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strawwritesfic · 3 years

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Peter Parker x Pregnant!Female!Stark!Reader: Where Gods Do Fear to Tread [Ch. 1]

Summary: The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry, the best laid plans of teenagers even more so.

Challenge: “9 Months” challenge by crackleviolet on Lunaescence Archive -- Bonus Two -- Teenage Pregnancy

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T (sexual references; two underage people having consensual sex off the page; teenage pregnancy; family drama; mixed families; teenage cruelty; discussion of abortion; discussion of adoption; foul language; crude humor; postpartum depression; Stark!Reader; Lila & Reader friendship)

Pairings: Peter Parker x Female!Reader; Tony/Pepper; Happy/May; Steve/Bucky; Clint/Laura; past!Tony/Reader’s Mom

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Master List

Chapter 1: How it Happened

The air of Queens, New York tasted better at night. Clear and cold, it burned your lungs as you stepped out of the cab you’d taken from Manhattan. You took a big enough gulp of it to make the stars above your head spin. It was exhilarating. Nothing like what you’d have found in your old hometown of Franklin, Tennessee. Or maybe you only felt that way because of the mischief you were up to: out after curfew on a school night, alone in a big city, with no one any the wiser regarding your whereabouts.

If you had anything to say about it, those last two facts wouldn’t stay true for long. You grinned wickedly as the taxi rejoined the stream of traffic at your back. It was dark and you’d hardly said a word to your driver outside of informing him of your destination. Having thought ahead and withdrawn enough cash to pay for a round trip instead of using a card with your name on it had been a stroke of genius, too. Now your little clandestine jaunt wouldn’t end up on the news where your dad could see it. He would remain just as you wanted him: blissfully ignorant of your illicit activities.

Hopefully they would be just as illicit as you wanted, too. Otherwise, you had chosen a very poor outfit for your long wait in the cold for a second taxi. The large coat that billowed around your legs as you strode up to the apartment building allowed the November wind spaces through which to sting the skin below. You were shivering violently by the time you knocked on the appropriate door.

A bit of a commotion issued from inside—someone coming to check who was at the door, you assumed. You struck a pose for their benefit. It could only be one person, unless your plan had gone very, very awry. Then the scrape of the chain being unlatched reached your waiting ears, and the door flew upon to reveal Peter Parker looking exactly as surprised as you had dreamed.

“[Name]? What are you doing here?”

By then, you were far too cold to play games, so you didn’t wait for an invitation to enter before you swept inside. He was sweet enough to step aside and quickly shut the door behind you. You had to grin when he continued to look confused about your presence when he turned to face you.

“Don’t look so surprised. I’m here to see you, obviously. You’re alone, right?” you asked.

“Yeah, but—how did you know that?”

“My dad. He mentioned that your aunt had a date with Happy tonight. So there’s one.” You ticked the reasons off on your fingers. “He’s busy with the team. I happen to be well aware that he’s working on some upgrades for your suit, so you’re off duty for the week. And you told me yourself that Ned is grounded for upping his family’s cellphone bill calling you so much.”

None of this lessened Peter’s resemblance to a deer in the headlights. “Does Mr. Stark know you’re here?”

“No,” you said, and advanced on him slowly, causing him to press himself backward against the same door through which you’d just entered.

“How did you get away without him noticing?”

“I disabled FRIDAY’s motion sensors for the family entrance and ran a program modeling my biometrics from my laptop. Come on. Give me some credit. I am a Stark.”

“What about Mrs. Stark?”

You rolled your eyes as you hooked a hand behind Peter’s neck to pull his face closer to yours. “Pepper’s in the middle of a big project for the company. She’ll be on a conference call to Malibu all night. No one knows I’m here, and I’ll be back at home before Dad’s finished rescuing Rotruvia and Happy’s done romancing your aunt.”

“You went to all that trouble just to come see me?” he asked. Finally you saw a hint of that geeky smile of his that sent your heart into overdrive.

“Idiot.” You planted a swift kiss on his mouth. “I love you. Besides, we never get a chance to spend time alone together. There’s always some adult around. Your aunt, or my dad, or Pepper, or Happy, or Steve. You got Netflix?”

“Who doesn’t have Netflix?”

“Good. I brought the popcorn. Race you to the couch!”

A much wider smile flashed across Peter’s face that time. Then he vanished from view. Startled, you turned on the spot just in time to see him land on the Parker’s battered old sofa. He lifted his hands and shook back his sleeves so that you could see the devices strapped to his wrists.

“Should have known you were still wearing the web-shooters,” you grumbled.

“So,” he patted the spot next to him, “what do I win?”

He could have had no way of knowing what that question sparked inside you. All your careful planning came to a head after that single inquiry. Suddenly you weren’t so sure that it had all been worth it. You’d meant what you’d said earlier. You did love Peter. You wanted to be with him. But he was so…well, judging by the way he’d flung himself onto the nearest piece of furniture at the suggestion of binging a few episodes of Stranger Things with you, his mind clearly wasn’t going to same place yours was.

“[Name]? You okay?” he asked.

Your choices were obvious: You could sit down and say nothing, keep your coat on, and enjoy the evening with your boyfriend—or you could seize the opportunity he’d offered unwittingly and show him what you really wanted…at the risk of ruining everything. What if Peter didn’t feel the same way about you as you did about him? What if he told your dad what you’d proposed? What if he decided you were some sort of slut?

Peter sat up with a frown, all traces of enthusiasm gone. In their place was obvious concern. “Are you sick? Should I call your dad?”

“No!”

You winced at the shrill note in your voice. Blood rushed to your face. With it, however, came determination. If he didn’t love you, he wouldn’t care enough to risk bringing your father’s wrath down on both of you over a simple cold. He wasn’t going to break up with you or say you were a slut. Telling your dad what you were up to was out as well, seeing as he’d be just as likely to punish Peter for your misdeeds as you. And when would you ever be handed such a perfect opening line again anyway?

Summoning the last of your courage, you shot a quick look at the living room and kitchen windows to confirm curtains were drawn over both, took a deep breath, and dropped your coat from your shoulders so that it pooled around your feet.

His eyes went wide. “Uh, [Name]? Why are you wearing shorts and a tank top in the middle of winter?”

“Hold on. Just—give me a minute. I’m not finished.”

Your fingers shook so hard with nerves that you found it difficult to undo the zipper on your bottoms. It took a few minutes to finally free yourself of all your clothing save your panties and bra. Standing there like that in front of Peter made you feel unexpectedly exposed. If this felt that bad, how the heck were you supposed to strip more later?

Peter stared at you. His dark brown eyes remained glued to your head as though it were a magnet. The heat in your cheeks increased; you stuffed your fingers into your armpits.

“Do I look that bad?” you asked in what you hoped came out as a teasing tone.

“No,” was Peter’s quick reply, but his eyes didn’t move an inch.

“I-I know it isn’t much. I thought it looked okay, but…I suppose I could buy some real lingerie for next time, if there’s a next time, or even a first time, but I can’t exactly ask Pepper for advice and Natasha would say something if I asked her…”

You were babbling. The realization forced you to trail off. Of all the reactions you’d imagined Peter would have upon seeing your (mostly) naked body, abject horror hadn’t occurred to you. But you were only fifteen! Most girls your age didn’t have a drawer full of Victoria’s Secret prepped for losing their virginity, right? At least your bra and panties matched. They were nicer than what you typically wore to school or around the house, too!

The longer you stood there frozen with mortification, the more difficult it seemed for Peter to keep his eyes locked on yours. Slowly, slowly, inch by inch, his gaze moved down until it was focused directly on your cleavage.

He looked up at you again with an expression of dawning comprehension. “You want to Netflix and Chill! With me!”

Your stomach unclenched as you heaved an enormous sigh of relief. Peter wasn’t stupid. If he had been, your father wouldn’t have taken as much of a shine to him. His understanding what you were getting had never been your greatest fear, though. That still remained to be tested.

“I say we just cut out the Netflix part entirely now,” you said with a smile.

“You want to skip right to the chill?”

“Only if you want to. I want you to be my first. If—if you’re ready. I’ll wait. I’d wait forever for you, Peter. I—”

You cut yourself off with a yelp of surprise. While you’d been busy blathering again, he had stood from the sofa and picked you right up off the floor. God, you loved this “proportional strength of a spider” business. What other boy your age could carry you bridal-style like that?

“I want to,” he said.

That got a joyful squeal out of you. As a reward, you looped your arms around his neck and stretched upward to kiss him hard on the mouth. One last hurdle remained then:

“You do have condoms, right, Peter?”

His pause caused your heart to rattle around your chest like it had come loose. To have come so close only to fail at the final stretch would have been a crushing disappointment.

Then he shifted you so that he had a better grip and answered, “Yeah. They gave us one in Health and Safety. I’ve got it in my wallet in my room.”

“Then let’s go!” you said, fluttering your feet excitedly in the air.

Without any further convincing necessary on your part, Peter carried you into his bedroom. There he deposited you onto his bed while he searched the mounds of Spider-Man paraphernalia scattered across the floor until he found what he was looking for. Afterward—once you’d got home, changed into your pajamas, and bid Pepper (who was indeed still on the phone with Stark Industries) goodnight—you couldn’t help but reflect on how perfectly the evening had gone. If sneaking out to be with Peter was always this easy, you would have to do it again real soon.

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whumpslist · 3 years

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Hey, I was wondering, what are some tv shows with the most injuries for the male main character.

Hello. It has been a while you asked me this question, and I got busy but also I needed to think about it.

I watched, binge watched and watching a bunch of shows over the years so I wanted to really think about the most whumpy series I’ve ever seen in my serial series watcher career ;)

I would also want to invite everyone passing by to submit his/her preferences and suggestions.

So, here’s my list, the order is random as they all are full of whumps for the main character:

* DAREDEVIL and Matt Murdoch character: the series is TOP, literally full of whumps; while compiling the list, there wasn’t a single episode for which I’ve written “none”. But mainly all the Marvel shows are pretty much whumpy.

* STRIKE and Cormoran Strike character: he has a permanent disability, so he’s frequently in pain, plus he’s a detective and has an eventful life with risks and fights; few episodes but extremely enjoyable.

* PRODIGAL SON and Malcolm Bright character: he’s at best reckless, unaware of self-preservation and hunted by night terrors; I still have to begin the second season, I hope it keeps up from the first.

* THE WITCHER and Geralt di Rivia character: epic fights and legendary character, there’s not an episode whump free whatsoever.

* WARRIOR and Ah Sahm character: he’s constantly fighting and bruised, even when he wins, and the whumps mostly last.

* ALTERED CARBON and Takeshi Kovacs character: I’ve watched only the first season because of the actor (Joel Kinnaman) and it was awesome. For the same reason, I recommend HANNA (Erik Heller character) too.

* brief but intense single seasons for THE CAPE and THE PLAYER.

* PENNYWORTH and Alfred Pennyworth character: how is it possible I was forgetting Pennyworth?! First season was generous of whumps, both physical and emotional, but second season is loaded of whumps! I’m enraptured.

* last but not least, TAKEN and Bryan Mills character: especially, the second season is full, unfortunately the whumps are so many they’re unbelievable.

For my convenience, I basically scrolled between the whumps’ lists already compiled.

Waiting for your suggestions :D

Just, please, remember the focus of the question: a series which is plenty of whumps for the main male character. So I haven’t considered collective shows (such as Supernatural or Shadowhunters, in which the whumps are distributed to all characters) but shows concentrated solely on the leading actor and with whumps in every episode.

#ask whumpslist #Thanks for the input #Daredevil #Strike #Prodigal Son #The Witcher #Warrior #Altered Carbon #Hanna #The Cape #The Player #Pennyworth #Taken

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gdcee · 3 years

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Road to Nowhere

Pairing: Loki/Sigyn - mild, might have to squint to see it.

Summary: Loki and Sigyn talk while she escorts him to Kid Loki's Kingdom.

Warnings: Panic attack.

=================

"You know I'm only going to keep pestering you until I have the answer."

"I wish you luck in your endeavour," Sigyn returned coolly, stepping lightly as she began to climb the massive pile of garbage blocking their path. "Nevertheless, my lips remain sealed."

Loki huffed, a slight quirk at the corner of his lips which was not quite a smirk. He set off after her, determined to be the first to the summit of Rubbish Peak.

He had to admit he was quite intrigued by that tantalising crumb of information this Sigyn (so very like and yet not quite like his own) had dangled before him. Of course he was curious about the identity of the lucky bastard who had won her fidelity.

All he had was a preferred pronoun. That at least eliminated half of his (admittedly rather short to begin with) list of possible lucky bastards.

After he had gone through the list (which did not take long because as stated earlier, it was really quite short), he started throwing out random names to see if any of them got a reaction.

No such luck.

His attempts to tease and fluster the information out of her had been just as ineffective.

Her reaction to his puppy dog eyes routine had been...perplexing. He'd gotten one soft, achingly tender smile before a heavy melancholy had descended upon her. Like the dark shadow of a mourning veil stealing the brightness from her eyes and the colour from her cheeks.

She had not reprimanded him, but he made a note not to pull that trick again anyway. Besides the practical reasons for keeping her goodwill (survival, information, mental stimulation), the simple fact was that she was Sigyn.

He didn't want to be the cause of her unhappiness. Not anymore.

Being a harmless annoyance and pest was still perfectly acceptable though.

He stood atop the great mound of refuse, his hands and face smeared with oil and other liquids of questionable origin, grinning triumphantly down at Sigyn. He vanished the grime he'd accumulated before gallantly holding out his hand to her.

Sigyn huffed a soft little laugh, the barest hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. Without any hesitation, she reached out and allowed him to pull her up.

Loki glanced down to where they had started and noted that it was a long drop. Not nearly enough to kill an Asgardian or a Frost Giant, but enough to hurt.

Trust.

It made him feel as giddy as the first time he'd tasted the enchanted, heady liquid gold that was the mead brewed from honey harvested from the hives of the talking bees that resided near Iðunn's famous apple orchards.

"Ahem."

Loki realised with no small degree of embarrassment that he was still holding Sigyn's hand. He hurriedly worked a spell to remove the dirt under her fingernails and let go. Then to cover up his embarrassment, he resumed pestering.

"I don't understand why the identity of your beau necessitates such secrecy," he sighed with the lightest touch of a pleading whine, "Do you think I would object to your taste? He can't possibly be worse than Theoric."

"I think my life choices are none of your business."

"Exactly! You should forget about my opinion. Shout his name to the world and damn the naysayers and killjoys."

"I would but sadly, Alioth has a sense of hearing."

With that, she picked up a flat sheet of metal lying loose and proceeded to slide down Rubbish Peak on the improvised board. Despite being only at most a quarter Ljósálfar on her mother's side, she moved with their characteristic effortless grace.

Loki peered down, did a couple of quick mental calculations and snapped his fingers. He disappeared from the summit with a flare of green light and reappeared at the bottom no more than a second later in similar fashion.

"Good to see your teleport still works," Sigyn tossed her wind-mussed hair out of her face, "Why didn't you use it earlier to get to the top?"

"Too much debris and no decent eyeline. I didn't want to risk getting stuck under a foot of garbage." He frowned, pondering. "Still works?"

"Not a reference to you personally," she moved forward without looking behind to see if he followed, "Just something I noticed about some of the other Lokis around here."

"Power loss? Nothing to do with you and that coven of other Sigyns whose domain I and the other Lokis are forbidden from entering, I presume?"

"No, I've seen it even in Lokis on their first trepass - if something is limiting their power it's not us. In any case, we would never do anything to permanently disable a Loki's magic. There's just some things you don't do to a fellow mage, you know?"

"You just rough them up a little and kick them off the property?"

"More or less. Except for the kid and alligator."

"Do I want to know how one instance of me ended up as a semi-aquatic Midgardian reptile?"

"You can ask him yourself when we get to the Kid's Kingdom," she paused for a moment, as if she'd just remembered something, "Or maybe not, I think only the old man you knows how to talk to him."

Loki blinked.

"There's an old me?" He asked, disbelieving, "As in a wizened, wrinkled, looks like your grandmother me?"

"Eh, not quite as old as Grandma Hretha. Maybe about 4,000? 5,000?" She shrugged, "Either way, your vanity may rest easy; you look perfectly fine as an old man."

"Thank you for that milquetoast endorsement of my future self's good looks," Loki said dryly, "I was more perturbed about...something else."

Curiouser and curiouser.

How had the aged variant escaped their destined end? How had he managed to grow old before the TVA arrived to arrest him for cheating his final death?

He thought about the tape featuring all the TVA approved highlights of his life.

He thought about that other Loki, the Loki who had played out the role assigned to him and how very young (the same face as his own) and terrified (the same fear as his own) he had looked with the Mad Titan's monstrous hand around his throat.

Loki swallowed thickly and pulled at the collar of his TVA issued office shirt which suddenly seemed far too tight. The tie impeded his work and as he struggled to loosen it he could feel his terror rising up to choke him.

there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he cannot find you

inevitable

you think you know pain?

Inevitable

HE WILL MAKE YOU LONG FOR SOMETHING AS SWEET AS PAIN

He felt his legs buckle and his knees hit the ground as if it were happening to someone else.

"Loki!" Sigyn's voice was close but he heard it as if a great distance separated them, "Loki, breathe."

"What do you think I'm doing?" He wheezed.

"I am going to remove the tie and unfasten your collar," Sigyn continued as if she had not even noticed his rudeness, "I will need to touch you to do this. Alright?"

Needing help for such a pitifully simple task was galling. But he didn't want Sigyn to leave him. Loki managed a shaky nod. He let her ease his trembling, sweaty hands from his shirt collar. With quick, brisk movements she pulled the tie loose and tossed it somewhere to join the rest of the garbage.

"Follow my breathing now." Her voice was clearer to him now, more present. She was kneeling next to him, so close and warm and oh, her hair did still smell like apple blossoms. He watched the regular rise and fall of her chest and tried to match it. "That's it. Very good. Nice and slow."

Her fingers were at his throat for a mercifully short time. Just long enough to pop the top button loose and push the starched fabric away from his neck.

"Stay with me. You're doing very well. Breathe with me. In. And out. In. And out."

Without really thinking he grabbed her hand and pressed her palm against the centre of his chest. Perhaps he was possessed by some irrational notion that the pressure against his breastbone could keep his thundering heart from beating right out of his chest.

She didn't try to pull away. Her hand was warm, even through the shirt fabric. She moved a little, and one of her dainty fingers slipped into the open gap of his unbuttoned collar and brushed against the dip between his clavicles. His breath caught in his throat for a moment before Sigyn's gentle prompting had him matching her rhythm once more.

"Feel better?" She asked after what seemed an eternity.

"Yes," he breathed, "Yes, much." His chest still felt a little tight but the worst of that dreadful episode was over.

"Good." She lifted her hand from his chest and patted his shoulder firmly - a gesture that he had seen Týr bestow upon struggling Einherjar recruits after they'd passed the final leg of their training. "You did very well."

He didn't feel like he'd done anything worth praising. He'd collapsed like a pack of cards. This wasn't the first time he'd experienced terror but every time before now he had been able to push past it - stamp it down through sheer force of will and that primitive, animal part of his brain that knew that danger was never far away.

Why had he folded now? Now - when he was probably the most at ease he'd been in ages (months? Years? How long had it been since New York?) and the threat of Thanos was no longer an issue-

...a terrible thought suddenly occurred to him.

"Just out of curiosity," Loki tried to sound nonchalant, "Have you ever come across a fellow by the name of Thanos here?"

"Thanos?" Sigyn's brows drew together in a frankly rather adorable expression of pure befuddlement.

Ah. Well, at least he could place whatever nexus event had led to her pruning as occurring before Ragnarok and Thanos's massacre of half the Asgardian survivors.

"Big purple fellow," he explained, "Quite ugly, enormous chin, has rather disturbing ideas about resource management."

"Uh, no, I can't say that I've ever met anyone like that here."

"You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"

She quirked an eyebrow. "I can swear on my magic if that would reassure you."

Sigyn had always been very leery about oaths, especially ones bound with magic. Most mages worth their salt were.

And yet...he couldn't really explain why, but he'd always felt like her issues with them were less about best practices and more about some personal grievance.

That she would offer him such a thing...

Loki felt completely undeserving.

"No," he said hurriedly, "No, no, it's fine. I...I trust you."

Sigyn smiled. It was the first real smile he'd seen so far and it was like watching the sun come out from behind a cloud. He didn't know if it would last - if that melancholy from before would snatch away the sweetness of this moment.

So Loki ruined the moment before it could be stolen from him.

"...even though you refuse to tell me about your paramour."

Sigyn scoffed, all exasperation but it was better than seeing her sad.

"You are insufferable."

"Thank you, I do try."

She snorted and shook her head. "Alright, come on, you goose," she helped him up, and even though his legs were slightly shaky, he stood and did not fall. "Our first rest stop is about 20 feet...thereaboutish-" she waved vaguely in the direction of a mostly empty grassy knoll upon which a gaggle of the oddest creatures scurried. They resembled iridescent headless chickens with little purple spheres hovering over their severed necks.

"I still think we should have taken the car."

"Ugh," Sigyn wrinkled her nose, "Cahrs. Nasty, noisy, smelly things. I swear, Midgard really went downhill after those monstrosities were invented. "

#loki #sigyn #mcu #logyn

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transgenderteensurvivalguide · 4 years

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I’m considering going on T. Which way of taking T has been most effective for the mods? I know that different ways are better for different people but I want to hear peoples experiences before I decide to go on it

Lee says:

The most effective method of T really depends on the person. Maybe your lifestyle is different than mine and you want to do your T once and forget about it for a few months while you go camping; maybe you want to do it daily to minimize hormone fluctuations which can be an issue for some people with certain mental illnesses.

In general, I’d recommend considering the likelihood that you’ll be able to actually be compliant with your HRT treatment with each method knowing yourself and your abilities and so on, consider the practicality, and consider the cost.

1: What method are you able to use?

If you decide to do injections but you have a needle phobia and you avoid doing your shot and go for months without doing it because you’re too anxious, then injections are not going to be the most effective method for you and you should try gel

If you decide to do gel, but you’re not able to consistently apply it every day because you forget or you’re too busy, and you end up only putting it on once or twice a week when you remember, then gel (which requires a daily application) isn’t the best option for you and you should try injections

If you want to do injections but you have motor control issues or other disabilities that mean you can’t hold a syringe and inject yourself safely, and you don’t have reliable access to a caregiver who can do it for you or don’t want to be reliant on someone else, then maybe injections aren’t the best option for you and you should try implantable testosterone pellets

2: What method is best for your particular body?

If you use patches and develop an allergic reaction at the application site, maybe patches aren’t the best option for you and you should switch to gel or injections

If you’re using gel and you don’t experience enough changes and have low T levels, maybe switching to injections is better for you

If you’re on injections and find that having high testosterone levels at the start of the week and low levels at the end of the week/injectable cycle causes mood swings/exacerbates your mental illness/cause PMS-like symptoms from fluctuating hormones, then maybe injections isn’t the best option and switching to gel is better for you. With gel you’ll have more stable T levels that mimic cis men’s levels, and there’ll be a slight high in the morning when you put on the gel and a slight dip at night but overall fewer big swings.

3: What method is most affordable with your insurance?

If your insurance doesn’t cover testosterone gel and you appeal and they agree to cover it but the generic still has a $300/month copay for you, then maybe that is not affordable for your situation and you might end up not being able to pick up your prescription every month because you run out of money and can’t pay for it, so you should do the cheaper injections and pay like $15 per month instead

If you want to have pellets placed, but travelling to the doctor’s office for appointments every 3 months is prohibitively expensive because you can’t afford appointments that often or the office is too far away for you to easily get to without paying a million dollars in uber fares, then maybe pellets aren’t the best option for you

If you want to do injections but want to use an autoinjector instead of your typical syringe and your insurance won’t cover an autoinjector, then maybe you should consider using a typical syringe or switch to another form of T

If you want a longer-lasting injectable form of T that only requires injections every 6 weeks instead of every other week but your insurance doesn’t cover that form, then decide if it’s worth it, etc

I might say that the form of testosterone that was most effective for me personally is weekly subQ injections because I was depressed when I started T and didn’t shower often enough so the gel built up in a gross layer on my skin and didn’t absorb, but if you know that you’re someone who could never stab yourself with a needle on a weekly basis then daily gel is going to be better for you than missing two out of three or four injections every month.

And you don’t necessarily need to stick with the form of T that you start with. Say you start with gel and find it isn’t effective for you. Then you can talk with your testosterone prescriber and raise the dose! If the higher dose works, then great! If it doesn’t work, talk with your testosterone prescriber and switch to shots, or patches, or whatever else you want to try!

It can be a bit of a trial-and-error process to find the right for of medication for you, and it’s pretty typical to switch forms of T at some point on your T journey. So you aren’t necessarily permanently locked into using the form that you started on forever.

There are different pros and cons for each type of T, so there’s no one “best” and most effective way to be on T. How effective it is depends on your body’s reaction and you can’t predict that in advance, you have to find it out as you go along and experiment.

So all things aside, if every form were equally accessible in price and availability and practicality, there still wouldn’t be a universal “best” and most effective option because different people have different bodies.

That being said, most people tend to have good results with injections after finding the right dose so it’s a good place to start if you are comfortable with needles— but some folks are allergic to the carrier oil and need to switch from cypionate to enanthate for example, and there is more than one type of injectable testosterone and more than one way to inject it (intramuscular vs subcutaneous, and even if you choose one type of injection like SubQ there different sites like thigh vs stomach) so even saying “do shots!” leaves you with a lot of choices too, and none are clearly superior, just different.

The various options for testosterone are listed in our Testosterone FAQ, and as always, talk to your healthcare providers about what they recommend for you!

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sheerfreesia007 · 3 years

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Roadside Assistance

Title: Roadside Assistance

Fandom: Kingsman

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x OFC

Author: @sheerfreesia007

Words: 2,028

Warnings: None

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711, @fioccodineveautunnale, @phoenixhalliwell, @linkpk88, @weirdowithnobeardo

Author Notes: I blame this little fic on Sparkles, after she got a flat while driving. I told her to imagine Whiskey coming to her aide with the tire trying to cheer her up. Low and behold we now have a fic. Ugh now I’m thinking of other scenarios for Whiskey, expect more cute scenarios between these two.

The loud thumping of rubber on asphalt made you curse as you tried to correct your line of driving with the steering wheel. Easing on the brake you slowed your car down and steered it over to the shoulder of the semi busy highway you had been traveling on. Managing to pull your car over far enough on the shoulder you finally stopped and put it in park. Sighing loudly you let your head fall forward as you still gripped the steering wheel in your hands.

Shaking your head softly you blew out a harsh breath and then opened your door to step out of the car. Cars, trucks, and semi-trucks sped past you on the highway making debri fly up around you causing you to lift your arm to shield your face. Looking down to the tires on your car you thanked your lucky stars that the blown tire was on the passenger side away from the fast paced traffic.

Walking around to the back of the car you popped the trunk open and leaned inside to grab the spare tire and pull it out. Letting it bounce slightly on the ground once it touched you rolled it to the side and let it fall in the tall grass at the side of the road. Leaning back into your car you pulled out the car jack and other tools you would need to fix your wheel.

Placing the jack and tools next to the front passenger wheel that was now flat, with what looked like a large puncture hole in the top of it, you stood back to your full height and began walking towards the spare tire that you had left in the grass. You slowed your step as you noticed a sleek black heavily tinted Aston Martin slow and pulled over to the shoulder not far from your parked disabled car. Feeling the hairs on the back of your neck rise, you subtly reached into the trunk of your car and pulled out a spare hand ratchet holding it to your side as you watched the driver’s door open on the probably more expensive than your mortgage vehicle.

You watched slightly stunned as a real life bonafide cowboy climbed out of the low vehicle. He was a tall man with dark brown hair with a gray cowboy hat sitting atop, a red and white plaid button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a large gold belt buckle with some ‘s’ emblem that you didn’t recognize, a pair of well worn blue jeans, and soft looking cowboy boots on his feet. To say he was the exact opposite of what you expected to climb out of that vehicle was an understatement and you stood there for a moment stunned.

“Everything alright there, miss?” he called out concernedly over the loud traffic not far from the two of you. You gripped onto the hand ratchet tighter as he stepped closer to you and nodded towards your car. “Do ya need help?” he asked as he stopped a few feet from you. You watched as his eyes darted down to the hand ratchet in your hand and he smiled softly before holding his hands up in faux surrender. “I come in peace, honest. Just saw you blow yer tire and wanted to make sure you were alright.” he tried to ease you.

“I’m alright, I can change it myself.” you reassured him loud enough to be heard over the flow of traffic.

“Ya sure? I don’t mind!” he called out as he gestured to the tire. “Ya can even keep your ratchet while I change it for ya.” he offered and you grimaced softly. You knew it’d probably be quicker for him to change it for you since you’d only done it once before on your own. And not to mention you were running late for your first day at your new job as it was. Nodding your head you moved to the side so that he could change the tire for you.

“I need to make a phone call and let my new boss know that I’m going to be late.” you said as you held up one finger to the cowboy. He nodded as he picked up the spare tire and began rolling it towards the passenger side.

“No worries sweetheart. I’ll start changing the tire while you make the call.” he said easily and you turned to face him while raising your cellphone to your ear. You still didn’t fully trust him so you kept yourself facing him so that you could watch as you pressed the contact number for Mrs. Brew, your new manager.

“Good Morning Statesman distillery this is Mrs. Brew!” came the cheery greeting over the phone.

“Good Morning Mrs. Brew I just wanted to call and let you know that I would be running late. My car got a flat tire while I was on the highway.” you explained regretfully feeling stressed and anxious that this would be a mark against you at your new job.

“Oh no! Are you alright? Do you need us to call a tow truck for ya?” came the worried response from your manager. You were surprised by how kind she was as your eyes focused on the cowboy fixing your tire, it was a far cry from the harsh cold treatment you had grown used to in the city.

“No, there’s a nice cowboy changing my tire for me. He stopped when he saw it blow out on me. Do you mind staying on the line with me until he’s done. I don’t trust him and don’t want to-” you began to explain unsure if she’d stay on the line with you.

“Of course! Smart thinking by the way. You never know with people these days, anyone could mean to do harm.” she said easily and you smiled at knowing she understood you. “By the way what does he look like? And what does he drive?” she asked curiously. You shifted on your feet as you watched the cowboy pull the last lug nut off your bad tire and take the wheel off the car.

“He’s driving a heavy tinted black Aston Martin. He’s tall, brown hair, mustache, unsure about the eye color, red and white plaid button up, blue jeans, a large gold belt buckle with an ‘s’ on it.” you relayed to her easily as your eyes danced over the man knelt down next to your car. You watched silently as he easily changed your tire as if it was no effort for him at all.

“Oh good description. Is he almost done with the tire dear?” asked Mrs. Brew on the line. Just as she finished asking her question the cowboy cheered loudly after tightening the last lug nut on the spare tire.

“Yes he just finished.” you replied amused at his actions. Mrs. Brew laughed softly in your ear as she heard him in the background.

“Sounds like it.” Mrs. Brew said softly and fondly. “I’ll stay on the phone with you until you get back in your car ok?” she reassured you and you hummed softly in response as the cowboy walked up to you holding the blown out tire. You quickly moved to your trunk once more and let the cowboy set the tire in there for you.

“Thank you very much for helping me. I really appreciate it. It’d probably take me much longer to change it.” you said in thanks to him as you walked behind him and went to grab the tools and the jack to put back in the trunk.

“No worries sweetheart! I can now tell work that I already got my workout this morning.” he said with a wink sent your way which made your breath catch in your throat. “Are you alright to get to work now?” he asked concerned and you nodded your head at him after placing the jack in the trunk and he moved forward to grab the tools from you to help set them in the trunk for you.

“Yeah I think I should be good. Thank you again.” you said to him with a pleasant but still distant tone. You smiled softly at him trying to be kind but still not trusting him. You couldn’t help it, after growing up in the city you knew that you had to take care of yourself and there were some out there that wanted to hurt anyone they deemed lower than themselves. There was always going to be a slight sense of paranoia in you because of where you had grown up. You liked to think that it made you smart and cautious. “Anyway, thank you again. I really appreciate it.” you said and waved at him as you began walking to the driver’s side door.

“Don’t forget to get a new tire. If you work in this area you can go to Dixon’s Repair Shop and tell them Jack Daniels sent you, they’ll give you a good discount.” the cowboy said and you turned to him with a furrowed brow.

“Your name is Jack Daniels? As in the whiskey?” you asked confused as you set a hand on the side of your car. The cowboy looked down at the ground as he scuffed his boot against the asphalt and nodded his head before looking up to you. “Huh, well it was a pleasure Jack Daniels. I hope you have a good day.” you said with a soft tilt to your lips and turned back to open your driver’s side door. Slipping into your car you breathed out softly and shook your head at the notion that the man shared a namesake with the whiskey company.

“You alright sweetheart?” came Mrs. Brew’s voice in your ear and you jolted, having forgotten that she was still on the line.

“Yes! I’m so sorry. I’m back in my car now. I'll be in to work shortly.” you said quickly as you buckled yourself in the seat and started the car.

“Get here safely I’ll see you when you get here.” Mrs. Brew answered and you easily hung up the phone as a loud car horn beeps at you and you waved at the Aston Martin as it pulled back into the flow of traffic. You turned your phone onto the map app that you used and plugged in the address to the distillery that you would be working at from now on. Seeing that you were only ten minutes away you sighed gratefully and pulled back into traffic following the route as your mind turned back to the kind cowboy who had fixed your tire for you this morning. Maybe you’d take his word and find Dixon’s Repair Shop and get a new tire. Smiling softly you shook your head setting the cowboy out of your head as you traveled to your new job.

*-*-*-*

“Brew to Whiskey, ya copy?” came the sweet sounding voice of someone Jack knew very well. Smiling at the radio in the car he tapped the console and brought up the secured line she had started.

“Whiskey here.” he responded easily and waited for her to relay her message.

“Did you just fix a young woman’s tire on the highway?” came her question and Jack furrowed his eyebrows at the console wondering how that woman knew what he had just done. His mind easily flashes back to the pretty cautious woman standing on the side of the highway gripping a ratchet tightly in her hand for protection. He grinned softly at her memory in amusement.

“How’d ya know that?” he asked in a gravelly drawl.

“I have my ways. You’ll be seeing more of her soon enough so be nice.” Mrs. Brew warned him and Jack scoffed softly.

“I’m always nice.” he snipped out and she laughed amused over the line before the line went dead. Jack shook his head as he focused on his route to work before smiling brightly at the thought that he’d get to see the wary woman again. She’d certainly brighten up his day and make things interesting now.

#my writing #agent whiskey x ofc #agent whiskey #kingsman the golden circle

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hypnoticwinter · 3 years

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole part 35

Just looking at Makado makes me realize how incredibly tired I am. “Makado,” I say, trying to put a little bit of that weariness into my voice, “please, I just want to get Elena out of here.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Makado tells me. “Take your helmet off.”

“Makado,” I start, but she raises the gun and coaxes a threatening-sounding click out of it.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, and reach up and pop the helmet open.

“Now take it off slowly and drop it.”

The helmet thuds to the floor with a dull clunk. I keep my hands open, bent at the elbows, roughly shoulder-height. I guess it’s a testament to how often this has happened to me lately that I’m not particularly panicked or flustered, even though she has a gun on me. I look into her eyes; they’re about as kind as a brick wall, a far cry from the Makado I knew - well, that I thought I knew. I don’t think she’ll shoot me but I don’t want to push her.

“Makado,” I try again, speaking softly, “I know that you’re upset, but -“

“Upset?” she laughs. “That is a big understatement, Roan.”

“As if you have any right to be upset at me,” I snort. Makado’s eyes flash but I press onwards anyway. “You’re the one who was trying to literally fucking frame me for all the illegal shit you were doing -“

“You got Peter killed,” she says. My mind goes blank for a moment before I nearly laugh. I choke it back down; if I started laughing, either out of terror or nerves or just pure exasperation, I know I’d never stop, and I know Makado would probably shoot me.

“Makado,” I say, stammering a little bit, “I didn’t - there was nothing I could have -“

“Then how come you lived and he died, huh?” she says. I think I hear a crack in her icy demeanor and I look at her - really look at her. She glances away after a moment or two, and when her gaze swings back and hits mine whatever I thought I might have seen, whatever small vulnerability, has already faded away. “How come you lived?” she asks.

The barrel of the gun trembles gently.

“Mak,” I start. I want terribly to be angry at her but something about the way she’s acting is just making me sad instead.

“Don’t call me that!” she yells. She slips her finger inside the gun’s trigger guard and I feel my breath catch. Maybe she really will shoot me; if she’s mad enough, if she thinks that somehow I caused Pete to get…to get leeched, or whatever the hell…

“Peter was the only one who ever called me that,” she murmurs. I know I’ve called her ‘Mak’ before and she never made a fuss about it but I guess this is special circumstances.

“Pete is - was - a fully trained ranger with dozens of expeditions under his belt, he might have - “ Makado licks her lips and tries again - “he might have gone a little downhill after 2007 but he was still sharp. He would have gotten out of there no problem. But he dies and you live?”

“Was that the plan?” I ask. If I can keep her talking maybe I’ll be able to pull something, but deep down I doubt it. “You send me down there hoping I’d die in an accident or something?”

“Of course not,” she says. “But if I had to choose between you and Peter…”

“That’s cold,” I tell her. She starts to say something, but I continue before she can. “But I get it. You loved him, huh?”

“Of course I loved him,” she says, sounding mildly scandalized. “You wouldn’t understand, I’m sure.”

“Why, because I - ? Oh, whatever,” I grunt. “Whatever, Makado. Just shoot me and get it over with.”

“I don’t want to shoot you.”

“Right, of course,” I snarl, putting as much venom into my words as I can. “You want to hand me over to the feds so I can suffer for your sins, right? That’s the endgame here, right?”

She has the good graces to flinch, at least. “I don’t -“ she starts, but I shake my head.

“Whatever,” I tell her. “What happened to Elena?”

Makado looks round, her eyes resting briefly on the wreckage of the autodoctor unit. “I don’t know,” she says. “When I got down here it was like this, and Elena was gone. I was going to -“

“Kidnap her so you’d have some leverage?”

“Bitch, will you stop fucking assuming the goddam worst of me? I was planning on tracking her down and getting her out of here.”

“I don’t believe you,” I tell her, my voice flat. “How did you even know she was here?”

“Because I heard the two of you sopping all over each other on the radio,” she tells me, her voice hard-edged with disdain. “Soon as I heard she was here in DUSA, I split off from my team and rushed up here. Guess I was too late.”

“Goddam it,” I mutter. My cheeks are burning a little from the knowledge that we’d been overhead; I guess I could have assumed, but it still had felt like it had been something private, something special we had shared. Maybe I wouldn’t have broken down quite so hard if I’d known Makado had been listening in. “It must have been the Leechman,” I mutter, glaring at the gaping hunk of metal torn away from DUSA’s hull. My eyes are stinging and I wipe them hurriedly, not thinking, and when I take my hands down Makado is glaring at me very seriously over the sights of the pistol, and I realize that the quick motion nearly made her shoot me. My stomach does a backflip and I stammer out the beginning of an apology before she mutters a curse and takes a length of rope from her suit pocket.

“Hands together,” she orders me, and with a sigh I slap my wrists together and hold them out to her. She comes to me with the rope and hesitates for a moment; I know it’s because she’s only just realizing that she will have to put the gun away to tie me up.

“I’ll hold that for you,” I offer, and in spite of herself she laughs.

“Turn around,” she says. “Hands behind your back.”

My heart is thumping heavily in my chest as I do. I am trying very hard not to imagine the Leechman bursting into here like a demon straight out of a horror movie and swallowing Elena up into its swollen leechy body. I can feel my hands trembling as Makado takes my wrists and lashes them tightly together. The rough synthetic fiber cuts into my wrists and I grunt. Makado steps away from me and I flex my hands experimentally but it’s no use, she’s tied me tightly enough that I’d never be able to free myself unless I had a knife. She’s already taken mine from the sheath on my belt and tossed it casually to the dusty, oily floor.

Elena’s dead. I can’t stop the thought from echoing around my skull, increasing in severity with each impact. She’s dead, she’s gone, I was too late. If I had just been a little quicker, if I hadn’t stopped to sleep, if I hadn’t…

“Hey, what are you - oh, Jesus Christ,” Makado grumbles. I sniff and look away from her. I try to keep it down but a quiet sob bubbles out of my throat.

“Goddam it,” I mumble. I can’t even wipe my eyes. My shoulders are shaking with the weight of it, with the weight of knowing that -

Makado sighs behind me. “You didn’t kill her,” she says. “If she’s even dead. We don’t know.”

I let out a terribly mirthless laugh. “You didn’t kill him,” Makado continues, begrudgingly. “I know you didn’t, it’s not like you put a gun to his head and shot him. I just…”

“Don’t want him to be gone,” I suggest, and out of the corner of my eye, through a veil of tears, I can see her nod.

I feel as though I might rip in two the next time someone touches me, but in spite of everything I do want to reach out and touch her, brush my thumb along the knobby edge of her wrist, feel her warmth near to me. Maybe it’s pathetic and stupid, maybe I should be spitting and cursing and swearing revenge but I can’t bring myself to. I want to just curl into a little ball and cry.

Makado is rustling around behind me, and then I hear the click and crackle of a radio. “Peterson, Rodriguez,” she says, enunciating clearly. “Status check, over.”

A moment passes and then the response comes burbling up through the airwaves. “Peterson, checking in. I’ve got Rodriguez here with me but he’s carrying the crystal so he couldn’t call himself. Everything’s good down here. ETA 20 minutes to DUSA. Over.”

“Thanks. You were able to disable the specimen? Over.”

“Hard to say. It backed off but Emmanuel is hurt pretty bad. One of those leeches, it got into her suit and chewed the hell out of her leg. We’ve got her on a stretcher and we’re bringing her back but I don’t know if she’ll make it. Is the autodoc functional? Over.”

“Negative,” Makado says. Her voice is tight and fraying. “Negative, it’s smashed. It looks like the Leechman got here before we did. Over.”

“Shit. Well, Emmanuel is fucked, then. Do we have support from topside? Over.”

I hear Makado mutter a quiet curse below her breath. “Give me a second,” she says. “Out.”

I sniff hard and duck my head down into my shoulder, try and wipe my eyes against the rubber of the ranger suit. Makado is tapping at the pad in the arm of her ranger suit; she’s put the gun away at this point, tucking it into her holster at her hip. I could make a run for it, I reflect. Instead I fold my legs beneath me and sink into a huddle on the floor a little like a gazelle bedding down for the night. Makado glances over at me and then back at her screen. “Who’s Emmanuel?” I ask. My voice creaks partway through it, and when I clear my throat it comes back thick and congested.

“None of your business,” she tells me, a little absently. “You’d better stop crying,” she adds.

“Fuck you,” I tell her, but I can’t put much heart into it. “Fuck you for trying to walk all over everything and try to do it your way. You walked all over me, you walked all over the team, you walked all over Peter -“

Makado looms over me, ruddy bolts of fury sparkling behind her eyes. “You have no idea, you have no idea -“ she starts, but I roll my eyes at her.

“Do you have any idea how many people are dead because of you?”

That catches her, and I get a vicious little thrill out of seeing how it impacts, how she absorbs it, how her eyes grow even wearier. She starts to say something but I start listing off names.

“The Sergeant. Peter. Slate. Erica and Marcus. Klaus. Crookshank. Euler. Ellis. Emmanuel, whoever that is. And El - Elena,” I say. I have to swallow hard to get that last name out but I manage it. “They’re all your fault, Makado. If you hadn’t gone off the deep end because of this stupid fucking crystal none of this would ever have happened. Does it really matter? Does it really matter this much? Is it worth it? Tell me. Please. Do you even know?”

“They knew the risks,” Makado tries to say, but she isn’t meeting my gaze. “You wouldn’t understand,” she says, a little bit of strength returning to her voice. “You don’t know what it’s like to -“

“To have an obsession take over your life?” I finish, and she blows a breath out.

“I’m the only one trying!” she yells. “I’m the only one fucking trying to stop all of this! That crystal is the only thing that we have that we know can shut down the Pit if it wakes up again. Getting it back should be our top priority -“

“And the last time one of those crystals was used,” I point out, “it infected - I’m sorry, how many people? - with a fucking personality-destroying disease that spreads when you feel emotions and forces you to crawl into the Pit to die.”

“We know better now,” she says, hands on her hips. “We know what we did wrong. If we don’t shatter the crystals -“

“How do you even know? Aren’t you just guessing?”

“You have no right to tell me how to do my job,” she tells me. I can see her knuckles whiten with rage. “I’m doing what needs to be done. If the Pit woke up and became fully ambulatory, it’d be the end of the world as we know it. If you think that isn’t something worth stopping by any means necessary, then you’re either stupid or insane. Maybe both. If I -“

“Okay, Makado. Whatever,” I tell her. I feel as though if I shut my eyes I’d be able to fall asleep in about a minute. My heart hurts.

Makado glares at me and for a moment, just a moment, I think she might be about to draw her leg back and slam the hard edge of her boot into my gut, but instead she spins on her heel and walks away, fishing the radio out of its holster on her belt and talking quietly into it.

I think for a while about struggling to my feet and just walking out. I don’t think Makado would shoot me, I really don’t. I think she wouldn’t have the heart for it. Maybe she’d just let me go.

Elena’s dead. You haven’t seen the body, a little voice whispers in the back of my mind, but I don’t need to see the body. If the Leechman got her, I’m not sure I want to see the body. I would want my memory of her to remain clean. I want to remember her in the tent smiling down at me, I want to remember her hands on my body, the way her lips felt when she kissed me, the way my heart felt when she kissed me.

I spend the next twenty minutes or so agonizing myself before the clunk and hiss of heavy machinery, burbles glutinously up from outside the rent in DUSA’s hull. With a little difficulty I manage to sit up and look outwards, and I see three orange figures in ranger suits marching up out of one of the vents leading to this organelle. Two of them are carrying a fourth on a stretcher, and the third…

My mouth drops open. The third is incredibly bulky, far more so than a normal person in a suit, and as they come closer and step into range of DUSA’s flickering floodlights, I realize that they are wearing something like a white enameled arthropod over their arms and legs, a squat mechanical spider perched on their back like a backpack. Its limbs extend along the ranger’s arms and fill out into armored gauntlets encompassing their hands.

And in their hands, hefted with an assurance and strength borne, I imagine, solely from their armor’s assistance, is the crystal, green and spiky and menacing, with an ugly luminosity flaring somewhere deep inside of it. I think again that I can see something moving within its murky depths.

Makado rushes out to meet them, leaving me forgotten, and again I consider getting up and just walking away. I think I’ve missed my chance, though; if it was just Makado, she might let me go. With everyone else here, all of these other rangers, there’s no way I’d be able to get away with it. And who knows if she’d have any compunctions about letting someone else shoot me.

Makado, to her credit, only paused briefly to tell the ranger with the crystal where to set it down before rushing to the ranger on the stretcher. Even from a distance I can tell that she’s hurt badly; her orange suit is splattered with blood and there is an enormous hole in her side. I think I can see teeth marks. One of the rangers shows something to Makado; it looks a little like a very thick, dark length of rope, and I realize with a horrible twist in my gut that it’s a dead leech. It looks to be about three or four feet long; it’s head has been torn off and it trails a thick, foul-smelling ichor behind it in a long oozing trail.

The huddled conversation over the wounded ranger continues a while longer before the group breaks apart. The ranger with the exoskeleton carries the crystal into DUSA, moving with almost exaggerated care through the hole in the wall. He looks down at me as he passes, craning his neck around the crystal to make sure he isn’t going to bump into me. “You alright?” he asks. He has a thick Texan accent that makes me smile in spite of myself.

“Yeah,” I tell him. “Do you think you could untie me?”

He pauses. “You’re tied up?”

“Yes,” I say, rolling halfway over and waggling my fingers at him. “See?”

“Why are you tied up?”

“It’s a long story.”

“You’re Dzilenski, aren’t you?”

“I, uh. No.”

“No? What’s your name, then? I haven’t seen you around before.”

The weight of the crystal doesn’t seem to be troubling him at all. He cocks his head at me.

“Merriweather,” I tell him. “I’m new.”

He waggles a finger at me; the servos of the exoskeleton make little whining noises as he does. “Nice try,” he tells me, but I can tell from the shape of his voice that he’s grinning. I shake my head a little and give him a halfhearted smile.

“Can’t blame a girl for trying,” I suggest, and he laughs as he stomps off towards the stairwell, the crystal glowing malevolently in his arms.

A few moments later someone is taking me roughly beneath my armpits and hauling me to my feet. I stagger a little but keep my balance. I look over and see Makado glaring at me from a few inches away, but it seems as though her temper has died a little; there isn’t quite as much venom in her gaze as before. Without uttering a word to me she marches me out of DUSA and towards one of the rangers, standing on a small, bulgy lump of flesh with their hands on their hips. I feel a spike of fear in my stomach. “What are you going to do with me?” I ask her.

I can see Makado’s lip curl out of the corner of my eye. “I’m not going to kill you,” she tells me. “Peterson there is just going to take you up to the surface and give you back to the feds, that’s all. Then this whole stupid thing can be over and done with.”

“So that’s it, huh?” I ask, breaking out of her grasp and turning to face her. “You’re just going to throw me to the wolves? You really think that you can get away with this?”

“Roan,” she groans. “Do you think I want to fuck you over? Do you think I want to do this?”

“Well, from the way you’re acting -“

“This thing is bigger than you or me,” she says. “And I’m - I’m sorry,” she tells me. To my immense surprise I actually believe her. “I’m sorry, and I don’t want to ruin your life like I know I’m going to, but I - I have to do this. I’m sorry.”

Before I can say anything Peterson takes me firmly by the arm. Makado swallows hard and nods to him. “Take her up. There should be a contingent of FBI agents somewhere up there, I know it’s a mess but they should still be hanging around, probably yelling at Admin. Let them know she’s Roan Dzilenski, they’ll take it from there.”

“Right,” he says. “Come on, then.”

I stare back at Makado all the way over to the vent leading up to the passage out of here; she refuses to meet my gaze.

“I’m sorry about all this,” Peterson mentions, adjusting his grip on me to push a hanging fold of flesh out of the way.

“If you’re so sorry, let me go,” I tell him. He has a quiet, apologetic tone.

“I’m not that sorry,” he explains, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Look on the bright side,” he suggests. “You’ll be out of here soon. I’m sure that will be a relief.”

“Yeah,” I snap, “I’m sure that -“

Something falls onto my shoulder and I let out a shriek. It rolls off and slaps onto the ground with a wet, meaty thump and slithers away.

“Are you okay?” Peterson is asking. “What was that?”

I look up, knowing what I’ll see, but the Leechman actually comes at us from the side, the leeches boiling out of the fleshy wall with a noise like a million hungry mouths gnashing and chewing and slurping simultaneously, leaving the wall pockmarked and collapsing. Peterson blurts out a surprised curse and lets me go, his hands darting to his holster, but the Leechman is faster. It reaches out with a massive, dripping, writhing paw and fixes it around his head, lifting him bodily off the ground. Rodriguez screams and I hear commotion from behind, in the main organ housing DUSA, but his screams quickly become muffled and gurgly and thick. His hands and legs are shuddering and jolting like he were being electrocuted, and then my stupid, shell-shocked nerves finally, finally kick into motion and I stagger backwards. My foot catches on something and I fall; the ground comes slamming upwards to meet me and the breath whooshes out of my lungs just as the Leechman drops Peterson. The helmet of his suit is bent and crushed and although he lands on his feet, his body sways gently back and forth like a wind were catching it. The Leechman stomps past me and I cringe away from it, but it ignores me entirely. Its footsteps resound through the meaty floor and rattle my teeth in my jaws.

I am so scared I think I might throw up. Every fiber in my body is screaming at me to get up and run away, but I can’t force myself to move. “Hey,” I whisper, as the Leechman ducks its broad, wormy head and pushes into the organ. “Hey, uh, Peterson, are you okay?”

Rodriguez turns and looks at me and I scream. His face has been eaten away to nothing and his jaw is hanging from a few stringy tendons on the left-hand side of his skull. He shambles towards me and I scream again, and I hear my screams echoed from back behind me in DUSA’s chamber. It’s only a few moments later that the gunfire begins.

I kick my feet and try and push myself away from Rodriguez’s corpse. As I watch a leech crawls out of his mouth and plunges its snub-nosed head into the wreckage of his eye. The body lurches closer to me and into the light and I get a better look at him; my stomach nearly turns. I scream again and try to kick at him but he just catches my leg and drags me closer. The bone of his skull and the scraps of meat and flesh on his face are stained a dark, inky black with a dripping, noxious ichor. Without any preamble the body straddles me and shoves its fingers into my mouth. I choke and cough and try to kick and bite but it’s simply too strong. My eyes are filling with tears but I can still see the body’s cavernous mouth yawning and yawning and the body of an enormous leech slowly struggling up Rodriguez’s pitted, masticated throat. Though it has no eyes or face I imagine it leering at me, and though I redouble my efforts to get away, my throat convulsing in anticipatory terror, I can do absolutely nothing to stop what is about to happen to me. At the very last my courage fails me and I just squeeze my eyes shut and wait for the leech to barrel down my throat, wait with an anticipatory cringe to feel its needle-sharp teeth dig into my insides.

Instead I feel more than hear a horrific, bone-shuddering crunch from just ahead of me, and when I snap my eyes open it takes me a moment to comprehend what I’m seeing. Jutting from Rodriguez’s chest amid a thorny cluster of broken ribs is a bulky mechanical hand absolutely slick with gore and ichor. With a harsh mechanical whine it makes a fist and withdraws from the grapefruit-sized hole it made in Rodriguez’s chest and then seizes the body and flings it off of me. The body lands against the side wall of the vent with a wet crunch and then flops to the floor and lays still.

“Joker,” I breathe. The robot’s blocky, flat-panelled head is staring down at me with what I imagine to be a rather odd expression. It’s pitted and stained and rusted and every couple of seconds sparks burst from its torn left arm socket. Its armored torso is battered and dented and it moves with difficulty, but it still leans down over me and with incredible gentleness tucks its blood-drenched hand beneath me and brings me lightly to my feet. A moment later it has untied my hands and I can feel the blood rushing back into them with a clustering ache of pins and needles.

I can scarcely breathe I am so relieved but I still manage to reach up and put my hand on the machine’s metallic chest. “Jesus Christ,” I tell it. “I am so fucking happy to see you.”

But before I get any more out, a tall, blonde-haired blur slams into me and wraps me up in long, strong arms and lifts me off of my feet and nuzzles her face against mine. “Oh god,” Elena says, and before she can say any more my greedy, bruised lips find hers and for a moment, just a moment, amid the gunfire and the screams, I feel completely okay.

* * *

When we finally break apart and Elena sets me down on my wobbly, weak-kneed legs, I reach up and take her face in my hands. I still can’t quite believe that she’s here, that she’s alive, that she’s okay. My heart is beating so quickly that I almost feel nauseous and I don’t trust myself to speak. Elena’s eyes are wide and slatey; they flicker over me, dancing like roulette balls, just as she runs her hands over my arms, my legs, my sides and back. “Are you okay?” she asks. Her voice is shaky. I try to speak a few times but I can’t get any words out so instead I just nod. Elena leans in and kisses me again, briefly this time, and then, with her lips brushing my ear she murmurs, “I was so scared, Roan, I was so scared that I had lost you, I thought -“

“It’s okay,” I tell her. There’s another scream from DUSA and we both jump. I grab onto her desperately as she starts to pull away. “Listen, are you alright? The gunshot -“

“I’m okay,” she tells me. “I promise I’m okay. Jesus Christ I thought I lost you. Let’s get out of here.”

Next to her, Joker shifts on his damaged heels and creaks forward further down the vent, towards DUSA. Elena curses. “Hey, wait. Stop. We have to go.”

Joker ignores her. “Elena,” I ask, “what the hell happened? Why is Joker -“

“Whatever the Leechman did to him down in the barrows jarred something loose or damaged him somehow, he’s operating completely autonomously.”

I stare at Elena. “You’re not controlling him?”

“No,” she says. “He - I think he heard our conversation on the radio, that’s how he knew to come to DUSA to get me. It’s a good thing he did or Makado would have gotten me. He burst right in through the wall, it was fucking terrifying.”

“Joker did that? I thought it was the Leechman, I thought you were dead -“

“No, no, it was Joker! Oh, god, baby you must have been so scared -“

“I’m just glad you’re okay. Where did he take you?”

Joker looks back at us, then returns his gaze to the scene inside the organ ahead. The screams have largely died down now, but I can hear Makado shouting something, and a high-pitched electric whine that sets my teeth on edge.

Elena shakes her head. “He must have been monitoring Makado’s transmissions, I think he has to have a radio receiver in there somewhere. He grabbed me and brought me down to a little organelle maybe a mile away and we just sort of hunkered down there for a while.”

“Did he hurt you? If he -“

“No, no, he didn’t, it’s okay, I’m okay. Joker!” she yells. “We have to go!”

Joker ignores her. There is a curious sense of animation about its pose and its motions, quick and precise and birdlike. As I watch, its fingers flex tightly enough to dig deeply into the fleshy wall it rests against. Again its head swivels and glances back at us and I think I can feel its nonexistent gaze resting on me. “Elena, if you’re not controlling it, then who is?”

“I don’t know,” she says, glancing over at me. “I think nobody.”

“But how could it -“

“Roan, listen, forget about that for a moment.” Her lips are tugging upwards in an irrepressible smile and I can’t help but mirror her. I want to hold her and kiss her and - “there was something I needed to tell you, something I needed to tell you face to face,” she says. My stomach swoops upwards in a surge of delight and I reach out, take her hand in mine.

“Yes?” I ask, trying to sound innocent and oblivious.

“Roan, I -“ she starts, but before she can get more than a few words out, there is a whipcrack of thunder in DUSA’s chamber, and Joker bolts forward like a sprinter off the starting line, and we both scramble into action and chase after him.

DUSA’s wet, fleshy cavern is in utter disarray. Dead leeches are littered everywhere and there are massive stains of ichor and blood splattered all across the cavern, as though someone upended buckets of paint and flung them. A crushed, distended corpse in a black-stained suit has been driven so deeply into the flesh of the floor that it has nearly been snapped in two. Of the Leechman there is no sign, but as we watch, Makado and three other rangers come storming out of the other vent and take up defensive positions around it, hunkering down and training their weapons on DUSA’s hull. Makado is carrying a long grey brick of a rifle, bulky and supremely un-ergodynamic, with what looks like a lens in place of a barrel. I wonder about it for a moment before a sickly green glow floats into view and the Leechman emerges from DUSA, ducking its titanic head, with the crystal beneath one of its arms, held as casually as one might carry a basketball. It pauses there for a moment, peering out at the four small figures opposing it.

Makado looks scared; her face has paled to a sickly white and I can see the rifle shuddering in her trembling hands.

I can’t see where Joker’s gone; I catch Elena’s eye and frown, but she nods upwards a little, and I see the robot just above us, clinging to the ceiling like a monkey. It seems content to wait for someone to make the first move.

Behind the Leechman an orange-suited figure takes a juddering, unsteady step into the light, and I can see the limp exoskeleton clinging to its limbs like a length of sodden rope. Another figure follows, and then another, and even in the dim half-light, lit by strobes and flashlights and headlamps, I can see their bodies bulging and throbbing with the gallons and gallons of leeches seething beneath their skin.

My stomach betrays me and I bend double and vomit, trying furiously to wipe the image from my mind, but I can still see the man’s distended belly glistening beneath the orange ranger suit, pregnant with its load of parasitic cargo, and the thought sends a wave of furious revulsion scurrying up my limbs, coaxing rank, cold sweat out of my pores.

The Leechman takes a deliberate step forward and Makado pulls the trigger on her rifle. A coruscating lance of blinding white light jolts from the barrel with the same deafening whip-crack we’d heard before and spears the Leechman through the core of its body, blowing a meter-wide hole open clean through it and filling the air with the smell of burning leeches. The Leechman staggers back a step or two and reaches out to steady itself, dropping the crystal; it clunks to the floor with a strangely musical tinkle and I can see a few of the spikes shatter and fall to pieces.

Makado rises to her feet, a little color returning to her cheeks, and fires again. This bolt catches the Leechman through the head and forces it down to its knees. It puts one massive hand forward to catch itself and Makado burns it off. She advances on the Leechman, firing again and again until the thing is just a pile of writhing, dying leeches, slowly burrowing into the ground and the walls and the ceiling, trying to escape. The bodies of the parasitized rangers shudder and twitch but they hesitate, standing still as though bereft of any governing intelligence.

Finally Makado pulls the trigger and the gun hisses a loud, screeching complaint and vents an enormous gasp of steam from recessed ports in its side; through them I can see the gun’s innards glowing white-hot, and Makado tosses it aside after glaring down at it in disgust. She draws her pistol from her holster and trains it one-handed on one of the rangers, squeezing one eye shut and glaring down the sights.

I open my mouth to suggest to Elena that it might be time to leave, but before I can get a word out the Leechman charges past us, out of the mouth of our vent, forcing a shriek from my mouth, and bowls into Makado headlong, sending her flying. She slams into the wall on the far side of the organ so hard that I can see a Mak-shaped bruise forming in the Pit’s flesh when she flops to the floor, limp and helpless, either stunned or unconscious or dead.

The rangers open up on the Leechman but if the laser wasn’t enough to kill it, bullets clearly aren’t going to be enough either. The three parasitized rangers surge forwards as well, wading into the fray, but the Leechman is doing the heavy lifting. I cringe back against Elena as I watch it pick up a hapless, screaming ranger and pull him in half, a spray of gore and guts flooding from the man’s cleft torso and legs. I clutch at Elena, trying desperately to get my legs beneath me, and she pulls me up and steadies me.

“We have to go,” she says. I can hear a note of hysteria in her voice. I take a shaky step backwards into the vent and feel a leech writhe and squirm beneath my cleats. Another one leaps at me and thuds into my back. I can feel its jaws working to pierce the thick latex of the ranger suit, and I hop frantically, trying to reach backwards and dislodge it. Elena brushes it off of me and crushes it beneath her boot just as the Leechman vomits a tidal wave of blunt, wriggling bodies into the pried-open chest of another ranger, struggling weakly in the creature’s squirming grip.

More leeches patter against us, driving us unwillingly out of the vent as we crawl and duck and dodge, trying to avoid them. A nerveless, exoskeletoned paw swipes at me clumsily and I scream and throw myself out of the way. From my vantage point on the ground I see Elena shove the infested ranger back and unload the entire magazine of her pistol into his gut, but the body staggers towards us still. I can see Elena’s teeth bared, a mad glint in her eyes, and I know that she is about to charge the thing and I know that it will kill her, but I haven’t enough breath to tell her not to.

Deeper in the chamber, the Leechman plucks the head off of a ranger’s pinioned, struggling body as easily as separating an apple from a tree and fling the chunk away like a bloody comet. It slaps wetly to the ground only a few feet away from me and I roll back from it, nearly mad with terror. I can see the Leechman slowly turning towards us and I am so afraid I think I might die just from fear alone.

“El - El - El - “ I try, again and again, but I can’t breathe, I can’t speak, I can’t think -

Joker drops from the ceiling directly onto the parasitized ranger, landing with a sickening crunch and a whine of servos. Its head snaps upwards and regards the Leechman with a calculating stare, and the Leechman, impossibly, stops. It seems to cock its head at Joker, and then it takes a step forward, heavy and inevitable and menacing, but before it can go any further Joker launches itself at it with a scream of straining metal and whining pistons. I struggle to my knees and brush the leeches off of Elena, checking her suit for holes or punctures.

Joker is losing. The Leechman has torn its other arm off and tossed it aside, and now it’s yanking at Joker’s leg. Joker is lurching spasmodically back and forth, trying to get free, but the Leechman has too strong a grip on it. The leeches are flowing over the robot’s metal form and in a few more moments it looks as though it’ll be enveloped entirely. I can see Joker’s head turn with what seems like a titanic effort and peer back at us, and then it disappears beneath the surface of the Leechman.

I tug Elena to her feet and take a few faltering steps back towards the vent before there is a colossal wave of sound and light and heat from behind that bowls me over and knocks me face-down in the sopping, bloodstained flesh. Elena falls over me with a scream and for a while all we can do is cling to each other and pray that whatever the hell happened is over quickly.

A moment passes, then another. I roll over and, with more than a little trepidation, sit up.

It looks as though a bomb has gone off. There is a bloody, charred crater in the floor, and all that remains of Joker are a few metal fragments, embedded like shrapnel in the floor and walls and ceiling. The parasitized rangers have all been cut down, most of them separated into small pieces of flesh, both leech, and human, smeared across DUSA and the organelle like daubs of lumpy paint.

Of the Leechman there is no sign, and when I glance over at it, I realize that the crystal is gone as well.

After another few minutes of utter stillness, Elena and I look at each other. “Are you okay?” she asks, and I glance down at myself.

“Somehow,” I say, “I think I am. Are you?”

She pats at herself cautiously, peers down at her legs, wiggles her foot. “I think so. Did Joker - ?”

I point to the crater. “He must have exploded. Either there was some kind of self-destruct or whatever engine or motor it used was damaged, or…”

“Jesus,” Elena breathes, getting shakily to her feet. She offers me a hand and helps me up and for a little while all we can do is survey the carnage. I feel as though I want to cry and laugh and throw up all at the same time.

I squeeze Elena’s hand. “What were you going to tell me?” I ask.

“Is now really the time?” she smiles, and I bite my lip to keep myself from grinning back at her.

“At this rate, if you don’t say it now you’re never going to.”

“Roan,” she says, putting a hand on my cheek, “I -“

There is a groan from across the cavern and we both snap around. Over there, on the far side of the wall, Makado is starting to sit up. She looks shaky and shell-shocked and terrified. She sees us and tries to get to her feet, but her leg buckles beneath her and she falls back to the ground. Elena’s eyes narrow and she lets me go, starting towards Makado, her hands curling into fists. I have a knot in my stomach.

“Elena, wait,” I call after her. She spins and stares at me and then shakes her head.

“Don’t look,” she tells me, and for a moment, just a moment, I think of going after her and stopping her from - from doing whatever she’s about to do.

But instead the coward in me wins out and I avert my gaze, squeezing my eyes shut, my insides tensing in anticipation of a gunshot. I hear Makado cry out weakly, and I shudder.

There is a loud, satisfying smack, as of fist on jaw, and then a flopping sound. I look up and see Elena wringing her hand, cursing beneath her breath, before she flips an insensate Makado onto her stomach and, folding the woman’s hands behind her, begins to lash her wrists together with a length of paracord. She looks up and sees me staring, registers the expression on my face and gives me a laugh.

“You thought I was going to kill her?” she asks, and I blow a breath out and try to calm myself before I answer.

“I didn’t know what you were going to do,” I say, truthfully.

“I’m not a killer,” Elena tells me, hefting Makado’s slim frame onto her shoulders in a fireman’s carry. “Jesus Christ,” she adds, adjusting her load a little. “This little shit is heavy.”

I kick at a piece of wreckage, a folded metal panel, bent from the force of the blast, and then reach down and with difficulty pull Joker’s battered torso out of the crater. Elena sets Makado down none too gently and comes over and squats beside me.

There’s something that looks a little like a car battery, jammed into a slot in the torso. I tug at it, using my foot to hold the hunk of metal steady, and it breaks free with a hiss like a seal being broken. “What is that?” Elena asks. I shake my head.

“BCPU - Property of Anodyne Berlin,” I read. “Mind Impulse Unit - B. Walken.”

“Walken?” Elena asks, incredulous.

“No,” I say, “this can’t - no, that’s ridiculous.”

“What is?”

“Burt Walken was Erica’s husband,” I tell her. “B. Walken, Burt Walken. She told me he died from the psychic illness from 2007, that Anodyne had never returned his body.”

The top of the box is translucent plastic, but it’s too dark to see inside. Elena reaches down and grabs her flashlight and shines it onto the box, and we both squint at it. When I comprehend what I’m seeing I nearly drop it - for there inside the box, soaking in a briny, gelatinous fluid, festooned with wires and covered in metal electrodes and circuits, are the ridges and folds of a clearly human brain.

* * *

“What were you going to tell me?” I ask Elena again once she gets off the radio. She’s spent the last fifteen minutes begging and cajoling and cursing someone on the surface to try and get them to send someone down to get us and finally, finally gotten a begrudging affirmative. I can slowly feel my spirits rising, and Elena even gives me a secret little smile as she comes to sit next to me, sinking down against the wall of the vent with a groan of relief. I lean my head on her shoulder and she kisses me gently on the forehead. A wash of warmth floods down my arms and legs and I have to restrain myself from seizing her and clutching her to me.

“You sure I shouldn’t just leave it a mystery at this point?” she asks, and I elbow her lightly in the ribs.

“Tell me,” I insist.

Elena leans back and takes my chin gently in her hand, inclining my face upwards to her. I can see her studying me, see her pupils dilate as they flick from my eyes to my cheeks to my nose to my lips. “I love you,” she says, and my heart jumps in my chest as though struck by lightning. I can feel myself grinning madly, and then our lips brush and then fit together as though they were made to do so.

And then, when our breath has finally grown short enough to force us to break apart, we slowly rise, Elena’s hand in mine, scarcely daring to tear our eyes from each other, and begin to gather our things for the long journey up.

Continue with the Epilogue

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#mystery flesh pit #Down the rabbit hole #writing #writeblr #alt lit #mystery #fiction #Novel #Michael Crichton #caving #disaster #the end

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miraculousgemscc · 3 years

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Not So Berry Extended

I was inspired to write out a few more generations for the Not So Berry Challenge! I’m currently playing it in my spare time as a Vampire Not so Berry (cause why not?) and i’m having a lot of fun playing it and watching others play through the challenge! If you’d like to see more of these or maybe another version of Not So Berry Extended but with more of the careers then please let me know!

NOTE: This hasn’t been play-tested! If whatever’s listed below is impossible to complete please let me know and i’ll make the needed changes!

Gen 11: Black

(Requires Snowy Escape, Get Famous, Parenthood)

Growing up, you always thought you had the perfect life: You had the dream house, the dream family. Until one day you found out that your mother/father/parent had a secret affair. This completely broke you and in order to cope with the news, you decided to become a rebel. I mean, don’t we all go through a rebellious phase in our lives? Your whole perspective on life went 360: you changed your sense of style, your personality, etc. all at once. At least you had the great outdoors giving you comfort during your “everlasting phase”! Your favorite season was Winter because you could ski/snowboard all day, everyday. And what about those dreams you had of becoming a famous skier/snowboarder? Well we can do that too!

Traits: Hot-Headed (give as a teenager), Active, Self-Assured

Aspiration: Extreme Sports Enthusiast

Career: Manuel Laborer, Ski/Snowboarding YouTuber (once you reach Level 10 of Ski/Snowboarding)

Rules:

Must enter “rebellious phase” either at the end of childhood or beginning of being a teenager (you don’t need PH for this, it’s just apart of storytelling) (this is when the black color of this gen. should occur)

Must get the Argumentative, Insensitive and Uncontrolled Emotions Character Value traits (PH)

Must max either the Skiing or Snowboarding skill (SE)

Must enter the Manuel Laborer job as a teenager and stay in that job

Once your able to create Snowboarding videos, you must make your money off of your videos only

Reach at least Rising Star of Celebrity level (GF)

B-Lister is preferred but since getting fame with Get Famous is hard as it is Rising Star is ok

Must move to Mt. Komorebi (SE)

Gen 12: Dark Academia

(requires Get to Work, Nifty Knitting) Your mother/father/parent was one of the most famous skier/snowboarders in Mt. Komorebi. She/He/They always encouraged you to spend your time outdoors and take in the fresh air. Yet, you preferred to spend your time indoors, curled up in bed with your tea and book in hand. You craved to enter the fictional worlds you’ve read in your books from a young age. When you entered high school, you found your love for the arts and decided that you’d become an artist. At least then you could bring the worlds you’ve read to life on a canvas! And why not have a little snack while we’re at it? You can just learn some new foods you can make through cooking books after all!

Traits: Bookworm, Creative, Art Lover

Aspiration: Painter Extraordinaire

Career: Stay-at-Home Painter, Painter career (⚠️Only if you get offered the job⚠️)

Rules:

Must complete the Painter Extraordinaire aspiration

Must max out Painting skill, Cooking or Gourmet Cooking skill and Photography skill (GTW)

Must make your money through your paintings only

if you get a call about joining the Painter career, you must accept

Must move into a “rundown” lot/apartment with only a kitchen, bathroom, and a bed (and maybe your books if you want but you can’t sell these for money)

your funds when you move out after moving into your house must be $60

(this will be enough for your painting and some extra money to spend elsewhere)

Must have a library in your house

Must have 3 kids (biological or adopted)

spouse must be employed as a Salaryperson and/or Business career (recommended if it’s game generated but you can give them either job yourself)

can only marry partner towards the end of adulthood

Must purchase Knitting Skill Book 1 from bookshelf (NK)

Gen 13: Pastel

(requires Nifty Knitting, Get To Work, Get Together) Your family was pretty stable for the most part. Sure, you may have had trouble paying the bills here and there but what mattered most is that your family was together. Even though you enjoyed your mother/father/parent’s love for Forrest Green, Rosy Brown and overall Earthy tones you felt like you needed a bit more color in your life. And by color, you mean bright and colorful. One day while going through your mother/father/parent’s library you discovered a book on knitting. Figuring your mother/father/parent spent all of their time cooking and painting anyways you decided to take the book and learn how to knit. Yet, knitting cute decor and beanies isn’t going to put food on the table and a roof over your head. Guess running your own business is going to have to wait. Oh yeah, you also have a weird obsession with the letter B...

Traits: Perfectionist, Cheerful, Childish

Aspiration: Lady/Lord of the Knits

Career: Barista (teen), Business (young adult), Business owner (adult)

Rules:

Must complete the Lady/Lord of the Knits aspiration

Must max out Knitting skill, reach required skills needed for jobs before quitting them (ex. If you need Level 3 of Charisma for the Business career but you’ve age up to an Adult, you must reach level 3 before quitting the job)

Must Donate to Charity at least once a week

Quit your career in Business and open your own business as an adult (GTW)

Must get 2/5 stars for your business

Must live in Windenburg and have your business in the Old Platz neighborhood (GT)

Must create a Knitting Club and meet your friends (GT) when you reach Level 3 of the Knitting skill

Can only have relationships with immediate family (siblings, parent(s), grandparent(s), aunts/uncles) until you create the club. Once you create the club you may make friends.

Must become good friends with club members and best friends with one of the members

Marry your partner from the Knitting Club

Must have their first and/or last name start with B (you can cheat the name if you want)

Gen 14: White (Requires Get Famous, Get Together, City Living) Living in Windenburg for most of your life, you always loved how the town was so inclusive to everything and everyone. You always found yourself vibing with the music and dancing whenever you had the chance. But you also had a passion for music, specifically rap. While browsing the internet one day you came across some videos about some kid with blue hair rapping with his friends and you immediately became obsessed. (yes, I just made a FNF reference) From that day on, you wanted to become a Triple Threat: a dancer, musician, and a producer! The world isn’t stopping anytime soon so you gotta act fast and get your dance on!

Traits: Dance Machine, Music Lover, Geek

Aspiration: Musical Genius

Career: Entertainer Rules:

Must max the Dancing skill, Media Production skill, and Guitar/Violin/Piano skill (your choosing) reach level 6 of Singing skill

Must complete the Entertainer career

Must be signed to a Record Label and release your music (GF)

Must marry someone named Keith and has the Proper trait (you may cheat the name only)

Have a boyfriend/girlfriend/partner in high school but break up with them before becoming a Young Adult

must be Hot and Cold with High School love (negative friendship, positive romance)

Have Dance Battles with your friends at least once a week

Have at least 2 Enemies (you can have more if you wish) (this doesn’t include your High School love)

Gen 15: Navy Blue

(Requires Discover University, Eco Lifestyle, Parenthood) Growing up you tend to lean towards a more sophisticated lifestyle thanks to your father. With having good role models around you and supportive parents, you were able to pursue your dreams of becoming a lawyer. Helping those in need was one of your biggest goals in life. The world right now isn’t perfect and you strive to change the world for the better. Having been the smartest kid throughout your school career, you were given the chance to jump straight into the Law career. Although you were grateful for the opportunity, you decided to continue your studies and learn as much as you could before going into Law.

Traits: Proper, Ambitious, Genius

Aspiration: Academic

Career: Law

Rules:

Must complete the Law career

Become a Private Attorney

Must max out Research and Debate, reach level 5 Logic skill, reach level 8 Charisma skill

Must complete the Whiz Kid aspiration and Academic aspiration

Must attend college for the Law career (you may disable aging while you go to college if you want)

Must get an A in school (child and teen)

Must have the Responsible and Mediator Character Value traits

Must make your neighborhood a Green neighborhood (EL)

Attend volunteer events at least once a week (PH)

Never get married, only have 1 child

(can have boyfriend/girlfriend/partner)

Must move to Britechester when you start the Law career (you can live in Britechester while attending college if you want)

Gen 16: Phoenix

(Requires Vampire) You grew up wanting more from the world besides all of the “change the world” stuff your mother/father/parent kept blabbering on about. Instead of changing the world, you wanted a change of scenery. While roaming the world trying to find your new normal you discovered the world of Forgotten Hollow. There, you met your soulmate and later the person who would eventually turn you into a vampire. As crazy as it sounds, the minute you became a Young Adult you up and left your home in Britechester and moved to Forgotten Hollow. This you thought was it! You were finally free to be yourself! Until the dreaded accident.....

Traits: Loves the Outdoors, Romantic, Erratic

Aspiration: Master Vampire

Career: none

Rules:

Must purposely burn in the sun and die

Must have no kids

Must complete Master Vampire aspiration except the, “Survive for an Additional 20 Days as a Vampire” section (you must Die by Sunlight before this reaches the full 20 Days)

Must max Vampire Lore skill and Pipe Organ skill, reach level 5 Gardening skill

Have your own garden in Forgotten Hollow and make your money through your garden only

Must unlock the Thin Skinned weakness from Vampire levels

Must immediately move out as a Young Adult to Forgotten Hollow

your partner must be a Vampire and turn you into a Vampire

And that’s it! I hope you find this as interesting as I did! :D

If your wanting more ways to spice up your gameplay, I have a save file that i’ve been working on the past couple of years! You can find it here.

#nsbe #not so berry #not so berry extended #thesims4 #the sims 4 #sims4challenges #sims4challenge #sims 4 challenge #sims 4 challenges #nsb #ts4 #misc.#miraculousgemscc

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autumnstwilight · 4 years

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And relevant to that last reply, I certainly feel A Way about how the present online culture encourages-- or even mandates-- the disclosure of personal details, with the promise of better treatment. Or the implication that sharing this information is What Good People Do.

You don’t have to go far on Twitter to find people asserting that everyone should have pronouns in their bio, and that if you’re cis, it’s the bare minimum you can do as an ally, don’t even think of claiming to support trans people if you don’t have them. IRL, I use the pronouns associated with my assigned sex, and disclosing them means disclosing my assigned sex, which I don’t necessarily want to tell to every random stranger I talk to about video games. So I say “any pronouns” which is what I’m honestly comfortable with, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there are trans and non-binary people who feel like I’m a cis person trying to conceal my status and privilege and/or get extra queer cred.

Because that’s the other thing-- identities have become a form of credibility. And, while the base idea that you should listen to people within a group about issues that affect that group is a very good one, it seems to have resulted in a culture where identities are listed to give additional credibility to anything anyone says. So you get posts like “Help an [LGBTQ identity] afford rent!” even though people should not have to out themselves to deserve help with rent (and indeed, cishet people also deserve shelter), and of course, people claiming identities they don’t actually have to gain internet clout. Not just that, people in a grey area (say, questioning their sexuality, or unsure if they count as disabled) are pushed to either claim an identity they aren’t yet sure of, or be excluded from the discussion.

But apart from the moral pressure, there’s also a creeping normalization of sharing personal details-- here’s an app that will add a pride flag colored border to your Twitter profile pic, here’s a meme that requires your birthdate, post your selfie next to your art, etc. Of course some people genuinely enjoy participating in this sort of thing, and none of them are bad in and of themselves.

But not everyone on the internet takes these things in good faith. You may put a pride flag around your profile pic only to see your wider social circle sharing an “informative post” about how that identity is problematic, and wonder how many hostile people you’ve just outed yourself to. You might, as someone I know did recently, post about your depression and anxiety while a fandom argument is going on, and be accused of using “white woman’s tears” to sway people to your side (even if you weren’t talking about the argument). And while “Fuck you, I will be myself louder,” is a valid response to things like these, it can be genuinely distressing and uncomfortable if you shared that information to a community that seemed to promise sympathy and support in exchange for disclosure, but instead turned it into some weird form of social judo.

Personally, these days, I prefer “Fuck you, it’s none of your business”. Being yourself does not obligate an explanation, in fact, it requires you to be true to your own comfort level before anyone else’s.

#discourse #privacy #social media #personal post

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taliaquinn · 4 years

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Why Me!? Chapter 13

s-“Wait a minute. You guys have an almost-deathiversary?” Marinette asked slightly puzzled.

Dick took Marinette to see Jason on his “almost-Deathiversary”. Jason was kidnapped and nearly killed by the Joker when he was younger but they had to stage his death to deter any further attempts on his life.

“Yup, Jason is not in the happiest person on this day for obvious reasons, right now he’s probably somewhere in Gotham getting Drunk” Dick replied, “I'll go look for him later of course but right now I’m here to drop off food from Alfred and your sweets” Dick was most likely gonna spend tonight hunting for a drunk Redhood. What he didn’t tell Marinette was that he was also going to leave a note for him.

“Don't make eye-contact with anyone and stick close, I’ll keep ya safe”

Safe!? She was currently standing outside an old run-down apartment building in Crime Alley. Everything around her looked dark and scary. The people were constantly scurrying around. Heck, even the rats look sleazy. She's pretty sure she saw a mugging a few blocks back.

Was the boarding school alternative still available?

Some people just flat out stopped and stared at them. Marinette and Dick did their best trying to dress normal-ish. Unfortunately, that was sort of difficult to do when you're the son and daughter of a billionaire and you're a fashion designer.

However, they stuck it through since they’ve been itching to check up on him since he hadn’t been around the manor in two weeks. What Marinette didn’t realize that Red Hood was in the Batcave last night nursing a few bruises.

She caught one guy staring at them for one second too long she inched closer to Dick. Dick quickly wrapped an arm around her shoulder while glaring at the guy. Hey, you can never be too safe. All of the Wayne kids have been kidnapped at least once before. Maybe that explains why Marinette gets constantly targeted by akumas? Scratch that, it’s probably just her luck working against her.

Speaking of Luck, Tikki demanded to stay behind with the rest of the Kwamis. They claimed to have some shows to catch up on. Marinette left them in her enormous closet with her new tablet and some food.

Her parents had left to go back to Paris yesterday, of course, there were tears and of course, most of them were from her dad. Dick was sniffling in the background “What I’m a sucker for family moments, bite me” Marinette already missed them but luckily technology existed.

Her parents were going to send Bruce her transcripts so she could enroll in a school in Gotham. Marinette was regretting agreeing to it. She’s going to be the new girl halfway through the year, bleugh. She tried advocating for homeschooling but she was overruled by all three parents. Apparently, she needed “human-interaction”, pfffttt.

Dick quickly opened the apartment building door to let Marinette in. They went to the highest floor. Once they were in front of Jason's apartment door, Dick was able to quickly pick the lock and disable the security. Marinette placed her platter of baked sweets on the counter while Dick went over to the fridge to restock, taking a glance to make sure Marinette wasn’t watching he slipped in a scotch, the good scotch along with his note. He had to steal that from Bruce's alcohol cabinet. The man has so many kids he needs to drink every now and then.

Marinette thought Jason's apartment looked nice. Which was confusing since the outside looked like a mess.

“Come on Maribug let's get out before we’re caught by a pissed off grouch” Dick knew that he wouldn’t come home for a few more minutes but he wanted to keep Marinette from exploring and noticing a few interesting things. “We gotta go shopping!!!”

At that Marinette immediately bolted out. It’s been a few days since she's gotten her hands on a sewing machine or new fabric. Most of the Fabric she brought with her is gonna end up being used on a new dress for Bruces “Girlfriend’ Selina Kyle.

Her commissions were stacking up and she had ended up filling up her current sketchbook. Hawkmoth has been behaving himself so she hasn't had a good excuse to teleport to Paris and pick up a few of her supplies. Which sucks. Seriously, the one time she needed an Akuma and Hawkmoth decides to be decent.

She jumped into Dick's car parked a few blocks away in a garage. Dick slides in and off they went to the mall. Marinette couldn’t wait!!! She was gonna be surrounded by fabrics and they’re gonna eat at a cafe with Tim afterward to actually make sure the Dude actually eats.

Marinette took her sketchbook and quickly started flipping through and checking what designs she wanted to create. She jotted down what materials she’s gonna need.

Dicks’ phone suddenly started blaring to girls just wanna have fun. Uh-oh, it's Jason. Quickly he put it on speaker

“Yello, Cute one speaking”

“YOU FRIGGIN TRESPASSER!!!”

“Hiya Jaybird, Ya like your gifts?”

“Tell Mari thanks for the sweets, she's a gift to humanity YOU, ON THE OTHER HAND, CAN GO FU-” Marinette decided that this was the perfect time to intervene.

“Hi Jay!” she chirped.

“UGGER OFF, Hi Mari, your sweets were great!? I can wait to eat all 20 of these macaroons” he said softly. Jason was pretty sure that Marinette was the most sweetest child in the world. And that she must be defended at all costs. Plus it was nice to have a civilian sibling for once.

20!! Marinette knows for sure she made 22, she quickly gave a glare at Dick, who was focusing a bit too intently on the road in front of him. The nerve.

College Francis Dupont Paris, France 11:00 am

All of the kids in Francis Dupont were happily eating their lunch in the courtyard. Unfortunately that happiness was soon going to come to an end. Alya was standing up and was busy trying to get everyone's attention, most of the students were ignoring her.

Once Alya felt that she had the necessary attention she started “HELLOOO everyone, As you all know a spot for the planning committee for the spring dance was suddenly uh vacated,” At that, a lot of people turned to glare at Alya, they all knew good and well that she was the reason why Marinette had to drop out of the planning committee. “which is why I want to recommend that we move ahead without them and ensure that this dance is awesome” Alya finished.

The only reason she was making this announcement was because Alya realized that any plans they had written up back when Marinette was on the committee were suddenly missing. She needed the rest of the committee to get those plans back. Marinette's original plans had Jagged Stone as a guest performer. The Grand Hotel catering for food and desserts being given by her parents bakery. None of those things can happen without Marinette. And Alya does not want to beg her.

Chloe Bourgeois wanted revenge. Chloe along with Kagami and Aurores made sure to get rid of all the previous dance plans. She couldn’t possibly let Rossi and Cesaire get away with what they did to Marinette. She wants to watch them flounder. It would be unfair to make the whole school suffer, so they were going to help a bit with the planning for the school dance. But everything else she’s going to make life difficult for Bustiers class. They can say adios to their fun field trips.

Chloe, Kagami, and Aurore stayed up all night plotting their revenge, unfortunately, they had to wait a few weeks to set their plans into motion. Marinette won’t know about anything only until they figure out what she can do to get her revenge.

They're going to call her tomorrow to give her status updates. Revenge is going to be sweet.

Taglist:

@another-fan-of-anotherplan @damianette-is-life @amayakans @parallelparabox @miukiiu @valeks-princess @toodaloo-kangaroo @vixen-uchiha @thezestywalru @dreamykitty25 @pirats-pizzacanninibles @mochinek0 @shamefullove @mochegato @souleateralicestein @thestressmademedoit @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen

A/N:

Ha sorry i’m a bit late “celebrating” Jason's’ Deathaversary >.< Also I forgot to announce that I have uploaded my first chapter in my one-shot series. I am creating a seperate tag list for that series :). Stay safe and healthy my peeps :)

#miraculous ladybug #mlb au #maribat #batfam #Marinette deserves better #Damian Wayne #dick grayson #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #bruce wayne #class salt

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genderfluidlucifer · 3 years

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Response to being asked to give an opinion on Connie’s calout by residentevil-4

(Tw: CSAM, rape fic, incest fic, predatory behavior, racism, ableism, kink mention, nsfw mentions. Minors should probably dni.)

“Connie and I know each other irl and went to school together for 3 years, although they now live in a different state and have cut contact with me. We went to a private therapy school in Manhattan as we're both disabled and were deemed unable to attend public school. Even though we were pretty close, Connie didn't like having photos taken of them, so I don't have any selfies of the two of us; however, these are from our sophomore and senior yearbooks which at least confirms that we were in the same year at school. People who have seen Connie's selfies should be able to confirm that that is what they look like. First and foremost, Connie is not TMA. They are intersex and the two of us have discussed intersex issues both in person and online, but they are still decidedly CAFAB.” Ok so first off, I want to address this part of the callout. To be honest...was it really necessary to literally doxx Connie ehre? Because this textbook definition of doxxing. Yes Connie’s done some shitty things but I freally don’t think that what they’ve done warrants this level of doxxing. Or...even better, any doxxing. This feels like a really unnecessary breach of privacy, revealing sensitive information on Connie’s childhood that they choose to confide in you with. I really don’t agree with this aspect of the callout as it feels very invasive and bordering on stalkerish. Btw when I say bordering on stalkerish I’m not directly calling you a stalker Bonnie. Just so we’re clear. I am not defending Connie supposedly faking being TMA. Because faking being TMA is a very serious issue. HOWEVER since I don’t know Connie irl and to be quite frank it’s none of my business what the nature of their agab is. Were not close and I’m certainly not going to like lead Connie onto thinking we’re friends just to confirm this with them because that would be creepy. So to be honest I’m going to take this part of the callout with again of salt for now.

[ID: A cropped screenshot of a numbered list Connie posted to their blog hadrosaurs in response to an ask.

“3. I’m TMA And that’s completely irrelevant. I’m not accusing them because of their gender I didn’t even know their gender when they said that to me saying that they said that because they fucking said that and the reaction to it was incredibly alarming. Don’t fucking say that stuff to people.]

I mean I”m not a trans woman so take this with a grain of salt if you want but...I don’t see how this is really proof of Connie being deliberately transmisogynistic? Yes Connie gives iffy retellings of mistakes they’ve made in the past. I’ve seen that on their blog before and I won’t pretend it doesn’t happen. BUT here they sound genuine enough and to be honest a growing issue I’ve seen with callouts as of late is. A person confirms they in fact did not do the thing they were called out for. And then the people who make the callout choose to see it as proof of incriminating behavior anyways. To be honest it’s a big problem and it’s also incredibly unfair to the person being called out. If you’re so determined at that point to see the person as bigoted no matter what they say then of course anything they say can be seen as proof. So I’m going to have to pass on this bit of evidence. “Connie responded: “Final note: I have spoken extensively with several trans women about using TMA to describe myself. I will not be getting into discourse about that on this blog again. All that leads to is people demanding my medical records and calling me slurs. If you wanna have a thoughtful conversation about it direct message me cause it’s not happening again here.” Again this really doesn’t seem all that self incriminating. Connie mentions here that they’ve talked to rl trans woman about whether or not they can be considered TMA. Connie really doesn’t have to disclose that personal information to people for any reason. Yes even when people are e including this ask response in a callout. And considering lots of people DO get invasive about Connie’s medical history ans general personal life over matters like this? I feel their reaction is pretty understandable here. “Connie has constantly compared “exclusionists” (or anyone, really) to TERFs, even when the people in question are not transmisogynistic, trans exclusionary radfems, or are even transmisogyny affected themselves.

“ Gonna have to disagree with this part of the callout too. Lots of ace inclus blogs, even some run by trans women , have proven that the ace exclus movement was started by swerfs/terfs. But the blog that has the most evidence for this is courteousmingler on tumblr. I suggest you check out that blog’s archiving of the history of ace exclus rhetoric before rushing to call me a transmisogynist for disagreeing with this part of the callout. I looked through all of the evidence for Connie being racist and tbh as a black ndn it all feels incredibly flimsy. It’d be one thing if Connie was using their experiences to derail and invalidate the discussions about how black people are oppressed But they weren’t doing that there at all. This part of the post feels incredibly biased. And like OP is looking for things to be mad about. Going to have to pass on this list of evidence. Also uh I seem to recall that residentevil04 got called out for some questionable behavior as well. “Both me (insepsy, hi) and ezrat have had really weird spikes in activity on our Statcounters, both on the same day. (Saturday, 4/17/21) For both of us, majority of the pages looked at by these visitors have been related to or about Connie, or have been posts that Connie would find "problematic" such as the f slur untagged or something related to "panphobia"/aphobia. I’m sorry but...none of the proof of cyberstalking holds any water. Visiting someone’s blogs and rbing posts to disagree with them is not cyberstalking. Keeping tabs on urls that an abusive person who has harassed are using so you can block them (in this case with kyoshi) and warn your mutuals is not stalking. As a victim of rl stalking it’s...really weird to call this legit stalking at all. Much less claim that you have damning proof of it being stalking when no such evidence exists in the callout. Besides after Connie and nonbinarydave called out one of kyoshi’s buddies for sending a death threat hate anon to nonbinarydave’s toddler st4lker partly admitted to doing it a few times. Then other mutuals in kyoshi’s toxic social circle clearly began joining in. Making side accounts where they tried to spin a false narrative of nonbinarydave’s daughter being one of their alters (ableist as hell.) And also trying to do it in such a way that they thought would trigger nonibnarydave’s psychosis (also ableist as hell.) If you’re going to drag Connie for their mistakes and never let them move on from those mistakes then it’s only fair to do that to people you agree with who also do toxic/bigoted things. ALso the fact that your wording here suggests that you think panphobia and aphobia aren’t real makes me doubt this claim even more. Exclus and their allies are notorious for mislabeling inclus disagreeing with them as stalking. “connie said that they would release that info at a later time and the minor began to argue with them that they had a responsibility regardless of their complicated relationship with age. in this argument connie for a time kept their age ambiguous and at one point told the minor (who confirmed in a later ask that they were severely traumatized by adults) that they obviously weren’t traumatized. connie quickly deleted this ask and any mentions of it and the next post they reblogged was about how wrong it was to try and quantify or discount others’ trauma. on my old blog i @ed them in the replies and asked if they had just done that. connie admitted to it and said it was fucked up but quickly blocked + deleted my comment. i can’t remember whether or not connie apologized to the minor, they may have? but yeah. i thought that was pretty weird.”] I do agree with some of the concern here that adults shouldn’t over expose minors in discourse. I’ve been contemplating this for awhile myself. And trying to figure out how to take better steps to avoid including minors who are triggered by discourse in discourse, especially. HOWEVER I have one little issue with this addition to the callout. If that is the case then exclus and their allies need to practice this as well. You cannot ignore the fact that the reason a lot of minors are getting involved in exclus discourse is due to adult exclus and their allies forcing minors to pick a side in the discourse. Y’all are not at all exempt from this problem. I still remember an ex mutual of mine trying to convince a minor to agree that aces can’t face corrective rape. And based on how aggressive it got with me when I tried to avoid giving an opinion on the matter, I can’t imagine that it would’ve reacted better to the minor refusing to give an opinion or to the minor outright disagreed. Refusing to put these standards on exclus and their allies is both hypocritical and quite frankly very transparent. The claims about them glorifying dark topics on AO3 through their fics also seems unfortunately legit. I mean those asks of shaming people who ask their viewers to not romanticize or glorify abusive relationships in their works is very damning. I’m very disappointed to see that Connie has taken being an inclus to the point of validating antis anti culture wholeheartedly. I can’t think of much more to add to my opinion on that part of the callout. As for the issue of Connie interacting with pro shippers in the past, I do know that this claim is legit. I’ve seen it before and so has Breeze. This was why for a brief time we decided to stop following their blogs. Because it was triggering to have pro shippers put on our dash. And sometimes we just don’t feel it’s worth it to always let people we’re platforming know they’re rbing triggering stuff. So sometimes we just quietly unfollow and choose to not interact until we’re sure they’re filtering what they do and don’t rb in some way. I definitely don’t agree with that behavior. And if they’re still doing that I”ll deplatform again. “The anon asks: “A weird question but do you know any other stimboard blogs with your follow criteria? (No radfems, racists, fandom antis, etc.) I was hoping to find more through your “similar blogs” but a lot have no anti-antis for their DNI or allow truscum/transmeds and exclus. :(“

The user responds: “I know of @turtle-pond-stims, @outofangband, and @kinaesthetics! 🍂🍄" “[ID: A cropped screenshot of an ask sent by Connie from their now-deactivated blog, butch-with-a-tortoise.

Connie says: “hey anon I have safe stim blogs. dm me if you want them. And radfems/bigots aren’t allowed to interact. For my own safety (because the community is honestly terrifying) I can’t publicly say on my blogs that I’m safe for proshippers/kinky people but I try to spread word how I can.”] [ID: Screenshot of a post by evilwriter37, which reads, “I’ve been seeing posts about fandom police leaving ao3, and it’s like: Good. We don’t want you here anyway. Go find your own fanfiction site.”

The post is tagged “#Fandom #AO3 #Antis #Purity Culture” and has 87 notes. It was posted on December 21st, 2020.

There is a reply from main-to-outofangband-andothers saying: “there are Silm antis on that site who are against Russigon (Maedhros and Fingon) not because they’re cousins but because they’re both male (coded)”] [ID: A screenshot of an anonymous (though signed off as being from outofangband) ask sent to evilwriter37, which says, “Melkor and Viggo solidarity is ‘Look there’s nothing wrong with keeping my enemy chained up in my personal chambers at all times so please just focus on the war efforts and I’ll focus on the boy* in my chambers’ -@outofbangand.

*boy used figuratively @ antis”

The user responds: “Pfft!!! Hahaha! You’re absolutely right! (And Viggo does refer to Hiccup in canon as ‘my boy’).”] I can’t really say anything to refute this. Because these are all posts of Connie outright stating that they disagree with antis. And not only sympathize with anti antis but are fully against antis. Looks like very damning evidence. Although ngl I’m not entirely against kinky blogs as a whole? Just so long as they truly stay in their lane with their kink content. And don’t force it on others in any way. Or shame people who are triggered by their kinks. It is true that being entirely against kinky blogs no matter what is dipping your toes into swerf rhetoric. Tbh I’m not going to look at the rest. This is pretty much all I need to make a decision on whether or not I”ll continue platforming Connie. Though I will try to get some more perspective from people who I interact with as well. Because I feel better about making a more definitive decision after doing that. Also in general please don’t not try to get an opinion from me on how I feel about syscourse. A lot of the claims about Connie’s age weirdness and them using their alters as a shield feel like syscourse to me. Especially if this callout was written by one or several singlets. Singlets should never be trying to judge how legit someone’s system is ever. Even if their system friends encourage them to. You can call out a horrible person with a system without trying to insinuate that they’re lying about their alters in some way. Doing otherwise is ableist ESPECIALLY if you’re a singlet. Also in general the reason I stay out of discussions of judging how someone is handling their systems is because it’s syscourse and syscourse is triggering for my system and I. If this post was an attempt to get me to give an opinion on the validity of Connie’s system I don’t appreciate it. And I would appreciate not being dragged into such matters again, thank you.

In general there’s like a few parts of this callout that feel legit. Which is unfortunately cluttered with obvious bias and obsessive hatred of Connie. I’m not here to stan or coddle Connie. I know they are not a perfect person. Especially since no human being in the world is perfect. But I feel the way this callout was created was very sloppy since a lot of the evidence was messy at best. And some points were very hypocritical as well as there being some no true scotsman moments from OP. In acting like exclus never do any of the thing that they tried to call out Connie for. Which is behavior that I am not a fan of. This is why people need to be more careful about callouts and like make roughdrafts and have a more unbiased person helping them if they don’t feel they can do it on their own. I’m even trying to make a resolve to do better at that myself. So it’s not like I’m unwilling to put my money where my mouth is. Anyways those are all my thoughts on this messy callout. And tbh I’m not going to get too much more heavily involved in this. Because I need to focus on more immediately serious rl stuff more often, like doing what I can to get out of the hellish landscape of a house I currently am stuck in.

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dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram · 3 years

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Good morning Ralph! I’m an attorney in the US and I saw your anon asking about the legality of vaccine requirements set by artists. I can shed some light, though probably not much and I’m going to do that annoying thing that lawyers do where we say “well it depends!” and refuse to give anyone any solid answers. But that’s really, truly, honestly, cross my heart hope to die, because in the case of the legality of vaccine requirements it does depend on a lot of different factors and we don’t have very many solid answers. This is not something anyone has ever really had to deal with before, the legal system looks to past precedent when deciding how to handle current issues, and there just isn’t much of that here. As a kind of general rule, though, the baseline we start from is the idea that private entities are free to require basically whatever they want as a prerequisite to service, and consumers are free to choose not to patronize those entities if they don’t like the requirements. An important thing to remember, that I think a lot of people tend to forget - all those handy rights the US constitution affords its citizens only apply to the government. There are limited exceptions - the Americans with Disabilities Act and Title VII of the Civil Rights Act are two of the biggest examples. But, so long as they’re complying with the guidelines provided by those limited exceptions, private entities can and always have been able to do pretty much whatever they want.

Now, vaccines are an interesting question because you start to get cross over into other issues - the right to privacy, bodily autonomy, “compulsory” disclosure of personal medical information, etc. If the question was “can an artist require me to wear a mask at his concert even though wearing a mask wasn’t required at the time I bought my ticket” the answer would unequivocally be yes. Artists and venues can (and do!) require all sorts of things for entry - you have to have a ticket, you have to submit to a bag search and go through a metal detector, you’re generally required to be wearing shoes and pants and a shirt. Masks absolutely can be added as a requirement, at any time, and whether or not it was a requirement that you reasonably could have anticipated when you bought the ticket doesn’t matter. But vaccines feel a little different, and admittedly they are. A mask is, in essence, a piece of clothing for your face. You wear it for a few hours, you take it off, you go about your life. It’s a temporary measure. Vaccines are not. A vaccine is a medical treatment, once you’ve gotten it you can’t “take it off” or decide you don’t want it anymore. It just feels like there should be a higher level of scrutiny than just “if you don’t like the requirement don’t support the entity.” But there really isn’t. That old idea that a private entity can set pretty much whatever rules and restrictions for access to and use of their private property stands. That tenant is arguably strengthened when the issue involves public health risks, because an employer has a duty to protect their employees and customers.

The EEOC ruled in May that companies can legally require their employees to be vaccinated. There are no federal laws preventing an employer from requiring employees to provide proof of vaccination, that information just has to be kept confidential. If there is a disability or sincerely held religious belief preventing an employee from being vaccinated they are entitled to a “reasonable accommodation” that does not pose an “undue burden” on the business. This isn’t a 1:1 comparison to your anon’s question about whether or not artists can require vaccination of concert attendees, but it is really useful guidance, because it’s a statement about what is and isn’t appropriate re: vaccine requirements straight from the mouth of one of the biggest federal players in the game. If, for example, a bunch of maroon five fans decided to sue the ban for their vaccine requirements, the EEOC decision is something judges and lawyers would look at in evaluating the suit.

HIPAA is the big one that a lot of people like to cite as protecting them from being asked about vaccination status by businesses or employers, but that’s just entirely untrue. HIPAA prevents a specific list of entities - doctors, hospitals, insurance companies, etc. - from disclosing medical data about a patient in their care. Event venues, artists, employers - none of them fall into the category of a “covered entity” that has to abide by HIPAA requirements. And even then, there’s an argument to be made that HIPAA still wouldn’t prevent them from asking if you’re vaccinated and refusing you entry if you’re not, just that they can’t turn around and tell someone else what your vaccination status is.

So on a high level the answer is yes, artists can absolutely require vaccination of concert attendees. Full stop.

But that’s only taking into account federal laws. There are state laws at play too, and those are absolute mess. It feels like each state is handling their approach to vaccine requirements differently, and a lot of them conflict with the federal laws at play. While in theory federal laws should trump state laws, that’s not really true in practice, and a lot of people who are much smarter than me are still struggling with how to navigate that maze, so I’m not going to bother adding my two cents about how I think it should go. From a fact based standpoint, though, know that state laws are an issue and add even more “it depends on ____” factors to our already uncertain analysis. Texas, Arkansas, and Florida, for example, all have laws prohibiting businesses and governmental entities from requiring digital proof of vaccination. Whether or not these laws will withstand judicial scrutiny in the places they conflict with federal law remains tbd, but as it stands now an artist playing a show in Texas couldn’t require vaccines for entry to that show. But if their tour stop is, say, Indiana, they could require vaccines there, because Indiana state law only prevents governmental and quasi-governmental entities (schools) from requiring vaccines. Private entities can do whatever they want.

The final thing I want to touch on is your anon’s concern that the vaccine requirement wasn’t in place when the tickets were originally bought. It doesn’t matter. If the question is “can an artist require vaccines” the answer is “yes” and whether or not that requirement was in place when you bought your ticket doesn’t matter. BUT! As with everything else, there are exceptions. There might be an argument that adding a vaccine requirement is a contractual violation, if we were to imagine the exchange of ticket purchase for entertainment a contract between the buyer and the artist. There’s maybe an argument that you paid for a service you’re no longer getting because the circumstances under which the service will be provided has changed so drastically. These are issues that if someone wanted answers to they’d have to hire an attorney to file a civil suit against the artist, and then see the litigation through to get a ruling from a judge. To the best of my knowledge that hasn’t been done. But even if it is is done in the future, the answer to the overarching question “can an artist require vaccines” won’t change. All that will change is the artist will be required to come up with some sort of refund scheme for those who choose not to be vaccinated.

Anyway! I didn’t mean to write an entire treatise in your inbox. I saw the anon’s question and immediately went “oh interesting! I know a little bit about that” and, as per usual, a little bit has turned into a rambling lecture that I’m not actually sure anyone will even learn anything from. At the very least it might entertain you.

Xoxo, a US attorney who really needs to go do work someone will pay her for and stop theorizing about the interplay of federal vs state laws.

Thanks anon! That's all very interesting and relevant information. It gives a really good sense of how complex the situation is and the relevant dynamics in play. And also a good sense of what the law does and doesn't cover - because there's a whole practical side of this that is largely

I'll throw in one more thought. One of my concerns about vaccine passports are the equity issues. Existing issues of access to healthcare have played out in vaccine rates and that's true of both race and class everywhere that I have looked at. I don't think vaccines can be considered meaningfullly accessible if poor people and black people aren't accessing them. In general, the best answers to that will be resourcing to take vaccines to where people are and (and the situation for native americans really undscores this) and paid sick leave. But while vaccination rates are lowest for those who face most marginalisation, restricting access to society on the basis of a vaccination is discriminatory in a serious way.

#I can be persuaded on vaccine requirements #in specific contexts #But I do take the privacy and equity issues seriously #which is why I think any justification has to be full and accurate about risk #but also I am not the US legal system

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adenei · 4 years

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Auror 99 - Ch. 13

A/N: Well, folks, there you have it! This wild ride is wrapping up, and even though there was a point in time where I had no idea where it was headed, it all somehow seemed to come together. I hope you’ve enjoyed it, and I want to thank you all for your comments - it’s really helped fuel my motivation for this story!!

I will neither confirm or deny the possibility of an epilogue

AO3 || FFN

A Chilling End

Hermione heard the elevator ding as she checked her watch. 10:30 precisely. The doors opened and she entered the floor of the 99th precinct, looking around for familiar faces. Well, that’s odd, I thought everyone would be at their desks, Hermione thought to herself.

She’d received confirmation that Jake and Charles had finished interrogating Gerteso around ten, and then they should have made the switch with Kingsley, Harry and Ron a half hour ago. Even Amy was supposed to be back by now, but the only person on the team sitting at their desk was Rosa.

The plan was for Jake and Charles to swap with the three wizards and return to their desks to continue the paperwork Rosa had started last night. To keep up pretenses, the 99 couldn’t hang around when Harry and Ron revealed Gerteso to Martini, since they ‘didn’t know’ magic was real. They decided not to risk it because who knew what conversation would transpire, since the hope was for Gerteso to rat his brother out and give away details of his role as The Cryptic. Amy was supposed to be accompanying Holt, who was leading Martini and two of his associates around the precinct. Even Amy was supposed to excuse herself for another case to return to her desk, since Holt was supposed to be the only member who knew the true identities of the British team.

Since Hermione was not an Auror, she agreed to stay behind and get a head start on packing their things, only making her appearance when things were wrapping up so they could all debrief. Something’s off, she thought as she quickly made her way over to Rosa’s desk.

Rosa looked up when Hermione sat down on the spare seat next to her desk. “Good, you’re here,” she said in a low voice.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” Hermione asked for confirmation.

Rosa nodded. “They normally pat everyone down when they get here, so something must have been concealing their sticks.” Rosa knew better than to use the word ‘wand’ just in case there were listening ears. Hermione supposed sticks could be loosely termed to indicate a weapon, so the cover was decent. “They’re definitely armed, and I saw the two idiots Martini brought with him give each other a weird look.”

Hermione took in Rosa’s words as her brain was whirring faster than ever. “This was supposed to be an ordinary visit. Of course they’d still come armed, but how could they know. Things have been tight lipped. Unless…” Hermione looked up at Rosa.

“They’d been tipped off. Smells like a dirty cop on your end,” Rosa confirmed Hermione’s thinking.

“We need to go help them!” Hermione said quickly.

“On it.” Rosa was already standing and placing her gun in her holster.

Terry looked up from his desk. “Everything alright?” he asked, giving them an odd look.

“All good, Sarge. Just keep everyone here.” Rosa gave him a look and he knew she meant business as he gave a curt nod in response.

Luckily, it was fairly quiet. Gina was too self involved with her phone and Hitchcock and Scully were in the breakroom eating their mid-morning meal. Rosa and Hermione hurried down the hall, and were about to turn down the hallway to the breakroom when Rosa froze and held out her hand.

Ron, Harry and Kingsley were ahead of them and just now entered the survey room. Rosa didn’t want to give them away yet, in case they were the only backup. Hermione cast a silent concealment charm over the hallway, so no one else would have a clue what was going on, and a muggle repelling charm on the other side of themselves. They inched closer to see what was going on.

“Ah, you’ve finally arrived. I’m not sure what took you so long,” they heard a deep baritone voice purr, no doubt it was Martini.

Hermione immediately placed an anti-apparition charm around the entire floor. They needed to find a way to see inside. She was trying to think desperately of a plan to find out just what they were up against.

“Now, I know my brother’s in there, but none of these No-maj pigs seems to have the key. So, I’m going to need you to go in there and get them, or they die.”

Oh, Merlin, this is not good. Not good. Hermione felt Rosa nudge her with her elbow and nodded toward the end of the hallway. There was one of those corner mirrors hanging up. Hermione nodded at Rosa’s idea.

She could hear Kingsley trying to talk to and reason with Martini. Asking why one of his men couldn’t open it instead. As much as Hermione desperately wanted to hear what Martini was going to say, she knew she needed to put a sound barrier up briefly so they wouldn’t hear the commotion of her summoning the mirror off the wall.

As she cast the charm, the mirror broke from its mount in the corner and came flying at them, she controlled it’s speed and stopped it just before it could be seen by any of the room’s inhabitants. Hermione hovered the mirror closer and closer until she got a clear view of what was going on inside the room, and then stuck it to the wall.

She made her observations and then said to Rosa, “There are four men in there. Do you know where the other two came from?” Rosa shook her head. “Each one has the 99 team at wand point, including Holt. Kingsley, Harry, and Ron all have their hands up, and I don’t see their wands anywhere.” Rosa nodded and Hermione lifted the sound barrier charm. They were both studying the mirror now.

“...clearly you have someone working for you in MACUSA,” they heard Kingsley say.

“You’re a bright one, aren’t you,” Martini scoffed.

Hermione looked at Rosa. “They haven’t surrendered their wands, yet,” she whispered, realizing this after she’d checked the floor and the hands of Martini’s team. Quickly, she dug into her pocket and pulled out the coin. “Harry and Ron both have theirs, I made sure of it.”

“What are you going to send?” Rosa asked.

“I’ll send ‘we’re here,’ but they won’t read it. They should feel it heat up and know. We’ll give it about thirty seconds after it’s sent. Do you have a clear shot of his men?” Hermione was speaking quickly and in a hushed voice. They were running out of time.

“Yeah, I’ll take the left.”

Hermione nodded as she sent the message. She shoved the coin back in her pocket and drew her wand. They waited another twenty seconds before Hermione whispered, “Now!”

What happened next was a blur. Rosa managed to shoot two of the men holding her team hostage in the legs, Hermione stunned the other two, and now Harry and Ron both had Martini at wand point. The tables had turned in an instant.

Hermione cast Disarming charms and had collected all five of the wizard’s wands. Kingsley was pulling more cuffs out of his robes. Just as they were about to cuff everyone, they heard a haunting chuckle come from Martini.

“Ah, did you really think I’d give in this easily? Granted, I wasn’t expecting those two harlots to come barging in and ruining everything, but still..”

Hermione stopped listening to his soliloquy. She knew he couldn’t apparate, try as he might, so she did a quick homenum revelio. There were fourteen in the room, which checked out. She turned her wand to the hall, where she revealed one person. She stepped back enough to see the mirror out of the corner of her eye, and saw someone approaching. The person had chosen that moment to turn and make sure no one was following and Hermione acted without thinking. With speed she didn’t even know she still possessed, she took one step in the hall and shot a stunning spell, hitting the man square in the back. Hermione then disarmed the man.

“Well done, Charlotte,” Kingsley said. Harry and Ron both looked surprised and impressed at Hermione’s quick thinking as Kingsley handed her another set of cuffs.

“Thank you, sir,” Hermione said as she looked at Rosa. “Cover me?”

Rosa nodded as they went into the hall. Hermione triple checked to make sure absolutely no one else was going to try and save Martini, and once she was satisfied they were clear, she approached the man and cuffed him. She set the counter spell for the stun as Rosa dragged him off the ground and into the already cramped survey room.

“Stanley?” Kingsley asked. He was clearly surprised.

The man simply scowled at them as Kingsley rounded on Martini. His former Auror training was now coming out in full force. “Is anyone else in MACUSA feeding you information or protecting you?” Martini’s cuffs had already turned that same bright blue as Gerteso’s had the day before. They couldn’t take any chances.

The look on Martini’s face mirrored the same reaction Gerteso had given. He wanted to say no, but instead found himself listing off four more names within MACUSA. Kingsley scribbled them down on some paper he found at the desk. He stuffed the paper in his robes and then conjured a patronus to send a message.

As the lynx sprinted away, Kingsley turned to Harry and Ron. “We’re going to take these five to MACUSA first. I’ve just sent word to the President, and I know that he will deal with them appropriately. He is as trustworthy as they come.” He turned to Hermione next. “You know what you need to do before we come back.” She nodded slightly.

Holt stepped forward. The detectives had done a decent job in playing the shocked muggle role until that point. “I will wait with Martini in the hall for your return.” Per the arrangement, he was the only one who did not need a memory charm.

Hermione lifted the anti-apparition charm and watched as Holt walked Martini out, and the three wizards grabbed the other assailants by the arms and disapparated. Rosa shut the door, and Hermione quickly silenced it, before sending a flash of orange light towards the security camera, disabling it for five minutes.

“Um, is no one going to do anything about the dudes Rosa shot?” Jake asked.

“Someone will take care of them in MACUSA, I’m sure,” Hermione said.

“Do you really have to?” Amy said, changing the subject from Jake’s question. She knew they didn’t have much time.

“What’s she gonna do? Oh! Don’t tell me you’ve got one of those flashy things like in MIB where they wipe people’s memories. That’d be sweet!” Jake said excitedly.

“No, Jake she’s going to use her wand because she’s a witch and she’s going to obliviate us.” Amy’s voice dripped with sarcasm as she rolled her eyes.

“Uh, obliviate means she’s going to wipe our memories, Jakey,” Charles clarified.

“Thanks, buddy,” Jake responded. “Neuralyzer! That’s it! I still think that’d be cooler.”

“Will you two shut up?” Rosa said harshly.

Hermione took a quick breath. “Okay, after I do this, you need to call us Charlotte, Jason and Nolan again, alright?”

“Are you not going to-” Amy started to say, but Hermione cut her off.

“Not completely. Everything that just happened here, yes. You’re going to think it went off exactly as planned, and everything involving the case you’ll remember as completely normal, muggle events with no magic involved. But, you’ll still be able to recall who our true identities are, even if you can’t call us by our names. That’s if everything is administered properly.”

“Cool, c-c-cool, c-cool, cool, cool,” Jake said nervously. “So..should we be worried you could completely mess with our memories?”

“It’ll be fine, you know she’s brilliant,” Amy reassured him and squeezed his hand, which did not go unnoticed by Charles and Rosa.

“What was that?” Charles shrieked.

But Hermione didn’t give them a chance to answer, as she waved her wand and took away all the magical memories surrounding the case. She watched their faces with sorrow, and hated that they had to follow the Statue of Secrecy so closely. She lifted the silencing charm, opened the door and fixed the mirror as the memory charm finished it’s work. As the fog cleared, the detectives all looked around.

“Are they gone?” Jake asked.

“All but Martini and Gerteso. We’ll bring them back soon,” Hermione said. She heard three faint pops in the hallway. “We’re going to bring Martini in so he and Gerteso can have a word.”

Kingsley strode in with Holt behind him. “Alright team,” Holt said. “You’ll need to get back and file your reports on the Gerteso case so we can hand them over to King’s team. They’re going to question the two once more before they take their leave. You’re dismissed.” The four detectives nodded and exited quietly.

“Charlotte, you may go assist with paperwork,” Kingsley nodded. “Holt and I are going to debrief while Jason and Nolan take care of Gerteso and Martini. I’ll be back to assist Gerteso’s transfer to England when I’m through.”

~o~

Ron watched Hermione, Holt and Kingsley go as Harry grabbed Martini by the arm. He knew Kingsley wanted Hermione to obliviate the team, and he was disappointed they didn’t get a chance to at least say goodbye as his actual self.

“Alright, time for your family reunion,” Harry said as he nodded to Ron.

“Right,” Ron opened the door to the interrogation room. He shook the thoughts from his head as he placed his focus back on the case. “Sorry for the hold up, Leo, but we have a visitor for you.”

Gerteso looked up, slightly confused, until the door widened and his brother walked through. “What the- How’d you find him?” he said.

“So you are alive…” Martini cut in.

“And it looks like the two of you are both going to rot in prison for a long time,” Harry said.

“Why didn’t you come back for me?” Gerteso asked. Though his voice was cold and there was a stiffness to it, Ron could hear the hint of desperation that he truly wanted to know.

Martini hesitated. “I wanted to, but Benedict said it was too dangerous. He was after our kind and if we didn’t get out of the country then, they’d find us.”

“And yet I lived across the street with that corner shop owner until I was of age, and I was fine. Benedict always preferred you over me.” It was the first shot of emotion Gerteso had displayed, but it disappeared just as quick. “You took everything from me. It should’ve been me.”

“No, England should have been yours,” Martini said stiffly.

“I went to the Sanguinity! I appealed to them for Englandand they shot me down!” Gerteso said through gritted teeth.

“So what, you came here to take my spot?” Martini let out a shrill laugh.

“Alright, alright, any last words?” Ron broke up their verbal spat.

“Yeah, thanks for ruining everything,” Martini said to his brother.

“I had nothing left to lose,” Gerteso said quietly.

Harry looked at Ron and nodded before disapparating with Martini to hand him off into trusted hands with MACUSA. Ron stepped outside to wait for Kingsley to return.

It was sad, really, to see how broken Gerteso had become. And now, both brothers’ lives were effectively ruined, from their own wrongdoing, of course. Ron’s thoughts were broken as Kingsley strolled down the hall.

“All set?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m going to take Gerteso back to MACUSA with me, where we have a 1:00 portkey waiting. Hermione mentioned you three and the detectives had some business to take care of before you came back? Something about a movie?” Kingsley looked at him intently.

“Oh, er, yeah. Jake has gotten us all into the Die Hard movies. We have two left that we were hoping to watch before we caught a portkey back. Plus, we have to pack, too. Will MACUSA be alright if we stay a few extra hours in the suite?”

“Yes, I think that will be fine. I’ll speak to the transportation department and arrange a 10:00pm Eastern portkey back to London for you. I’m sure you want to get home to your families tonight, even if it will be early in the morning.”

Ron chuckled. “Yeah, it’ll give us a few hours’ sleep before we need to pick up the kids from Mum and Dad. Harry won’t be as lucky. I’m sure Ginny will have him up bright and early.”

Kingsley laughed. “I would expect nothing less. You three have done a brilliant job on this case. I think the paperwork can wait a few days. I’ll speak to your department heads and make sure you’re not expected back at the Ministry until Monday.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ron said. He was appreciative to have extra time to reunite with his family. It’d been a long two weeks, and the kids had never had both their parents away from them for that length of time.

“Of course. You’ve earned it. Now, I believe you have plans. Go join your team.” Kingsley shook Ron’s hand before entering the interrogation room to collect Gerteso.

Ron felt his pocket heat up from the coin. It was Harry, letting them know he was heading back to the suite to start packing and he’d meet them there. Hermione had responded that the paperwork was wrapping up, and they’d be there within the half hour.

She really had been thinking when she made him and Harry take those coins. No one was expecting there to be a leak within MACUSA’s Aurors, let alone from the head of their department. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to talk to her about any of this until they returned home.

He walked back onto the office floor as the team stood up. Jake handed him the reports so he could use them back home to build Gerteso’s case. “There ya go, Nolan,” Jake said.

“Are we ready to get back and watch those movies?” Amy asked. Everyone, including Rosa, nodded, indicating she was going to join them.

They were about to make their way to the elevator when Terry joined them. “Hey guys, even though I didn’t really get to work with you, I heard you all did a great job, and I just wanted to thank you for keeping my team safe.”

“Oh, er, thanks,” Ron said.

Terry nodded at him and whispered to Ron and Hermione, “Chant back alright?” Both were confused until they heard Terry shout, “NINE NINE!”

The rest of the team, including Ron and Hermione shouted, “NINE NINE!” back.

“It’s just something we do here,” Terry said through a big smile as he turned to get back to his desk. They heard him saying to himself. “It’s yogurt time! Terry loves his yogurt!” The detectives rolled their eyes and laughed.

~o~

Once they were back behind closed doors of the suite, Amy asked, “So, should we pack first? Or did you want to start the movies?” The four of them looked at the trio.

Hermione spoke for them. “Well, our stuff is all packed and ready to go. If Harry’s mostly packed up, we can jump right into the movies. Then maybe that would give us enough time to actually go out to dinner and go to Shaw’s for a drink before we have to leave. We depart at ten, so we should be there by nine.”

Harry and Ron were gaping at Hermione. She’d slipped up. But when they looked at the detectives, no one looked surprised. “Don’t worry, we still know who you are, just not the details of the case,” Charles explained.

The two men rounded on Hermione, who didn’t look apologetic in the slightest. “They deserve to know our true identities, and I trust them. If you don’t, then you can obliviate them before we leave.”

Ron and Harry glanced at each other and then Ron noticed Jake, Amy and Charles giving them desperate looks. Rosa didn’t seem to care either way.

“Are we doing this, or what?” Hermione asked.

The afternoon had passed by, and they watched the last two films in near silence. The only outburst was when Hermione yelled at the television during the dancing scene in the tent. “What the fuck were they thinking?!” It took a lot to get Hermione this riled up. Ron should have been annoyed as well, but he was so amused by her use of the foulest of language that he laughed at the absurdity of it all.

It was a solemn mood as the trio had to watch so many they were close to die again. Tears were shed at the end of part one when they lost Dobby, and again when they saw Fred, Tonks, and Lupin lying still.

Amy paused the movie before the epilogue, not wanting to show them that before they discussed the rest of the films. “Well?” she asked quietly.

“A lot of things were different, but it doesn’t change the grief from the loss of it all,” Ron said. Harry and Hermione nodded.

“I didn’t realize it until these two films, but I found the voices with Polyjuicing odd. When you use the potion, even your voice changes, but it didn’t here,” Hermione commented.

“Probably to help the audience know who was who,” Charles said.

“I honestly tried to forget the whole ‘seven Potters’ thing,” Harry grumbled.

“Mate, we didn’t exactly care to be you, either,” Ron managed a laugh.

“Was it weird turning into a guy?” Rosa asked Hermione.

“Um,” Hermione’s cheeks flushed red. “I tried not to think about it.” Ron was watching her carefully. He’d honestly forgotten that Hermione had experienced what it was like to be Harry. To- nope, we’re not going there, he told himself.

“Speaking of, I can’t believe they didn’t Polyjuice me during the wedding,” Harry said.

“Yeah, a lot of that whole scene was off,” Ron agreed.

No one wanted to discuss the locket, or Ron’s departure, which he was thankful for. He had a feeling Hermione was appreciative to see the scene of his movie self destroying the locket to get some sort of visual of what he went through. It wasn’t exact, but it was close.

“The whole snatcher chase through the woods was bollocks,” Harry said.

“Yes, and why didn’t they let Ron yell for me?” He knew she was talking about Malfoy Manor. That was hard to watch. “That was what kept me alive. How could they leave that out?” she asked incredulously.

Amy just shrugged. “I’ve given up asking those questions. But if I ever get a chance to meet Steve Kloves, I fully plan on giving him a piece of my mind.” Jake patted her knee to settle her.

“What about your injuries? How could they just pick back up in the second part and you were fine? We were at Shell Cottage for over a month! And you spent more than half that time healing! You were barely ready for Gringotts!” It was the first time they were really seeing Ron get heated over the movies.

“They were already dark enough as it is, no one needed that addition, I’m sure,” Hermione told him.

“Oh, and they butchered your first kiss as bad as they did mine and Gin’s,” Harry said.

“Yes, well, how could they keep the integrity of it when they cut out all of S.P.E.W.,” Hermione said bitterly. “And, we did not get soaked by a tidal wave in the Chamber of Secrets. Honestly, was that the best they could imagine for that scene? She also looked pained to kiss him. I was certainly not pained to kiss you, was I? Considering I made the first move?”

“Hermione, you’re getting yourself riled up again,” Ron chuckled. He was trying to hide his own disappointment at how all that panned out.

“I wish Snape’s death actually happened in the Shrieking Shack,” Amy said. “I never understood the boathouse scene.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “That seemed off, but Snape’s memories and the forest with the resurrection stone was quite well done. Even King’s Cross with Dumbledore, though I’m disturbed about how Rita found out about that,” Harry shuddered.

“The final scene between you and Voldemort was shit,” Ron said to Harry as Hermione nodded.

“So anticlimactic,” she said.

“Yeah, there’s some holes in how everything ties together because of it,” Harry said, noticing the flaws.

“But that wouldn’t make a good climax,” Charles said.

“Charles, just say action or fight scene...honestly,” Jake shook his head.

“Well, there is one more part,” Amy said. “Want me to play it? Then we can go to Shaw’s for dinner and drinks before you have to go.”

“Um, sure,” Hermione said as Harry and Ron gave a noncommittal shrug.

Amy pressed play and the epilogue unfolded. Harry, Ron and Hermione stared open-mouthed at the screen.

“But...nineteen years later isn’t for another two years,” Hermione said, a look of complete loss on her face. “When did you say the seventh book and movies came out?”

“The book was 2007, and the movies were 2010 and 2011.”

“Hugo and Lily weren’t even born yet. How could she have possibly known their names?” Hermione was completely flabbergasted.

“Hermione, how did she find out everything she wrote in those books?” Harry said exasperatedly.

“So, the kids,” Amy said timidly. “They’re real?”

Jake couldn’t help but laugh. “What, like they’re fake? Ames, do you hear yourself?”

“Yes,” Hermione said, “and the names are correct, too.” A thought crossed Hermione’s mind. “What if she’s a Seer?”

“I thought you didn’t believe in that rubbish,” Ron said.

“I’m skeptical, yes, but that scene hasn’t happened yet. Either she totally made it up for drama or she saw it,” Hermione persisted.

“Well, we won’t know until it plays out in two years, now will we?” Harry said. “And seeing how it’s Al and me, I guess I’ll be the one to confirm.”

“Are we ready to head out yet?” Rosa asked.

Everyone nodded and left the conversation there. Hermione grabbed the beaded bag, which had all of the trio’s belongings, like old times.

“Thank you for showing us all of that. It was very...enlightening,” Hermione said to Amy.

“Of course! Thanks for, um, keeping this part of our memory intact,” Amy said as Hermione offered a small smile.

“To the best team of Brooklyn detectives and British Aurors!” Charles said as he raised his fist in the air.

In the absence of Terry, Jake took over his signature line. “NINE-NINE!”

“NINE-NINE!” They all echoed.

They took one last look around the suite before closing the door behind them. The mission had certainly been once of a lifetime, and the trio had made friends they wouldn’t soon forget. And, the 99 detectives wouldn’t either, thanks to Hermione’s ability to skirt around the law.

#hp au #hp/b99 crossover #b99 au #brooklyn 99 au #harry potter/brooklyn 99 crossover

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