, and at the cheesy pick-up line.

What am I getting myself into?

Tonight, and one date. That’s all. He can do this. One night of fun with a total stranger and two friends won’t hurt, right? Even if he is an asshole, Eddie never has to see him again after Valentine’s Day if he doesn’t want to, anyways.

Unless he’s a stalker.

Eddie pinches himself.

Stop worrying about every little thing! Like Bev said, you’ll be fine!

Richie sounds like he could be a nice guy, or at least Eddie hopes he is.

Here’s to hoping he’s cute, Eddie finds himself thinking as he calls Beverly to tell her the news.

“Sooo, what’s his name?”

“Richie Tozier.” The name sounds oddly nice coming from Eddie’s mouth. He decides he likes saying it. Richie Tozier.

He’ll never tell Bev this.

“Interesting. Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak. Richie and Eddie. Eddie and Richie. I like it! It has a nice ring to it. You guys already sound like the perfect couple!” she beams.

“I haven’t even met him yet!”

“But you will tonight! I’m so excited for you, Eddie!”

“You’re probably more excited than I am. You should get a load of this dude’s bio.”

“I think you’ll feel better after you meet him. Then the real fun begins on Valentine’s.” Eddie can guess that she’s currently wearing an evil looking smirk.

“Right. Well, I guess I better figure out what I’m going to wear.”

“That’s the spirit! Knock ‘em dead, Eddie.”

“Talk to you later, Bev.”

“Bye, can’t wait to hear all about it!”

Eddie sighs as he hangs up. What is he going to wear? He hopes Richie isn’t one to care too much.

* * *

Eddie decides on wearing jeans and a blue, knitted sweater. Nothing too fancy—this isn’t the actual date after all.

Beverly has just dropped him off at the town hall after picking him up from his house, looking giddy with excitement. Eddie had to tell his mom that he and Beverly were going out to see a movie in order to avoid suspicion. It’s most definitely better for her to not know what he’s actually doing right now.

Eddie enters the hall and looks for his age group. He sees that there is actually quite a bit of people here, ranging from all ages—the youngest being his age.

Richie could be any one of these people.

He spots his age group—18-21—near the back and makes his way over to the table where they give him his name tag.

“Name?”

“Eddie Kaspbrak.”

“ID? We have to confirm your age and identity.”

“Oh, yeah. Here.” Eddie fumbles with his wallet and hands over his ID.

They look it over and check his name off of a list. “Here you go, and here’s the name tag. You’ve been matched with Richie Tozier who, I believe, arrived not too long ago.”

“Great, thank you.” Eddie takes the name tag and sticks it on his chest. He moves over to the side and tries to look through the sea of people for a boy with the name, Richie Tozier.

No luck.

He decides to walk around instead to see if he can find him, when all of a sudden, Eddie turns around as someone walks right into him, causing Eddie to fall on the floor.

Eddie is furious. “Jesus Christ, don’t you have eyes? Watch where you’re fucking going next time.”

“I do have eyes, actually, but they’re pretty shit, however, so that’s why I wear glasses. That’s kind of what they’re for, in case you didn’t know,” a male voice sneers. “Wait… Eddie? Is that you?”

Eddie’s head snaps up at his name. He looks at the boy’s name tag. Standing in front of him is none other than: Richie Tozier.

Richie offers him a hand to help him up. Eddie takes it. “Yeah, well, maybe you should learn how to use them next time.” As Richie pulls him up, Eddie notices how tall he is. He’s got to be at least six feet tall. Although tall, he’s quite lanky as well, but the leather jacket he’s wearing compliments him very well. At the same time, Eddie can’t help but notice how cute he is too.

Well, that’s one good thing at least.

He likes Richie’s messy, dark, curly hair, and the glasses he’s wearing that magnify his dark eyes. Eddie also takes note of the freckles that are scattered across his nose and his cheeks.

Very cute, indeed.

That is, until he opens his mouth.

“So, you’re the famous Eddie Spaghetti! Wow, I’ve really hit the fucking jackpot with this one!”

Living up to the name ‘Trashmouth’ I see.

“Yeah, and how did I get matched up with you? There’s clearly a flaw in the system. And don’t call me that!”

“Ouch. Wish I’d known I’ve been matched up with a clumsy, feisty, little one. Would’ve prepared better.”

“I’m not clumsy. You’re the one who walked into me!”

“I was only eagerly searching for my prince charming, Eds. Now that I’ve found him, he doesn’t seem quite so charming after all. Although, I will admit he’s pretty cute.” Richie winks at Eddie.

Eddie’s stomach flutters at that.

No! You will not give in to his flirting! Stop that!

“Don’t call me that, either! I’m telling you now that I’m only here because my friend made me sign up. She wants me to find a date so I can join her for a double date on Valentine’s Day, and I want to make her happy. And I guess I’m stuck with you for now, so don’t think I’m actually interested in you.”

“Wow, we’ve only just met and you’re already asking me out on a date! Let a man breathe, Eds!” Richie pretends to swoon.

“Forget it. I’ll tell her you didn’t show up or some shit like that. Surely I can find someone better than you—someone less annoying.” Eddie makes his way towards the door.

“Wait!” Richie grabs Eddie’s arm. Eddie looks at Richie’s hand on his arm; a tingling sensation is left where he’s touching him. “Look, you see, I’m not exactly here for the right reasons, either. My ex showed up the other day, begging me for a second chance. She keeps asking me to go out with her on Valentine’s Day and I’ve had enough of it, so I told her I was already seeing someone else, which, was a lie. Long story short, she doesn’t believe me, so she wants proof. I panicked, and I ended up here. It sounds stupid, I know, but just, anything to get her off my back will do.”

“So, it looks like we could both benefit from each other then.”

“Ding, ding, ding! You’re correct!” Richie aims finger guns at him.

“What kind of ‘proof’ is she looking for?”

“Anything that proves I have a new boyfriend or girlfriend. She works at a café downtown—maybe if we go down there tomorrow and act all couple-like in front of her, she’ll finally leave me alone. Then I can join you on this double date on Valentine’s Day. It’s a win-win situation.”

“Basically, what you’re saying, is that now I have to suffer through two dates with you?”

“We don’t ever have to see each other again after this, if you don’t want.” Something in Richie’s voice makes it sound like he doesn’t want to never see Eddie again, but he’ll do whatever it takes to convince Eddie to go on this ‘date’ with him in order to get rid of his ex.

Eddie thinks this over. Richie seems pretty desperate to get rid of his ex, and what harm could it do to help him out while he helps Eddie get Beverly off of his back about finding a date? He supposes it is a win-win situation, besides the fact he’ll have to deal with Richie’s trash mouth for the next two days, and acting like a couple in front of his ex could be interesting.

Eddie find’s himself agreeing. “Fine. It’s a deal.”

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

“Yes! Thank you!”

“On one condition: you don’t call me any more stupid nicknames.”

Richie laughs. “Where’s the fun in that? I can’t promise you that one, Eds.”

“Then the deal’s off,” Eddie jokes. Half-jokes.

Richie sighs. “Fine.” Suddenly, Richie gets down on one knee, grabs Eddie’s hand, and places a hand on his heart. “I solemnly swear to not call you any silly nicknames, or so help me.”

“What are you doing? People are staring.” Richie really is beyond like any other person Eddie has ever met.

A true wonder he is.

“So? Let ‘em stare.” Richie stands up and releases Eddie’s hand. “I guess I’ll pick you up around noon, tomorrow. Oh, here’s my number, by the way.” Richie grabs a pen and a slip of paper from the table and quickly scratches his number down. He hands Eddie the paper.

“Okay. I’ll text you my address.”

“Great, see ya then, Eds.”

Eddie frowns. “You just broke your promise, dumba-”

Eddie is cut off before he can protest any longer by Richie leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Eddie instantly goes bright red, failing to hold back his blush, his heart beating faster.

“Wh-what was t-that for?”

“If we’re going to be the perfect couple we gotta start somewhere, Eds,” he says with a bright, teasing smile. With that, Richie heads out the door, not letting Eddie have the last word.

Eddie stands there with his mouth open.

What did I just agree to?

[arrow-guy]

Angel

A/N: Alright, so!! here is the fic that I just barely managed to finish last night before going to bed. I’ve been working on this baby since last december, so it’s been a long time coming. I hope you guys like it!!

Pairing: TonyxReader

Word Count: 5748

Warnings: Angst, self harm, mentions of suicide

I shouldn’t have come.

“Hey guys, this is (Y/N), she’s going to be working with us for a while.” Barton ushers me into the room filled with Avengers.

Just smile, (Y/N). Act like you’re just a normal powered person, they won’t know the difference.

“(Y/N), huh?” It’s Stark. “What’s your specialty, sweetheart? You don’t look super to me.”

Of course, snark right off the bat. Angel could have too much fun with him.

“Bio-mech, Mr. Stark.” I answer his question with a relatively flat tone. “As for my power, I really hope no one has to deal with her for the time being.”

“Oh, so your power’s a she?” He cocks an eyebrow, questioning me silently.

“With all due respect, sir, she and I are two completely different creatures. I would feel really bad if she got loose around such important people,” The less they know, the safer they are. Who knows what Angel would to them do if she took over.

“Got loose...” Banner mumbles. “Is she anything like… well, like the Hulk?”

“The two of them couldn’t be more different, Dr. Banner.” I sigh and force my hands to stay at my sides so that I won't rub at my temples, a steady headache forming behind my eyes. “I realize that she’s intriguing, but she’s dangerous. I would much rather speak to Mr. Rogers, Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner about her alone and allow them to fill you in as they see fit.”

“Why those three?” The Maximoff girl inquires.

“Because they’ll be the most affected by her and know how to deal with the situation.” I shake my head. “I would like to talk to you too, Ms. Maximoff. Later, though.”

“Alright.” She nods and I smile softly at her before turning back to the three men I had addressed previously.

“You said you wanted to speak to us?” Rogers asks.

“Yes, but is there somewhere more private we could do so?”

“Of course, (Y/N),” Stark places his hand in the small of my back to guide me and my body immediately stiffens.

“Please don’t do that.” I whisper, carefully removing his hand. “She likes physical contact. It’s dangerous.”

“Alright,” He concedes much more readily than I was expecting him to, and I’m grateful for it.

Dr. Banner leads us down the hall to the empty lab and we situate ourselves around the waiting table. All three of them look at me expectantly, waiting for me to fill them in.

“Thank you for being so willing to speak with me. I know that I’m new here, but this is… important for you to know.” I scrub a hand over my face and steady my breathing before continuing. “My power manifested itself in a completely separate personality. She’s similar to Dr. Banner’s alter ego in that she that she takes over completely. The difference is that she and I practically look exactly the same. There’s no growing, no radical voice change, no different skin color. That’s what makes her so dangerous.”

“Does this other you have a name?” Stark asks.

“Yes,” I nod once. “She’s called Angel.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.” Stark smirks.

“The men I trained with when I was with S.H.I.E.L.D. said the same thing when they first met her. They were the ones who named her actually.” I chuckle darkly. “She has a habit of seducing anyone who she thinks could useful to her. They thought it was a funny, really. Unfortunately, it stuck. So, I’m (Y/N) and she’s Angel.”

“So why are you here if this Angel persona is so dangerous?” Rogers asks.

“Because you’re the best chance I have to completely suppress her. With Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark’s combined genius and, perhaps, a bit of Ms. Maximoff’s mind manipulation, I could be rid of her forever.”

“Based on the information in your file, you were a pretty good agent.” Rogers folds his arms across his broad chest, the muscles in his arms flexing and stretching the material of his t-shirt. I feel the familiar, telltale twinge of pain behind my eyes, cutting through the dull throb of my headache,  and I have to tear my gaze away from him to keep a hold on myself.

“Your point?” I ask, staring pointedly at the tabletop in front of me.

“Why aren’t you looking at me, agent?” He asks gruffly.

“I can’t, sir.” I answer. “I’m not trying to be rude, it’s just… you and all your,” I gesture vaguely in his general direction and huff out a breath, “Well, it excites her.”

“We’ll do what we can to help.” Stark says, his voice unexpectedly gentle.

I have to force myself to keep my head down when I nod and tamp down the swell of warmth I feel towards Mr. Stark at his willingness to help. “Thank you,”

-Three Months-

“Have you made any progress on our little project, (Y/N)?” Tony asks, dropping his tablet on the table without any regard as to how it'll fare on the way down. When I look up I find him with his hands on his hips, looking at me expectantly.

“Not really,” I remove the glasses I've been wearing and hook them onto the front of my shirt, leaning my elbow on the table and resting my chin in my hand. I feel a twinge of regret in my gut and try my hardest to ignore it. “But, if I'm remembering correctly, we aren’t punching a time clock with this one.”

“We aren't.” He looks at the floor and shakes his head. When he looks at me again he takes a few seemingly purposeful steps towards me. “I was wondering… well, are you free tonight?”

“Tony, what are you doing?” I question, immediately closing myself off from him and stomping down the butterflies that had suddenly fluttered to life in my stomach.

“Nothing!” He answers almost too quickly, holding his hands up defensively. “Nothing at all. Just checking in on, y’know, the team's plans for the night… like I normally do.” He sighs and scrubs a hand over his face.

“Tony, please don't.” I plead. “It won't end well for anyone. Not without a suppressant and you know we're at least four months away from anything close to it.”

His brows furrow and his disappointment is evident in his expression. “I'm sorry, (Y/N),” He says, his tone almost sad. “I know. I know, that was stupid of me. Won't happen again.”

“No, I'm sorry.” I shake my head, rising from my seat and backing away from him. “I-I don't want to hurt you, and I don't want to put you in danger of meeting her.”

“I don't understand why you're so scared of her. She's a part of you, isn't she?”

“He's right you know.” Angel's voice cuts through my stream of consciousness.

“Shut up.” I hiss, my hands unconsciously lifting to tangle in my hair.

“(Y/N), what are you saying?” Tony says, his tone hurt.

“I'm sorry, I'm not talking to you it’s-”

“Let me talk to him, darling. You're obviously useless with gorgeous men like him.”

“No!” I double over, falling to my knees, clutching at my head and squeezing my eyes shut.  “You don't get to hurt him.”

“(Y/N), what’s going on?” Tony asks worriedly, dropping down beside me, hands hovering over my shoulders.

“Ooh, this one's protective of you, hun. Just let me talk to him. I know how you feel about him.” A shock of pain runs down my spine, making me cry out and curl in on myself. “Just give in, come on.”

“No, please no!” I shake my head, tears welling up in my eyes. “Tony, please get out and lock the doors!”

“No, I’m not leaving you like this!”

“Please, I am begging you. You need to leave. Now.”

“Is this her fault?” He asks, voice quiet.

I nod and groan quietly, curling further into myself. “You-” I break off, sucking in a deep breath to try and reign in control. “You can’t be here right now. Please, just go.”

“Fine,” He rights himself and heads over to the door and pauses. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., alert me the second she’s in the clear.”

“Of course, sir. You will be the first to know.”

The door opens and closes quietly before a loud clicking indicates that all entrances have been locked.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., next time something like this happens, you put him in a suit and you don’t let him out until Wanda has made sure that the episode is over. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be sure to do so in the event that this ever happens again.”

“Good. Now get Wanda.”

“Yes ma’am.”

I lean back against the wall, clutching at my head, tears streaming steadily down my face, sobs wracking my body.

I’ve been so careful. She’d been so quiet up until this point. Why did she have to show up now, of all times?

“Because I love to spite you, darling.”

“Go away,” I grit out.

“Oh, you know that’s not going to happen. You need me, (Y/N). Always have, always will.”

“I don’t need anything from you. You ruin everything for me, no matter what it is.”

“Aw, don’t say that! What about that cute little officer from S.H.I.E.L.D.? What was his name? Roy?”

“His name was Alex.”

“Whatever. We had a lot of fun with him, right? How could you say I ruined that?”

“You killed him! You made him jump off the roof of the Triskelion to prove how much he loved you, you sick twisted bitch.” I throw my head back against the wall, over and over, hoping that it’ll make her stop talking. “He was the first person who wanted to be with me, even knowing about you and you took him away from me. How could you?”

“(Y/N)?” Wanda drops down beside me and places her hands on either side of my head to stop me from hurting myself. “What’s going on? Why did F.R.I.D.A.Y. call me?”

“Stop her. Wanda, please, just make her stop.” I plead, desperately pulling at my hair.

Wanda stares at me, eyes wide, unsure of what to do. “I don’t know what you want me to do, (Y/N). I-I don’t-”

“I can’t take her anymore. Please. Just make it stop.” I sob. “Make everything stop. Please.”

“I-I don’t think I can do what you’re asking of me.” She says, frantically shaking her head. “There has to be something else-”

“No, please,”

“Oh come on, you know you’re nothing without me.”

“GET OUT.” I cry, squeezing my eyes shut, tightly clenching my jaw. Pain sears through my body and I can’t stop the scream that escapes my mouth.

One moment everything is white hot pain and Angel mocking me relentlessly, the next Wanda’s grip on my face loosens and everything goes dark.

--

“Sir, there has been a development.”

“How so?” Tony asks, slowly putting his tablet to the side and standing up from his seat. “What happened?”

“The incident has ended, but Ms. Maximoff has asked that you join her in the infirmary.”

Tony's breathing falters and his stomach drops.

“(Y/N),” He breathes.

Without a second thought, he rushes out the door and down the hallway. He refuses to take the elevator, instead, opting to take the stairs down two at a time. He races down the hallway towards the infirmary and turns the corner sharply, shoes sliding along the tiled floors, fighting for purchase. When he can finally right himself, he bursts through the doors and looks around the room, eyes wild. His gaze lands on Wanda in a chair beside the occupied hospital bed, looking at her hands in her lap which are enveloped in a red glow. It takes him a moment to tear his gaze away from her and drag his eyes over to the bed. What he sees there almost makes his heart stop and he can't find it in him to breathe.

(Y/N) lays on the bed, suspended in a shimmering red field of energy. Her eyes are closed and her chest rises and falls rhythmically. All signs point towards sleep, but something about the scene doesn’t sit right with Tony after the incident earlier.

He doesn’t realize he’s even moved until he’s standing at (Y/N)’s bedside, staring down at her.

“I...I didn’t want to do it.” Wanda says, her voice cracking. “I tried to find another way. She was in so much pain...” She shakes her head. “She was begging me, Tony.”

“What happened?”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. said that (Y/N) had asked for me in the lab. When I got there the doors were locked and she was curled in on herself, banging her head against the wall and talking to herself. I-it took me a moment to get the door unlocked and I had to stop her from hurting herself further… She was crying and yelling, and begging me to stop someone. She told me to make everything stop.” Wanda takes a deep breath to steady herself and releases it slowly. “I-I think she was asking me to kill her.”

“What?”

“I think she was talking to the other half of herself. From what I heard, (Y/N) was with someone when she was an agent and he had accepted the other side of her, but that other half took control of him and forced him to commit suicide.”

Tony’s eyes go wide and his legs wobble momentarily before he can steady himself on the edge of the bed. He shakes his head and turns away from the women in front of him, realizing what was happening earlier in the lab.

“That was why she didn't want me there.” He squeezes his eyes shut and a couple of tears roll down his cheeks before he roughly wipes them away with the heel of his hand. “Fuck.”

“I'm sorry.”

Tony shakes his head and turns his body to face Wanda. “Don't be. You kept her alive.” He frowns and sits down on the edge of the mattress, gently cradling one of (Y/N)’s hands in his. It looks so small and pale in comparison and the sight makes his heart clench painfully. “What did you do?”

“I don't know for sure. I was only thinking about keeping her alive and this happened. She may be in a coma, but I can't be sure till Banner and Helen show up.” Her brow furrows. “She has a wound on the back of her head where she hit it against the wall and she may have a concussion. I'm scared that if I release her, we'll lose her.”

“Alright.” Tony nods. “We’ll figure something out. We’re not going to lose her.”

The doors open and Bruce and Helen quickly cross the room.

“What happened?” Bruce asks.

Tony shakes his head. “We don’t know for sure. Wanda put her under and now she’s here.”

Helen Cho begins looking over (Y/N)’s unconscious body. She takes her pulse, moves her joints and shines a penlight in her eyes to check responsiveness. When She’s through, she rights her posture and crosses her arms, staring down at (Y/N) with a furrowed brow.

“What is it?” Bruce asks.

Cho shakes her head. “I’m not sure of what to make of this.”

Tony looks at her worriedly. “What do you mean?”

“She’s in there, but after Ms. Maximoff put her under, it’s like her body just shut down.”

“She’s treating Angel like an infection.” Bruce muses.

“Angel?”

“She’s like the hulk, but on a completely different level.”

“How so?”

“She’s another side of (Y/N), but you wouldn’t know she was different if you weren’t aware of what she’s like normally. From what we’ve gathered Angel manipulates people and it’s resulted in at least one death so far.” Tony shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. “I should have stayed.”

“No. She told you to leave and you did the right thing in listening to her.” Wanda says firmly, intense eyes trained on him. “It would have ended worse had you stayed.”

Tony’s brow furrows as he examines her facial expression. His features soften and he closes his eye, nodding in agreement. “You’re right.” He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. “We have to get rid of Angel.”

“What?” The word is out of Bruce’s mouth before he can do anything about it. “I thought we were only working on a suppressant.”

“Well I’m skipping ahead. We’re going to kill angel and give (Y/N) full control of herself.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little, well...”

“No, there’s no other option.” Tony leans forward, cradling (Y/N)’s face in his hands. She looks pale and her skin is cold. Tony can’t help the wave of helplessness that washes through him and he closes his eyes, trying to ignore it. He presses a soft kiss to her forehead before pushing himself off the bed and heading for the door. He pauses for a moment in the doorway and throws a glance over his shoulder. “I’ll be in the lab if you need anything.” Bruce nods once and Tony walks out of the lab.

“(Y/N) will be fine if you release her, Ms. Maximoff,” Helen says, her tone gentle.

Wanda nods and the shimmering red surrounding (Y/N)’s body slowly dissolves. As soon as the field of red disappears Wanda’s shoulders slump and she allows herself to relax into the chair she's sitting in.

“He really cares about her,” Bruce says softly.

“It's more than that, Doctor Banner,” Wanda whispers. “I saw what was happening inside of his head. He cares about all of us. This though... this is something stronger.”

--

“Have you come up with anything yet?” Bruce asks, leaning on one of the tables that borders the lab.

“Nothing that doesn't involve a lobotomy.” Tony scowls at the numbers on the screen, moving so fast they appear to be twitching. He can only take it for a moment longer before he clears the screen and starts from scratch.

“Are you sure a lobotomy would even help?”

“Nope.” Tony pushes away from the monitor and spins his chair around to face Bruce. “If I can't pinpoint where Angel lives in her head then I can't even begin to dream up some batshit way to get her out.”

“Maybe you should take a break.”

“No, I need to keep working.” Tony shakes his head, turning back to the monitor and reopens the program.

“Tony, it's been three days-”

Tony stands abruptly, sending the rolling chair skittering across the floor. “She wouldn't be down there if it weren't for me, okay?”

“What?”

“I tried to ask her out. She told me it was dangerous and I questioned her. I pushed her and Angel tried to take over. It's my fault she's down there right now in a fucking coma.” He cards his hands through his hair, his expression slightly manic. “I should have known better. She warned me and I didn't fucking listen.”

“Well, it isn't exactly your strong suit.”

Tony snorts disdainfully and shakes his head. “I don't know what I was thinking,” he mutters. “This is all my fault.”

“It's not your fault.” Tony and Bruce look over to find Wanda standing stiffly in the doorway.

“How do you know?” Tony asks.

“She doesn't have control over Angel. She's always there, under the surface, looking for an opportunity to show up. She's like a fever, but she is triggered by extreme stress and anxiety. She broke through because (Y/N) was trying so hard to concentrate on work and on containing her other half around you that she wasn't able to fully focus on either of her goals.” Tony opens his mouth to say something and Wanda holds up her and to silence him. “Angel found a gap and attacked. She uses psychological warfare and manipulation to get what she wants even if that means destroying the body she lives in.”

“You say that as if Angel is a parasite.”

“Well, she is in a sense, isn't she?” Wanda raises her eyebrows. “(Y/N)’s body practically shut down in an attempt to destroy something that has now been identified as a threat.”

“It sounds like you’ve given this some thought.”

She nods once. “I’ve been visiting her, checking in on her mental activity to see if there has been any change. When I actually looked into her head, I could see that she was waging a war against Angel, trying to take control of her body again.”

“You say that like you have a plan for how to get rid of Angel.”

“I don’t exactly have a plan, but I hope it’s something.”

“Explain, then.”

Wanda sighs softly. “I don’t know if it’ll work, but if we trigger Angel when (Y/N) is awake, I may be able to pinpoint where Angel is in her brain and either destroy or isolate her to the point that she will never be able to cause trouble again.”

“The only way we do this is if (Y/N) agrees to it,” Tony says after a long stretch of silence. “If she says no, we look for another way, no questions asked.”

“Of course.” Wanda nods once.

Tony nods to himself, searching for his chair and sagging into it once he's pulled it back to his work station. He scrubs a hand over his tired, stubley face and sighs loudly. He spins his chair around so that he's facing his monitor again and begins working on another algorithm.

“What are you doing?” Bruce asks.

“Someone has to come up with a plan B. Might as well get on it while we wait for her to wake up.”

Bruce nods and pulls up his own chair next to Tony to see where he can help.

--

The first thing I notice when I wake up is how slow everything seems to be moving. Second, the pounding headache and dull throb located at the back of my head. Third, the small crowd of people gathered at the foot of my bed.

I close my eyes against the harsh lighting and hushed whispers that fill the room, trying to block everything out for a moment longer.

“She’s awake,” Wanda murmurs.

I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder and I flinch away without thinking. Cautiously, I open my eye only to find Tony looking at me sadly.

“Hey,” I breathe.

A sad smile forms his lips. “Hey,” I can see his lips quiver and tears forming in his eyes. “It’s been a while.”

My brow furrows in confusion. “How long was I out?”

“Almost a week,” Bruce answers. “You gave us quite a scare, (Y/N).”

“A week,” I whisper. “How could I have been out for an entire week.”

“It’s wasn’t your fault, (Y/N). You weren’t in control.” Wanda says, trying to reassure me.

I shake my head. “What happened?”

Wanda glances at Tony and Bruce, her expression unsure, before continuing. “When you called me into the lab, you weren’t quite yourself. Angel was trying to take over and you begged me to do something to make it stop. I didn’t know what to do, so I tried to put you to sleep, but accidentally put you into a coma.”

A flash of pain lances through my head and I press the heel of my hand to my forehead. “She wanted Tony,” I grit out. Another pang of pain washes through me and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from groaning. “She still wants him.”

I feel the bed dip slightly as Tony sits beside me. “We have a plan to get rid of Angel. But we won’t do it if you don’t agree to.”

“What’s the plan?” I ask, pressing against my eyes with my hands, trying to block Tony out as best as possible. I don’t want him to leave. Having him close to me is comforting. Overwhelming, but comforting.

“I don’t think you’re going to like it much-”

“Bruce, just tell me what the fucking plan is already,” I snap. I feel Tony pull away from me and my shoulders sag. “I can’t keep living like this.”

“If you die-”

“I’m fine with that,” I say softly. “I can’t keep this up. I don’t want to terrorize the people I care about until someone gets hurt and puts a bullet in my head.”

“(Y/N)...”

“Even worse, if I do it myself.” Uncovering my eyes, I look directly at Wanda. “What’s the plan.”

--

“Are you sure you need to be strapped down?” Bruce asks while he watches Tony tighten down the last strap across (Y/N)’s legs.

“If there’s a way to get out, she’ll find it, and I’d rather you stay safe through all of this.”

Tony bites the inside of his cheek before turning back to the task at hand, securing the last couple of straps across her upper body.

“That should do it,” He says with one last tug. He leans over (Y/N)’s body, concern evident in his expression. “You really want to go through with this? We can find another way.”

“I just want to get this over with, Tony.” She studies his features momentarily before gathering the courage to reach out to Tony and grab a fistful of the hem of his shirt. She balls it up as much as possible, pulling him down to her level before letting go.

“What’s this?” Tony asks, trying to sound nonchalant and failing.

“Just kiss me you asshole,” She whispers, her eyes flitting over his face.

“Is this you talking, or Angel?”

“You’re close enough that it’ll be Angel in about ten seconds if you don’t hurry up and do it already.”

Her words shock Tony into action and he leans over her, hands on either side of her head, and presses his lips softly to hers. (Y/N) tentatively kisses him back, allowing herself to live in the moment while she can. She pulls back abruptly at the familiar twinge of pain behind her eyes. Tony straightens and takes several steps back, falling in line with Bruce and Wanda. He watches as (Y/N) squeezes her eyes shut and scrunches up her nose, like she does when she’s trying to focus in the lab, fighting the change.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Tony calls out. (Y/N) tilts her head to the side to show that she’s listening. “I love you.”

A pained smirk forms on her face. “I know,”

Tony lets out a strained laugh. “Since when am I Leia in this relationship?”

“Oh, honey,” A voice comes out of (Y/N)’s mouth that isn’t entirely hers. Her eyes snap open to reveal a dark gray clouding once clear, (Y/E/C) irises. “You’ve always been Leia in this relationship.”

“Angel, I presume,” Tony says, trying to keep his voice even and failing.

“Don’t look so surprised, lover boy, it’s better this way! I’m more fun than she is anyway, you know.”

Tony snorts loudly. “I highly doubt that you and I have anything in common,” He folds his arms over his chest defensively, trying to close himself off from the oddly alluring voice that belongs to Angel and definitely not (Y/N). This isn’t her. This isn’t the woman he’s trying to save. “It’s not like you’re going to be around much longer.”

Angel barks out something akin to laughter. “Oh yeah, that’s a laugh. I heard all about your little plan. You think you’re going to be able to get rid of me with a little voodoo magic? Maybe light a little incense to get the mood right?” She cackles loudly. “There’s only one way you’re ever going to be able to do to separate me from (Y/N),” She looks directly at Tony, a wide smirk firmly set in place. “And we all know you don’t have the heart to kill her.”

Tony stiffens, his jaw clenching. “Do it, Wanda.”

“Hah!” Angel barks out. “What’re you gonna do, little witch? Gonna wiggle your fingers at me? Hold up a cross? The power of Christ comp-ech!”

Angel stops talking as soon as a wave of red energy washes over her and (Y/N)’s body seizes up. Her arms lift from the bed, struggling against the restraints as if trying to physically fight against what’s happening inside her head. She claws at the bed sheets, eyes wide and wild. Wanda struggles to keep a hold of her powers and reign them in, to force them into doing what she wants them to do. She finds what she’s looking for and a faint gurgling noise escapes (Y/N)’s throat.

“Wanda,” Tony’s tone holds a warning. “What's going on in there.”

“I think I’ve almost got her,” Wanda grits out. “Just-”

She’s cut off by an earth-shattering scream ripping its way out of (Y/N)’s mouth, her head thrown back into the pillow, eyes still wide open. It stops as soon as it started and the red veil that had enveloped (Y/N)’s body melts away, and she falls against the mattress, unmoving, eyes closed. Wanda’s knees buckle and Bruce catches her under her arms before she can fall to the floor.

“Are you alright?” Bruce asks.

Wanda nods wearily. “(Y/N). Check on (Y/N).”

Seeming to come to his senses, Tony jumps into action, rushing over to (Y/N)’s bedside. He frames her face with his hands and strokes over her cheekbones with his thumbs.

“Wake up,” He pleads. “Come on, (Y/N), wake up. Please.”

--

Reality comes crashing back in as my eyes snap open and I'm left panting and exhausted. I can't sit up and I struggle for a moment before remembering Tony strapping me to the bed at my request.

Tony.

I look around, frantically searching for him before realizing he's there with my head cradled in his hands.

“Is it over ?” I ask, my voice coming out in a croak.

“Did it work?” Wanda’s voice is drowsy.

“Wanda?” Tony leans over me, looking directly into my eyes, brow furrowed. “What?”

“It's your eyes,” he says softly.

“My eyes?”

He chokes out a watery laugh, tears spilling over and running down his cheeks as he nods. “Yeah, your eyes. They're yours again.”

“It worked,” I murmur. “It actually worked?”

I can feel a gentle pressure in my head before Wanda speaks. “It worked. I can't find her in there anywhere.”

My breath hitches and I can feel my heart stutter in my chest. Pushing against the restraints holding me to the bed, I turn to Tony, probably looking as desperate as I feel. “Get these off of me.”

Tony snaps into action, releasing the buckles of the straps as fast as he can. As soon as my arms are free, I sit up and grab Tony’s hand. His fingers tighten around mine as he works to release the straps around my legs. When he's done, he sits on the bed beside me, carefully scoops me up and places me in his lap. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and press my face into the crook of his neck and immediately burst into tears. Tony holds me tightly to his chest, gently rocking us from side to side, making quiet, soothing noises.

“Hey, it's okay,” He whispers. “You're fine, you're here. It's okay.” He presses a soft kiss to my neck and rubs gentle circles into my back.

I take a deep, shuddering breath and nod, tightening my arms around his shoulders. “I know,”

“Hmm?” Tony hums. I can barely hear someone whisper something, but I can't tell who's talking. I feel him nod and it's shortly followed by the sound of the doors clicking shut.

Taking a deep breath, I disentangle myself from Tony and carefully weave my fingers into the hair at the back of his head, gently pulling his face down to mine and pressing my forehead to his. When I breathe out, it’s shaky but steadier than it was before. Tony holds me tighter still to his chest, looking at me so intensely that I close my eyes instinctively, in spite of the fact that I know that Angel is gone.

“You’ve got to stop looking at me like that,” I murmur.

“Like what?”

I shake my head. “Like I’m an angel or something. Like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“And what if you are?” Tony pulls away and I open my eyes to find him looking at me curiously, head tilted to the side. “There’s no Angel anymore. She's dead. Nothing bad will happen, no one’s going to get hurt, unless I fuck up again, and you leave. Then I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself, and I’d grovel on my knees at your doorstep, day and night, begging you to give me a second chance.”

I laugh quietly and wipe my eyes. “I love you,”

“Yeah?” He grins at me.

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “This is the part where you say “I love you too, (Y/N)” not yeah.”

“This coming from the woman who said “I know” when I told her that I loved her.”

“Fine, that’s fair,” I laugh, carefully moving my fingers through the soft hair at the base of his skull. I watch as his shoulders relax and the lines between his brows fade. A soft smile stretches across his face more easily than I’ve ever seen from him and I can’t help the smile that appears on mine.

“I do love you, you know,” he says softly. “If that hadn’t worked, I don’t know what I’d done.”

I shake my head. “I don’t even want to think about the what if’s anymore. I’m done with them. The only place for variables is in the lab. All that matters right now is what’s right in front of me, and for the first time in my life, I can take hold of that and run with it.”

“I couldn’t agree more, (Y/N),” He tips his head up and softly presses his lips to mine. “I couldn’t agree more.”

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With the advice of third-party software, you can apparently run your admired Android apps on your Windows computer. Unfortunately, accepting apps from your buzz or book to your Windows PC isn’t aboveboard like installing desktop software. And while Microsoft is beta testing Android app apery in Windows 10, this still isn’t active the concrete app on your machine.

There are several means to run Android apps in Windows 10, alignment from emulators to dual-booting. To advice abridge things, we’ve aggregate a absolute adviser on what software and utilities you charge to install Android apps on about any Windows computer.

If you’re active a Chromebook, you may appetite to analysis out our committed adviser to installing Android apps on Chrome OS.

The Bluestacks App Player is one of the best accepted and able-bodied Android emulators around, acceptance you to run amateur and apps for Android 7.1.2 (Nougat) on your Windows desktop.

It’s chargeless to use, and you can calmly toggle appetite settings and barrage apps appliance the custom-designed interface. “Layercake” technology uses accouterments accelerators to advance the achievement of Android amateur active on Windows-based machines.

If you accept a Facebook or Twitch annual and a PC with added than 8GB of RAM, you can alike advertisement apps and amateur anon from the Bluestacks window. However, users may appetite to accredit AMD-V or Intel VT-x aural the BIOS for optimal performance, if available.

Bluestacks offers an addition cable ($4 per ages or 40$ per year) that enables exceptional abutment and absolute offers from app developers.

Here’s how to install Bluestacks to your computer:

Step 1: Download the installer from the official Bluestacks website.

Step 2: Barrage the install appliance and accept the accumulator area for the app and abstracts files. Unfortunately, you can’t change the Bluestacks agenda — it will install on your cossack drive by default.

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Step 3: Once Bluestacks installs, barrage it and admission your Google annual credentials. You’ll charge this advice to log in to the Google Comedy Store and admission your Android app library.

There’s an addition to Android emulators that gives you newer versions of Android, but the setup’s a bit more involved. It’s alleged “dual booting,” and it effectively transforms your Windows computer into an Android device. You’ll accretion the advantage to cossack into Android when you about-face on your computer, and Android will assignment aloof like it does on your smartphone or tablet.

However, accepting started is not as simple as installing built-in Android. Because computer accouterments — processors, cartoon cards, and adamantine drives — charge be added to Android by a third-party developer, you’ll charge to acquisition a custom administration that supports your machine.

Like the now-defunct Remix OS, Phoenix OS is a abounding Android 7.1 or 5.1 operating arrangement that runs on your Windows machine. That gives it the functionality of a desktop OS, forth with all of the affinity with Android applications.

Here’s how to get started:

Step 1: Go to the Phoenix OS download folio and download the latest installer for your PC. Accept the EXE or ISO book for the adaptation of Android you prefer. Currently, you accept the installer for Android 7.1 or Android 5.1.

Step 2: Actualize a new allotment for Phoenix OS. For added advice on how to do that, see our Windows guide.

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Android-x86 is an open-source activity that seeks to anchorage the newest adaptation Android to Windows hardware.

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Android-x86 additionally lets you adapt Android to your liking. You can install third-party themes, home screens, and added after accepting to anguish whether or not they will comedy accurately calm — clashing Remix OS. See this account for accurate devices.

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Step 1: First, accomplish abiding your computer’s adamantine drive has at atomic 2GB of chargeless amplitude and download the latest Android-x86 ISO. If your accessory isn’t listed, download the all-encompassing file.

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Step 8: Baddest Yes to install GRUB and afresh baddest Yes again.

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Step 10: Reboot your computer for the additional time. Once installed, as with Phoenix OS, use the Google Comedy Store to install Android apps as you wish.

In 2020 Microsoft apparent capacity about the Surface Duo and the Surface Neo slated for the 2020 holidays. The Surface Duo, in particular, is account acquainted for Android admirers because it’s advised to run Android as its built-in OS. This will accord buyers a Microsoft-managed Android accessory with added Windows compatibility, which can be adorable to a lot of people. If you appetite a committed Microsoft Android device, aloof wait!

However, there’s addition Android application to note. To adapt for the accessible Surface Duo, Microsoft fabricated the Duo SDK Examination accessible to download for both developers and absorbed fans. This examination installs an Android adversary on your computer advised to actor the dual-screen Duo design, chip with Android Studio.

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[icymirss]

I'm Breaking Up With the Atheist Community

This piece was originally published on Sunday, 11 Sep 2011 00:45:04 +0000 by PaxSkeptica (@PaxSkeptica) and originally hosted at http://pax.skeptica.net/. We are republishing it here as it does not appear to have been archived anywhere else.

Twitter Tagline: "Guys, it's been a good run – I think we gave it our best – but it's over. #atheism"

I've been telling everyone today that I'm breaking up with the atheist community. Two questions came up that required a rather lengthy answer and involved several links, so I turned here. (Besides, it may as well be a matter of record.)

The questions:

What brought you to this conclusion?

What would you suggest as an alternative for the atheist community?

What brought me here? I don't know. A lot of things. I'm tired of reading the same shit every day that's just pissing on Christians and science-worship (yes, I mean that; more on that in a second). I'm tired of listening to people who would as likely as not primarily define themselves as skeptics, when by their behavior you can see that they are not particularly skeptical people. I already wrote about the weird response I got when I questioned a racist joke made by a prominent atheist. I guess the straw that broke the camel's back came today when I asked JT Eberhard why he was bothering to debate this moron.

You can see from said moron's "opening" (I love how this is described like it's going to be some kind of high-stakes chess match) that he's pretty much just shoveling the same shitty, thoroughly-and-repeatedly debunked half a dozen arguments that have been limping along since the 13th century.

Origen – God is the best explanation for the universe. The argument is as follows:

Whatever begins to exist has a cause,

The universe began to exist,

Therefore, the universe has a cause. This cause I call God.

Brilliant. That frankenstein bastardization of Aristotle and an unsubstantiated claim about a deity wouldn't pass for logic in an introductory class at a public high school. This isn't a serious debate any more than me punching an old lady is a heavyweight prizefight. So what's the point? Why waste time skewering an opponent of zero intellectual value when the cost involves diving into a cesspool of stupidity, ignorance, arrogance, and hatred all destined to be slung your way? Why, to convert people.

When I asked JT (and, unexpectedly, several of his followers who chimed in) what the reason was, he started telling me all about this duty to those of us in our 'religious' demographic (his words; I can't quote it here because it was not shared publicly, as much as I'd like to). He basically said that even though I had undoubtedly "read and memorized" all the arguments and counter-arguments, some had not, and that by doing this he was increasing the accessibility of this information. Now I could do a whole post on just what's wrong with that line of reasoning, but let me just say this: That's as religious as anything I've ever heard. To read the quote (again, I wish I could show it) gives the sense that JT is some sort of shepherd guiding newly minted atheists into the fold.

Another commenter gave me his... testimony? Untestimony? "I'm with JT, entirely," he began; and he proceeded to tell me of his difficult and laborious (de)conversion that would have been sped along if only some righteous preachers bloggers like JT Eberhard, PZ Myers, and Greta Christina (his list, not mine) had been there to help him through the transition. (Oh, glory!) Even JT answered at first (and perhaps most tellingly) by saying that his reason was "because a lot of people read this guy". That's the same kind of perverted marketing Christians use to evangelize. That's all it is: evangelism.

I recently rearranged all my lists on Twitter, with one primary purpose in mind. I gutted sec-r, my list of secular humanists, skeptics, and atheists. The reason is, and I experienced the same thing on Google+, most of what these people share is utterly vapid. It's a mix of self-righteous quotes, bitter condemnation of Christians mixed with "OH MY GOD WHAT HAVE THEY DONE NOW" link-sharing, and ejaculations about science, logic, reason, the Archimedean point, or whatever other naturalist trope is floating around the tubes. Seriously, what's the difference between this and this, when you get right down to it? Everything on #atheism is stupid quotes, usually about how atheists are better than believers. Here's a small fraction from my access just now:

@JakeCatrain Jake Catrain Atheist: One who has no belief in god or gods. (Sorry christians, thats it) #atheism Retweeted 4 times

@GodlessAtheist Godless Atheist Christians worry about internal damnation. I just have to worry about what's for dinner. #goodtobeanatheist #atheism

@agaytheist Geoff Robert Warning! Clicking on a Deepak Chopra video link takes you directly to a Deepak Chopra video. - George Hrab #skepticism #atheism

@Monicks Monica Dear Theist: do you fear god? You might suffer Bogyphobia: Fear of fictional characters. Look it up! #atheism #atheist #snark (◕‿~)'

Seriously. Those aren't hand-picked. They're the first four results. What's the difference between that and this kind of crap? I can tell you the difference as I see it: nothing. Nothing at all.

My point is that criticisms of atheism that used to offend me now strike me as basically true. "Atheism is just another religion," Christians sometimes say, or, "What's the point in believing in a negative?" Well, for these people, it basically is. I know there's a hundred one-liners out there already zinging toward me to prove me wrong: "atheism is a religion like bald/not collecting stamps/off is a hair color/hobby/television channel." I would like to start that sentence with the words not believing in god, which – though some of these same practitioners would define 'atheism' as such – is clearly not all that's going on here. It's not just believing in a negative, it's reveling narcissistically in believing in a negative. What else could you call rubbing in people's faces that you don't believe in something which they hold very dear? And not just once, as a mean joke, but basing your entire life and personality around it?

I remember watching the South Park episode about atheism, where Trey and Matt had Cartman go to a future world where religion was no longer, and factions of Atheists fought wars and killed each other while screaming, "Science, damn it!" When I first saw it, I thought it was an infuriating caricature. But then you see these atheists all over Twitter who painstakingly list quasi-synonyms in their Twitter bio ("science, reason, logic, naturalism, antitheism"), and endlessly retweet Randall Munroe's, "It works, bitches!" and all of a sudden you can see the "grain of truth" behind this particular stereotype.

It's certainly not everybody. Consider the context – a Maddox-style rant penned half at two in the morning – before you judge me too harshly. I'm still an enormous fan of CFI, and applaud efforts like FFRF. Obviously I'm still interested in science for the public interest. I love being an atheist because there's no religion in my life, as far as I can help it, and for the reasons outlined above and more, I view a large swath of the atheist subculture (at least online) to be more or less a pseudo-religion: a community built around (the denial of) religious ideas. Even that is too much religion for me, so I'm just going to gracefully back away and let them do their thing. JT also told me something like, "Everybody has their niche and what they're good at." Maybe he's right. Maybe we're like vampires, and we're each individually shaped by the Embrace that was our faith snapping in half and reason inexorably leading us to atheism. Maybe we're all left bitter or wounded in a different fashion, so each has a way of dealing with it. I'm not categorically against what they're doing: it's just not for me.

As for a replacement for the atheist community? It hadn't really occurred to me. After all, I'm not really in the market for one. I much more strongly identify with late 19th century leftist politics (libertarian anarchism, secularism) and pacifism rooted in skepticism than I do with atheism per se, let alone the "gnu atheism" that is so preponderant online. So unlike, I suspect, most members of the online mega(un)church, I'm not so much a part of the community that I'm going to feel any withdrawal. There's no void for me to fill.

PS – Since you read all that, here's your reward: http://www.youtube.com/embed/Ti3t7MAwaaM

[onisionisacanceronthisearth]

Greg is stupid about Shane P4: The editing and production

The continuation of this outdated scandal (because it’s Onision and this was replaced immediately by his debate). I want to continue this because the issues brought up are applicable to basically every one of his videos. Onision is a serial manipulator, right down to the back-end of his videos, and this video is a prime example of it.

The music: The moment I turned on the video I was struck by the music. The music is well chosen and pretty well camouflaged. It’s a terrible ominous sounding sound designed to make you feel dread. It’s much softer than his voice and he leaves very few pauses so he doesn’t leave the music on its own. It’s also a piece of music that doesn’t change too many notes so if you don’t have an ear for it, you could completely miss it. Due to all this, the music can trick your brain into thinking the dread feeling is a reaction to what Greg is showing. A pretty common trick of movies and people not confident that their subject material will actually convey the emotion they want. (See the John William’s work on The Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones)

The special effects: Now this part is funny because unlike the well-integrated music, the effects are out of a B-movie or a failed skit Youtuber’s videos. So, while Greg is trying to tug at our heartstrings that he received so many terrible comments (that he only showed 3 of them at that dramatic point), he turned the video to greyscale with “glitches”. I think it’s to show how scary it is but honestly, Greg probably receives worse comments daily on non-attack videos. This was stupid but it might scare a 12 year old, which is his audience that he already considers to be a bunch of idiots (his words). He does it multiple times later as well but it’s done badly. It’s easy to see that he’s doing it to make the video seem more “serious” but it doesn’t. By the end of the video it’s practically every other sentence and overused but the intent to manipulate is still there.

The pictures chosen: While saying the words “Shane Dawson’s videos promote obesity” (words I never thought could ever be spoken seriously), Greg shows pictures of Shane eating obviously unhealthy foods. I’ve looked through Shane’s channel and there were about 12 videos total in 6 months even involving food. Majority of which weren’t anything crazy like what Greg tried to show. 2 were actually him making tiny cakes for his cat (I may or may not have clicked on them because of how adorable it looked). I will go into specifics about the videos Greg shows later but the point is, Greg acts like Shane is running a terrible daily Muckbang channel when the video thumbnails he shows aren’t all even showing up as videos from 5 months ago. I’ve eaten steak a couple times this year and multiple times in my life, I don’t eat it everyday but if someone like Greg came along and only posted pictures of me eating steak it would seem like I only ever eat meat or steak. Even if that’s not a representation of the truth. Greg also uses a body picture of Shane to prove a point that Shane is obese. Different angled pictures and different clothes show body shape differently. Here’s a recent picture of Shane from his instagram:

Not quite the dying obese man Greg is trying to show. Greg of course uses only one set of Shane’s body pictures throughout the video. These pictures are of Shane wearing a very baggy shirt and shorts that is not form-fitting at all. If you want to show someone’s body you need to actually show their body (or be a decent person and, well, don’t). One of the pictures Greg uses of course includes him in it dressed his best, hair styled, and obviously wearing his usual foundation to compare and contrast. One of the other pictures show Shane from behind which is obviously will not give us any idea as to how Shane looks. The shirt being baggy obviously makes him look bigger, especially from behind. 

The FAX pictures: I swear this was a total coincidence but Greg actually one of the major citations I used in my previous post discrediting his description! This is actually amazing and makes everything super easy! Greg utterly misrepresented the facts and cherry-picked things that would support his belief! Greg uses the Death Stats of the United States and shows it as proof that obesity causes a lot of death. He leaves out a lot of information which I go over in my post. In my post I showed that all these causes of death can obviously be caused by obesity but obesity isn’t the lead cause of dying from these diseases. Also that anorexia can cause the same things. He shows heart disease and then says that obesity can lead to a higher risk of dying from heart disease leading his audience to believe that the highest cause of death in the United States was heart disease. Ignoring of course everything else. He also shows and compares stats that cannot be compared (and I cannot even all find) For example, Greg uses a graph from the WSJ that has the year, his second graph with no citation does not have the year. They cannot be used to compare, hell, we don’t even know if the second graph is US-based. Coincidentally I could not find the WSJ’s graph on the CDC website and I also could not find this graph on their website. The only place I found it was on pinterest.

This is a very common tactic for anti-vaxxers, politicians, douchebags on facebook, new-age suburban moms, and the Alex Jones’ of the world. As his audience is mostly children who have not gotten to even 11th grade bio, they will see these stats, make the links, and assume he must be right because if you don’t have all the information it certainly looks that way.

Greg’s hot vegan bod Yeah, Greg’s body isn’t proving anything but he knows his audience thinks he’s hot. Also he’s showing it to us after using the most unflattering Shane pics he could find. Random fact: the kid’s series Dear Dumb Diaries had a subplot where the main character made sure to stand beside her ugly classmate or friend during some wedding or school dance once.

So what does this give us? This thumbnail in dramatic greyscale, ending with a glitchy screen as a transition is literally Shane eating a burger from his video “trying hangover foods”, or as Greg puts it, “guaranteeing health problems in the future”. Eating a singular burger will not kill you or even leave lasting health problems or lead to them in the future. But given the tone of voice, greyscale, glitch transition, and underlying ominous music, I too am convinced to throw out my years of education and believe Shane will die for eating a meal made out of empty calories that will be burned too fast and fats that on their own will not make a lasting impact on his health. Oh wait, I just laughed hysterically

Just because he’s trying to make it manipulative doesn’t mean it’ll actually work