#and i do appreciate it and have given it no shortage of thought

[taffywabbit]

"why not just make your own website?"

with the announcement of cohost's death and amidst all the other tumultuous shit currently going on with social media as a concept (i am AMAZED twitter has survived this long given the circumstances), one suggestion that i've been hearing a lot is "we should just go back to the good old days of personal websites. let's all just make neocities pages!!"

(this is gonna be a long one sorry)

and like. idk! it's certainly something i've considered, i think it would be a fun thing to have, but it also feels like the equivalent of "capitalism sucks so let's all just run off into the woods and live in a cabin outside of society" to me. like it would be nice, it would be fun, but it doesn't ultimately solve the actual problems that are present with the modern internet, it just evades them. more importantly in my case and many others, it does not really help people who rely on the modern internet and the connections they're able to make there for their income. sure i can make a website and host my art and blog posts there, but who's going to see it? i can't build a consistent audience and make a living off of random passersby who peek at my website once, say "huh, neat!" and MAYBE add it to an RSS feed or whatever if they really like it. there's minimal potential for meeting and impressing new people outside my existing circles if i don't ALSO still have some manner of social media platform to promote the website on.

a lot of the "solutions" i see people proposing for the slow, painful decline of social media as a user experience keep coming back to old-fashioned, more isolated/insular systems. we miss forums, we miss personal webpages, we miss newsletters, etc etc. but like... those things were ideal in the "old web" because the old web was more about sharing hobbies and interests with whoever happened to pass by and check them out, and even just USING the internet was a niche hobby in and of itself for a lot of people. if you wanna be kinda cynical about it (and not unjustifiably so), web 2.0 is much more blatantly business-oriented, and its algorithms and carefully crafted UX's are primarily meant to funnel you towards viewing ads and spending money on products. looking at it that way, it sure does suck and Everything Was Better Before! but the modern web is ALSO more powerful than anything before it for just like. connecting people. spreading information and news. showing your art/music/writing/thoughts/etc to strangers who never knew you existed an hour ago. putting the tools to reach out to someone and tell them you think they're cool right there on the same website where their art is hosted, just a comment or a message away.

if you're able to avoid patterns of engagement-bait and obsessing over follower counts as a measure of self-worth (a big "if", i realize, but i view it like installing an adblocker - it's just kind of a basic prerequisite for modern internet safety and survival), a lot of these systems can genuinely be really positive and life-changing in ways that were simply not possible 20 years ago! almost all of my current closest friends are people I met through sharing our art on platforms like Twitter who were complete strangers at the time. all of the art clients that regularly pay my bills and support my work came from places like that too! the "social" part of "social media" is really what makes it ultimately worth keeping around in any form, and makes the pursuit of a Good social media platform still valuable.

there's a lot to love about the old web - its aesthetics, simplicity and freedom for personal expression - but every time someone says "just delete your socials and make a personal website" i am forced to confront the fact that i could never do what i currently do or be the person i am on the old web. if i was stuck hanging out in my own little space and only ever interacting with people who openly and loudly share my interests, i couldn't support myself with art full-time, i probably would never have met the kind and quiet strangers who are now my best friends and have made me who i am, and i'd just generally get a lot less insight into the vast range of experiences and perspectives that exist outside of my own. my life would be on a fundamentally different trajectory in countless ways without the advent of web 2.0.

and that's not to say "well twitter and facebook and tumblr all suck but you kinda still have to hand it to them" cuz you don't, obviously. they're corporations, and their job is to take the personalities and thoughts and art of the people who use their products and try to scrunch it all into something uninform and marketable that generates profit and pleases their shareholders. but like, you CAN still make a good thing out of them! these websites are tools just as much as geocities or myspace or IRC used to be. and the one thing these newer tools are pretty much all REALLY good at is discoverability. if you're just a hobbyist at the things you wanna share on the internet, then you likely don't have a lot of use for those tools, and perhaps you WOULD genuinely be happier just keeping a personal blog site or hanging out in private groupchats or sticking to specialized federated Mastodon instances or whatever. it just isn't feasible for me, and there are a LOT of people in my same situation. my entire industry of online freelance artists barely existed 20 years ago, and the web culture of that era is largely incompatible with my continued survival in the mid-2020s. i would LOVE to run off and live in the woods in concept, but all my survival skills are adapted for city living and i would just eat the wrong berry and die out there. i want- i NEED people to try and improve the spaces we're in, and support better forms of social media (like what cohost was trying and largely succeeding to do!) instead of just complaining that it all sucks, everything was better when we were kids, and digging ourselves little holes to hide in. much like all the other problems and frustrations and systemic issues of the world we live in, the modern web isn't going to go away if you just ignore it, so we may as well try to make it better for everyone.

anyways tl;dr i probably WILL make a neocities at some point. it could be fun, even if it doesn't help my career stability or whatever. but i do also need ALL THE SOCIAL PLATFORMS I USE FOR MY JOB TO STOP EXPLODING PRETTY PLEASE, and failing that, some actual half-decent alternatives that aren't going to fizzle out in a month would also be great thanks ✌

[crippled-peeper]

I found you through the thick water shortage post you made back in February and honestly decided to follow you because I admired the way you chose to respond to the ableist comments.

I’ve spent most of my life figuring out how to be a well spoken and charming people pleaser thinking it would help me get my needs met and convince people to respect me and. Holy shit was I put through hell anyways because I didn’t fight back. Not ONE person respected me more because of how I acted, if anything people respected me LESS and just hurt me more (I’m fine now, dw).

I’m now learning that if someone, especially a stranger, already doesn’t respect you, nothing you can do will convince them and all throwing yourself at their feet will do is make you the perfect doormat to be walked all over. Seriously fawning and complying with “moderate your tone” remarks may work at first but it’s always a fucking trap. When people start to expect that shit from you, you just get STUCK doing it. And they’ll just keep PUSHING for more until you have NOTHING.

So given everything that was said in those comments, your replies were more than warranted.

What I’m trying to say is that given what I’m used to, it was nice to see someone push back and not hold anything back. Honestly this may come off as glazing but when I saw your replies I was genuinely in awe of how you didn’t back down or bother filtering yourself despite how many people told you to. And you’ve become somewhat of an inspiration for me.

Like I’m not joking, I was genuinely happy to see you fight back with your full unfiltered anger and not give a fuck what anyone thinks and I thought “I wanna be more like that.” Because I genuinely think the world needs more anger and people should be allowed to be rude instead of spending ages formulating well spoken sentences, like no one should have to ever filter their rage at being mistreated and told to “take the high road.” The high road holds no promises that they will stop.

Please continue to piss off the ableists who complain about you being mean, we both know what they’re really trying to do. No one deserves to be mistreated and why the fuck should you let them get away with it?

But also, remember that if those assholes start weighing on you and replying to people who sound like a broken record gets tiring, you don’t owe anyone your time or attention. Frankly it’s way more than they deserve.

Wishing you well ❤️

P.S. I love your blog theme, green is my favorite color.

This is such a sweet letter thank you for sending me it. It really makes me feel valued and understood and appreciated 😭❤️ I will keep kicking around on here until the cows come in from the pasture

[entertxinmyfaith]

In all of the amazing character analyses and studies that I have seen done for Akutagawa's character in BSD, something I really wish people talked about more is how deeply, deeply, lonely he is. I think his antisocial tendencies are often played off for laughs but re-reading the Beast spin-off recently made me realize exactly how much personal loss Akutagawa has had and how tragically it has wounded his concept of friendship. There is no shortage of examples of him treating people poorly and pushing them away and yet, despite this, we are given canonical evidence that he actually values friendship very highly and is angry and frustrated about his own lack of friends.

Most people interpret his little rant in the elevator to Atsushi from the end of season 2 to be primarily about Dazai but the line specifically about how Atsushi was blessed with friends has always stuck out to me primarily because of how angry Akutagawa is when he says it. He's furious when he's listing what he perceives as the gifts that Atsushi was given but does not fully appreciate. This used to strike me as odd since Akutagawa is generally seen keeping others at arm's length and never letting anyone get too close to him but re-reading Beast gave me a better perspective on this particular behavior in a way that broke my heart.

And while Beast is an AU of the original series, the backstory given for Akutagawa is remarkably similar to the one given in the Heartless Curr short story. What this shows us is that Akutagawa cared very deeply about the kids he was protecting and hints that the infamous massacre which eventually led him to Dazai was not his first experience losing the people close to him. Loss is something he is all too familiar with and what happens with the mercenaries can be thought of as an inevitable ending from Akutagawa's point of view but can also be seen by him as a personal failing.

To Akutagawa, friends are people he lets down and then die. Again and again and again. His resistance to letting people in is his own way of coping with the pain of loss he has experienced time and time again whenever he has let himself get close enough to call someone else his friend. So, yeah, he's angry at Atsushi who he sees as taking his own friends for granted and still wallowing in misery because, deep down, he wants what Atsushi has in many more ways than just Dazai's acknowledgment. Akutagawa can see that Atsushi is still unhappy even though he has friends by his side and misinterprets this as carelessness. In getting this mad, he is saying that, if he had Atsushi's friends, it would be enough to make him happy in a way that it is not doing for Atsushi.

It's no tremendous analytical feat to state that Akutagawa's hatred of Atsushi is actually just misdirected hatred of himself. Still, this interaction is certainly just one more example of this for the books.

Akutagawa pushes people away to keep himself and others safe but, in the end, this hasn't protected anyone, it has just made him lonely which only serves to make him even angrier than he has the words to admit.

All of this long and probably incoherent babble to say, Akutagawa is desperate for someone who won't just up and die on him to finally stay by his side and take the pain away. If I wasn't already sure that he'd already met this person, I'd wish that he soon would.

[moodymisty]

Stop making me a Mortarion appreciator he's suppose to be gross and icky and not have a decent backstory to only get fucked over by big E

See I'd like something with Perty a bit of self indulgent little thing. What if he had a capable little darling who was also very much into the arts and far more creative vs war exploits but she just was forgetful at times. It's not her fault she focused for 10 hours on her painting! It's a gift for her Perty! Oh sorry just got a little distracted in helping paint some pauldrons... oh what I have something on my face oh that's when I was doing some charcoal art earlier. It's not that she's forgetful she's just all over the place (yes an ADHD coded darling by an ADHD coded asker)

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: I see our brains cross talked, because whenever I write Perty, in my mind his beloved is always an artist. It's how I first imagined it when I first started getting into the Iron Warriors lore.

Also tehe, if I have to get stunk up by the Mortarion simps, so do you.

Summary: Perturabo had gifted you with the honor of painting the murals for one of his new structures, and you get distracted in your own work.

Relationship: Perturabo/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Perturabo's shitass attitude, But other than that nothing

Word Count: 955

It's a bit of an awkward angle, but you make it work as you reach forward to put a little bit more yellow onto the massive mural. It's covering a good portion of the wall at this point, though your planned outline goes far beyond what you've currently begun painted. You would've been more than eager to make it bigger, though the limitations of this particular section of wall was what ended up stopping you.

You rub your cheek briefly against your wrist, and feel the cracking of dried paint on your skin. You don't know when it got there, but you'll wash it off when you're done for the day.

You want this to be absolutely perfect- Not a single failed brushstroke or miscolored paint. Perturabo gifted you this massive blank slate, these canvases, and you want to make sure they are a gift to him in return. So as long as you have the inspiration, you're going to continue. Other than a yawn or two you don't feel tired in the slightest, so you more than think you can continue for the time being.

Washing your brush you take a new color and mix it up, before dipping your brush in. All of these colors were gifts as well; At times you begin to feel almost suffocated in the things given to you from Perturabo. Perhaps he just enjoys seeing something other than war created. Or just keeping you entertained and thus distracted.

You continue painting before you hear footsteps- loud ones- and for a moment you think it's a few stray Iron Warriors whose ceramite boots are clanking particularly loud on the stone floor. The steps continue closer however, until you finally turn at the sound of your name.

It's said with a more than exasperated tone, and you turn to see Perturabo.

"Here you are. I was beginning to wonder if you'd wandered off again."

As a foreigner to Lochos there has unfortunately been a few times where you have wandered a bit too far for his liking, even if it was in the safety of the city's innermost walls. Or even just his fortress itself. Perturabo would never let you out farther; He's always been vocal of his distrust of the Olympians. They might have submitted to him when he ousted Dammekos, but you don't think he will ever grow to trust them.

He doesn't trust his own legion, and only now has he recently even began to trust you. Placing any sort of confidence in you being out without protection is an impossibility for him. While to a degree you might not blame him- there is no shortage of people that would be quite eager to have you in a cage or worse- the feeling of suffocation is at times frustrating.

No longer wandering off into your own thoughts for a moment, you perk upward slightly and nod at him.

"Oh, I'll be done in a minute. I just wanted to finish this section before I went and ate."

Perturabo gives you a confused expression, mixed with his usual irritation. His brow is always furrowed, wrinkled along with the edges of his nose. You sometimes wonder how much younger he'd look if he'd just soften a bit.

"Eat?" He sighs and his head tilts slightly to one side. "It's the dead of night."

You turn around, and look out through the massive glass window panes and see nothing but lights from buildings, and the starry night sky.

You open your mouth and close it for a moment- as if doing a pantomime of a fish.

"Ohhh... I was wondering why it seemed a little darker in here. I saw serfs and assumed they'd snuffed the candles."

Perturabo sighs again, and comes closer to the scaffolding you're using to reach higher parts of the wall. It normally would put you at quite a height advantage over a normal human, but for Perturabo, it puts you at right about head height.

He looks at you with that same steely, frozen gaze as always.

"Come down."

Putting the lid on the container of paint, you put it to the side. You go to take the small ladder down back onto solid ground, but it seems he finds it faster to simply lift you by the ribcage, and plop you onto the ground with little fanfare. You let out a small noise of surprise as even his most gentle grip removes some of the air from your lungs.

It's odd, how sometimes you seem to forget his size, and how he can so easily manhandle you like a toy. He seems conscious of it and avoids doing so, but those instances where he does tend to stick out.

He takes a glance towards the mural you'd currently been working on, as it stands about halfway done. It's the first of many you've planned out; The walls of the temple are covered in charcoal outlines for different ones, but this remains the first one you've begun to bring to life.

He stares at it for a bit longer than you think and the silence almost begins to become a bit uneasy. You can't tell what he's thinking in the slightest, nor do you have a chance to even try before he's done.

Perturabo kneels to face you, and with one thumb roughly rubs your cheekbone. You grumble and wince, paint crumbs falling onto your clothes. Part of you wants to push him away, but you know if you do, he'll never do it again. Once he's done, or perhaps given up on removing the pigment from your skin, the same hand grasps you jaw.

"I will have the serfs make you something to eat."

[positivelybeastly]

Love seeing such nuanced and interesting explorations of the Big Blue! Speaking of big, how would you think Hank would respond to someone more indulgent in his hankering for Twinkies and such? With some of his body dysmorphia, do you think he'd be surprised to find someone appreciative of added bulk to his blue?

Thank you so much for the kind words! Apologies for the late reply, been on hiatus and have just started making a poke at my inbox.

So, I have some thoughts on this, because this has come up in both 616 canon and in alternate universes. Let's start with the alternate universes.

This is Hank McCoy of Earth-32098! He is friend shaped. He comes from a universe where . . . well, things are kinda cushy and moved past the need for conventional X-Men, really. Instead, there's an X-World, a Federation that Hank is a member of (which appears to be a Star Trek reference, given that he's on some kind of five year missions), and a lot of people have gotten old and settled down, hence the curious idea that Hank can go bald despite being furry. Then again, I've long been an advocate for Hank to be able to have facial hair despite being furry, so who am I to judge?

Hank looks relaxed and happy here, honestly! He's a bit rounder, but he is free, and I think that generally speaks to the fact that if Hank is eating well, then he's in a decent state of mind and he's being supported properly - he tends to do that genius thing of getting obsessed with an idea and not eating because must do science, so if he's eating well, he's being taken care of in a way that, generally, he isn't in Earth 616, or he's developed healthier behaviour patterns. There's no mention of him having a partner in this universe, but honestly, he's a jolly, happy fellow and his usual charming self, I expect he'd have no shortage of people interested in him. A partner encouraging of his shape and body would be a welcome surprise, I think.

Then we get into the less . . . positive, depictions of this.

First off, we have the Ultimate Universe, which is always a wellspring of healthy behaviour and kind words.

Like . . . this Hank isn't even fat?

He's just physically large because he's built like a brick shithouse. He has size 42 feet. You see him without a shirt on later and he's got full comic book godlike proportions going on, like, what here is even fat?

It was the early 2000s, so this just feels like braindead bullying, to be honest, but given that this Hank canonically struggles with his self-esteem and body dysmorphia even more than his other selves, to the point where it drives him to destroy his relationship with Ultimate Storm and gets him killed, I feel like he would have definitely benefited from someone being able to help out his headspace and get him to unlearn some of the garbage his parents abused into him. As much as I like his relationship with Ultimate Storm, she was not a version of the character equipped to deal with Ultimate Beast's mental trauma and issues, and he ended up in a bad place as a result.

Then we get to . . . 616 . . .

Where Hank becomes fat when he becomes evil.

I'm gonna link an article here, talking about fatphobia in comic books, but this is the salient part of the article, wrt Beast in particular.

This is me letting you all know that this is something comic book writers are still deploying in comic books in 2019, all the way up to 2024. Fat = evil. Fat = gluttonous = evil. Because, you know, why bother examining the way that we tell stories in an age where we're supposed to be more respectful and tolerant and accepting of people? Why bother examining the tropes we use, in this, allegedly the most welcoming of all X-Men eras?

And, you know, let's make some fat jokes here and there. Just in case you didn't get the message.

It's especially transparent because Percy established on Twitter that Beast was 'stress eating,' because of how much of a toll protecting Krakoa was taking on his person. Except that that's not what was actually happening. You saw Beast eat on panel, twice. Both times, they were while he was explicitly saying he was evil, or doing something transparently evil. He isn't stress eating, he's eating to demonstrate to the audience that he's a gluttonous pig who can't stop what he's doing because he's just so hungry and evil and he'll devour anything and everything and blah blah fuck off.

The stress eating garbage was Percy covering his ass for using shitty, outdated, fatphobic tropes to establish a visual language for Beast turning more and more evil. Because, you know, the fucking James Bond villain scar, the overgrown tusks (pig/boar imagery! Because he's a pig!), the actual visuals of him murdering countries and friends, aren't enough, you need to be shown that he's evil because he's fat, unlike our toned, lean, lithe heroes in X-Force.

It's such a shame because it's a good look for Beast, honestly. I love a blue furred Hercules as much as the next guy, but chunky thighs, love handles, a bit of roundness? It doesn't hurt. It's an attractive body shape.

I wish we didn't have to pretend it wasn't.

It's especially galling because we literally went from a bigger figure Beast in X-Force #48-50 when he became good again, to a lean, skinnier Beast in X-Men #1 coming next week because he's on a full on heroic team again.

Bleh. It frustrates me.

You had a question! And I've gone on a long ass tangent about problematic depictions of body shapes in comic books! My apologies!

I think that Hank would do well with a partner who doesn't mind a bit of a roundness to him. As I mentioned, Hank has a tendency to fall into bad patterns of self-neglect when he's busy, and someone who can not only be there to make sure he's taking care of himself, but assure him that he's a handsome, beautiful Beast whether he be bigger or smaller would be good for him.

I don't necessarily think it would 'fix' his image issues or dysmorphia, because I don't know if that lingering doubt ever goes away for Hank, but it would definitely help. And it probably would surprise him, even more than finding out that people actually really dig the fuzzy blue monster look.

[tikitania]

Kulikova has been promoted to 2nd soloist!

It baffles me how Lukina is still a second soloist. And how Savelieva and Plotnikova never made to even being coryphees. Also!! I'll never. NEVER. Understand why Ionova is still a coryphee. Even when that huge 2018 vaganova batch arrived at the MT, she shoud've been promoted alongside Nuikina and Bulanova.

Not gonna lie, im still rooting for Karamysheva to be promoted out of the corps. And Kuznetsova becoming at least a first soloist.

BELYAKOV AND STEPIN NEED TO BE PRINCIPALSSS!!!!

MT has very strong male dancers at the moment. But they need to be more appreciated by the theater's management.

I also thought is was a strange that Khiteeva leapfrogged Lukina to first soloist, especially given Lukina’s repertoire. I wondered why? (And I am a big Khiteeva fan.) The only thing I could gather is that Khiteeva’s been given some big debuts lately and has done very well in them. Perhaps they see more potential for rapid growth and that Lukina has reached her potential? I’m not sure. Even so, Lukina’s dancing the rep of a first soloist and should be promoted. One of the grumblings I’ve encountered on message boards from (extremely opinionated) theatergoers is that Lukina lacks theatricality, and that there is a “sameness” to her performances. Take that with a grain of salt.

Of the current crop of first soloists, many of them are not dancing due to injury (Khoreva, Kolegova, Shapran) or nearing the end of their careers (Osmolkina, Eseeva) and it seems that the theater must fast-track several dancers to have adequate coverage. Promoting Lukina makes sense. As does Bulanova. Kulikova seems to be on that track. Another one I have hopes for is Maria Chernavskaya. She’s been doing very well lately!

I see Kuznetsova getting some big debuts next season. In fact, I could see her getting an O/O debut soon. They have been grooming her for that. I know that she’s danced O/O in several divertissement events and she looks fantastic. As for Savalieva….yes, she needs to be a coryphee STAT. This just feels insulting. But also Bespalova. She’s delivered quite a few strong debuts in solo roles recently. I was so happy to see her cast as one of Paquita’s friends.

STEPIN - YES, Please! Belyakov, I’m not so sure. He partners Vika a lot, but haven’t paid a ton of attention to him when he’s not partnering someone. Other men…it seems Konovalov has been getting a lot of attention lately.

There’s no shortage of obvious female talent at the Mariinsky, but I hope that Fadeev energizes the male ranks and that more overlooked dancers will get a shot.

Looking forward to next season!

[evieismol]

BIG BEND Chapter Twenty Three

A/n: as i mentioned on the last chapter, I’m posting a more polished, edited version of this story on both ao3 (here) and wattpad (here), if you’d like to check it out! As always, I appreciate any and all support and feedback!

Content warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 2940

Previous Chapter

Zoey

I lay in my tent, staring at the canvas ceiling. It had faded from light green to nearly black as the sun light outside faded.

God, life has a lot of plot twists.

If anyone had asked me if I thought I’d be sort of living in a tent in some random part of Texas last year, I probably wouldn’t have considered it likely. I’d actually thought I was going to be married by now.

Thank God that didn’t happen.

Texas was, at least, one place I was pretty sure he wouldn’t come find me, if only because it was literally on the other side of the country. At least, I hoped so. I tried to push that unsettling thought from my mind. It didn’t work. It never really did. I’d found myself jumping at every crunch of the gravel, half expecting to see a familiar red pick up truck coming up the road.

I had gotten some good news recently, at least. The gift shop at the park was hiring, and I’d had an interview for a position there earlier that morning. It had gone well. More than well - I’d been offered the job. That, in turn, offered some sorely needed hope, given that my savings would only last so long. Better yet, it also offered housing. I hadn’t really been playing on staying at the park for more than a night, at first, but then again, I hadn’t really been planning on any of this. And a job was a job.

It wasn’t like I disliked the park anyways. Pretty much the opposite. From what I’d seen of it so far, it was absolutely gorgeous. It also seemed to have no shortage of interesting characters, from the less than friendly woman I’d bumped into yesterday to the Aphirial the park service had decided to hire. He seemed nice, if not kind of sad.

That’s something I can relate to.

I’d long felt like I didn’t really fit into the world. Of course, he quite literally didn’t fit in, and I considered what that was like. Probably pretty alienating. He had looked like he’d been crying when I ran into him the first time. Also something I could relate to. I’d been doing that a lot in my tent recently. I found myself wondering if he sat outside by that cliff frequently - if I’d find him there again.

Is that weird? I don’t want to seem like I’m stalking him or something. Then again, he did recognize me yesterday and seemed happy enough to talk. I think. I could just go on a walk, get some fresh air, and if I happen to run into him, that wouldn’t be too weird, right?

Totally.

Getting fresh air and stretching my legs did sound like a good idea either way, admittedly. I’d spent most of the afternoon curled up in my tent, a variety of less than fun memories swirling through my mind. I nodded, committing to my decision, and pulled myself up. I fumbled around for my flashlight - it had grown pitch black in the time I’d been laying there. I felt the hard plastic casing after a moment, and switched it on.

Ability to see now returned, I grabbed a hoodie and pulled it on, followed by some socks. I had actually stopped by the visitor center and learned that the only notably dangerous large animals in the area were cougars, but that they didn’t frequently attack people. Just in case, though, I also grabbed the bear spray I’d brought from up north, deciding I probably didn’t need to tempt fate by making a habit of horror movie esque decisions.

The desert air was far cooler than it had been during the day - chilly, almost. That still felt amazing to me. There definitely hadn’t been as much variation in temperature where I’d lived previously. It was mostly just cold or really, really cold for the better part of the year.

I made my way past a few other campsites as I walked down the road. A group of people sat around a fire at one, laughing as they roasted s’mores. I felt a pang of longing at the sight. My relationship with Jake had ended with me being isolated from pretty much everyone but him.

The laughter eventually faded into the night as I continued down the gravel road. I’d been right - the fresh night air was pleasant, and it was nice to stretch my legs. As I found myself nearing the rocky area I’d run into Easton previously, I found myself second guessing the other part of my plan. Did I really even want to socialize? I had neared the ridge from the other night, and felt my old friend anxiety rearing its head full force. Would he even want to talk to me? Maybe he was tired of talking to people, maybe he’d find it annoying and presumptuous that I came out here. Maybe he’d find me annoying - he wouldn’t be the first. It wasn’t too late to go back to my tent. I stopped, about to turn around.

This is stupid. I’m going back.

“Zoey?”

Fuck.

What I’d thought was a rock formation shifted, and I realized with no small amount of awe that it was instead the giant alien I’d previously met as I shone my flashlight in that direction. It illuminated his light blond hair, making it look almost white. Had I been paying closer attention, I might have remembered it hadn’t been there before, but I’d been lost in my thoughts.

Apparently that thing about Aphirials having super senses wasn’t an exaggeration.

“Easton - hi! I didn’t see you,” I said. Okay, so, now it was too late to go back to my tent.

“I don’t get that a lot,” he said, a faint laugh in his tone.

“I was kind of zoning out,” I admitted. “Lost in my thoughts, I guess.”

“Thinking about anything in particular? I mean, you don’t have to tell me,” he said. He didn’t seem annoyed to be talking to me, so far, at least.

“Uh, whether or not I’d run into you again, actually. Sorry, that sounded weird, probably. I just mean, I’ve kind of ended up staying around here longer than I thought I would, and I ended up getting a job at the gift shop for the summer season, so I guess I’m here even longer, and I don’t really know anyone else.”

“That’s awesome! That you might work here, not that you don’t know anyone else, of course.” He sounded genuinely excited when he replied. He paused before continuing. “I don’t really know that many people here well myself.”

“Seriously? You seemed really popular at that ranger talk thingy the other day.”

He gave a slight shrug. “Yeah, I think the novelty wears off quickly.”

“Huh. I’ve never gotten that. Then again, I still think planes are super exciting, like, if something’s cool the first time, I think it just gets cooler the more you think about it, y’know? Anyways, you seem like you’d be fun to hang out with regardless of novelty. Like, as a person, even if I did know other people here.”

“Oh-thanks,” he said, surprise filling his voice. “And, you do too.”

“Thanks,” I said. I wasn’t sure what else to say after that. Small talk had never really been my forté.

“I was getting ready to head inside,” Easton said after a moment.

“Of course, right. Have a nice-“ I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice. Yep, he definitely thinks I’m annoying.

“You could come. I could make you some hot cocoa or tea or-well, John could, we could watch a movie-if you want to, of course. You don’t have to. Obviously.”

“I’d like to!” I said quickly. Okay, maybe he didn’t think I was totally annoying. And that sounded way better than going back to my tent.

“Okay! Cool! Uh, I have to ask John first, actually. I can call him. It’ll only take a minute.”

“Take your time, I don’t have anywhere to be,” I replied. It was kind of endearing how excited he’d looked when I agreed. As if he’d been pretty sure I was going to find his offer annoying, just like I’d been fearing he found our whole conversation. I watched as he pulled his phone from his pocket. It was at least twice my height, serving as a stark reminder of how much smaller I was in comparison to him.

I wondered, probably later than I should have, how I was supposed to get to his house. The most obvious answer was probably that he could literally pick me up to bring me over there. He had carried John by hand the other day. That prospect was slightly terrifying, now that I was thinking about it. I wasn’t scared of heights, thankfully, but it seemed like literally putting my life in someone’s hands would require a lot of trust. And it occurred to me that I didn’t actually know him that well.

Of course, he picked up plenty of tourists for pictures every day. He’d never hurt any of them. I was more than certain that would have made the news. He didn’t seem like he’d hurt me either, but of course, I had thought that before. And been very wrong before.

Maybe I should make up a reason to go back to my campground. I could say I didn’t realize how late it was getting.

Then I remembered the group of friends that had been laughing around their fire, and how empty my campsite was. And somehow, the idea of going back to my dark tent suddenly seemed even more terrifying than letting a giant pick me up, which maybe said something about how isolated I’d been feeling recently.

Besides, he’s a park ranger. That’s like, the least sketchy job you can have, right?

“John said it’s okay!” Moments after I’d come to a conclusion that I wasn’t going to dip, Easton placed his phone back in his pocket. “And he said he could make you tea or coffee and he has pizza from last night if you want some.”

I smiled. “Cool. I mean, I’m never one to turn down food.”

Especially not recently.

“So, are you just going to pick me up or like-“

“Oh-uh, I can. There’s a trail down the cliffs that way and a human sized elevator at my place, if you want to walk, but, I can carry you if you want. And you’re comfortable with it.”

I immediately felt a little silly at my previous worries - I’d apparently made several assumptions. I’d already come to the conclusion that I was fine with him carrying me, though.

“I’m cool with it. But whatever you want.”

“Okay,” he said, sounding uncertain about where to go from there.

“You can just carry me. It’d be quicker. And I’d probably find a way to fall off the cliffs getting down anyways,” I said. I wasn’t entirely sure why I went with that option. I’d already psyched myself up for that, and I hadn’t psyched myself up for climbing down a desert trail, I guess.

“Are you sure?” He asked. I nodded.

“Yeah. I mean, you can see in the dark, right? So out of the two of us, you’re way less likely to trip over something in the dark.”

“I guess so.” He lowered his hand to the cliff where I stood. He amended his statement quickly. “I mean, I definitely won’t trip over anything, I swear. I don’t know if you’ve heard the whole spiel I give, but you can climb on whenever you’re ready, please stay seated in the middle of my hand once I start moving, I won’t get up until you say you’re settled and ready.”

I nodded. “Sounds good.” Taking a deep breath, I stepped towards his hand. His skin was way warmer than I’d thought it’d be, I thought as I climbed onto his hand. Like, heating pad warm. That made sense, I supposed, given how comparatively ginormous he was. I glanced up at him. He was watching me attentively, which felt somehow reassuring. I half crawled to the center of his palm, quickly realizing it was also far harder to stand on someone’s palm than I would have guessed. After a moment, I glanced back up.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

“Great. I’ll move slowly, and just let me know if you want down at any point,” he said. I nodded, watching the ground grow farther away as he slowly lifted his hand and stood up.

“What’s it like? Being able to carry people literally in one hand?” I asked, looking up at him again.

“Kind of weird,” he said, then once again jumped to amend that statement. He did that a lot, I was noticing. It seemed ironic that an actual giant would be so unsure of his words, if not also relatable. “Not in a bad way. It just feels like…a lot of responsibility. Since you guys are putting so much trust in me.”

“That makes sense. I can’t imagine how anxious I’d be about accidentally dropping someone or something,” I replied.

“Yeah, no shit,” he said, almost half to himself. I couldn’t help but laugh. He looked surprised for half a second, then joined in.

“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t mind carrying you or anything, it’s just…hoping tourists don’t decide to like jump up or something when I’m holding them all day is…”

“Extremely anxiety inducing?”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

We’d arrived at his tiny house - I’d decided I was going to keep calling it a tiny house, even if size wise, it was anything but. He opened the door with his free hand, golden light pouring out to greet us. The interior was just as modern as the outside, seeming almost mismatched with the rustic posters of plants he had adorning the walls. While it was certainly spacious for me, I guessed it was probably smaller than the average dorm room for him. There was a desk to the right of the door. A human sized table sat on top of it. Then there was a bed against the far wall and right wall. Also against the far wall was a small kitchenette, and a door I guessed led to a bathroom.

Also against the right wall was a platform with a railing and a human sized doorway. A walkway along the wall led from it to the desk, where there was another human sized door against the front wall. Probably the elevator he’d mentioned. Moments after we’d stepped inside, John appeared from the door behind the platform. He made his way down the walkway towards the desk.

“I’m going to lower my hand to the desk, and then you can climb off. Just please don’t until I’ve stopped moving.”

I nodded, waiting patiently until he’d firmly placed his hand on the desk. I climbed off, managing to do so semi gracefully. John had made it to the desk as well by that point.

“It was Zoey, right?” He asked. I nodded.

“Yeah. Do I call you John or like Agent-“

He laughed jovially, shaking his head. “Just John is fine.”

“Okay! Also, this-,” I gestured to the building around us, “-is so cool.”

“Isn’t it?” He said. “I have my own little apartment back there,” he said, nodding towards the door he’d come from. “Speaking of which, Easton mentioned you might be hungry?”

“Oh, I mean, only if it’s not an imposition. I’m fine-“

“I have way too much pizza to finish myself anyways,” John said. “You’d be helping me out, really.”

“You could just give it to Easton too.” There I go again, just saying the first thing that came to mind. That did seem like the most obvious solution, though it occurred to me moments later John was probably mostly just trying to make me feel comfortable.

What does Easton eat anyways? It’s got to be a lot of whatever it is.

“It’s pepperoni. He’s a vegetarian,” John replied, seeming to take my literal interpretation and subsequent suggestion in stride at least.

“In that case, yeah, I’d love some,” I said.

“Great. I can bring it down, or you can come with me to heat it up and we can come back here. Whichever you prefer.” John turned, heading towards the walkway.

“Um, I guess I’ll wait here?”

John nodded. “I won’t be long. And I think you were going to make dinner too, Easton?”

Easton quickly glanced between us. “I’m fine. I can eat later.”

“Are you sure?” John asked.

“Yeah. You guys enjoy the pizza, though.”

“Alright. I’ll be right back,” John said. I watched as he headed up the walkway, then turned to look up at Easton. He’d taken a seat on the chair next to the desk.

“You’re not hungry?” I asked.

“Not really,” he replied, changing the subject. “So, any ideas on what movie you want to watch? I don’t have a tv, but I do have a laptop, and it works with earth technology so I have like, Hulu and stuff. I hope that works?”

“I think that’s probably better than a tv - it’s probably IMAX-sized compared to me,” I said. He gave a slight laugh.

“Fair enough.”

“I don’t really watch that many movies, though, so I’m cool with whatever. Wait, have you seen very many earth movies?”

He shook his head. “Only a couple.”

“Damn. Well, we could see what’s new out I guess.”

“That works for me,” Easton said. I smiled. This evening really was looking up

[comphy-and-cozy]

Can you please combine ❛ i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know. ❜ and slow kisses with Brock Boeser ? There's a serious lack o content for him here ! Thanks you, you writing is amazing! 😘😘

full disclosure: I wrote this entire blurb before I realized I forgot the slow kisses but I did add it in just for you!

Prompt: “I’m not wearing any underwear. Thought you’d like to know.” / slow kisses

Pairing: Brock Boeser x Reader (f)

Word Count: 1K

Warnings: Brief alcohol mention, mature/adult themes, language

It’s a Thursday night, and the guys are letting loose after a difficult start to the season. Sure, it wasn’t what the fans or media would want to see given their struggles; hell, even Coach wasn’t keen on the idea of everyone getting blitzed in the middle of the season, but Bo had convinced him it was vitally important for them to bond – more specifically, in a place that was as far from the rink as possible. 

Invites had been sent out to every partner, friend, friend with benefit in the Vancouver area, an alert to ensure the night was packed full of fun and no shortage of debauchery. 

You’d made your way onto the invite list, as a friend of Petey’s. But what no one else knew was that it was the second invite you got that convinced you to come – the one from his blonde friend, Prince Charming.

It’s still in its infant stages, but there is something blossoming between you and Brock, having been secretly hooking up for a few weeks. (Of course, you’d be remiss not to poke fun at him and act like you were the reason for his slow success; Brock would never tell you that you were partly correct). Naturally, due to your relationship with Elias, it’s a delicate situation that needs to be handled with tact, but so far, you’re content to just enjoy the fun of sneaking around.

Until tonight, when Brock shows up looking like a grade A snack, his black shirt unbuttoned just enough to make you salivate, sleeves rolled up to expose his muscular forearms in a way that makes you want to sink your teeth into them while they’re bracketed around your head. His smile lights up his whole face, the way it always does, but this time, his cheeks are a little pink from the cold and the alcohol.

He catches your eye across the room and sends a wink that has your stomach flipping rapidly. You don’t miss the way his eyes slide down your body, appreciating your outfit just as much as you do his, and though it’s quick, you can see the flash of heat in them before he brings his eyes up to meet yours, a smile gracing his face. 

It’s only then that Natalie, your conversation partner whom you’d (accidentally) all but forgotten about, nudges you with a knowing look.

“Is something going on between you and Brock?”

“What?” you ask, trying to sound incredulous. “No!”

“I mean, I just watched you two eye fuck the shit out of each other, and something tells me it wasn’t the first time,” she says.

“He’s cute, everyone knows that,” you reply with a shrug. “It’s nothing.”

She doesn’t seem to buy it, but she doesn’t press any further, just as your phone buzzes in your purse. Of course, the new text you’ve just received is from none other than the object of your affections, smugly sending a flirtatious text from across the room. 

[Brock:] looking like an absolute smokeshow

Angling your phone away, you type out a quick reply.

[Y/N:] you’re not so bad yourself, boes [Brock:] i cleaned up just for you 😘 [Brock:] your place or mine?

You’re in the middle of responding when Elias approaches, greeting you with a big hug while you scramble to hide your messages. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Brock sniggering at the predicament he’s put you in. 

“Who are you texting? Everyone you know is here!” he laughs, nudging your shoulder jokingly. 

You laugh it off, giving a vague and non-committal answer as you take a long swig of your drink. If he’s concerned, he doesn’t show it, instead asking you about your project at work.

Eventually, you find a moment to reply, deciding to up the ante for an interesting evening.

[Y/N:] yours so you can make me breakfast tomorrow [Y/N:] also, in case you’re interested… [Y/N:] I’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know.

You try to hide your smirk as you watch him across the room, first glancing down to pull his phone from his pocket, then the instant flush of color to alert you that he’s received your message. His eyes find yours, phone all but forgotten in his hand, as he gapes at you, trying to gauge if you’re playing a prank on him.

Then, he remembers he has an easier way to communicate with you, dropping his head back down to send a text.

[Brock:] you serious?

You smile, then type your own response after quirking your eyebrow at him.

[Y/N:] why don’t you come and find out for yourself?

You have to resist the urge to laugh as you watch him drain the remainder of his drink, though your entertainment quickly turns to nerves as he stalks toward you, weaving through the crowd, crossing the room in just a few strides. Petey’s in the process of greeting him, his words caught in his throat when Brock walks right up to you and kisses you on the mouth. 

There isn’t any time to react — not that you can think properly with his lips against yours anyway — and your brain goes even more fuzzy when you feel his tongue grazing your mouth like there aren’t tons of people around, intruding on your intimate moment. If it wasn’t for the distant whooping you hear around you, you’d let him ravish you right there against the wall.

Petey’s face is one of shock when you do finally pull away to breathe, his cheeks flushed almost as much as you feel yours are, though likely for very different reasons.

“Oh yeah, Pete, I’m really, really into your friend,” Brock says with a grin. 

Elias shakes his head. “I know, dude.”

“You - you do?”

With a friendly punch on the shoulder, Elias nods, his eyebrows raised. “If you want to have a secret relationship, you should probably turn off your location before you go over to her place.”

[megamindsecretlair]

A New Assignment

Cross posted on @megamindssecretlair

Pairing: Bucky x Black!Fem!Reader

Warnings: There's cursing LOL

Summary: One-shot. SHIELD is trying to rebuild its numbers and its operations, without the pesky Hydra stuff. You are an agent with a troubled past who has been taking any and all assignment you can get your hands on. However, Handler has a different assignment in mind this time.

Word Count: 1,654k

A/N: I just finished watching the Spy x Family anime and I loved the idea of a handler, no name given. I love spy stuff in general and I just wanted to write the a** line. LOL. Enjoy. While likes are awesome, please consider reblogging and commenting to support writers!

You were tired. The extra assignments were kicking your butt and the agency-wide shortage wasn’t helping. On more than one occasion, you’ve told Handler that they could simply recruit more people. Shocker you know, but with so many things Handler had to take care of, it was possible that a simple solution could fall through the cracks.

She was not amused. She launched into her favorite speech about the vetting process and how there was a thin line between idiots and spies. Even their best technology didn’t catch Hydra agents under their noses. It wasn’t enough to pluck some pimply fresh face from college anymore. And on and on her complaints went.

Until then, you dragged your carcass across Shield HQ. The agents were…promising. And that was putting it politely. Recruitment was slow and the focus was on other agencies like Sword, though you weren’t sure what was going on there after the whole Hayward thing. 

The new HQ was a lot more discreet than the previous Triskelion. It still lacked any actual decorating. The walls and floors were bland, the fluorescent lights were as bad as ever, and they used the same landscape and ocean prints from before. For all intents and purposes, it was business as usual. 

You crossed the building and took the elevator to the eleventh floor. Analysts milled around passing folders and talking to each other over their cubbies. They gave you a wide berth and whispered behind their hands. You kept your head high and your shoulders squared back. You could not control rumors and they had nothing to do with you. You, Handler, and the brass at Shield knew what happened. That was all that mattered.

You made your way to the back of the open floor plan and knocked on the door. Handler called your name and you entered, closing the door behind you.

Despite the drabness of the offices outside, Handler’s office was more stylish. The carpet and walls were still a dull grayish blue, but the paintings she chose were thought provoking. In one, two forms were contorted so it wasn’t clear if they were embracing or fighting. It was dark at the bottom of the painting as if they were emerging from a pool of inky blackness.

Handler’s chairs were plush and it was like sinking into a cloud. The desk was large without being obnoxious and it held her two computer screens, folders, mail, and small knick knacks like mini snow globes from various countries and shot glasses lined a shelf behind her. Two large windows let in enough light that the overhead lights weren’t truly necessary. In one corner, there was a flat screen TV depicting the latest news story. 

Handler leaned back in her seat as she tore her amber eyes away from the computer screens. She narrowed her eyes at you, a frown spreading across her small face. It only made you smirk as you settled more into the chair.

“We have a long assignment for you,” she said. 

“What?” 

“We appreciate your dedication to the short assignments and picking up the slack. As a reward, we’re placing you undercover at Bowers Innovation. There’s chatter that they’re working on a super soldier serum,” she said. She nodded towards a thick folder hanging off the edge of the desk.

You took it and skimmed through it. The folder held dossiers on the target, the lab, coworkers, etc. 

“We have other agents already in place to provide some cover.”

“Will people ever give up on super soldiers?” You asked, more to yourself. It seemed like even though aliens and gods visited Earth on a regular basis, people would never stop their endless hunt to be better and do better and live forever.

“As long as there are wars to win and soldiers to fight, people will never stop. We’re sending you in as a team. You’ll be partnered with another agent,” Handler said. 

“I work better alone, you know that. Why are you giving me this?” You asked. This was more suited to grunt work. You were not a babysitter. 

Handler lifted a perfectly arched eyebrow and pursed her lips. She blinked a few times and conveyed an entire conversation in that one look. 

You tilted your head and communicated right back. This was not the best use of your time or skills.

“You are uniquely qualified for this mission. Your exceptional ability to bullshit your way through anything is needed. You could sell ice to a penguin,” she said.

“Why, Handler. Flattery gets you nowhere,” you said, with a grin. 

Her jaw flexed but the blank expression she was known for remained in place. You didn’t really think you could get beneath her skin, but it was fun trying. 

“So, what, you want me to break into this lab, destroy the formula?” You asked.

“Emphasis on a long assignment. We need to know who hired him, where the serum is going, has it been tested, etc. It’s all in the folder.” Handler waved her hand as if she were bored with the whole conversation.

That made two of you. You didn’t like one thing about this assignment. Any attempt at contact would make you suspicious, whether your coworkers vouched for you or not. You were pretty good at bullshitting your way through things but with something like this serum, security was going to be tough. And what was your partner supposed to do?

“Fine. I’ll head to logistics to pick a partner,” you said.

“That’s already been arranged,” Handler said. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear she smirked.

“What’s going on here? Who’s my partner?” 

Handler turned cat-like amber eyes towards you and said the last name you ever expected. “James Buchanan Barnes.”

Heat flashed over your skin. Anger boiled in your gut. “Are you kidding me? Bucky? He’s the opposite of low-key! I’m not doing it. Bucky is a pain in my natural Black-”

“Ass? You can be sometimes, but it’s part of your charm.” 

You whipped around in your seat and saw the devil himself standing in the doorway. How did he manage to open the door and drop in on the conversation without you noticing? 

You glared at him before looking at Handler. Her face hadn’t changed but you just knew that she was laughing her head off under that stoic exterior.

“Assign someone else,” you said.

Bucky shuffled in and closed the door behind him. He sat down and folded his hands in his lap. 

“Aw, but we got married. It’s a little late for cold feet,” he said. 

You kept your eyes trained on Handler while he kept his eyes focused on you. You schooled your features and dropped your tone. 

“Perhaps this assignment will work better with a more qualified agent. James’ face is too recognizable,” you said.

“That’s precisely why he’s qualified. Any person we’ve sent to get close to the scientist, Julius Fisher, was quickly shut down or the agents were found out. He’ll know that anyone would pay top dollar to replicate the super soldier serum. And if he’s not willing to sell, they’ll steal his research or kill him. He will definitely be suspicious of the two of you. But, he also won’t be able to resist a super soldier. He’ll come to you, trap or not.”

“He’ll know that James isn’t married. If he suddenly turns up married, that’s going to raise suspicions,” you said.

“Don’t you remember how small our wedding was? We invited our closest friends and the reception was lovely,” Bucky said.

“Lucky for you, due to the nature of James’ status, it would make sense to keep his personal life private. Including a wedding,” Handler said.

Son of a bitch. She was enjoying this. She already thought of every excuse you would come up with. 

Your chest felt too tight. You couldn’t breathe well enough to get a full breath. 

“Fine,” you said. There was no situation you could think of to get out of this. You could bullshit your way out of most things except where the Handler was involved. You simply had to make the most of the situation. Even if it had to do with Bucky.

Damn him. He smelled good. And he looked good. When he came in, he wore a t-shirt and jeans and his signature leather jacket. But he made that look like he stepped off of a runway. His hair was short and he already had stubble growing in. 

“Excellent. In your folder you’ll find all the details for your lovely, whirlwind romance and the details of your new apartment together,” Handler said.

You knew a dismissal when you heard one. You stood up and left the office, not bothering to address Bucky at all. Regardless, he caught up to you before you reached the opposite end of the office. He held the door as you left and kept time with you as you stalked down the hallway. 

“So when do you want to move in?” Bucky asked.

“Let’s get something straight. We’re only going to do the bare minimum when it comes to this. Outside the home, we’re the perfect couple. Inside of it, you stay in your room, I’ll stay in mine. We’ll stay out of each other’s way, got it?”

As you spoke, you didn’t realize you were poking him in the chest or advancing on him until he grabbed your outstretched hand and tugged you close. Your chest rubbed against his and the smell of him clouded your senses.

He looked down at you, making his eyes half closed. His long eyelashes nearly fanned his cheeks. He licked his lips slowly as he perused your face.

“Got it,” he whispered, with a smirk. 

“And no touching,” you said. You yanked your hand back and stalked off down the hallway, hating how he made you feel. You were so not okay with this.

Don't ya want more Bucky in your life? Great news! The Secret Bucky Files

[thewholedamnboulangerie]

reverse uno? :D

hiiiiiiiii!! :D

SO. Reverse Uno is, i think, the very first KinnPorsche fic I started writing (okay nope I just checked, it was the second - til the daylight comes has it beaten by 2 whole weeks lol) - it was a vague idea that started kicking around in my head almost immediately after the show ended, and involved Tankhun finding out about The KimChay Of It All™, deciding to matchmake them back together, and Chay immediately realising what he's doing and just going "...okay well. reverse uno. i see the way you and Arm look at each other and I'm gonna matchmake you right back 😌"

BUT ALAS I got distracted by MANY other shiny ideas, and this one fell by the wayside and has not been picked up in a VERY long time. Given how long the outline for this was (there were a LOT of shenanigans, including Tay being inducted as Chay's partner in crime) and the lack of inspiration I've had for it for the past [checks notes] year, it will probably never be finished, but I still really really like the opening! so I've put it under the cut:

Throughout the three glorious decades thus far that Khun Tankhun Theerapanyakul had deigned to grace the earth with his presence, there had certainly never been a shortage of epithets employed to describe him. Once upon a time, he was loudly proclaimed to be ‘heir’; in recent years, the ever-present whispers of gossip preferred to deem him ‘lunatic’; always, for as long as he can remember, above all else, he had been ‘brother’.

Of course, none of those titles were ones that he’d had the chance to choose himself.

He’d have chosen the last one, if the choice had been his. The other two? Or practically any of the other descriptors that the constant swirl of staff and guards and hard-eyed business associates through the mansion’s doors might have thought to affix to him? Not so much.

Perhaps, he mused, it was time to select one on his own terms.

---

“Oracle?”

“Oracle,” Tankhun confirmed, with a vigorous nod of his head. “The Oracle of Bangkok, Khun Tankhun Theerapanyakul. Or - the Oracle of Thailand? Maybe I should broaden my horizons a bit more.” He paused for a moment, frowning. “Arm! Do you think my horizons are sufficiently broad?”

Arm raised an eyebrow. “I think your horizons can safely be described as the route between this mansion and Hum Bar, Khun Nu. If you wish to broaden them, I’d appreciate if you could give me a few days’ notice to work out an updated security protocol.”

Tankhun huffed out an affronted sigh. “Metaphorical horizons, Arm! In my newly-discovered capacity as a sacred vessel for esoteric knowledge and prophecy!”

“Oh!” All eyes turned to Pol. “Is that what oracle means?”

Arm hid a smile in the cuff of his sleeve. “And what wisdom would you care to enlighten us with, Khun Oracle of Bangkok or possibly Thailand?”

Tankhun narrowed his eyes, at that - any time he heard anything remotely similar to that sort of tone directed at himself, it usually had him raising his hackles, was usually too patronising and cloying to merely be considered teasing.

But this was Arm, and there was no malice to be seen in his eyes as he met Tankhun’s from across the room. Just honest playfulness, of the sort that Arm would occasionally indulge in when Tankhun and the closest of his bodyguards were alone together, with only themselves as witnesses.

(Come to think of it, that playfulness had been a fraction less rare since Porsche arrived in their lives. Tankhun made a mental note that it was one more thing he had to thank Porsche for.)

[kalpasio]

Beauty and Decimation

Things Go Well Until They Don't

A Kalpas x Reader fic loosely based on Beauty and the Beast, Chapter 3 below!

Honkai never had a particularly strong presence in your village. The reason as to why seems clear now. Nearly every night, Kalpas goes out. At first you thought he enjoyed walks, or perhaps the curse drew Honkai beasts to his home; but as Su put it, the prince still clung to his destructive ways. Even if that was what got them in this mess in the first place. Any fight was started by him. Not the creatures outside.

Occasionally, Sakura or Elysia (and sometimes even Mobius) would join him on the outing, but it was more to keep Kalpas from destroying the forest rather than to keep him safe. In the month that you had stayed here, you had only seen him return injured once. That was also the first time he voluntarily spoke to you.

It was to tell you to get out of his way, but that still counted, right?

Eden would clean up his wounds, while Hua (who you still haven’t met) would clean the blood from the halls.

Even though you shared all your meals together, it wasn’t until the second month a proper conversation was struck up. To your surprise, Kalpas asked if the castle was to your liking. Shock kept you silent until you heard an unhappy grumble come from the other end of the table.

“Truly, you have a lovely home!” The halls could be crawling with spiders, and you would have declared this the most wonderful place in the world. Anything to keep from angering your host.

“You haven’t left your room,” he pointed out the one fact that you’d hoped he wouldn’t notice.

Leaving the room felt like a gamble. You could win the bet, run into Eden or Sakura and enjoy a lovely conversation. Or you could lose and run into Mobius or the beast. It hardly seemed worth it at this point, though you were well aware the number of books in your room that had yet to be read was dwindling.

More than once, you had thought of sneaking to the kitchen for a snack or tea, but every time, Kalpas’ mask would appear in your mind like an omen of what would happen, should you stray too far.

“Your servants take such good care of me, I have little reason to,” you gave a polite smile, hoping your excuse would be accepted.

“Elysia may dote on you, but that is hardly enough to distinguish you from a prisoner.” The prince—you had learned—hardly ever spoke in a tone that could not be considered a growl. Knowing this still didn’t make you feel any better.

“I greatly appreciate your hospitality; I do not wish to presume you are willing to offer more.” You were spouting nonsense at this point, though the sentiment held true. The time you spent in the castle was remarkable, even if you rarely strayed from your room.

All of your clothes must have come from the wardrobes of nobles, each piece fit as though custom made for you, and there was no shortage to choose from. After a week of not understanding the complexities of the bathroom, you had given up and decided to simply enjoy the inexplicable features to their fullest. You had been spoiled and returning home at this point seemed impossible. Not only would it mean a drastic change in lifestyle, but you were positive the town thought you dead you’re your neighbors didn’t take kindly to ghosts.

“The world never asks before it takes; why should you?” Kalpas was being oddly philosophical, but you understood the point he was trying to make. Not that you necessarily agreed with it. “If you do not leave your room by choice, I will drag you out of it.” That was a threat you fully believed he intended to follow through on.

Unfortunately, you did not realize quite how short the window for you to leave by choice would be.

Not even forty-eight hours later, he was throwing you over his shoulder and marching down the halls. When you were returned to your feet, you found yourself in the middle of a courtyard. Sakura and Rin were pouring tea and setting little cakes on a tray underneath the shade of a gazebo. The whole scene screamed ‘Elysia’ but she had yet to make an appearance.

Kalpas refused to take his mask off to enjoy the treats with you, but he remained seated across from you (looking annoyed, like he’d been placed in time out) until the tea had gone cold and Elysia announced that lunch was ready inside.

Chats with the prince usually consisted of him recounting a battle—whether it be from the night before or decades ago—while you chimed in about life in your village. He never failed to make a disgusted face you could sense even through the mask. Hearing how mundane your existence had been appeared to only inspire him to change your habits.

Where you used to take short walks around the castle’s gardens, Kalpas would insist upon horseback rides that lasted hours across the entire property. After his late-night fights, you were now expected to stay awake until his return so he could regale you with all the details. The only moment of peace he allowed you to retain was the hours spent in the library.

After the courtyard, this was the second part of the castle you visited. It had taken Kalpas a few weeks to figure out where you had disappeared to (no thanks to Elysia). He burst through the doors so loudly the first time, you nearly threw your book in the air and fell off the couch. Now, when he joins you, he’s much more subtle, though you could hardly say he’s quiet. The two of you will share a couch and simply enjoy the time spent together.

Sometimes the prince will read his own book, surprising you with how careful he is to not singe or tear any of the pages. Other days, he will bring his whetstone and you find yourself transfixed by how diligently he sharpens his knives until they can cut through beasts as easily as they do through air.

One day, after a couple of hours reading in the library, you had fallen asleep. This wasn’t uncommon; on multiple occasions, Sakura or Eden would cover you with a blanket or you’d awake to find another resident of the castle (usually Kalpas or Rin) waiting next to you. The prince was surprisingly good—by his standards—at keeping quiet while you were trying to focus or rest. It still didn’t take much to rile him up, however, and that was what happened today.

Apparently, Kalpas had entered the library shortly after sleep overcame you. His natural body heat only lulled you into a deeper sleep, meaning you didn’t even notice when Mobius joined the two of you. What roused you was her furious shushing after Kalpas grew too loud. To no one’s surprise, it had no effect, and the yelling continued. You managed to fake your continued rest and overhear the rather noisy conversation.

“We only have one year Kalpas,” Mobius’ voice had lost all hint of teasing, the harshness of it sending shivers down your spine. “How you’ve gone this long without warming up to any of us, I’ll never understand--”

“You make it too easy to hate you,” he growled back, the rumble in his chest vibrating through the couch you laid on.

“Well, now there’s someone new. We’ve spent too much time together to ever get along, and you’ve wasted too much time to be picky about who you use to break the curse.”

Your heart froze for a moment. What did she mean by use? Were you about to become some unwitting sacrifice?

“This is none of your business.”

“Oh?” Mobius sneered, “Really? You think you’re the only one suffering?” Kalpas remained silent but you could feel him getting hotter next to you. “Doing this your way has gotten us exactly nowhere. Your options are to give in to Aponia or do it my way.”

The sound of heels on carpet marked her exit, but the bitterness Mobius brought still lingered in the air. Before you had a chance to say anything, Kalpas was up and had left the room as well. That left just you and your thoughts in the overwhelming silence of the library.

Su had said Kalpas needed to find someone he truly cares about in order to break the curse. That may be true, but Mobius seemed to have a different theory, and you didn’t think getting involved in any of her plans would end well. ‘Giving in to Aponia’ likely meant accepting the curse permanently, never leaving the castle, and never being able to move on from this exact moment in time. It was certainly a horrible fate, but you weren’t willing to die to remedy the situation.

As open as everyone had become with you, there was no doubt in your mind that they still held several secrets close to their chests. Trusting them so blindly had been a mistake. It was clear now that the only reason they were so kind to you was because you were a means to an end. You needed to get out of this place before that wasn’t an option.

Escaping had not gone well.

Kosma supposedly guarded the castle—though you doubted Kalpas left him many enemies to guard against. Your first time meeting him was when he pushed your face into the ground with his knee pressing into your back. By the distant light cast from the castle’s windows, you could see the horns curling out from his head and you knew you’d been caught.

Now you sat in front of Kalpas.

Leaning back into his throne, legs spread and mask firmly in place, he truly fit the role of crown prince. His elbow rested on the right arm of the throne so his head could lean upon his fist. Sakura stood at attention to his right, prepared to strike, though the relaxed position of her ears said otherwise. Perched on the other arm of the throne, Elysia had one foot on the ground for balance, the other lazily swinging back and forth. Mobius seemed to be the only one interested in confronting you.

“Was our generosity not enough for you?” she asked, circling you like a snake around its prey. At the shake of your head, you could feel the coils tighten around you. “Then you must have grown tired of this place, surely?”

You could practically feel the scales pressing into your skin as she continued to pace in circles. “If not that, what could have possibly driven you to leave in such a hurry, little guest?” Mobius finally stopped in front of you, the look in her eyes all but spelling out ‘danger.’

“I don’t want to die,” you whispered, unsure of what more to say.

“Oh?” She feigned ignorance, clearly not understanding the meaning behind your words.

“I heard you in the library.” It sounded as though you were being choked, and very nearly felt like it too. Mobius’ glare pierced through you as she stopped in front of you, but you refused to meet her—or anyone else’s—eyes.

“Then you know how important it is that you play your part--”

“I won’t!” You shook your head twice before the feeling of nails digging into your cheek made you freeze.

“It’s not your choice little guest.” The harsh whisper and heartless eyes nearly brought you to tears.

“Mobius.” As cruel as her tone had been, this one word alone was worse.

Sakura now stood completely alert and Elysia’s carefree air had disappeared. Embers flared and rose from the throne behind Kalpas while the entire throne room grew hotter. For a brief second, the claws dug deeper into your cheeks, nearly drawing blood before releasing you so Mobius could turn to face her so-called master.

“Yes, my prince?” her voice was sickeningly sweet. Suddenly, it became clear that Elysia and Sakura were not there to protect Kalpas from you, but the other way around. Or so it would seem in Mobius’ case. He lunged at her with such speed you were shocked the two girls saw him move, let alone reacted quick enough to stop him. Between the both of them, they managed to wrestle him back while he struggled like a caged animal.

Mobius must not have realized the severity of her situation, because in the next breath, she was taunting him again. With the blazing flames surrounding the room, you couldn’t hear her. Seconds later, however, the flames grew hotter, to the point you could hardly breathe. Just before you passed out, you heard Kalpas shout, saw him break free, and all you could do was hope you wouldn’t be part of the casualty count.

Why do I always have Kalpas kidnap reader :( also KALPAS CAN'T READ. KALPAS CANNOT READ. HE JUST WANTS TO SIT NEXT TO READER AND KNOWS BETTER THAN TO JUST SIT THERE AND STARE INTO SPACE SO HE PRETENDS TO READ. Reader does not know this shhhh

[megamindslair]

A New Assignment

Moving my fics to @megamindsecretlair

Warnings: There's cursing. Bucky x Blackfem!reader.

Summary: One-shot. SHIELD is trying to rebuild its numbers and its operations, without the pesky Hydra stuff. You are an agent with a troubled past who has been taking any and all assignment you can get your hands on. However, Handler has a different assignment in mind this time.

Word Count: 1,654k

A/N: I just finished watching the Spy x Family anime and I loved the idea of a handler, no name given. I love spy stuff in general and I just wanted to write the a** line. LOL. Enjoy.

You were tired. The extra assignments were kicking your butt and the agency-wide shortage wasn’t helping. On more than one occasion, you’ve told Handler that they could simply recruit more people. Shocker you know, but with so many things Handler had to take care of, it was possible that a simple solution could fall through the cracks.

She was not amused. She launched into her favorite speech about the vetting process and how there was a thin line between idiots and spies. Even their best technology didn’t catch Hydra agents under their noses. It wasn’t enough to pluck some pimply fresh face from college anymore. And on and on her complaints went.

Until then, you dragged your carcass across Shield HQ. The agents were…promising. And that was putting it politely. Recruitment was slow and the focus was on other agencies like Sword, though you weren’t sure what was going on there after the whole Hayward thing. 

The new HQ was a lot more discreet than the previous Triskelion. It still lacked any actual decorating. The walls and floors were bland, the fluorescent lights were as bad as ever, and they used the same landscape and ocean prints from before. For all intents and purposes, it was business as usual. 

You crossed the building and took the elevator to the eleventh floor. Analysts milled around passing folders and talking to each other over their cubbies. They gave you a wide berth and whispered behind their hands. You kept your head high and your shoulders squared back. You could not control rumors and they had nothing to do with you. You, Handler, and the brass at Shield knew what happened. That was all that mattered.

You made your way to the back of the open floor plan and knocked on the door. Handler called your name and you entered, closing the door behind you.

Despite the drabness of the offices outside, Handler’s office was more stylish. The carpet and walls were still a dull grayish blue, but the paintings she chose were thought provoking. In one, two forms were contorted so it wasn’t clear if they were embracing or fighting. It was dark at the bottom of the painting as if they were emerging from a pool of inky blackness.

Handler’s chairs were plush and it was like sinking into a cloud. The desk was large without being obnoxious and it held her two computer screens, folders, mail, and small knick knacks like mini snow globes from various countries and shot glasses lined a shelf behind her. Two large windows let in enough light that the overhead lights weren’t truly necessary. In one corner, there was a flat screen TV depicting the latest news story. 

Handler leaned back in her seat as she tore her amber eyes away from the computer screens. She narrowed her eyes at you, a frown spreading across her small face. It only made you smirk as you settled more into the chair.

“We have a long assignment for you,” she said. 

“What?” 

“We appreciate your dedication to the short assignments and picking up the slack. As a reward, we’re placing you undercover at Bowers Innovation. There’s chatter that they’re working on a super soldier serum,” she said. She nodded towards a thick folder hanging off the edge of the desk.

You took it and skimmed through it. The folder held dossiers on the target, the lab, coworkers, etc. 

“We have other agents already in place to provide some cover.”

“Will people ever give up on super soldiers?” You asked, more to yourself. It seemed like even though aliens and gods visited Earth on a regular basis, people would never stop their endless hunt to be better and do better and live forever.

“As long as there are wars to win and soldiers to fight, people will never stop. We’re sending you in as a team. You’ll be partnered with another agent,” Handler said. 

“I work better alone, you know that. Why are you giving me this?” You asked. This was more suited to grunt work. You were not a babysitter. 

Handler lifted a perfectly arched eyebrow and pursed her lips. She blinked a few times and conveyed an entire conversation in that one look. 

You tilted your head and communicated right back. This was not the best use of your time or skills.

“You are uniquely qualified for this mission. Your exceptional ability to bullshit your way through anything is needed. You could sell ice to a penguin,” she said.

“Why, Handler. Flattery gets you nowhere,” you said, with a grin. 

Her jaw flexed but the blank expression she was known for remained in place. You didn’t really think you could get beneath her skin, but it was fun trying. 

“So, what, you want me to break into this lab, destroy the formula?” You asked.

“Emphasis on a long assignment. We need to know who hired him, where the serum is going, has it been tested, etc. It’s all in the folder.” Handler waved her hand as if she were bored with the whole conversation.

That made two of you. You didn’t like one thing about this assignment. Any attempt at contact would make you suspicious, whether your coworkers vouched for you or not. You were pretty good at bullshitting your way through things but with something like this serum, security was going to be tough. And what was your partner supposed to do?

“Fine. I’ll head to logistics to pick a partner,” you said.

“That’s already been arranged,” Handler said. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear she smirked.

“What’s going on here? Who’s my partner?” 

Handler turned cat-like amber eyes towards you and said the last name you ever expected. “James Buchanan Barnes.”

Heat flashed over your skin. Anger boiled in your gut. “Are you kidding me? Bucky? He’s the opposite of low-key! I’m not doing it. Bucky is a pain in my natural Black-”

“Ass? You can be sometimes, but it’s part of your charm.” 

You whipped around in your seat and saw the devil himself standing in the doorway. How did he manage to open the door and drop in on the conversation without you noticing? 

You glared at him before looking at Handler. Her face hadn’t changed but you just knew that she was laughing her head off under that stoic exterior.

“Assign someone else,” you said.

Bucky shuffled in and closed the door behind him. He sat down and folded his hands in his lap. 

“Aw, but we got married. It’s a little late for cold feet,” he said. 

You kept your eyes trained on Handler while he kept his eyes focused on you. You schooled your features and dropped your tone. 

“Perhaps this assignment will work better with a more qualified agent. James’ face is too recognizable,” you said.

“That’s precisely why he’s qualified. Any person we’ve sent to get close to the scientist, Julius Fisher, was quickly shut down or the agents were found out. He’ll know that anyone would pay top dollar to replicate the super soldier serum. And if he’s not willing to sell, they’ll steal his research or kill him. He will definitely be suspicious of the two of you. But, he also won’t be able to resist a super soldier. He’ll come to you, trap or not.”

“He’ll know that James isn’t married. If he suddenly turns up married, that’s going to raise suspicions,” you said.

“Don’t you remember how small our wedding was? We invited our closest friends and the reception was lovely,” Bucky said.

“Lucky for you, due to the nature of James’ status, it would make sense to keep his personal life private. Including a wedding,” Handler said.

Son of a bitch. She was enjoying this. She already thought of every excuse you would come up with. 

Your chest felt too tight. You couldn’t breathe well enough to get a full breath. 

“Fine,” you said. There was no situation you could think of to get out of this. You could bullshit your way out of most things except where the Handler was involved. You simply had to make the most of the situation. Even if it had to do with Bucky.

Damn him. He smelled good. And he looked good. When he came in, he wore a t-shirt and jeans and his signature leather jacket. But he made that look like he stepped off of a runway. His hair was short and he already had stubble growing in. 

“Excellent. In your folder you’ll find all the details for your lovely, whirlwind romance and the details of your new apartment together,” Handler said.

You knew a dismissal when you heard one. You stood up and left the office, not bothering to address Bucky at all. Regardless, he caught up to you before you reached the opposite end of the office. He held the door as you left and kept time with you as you stalked down the hallway. 

“So when do you want to move in?” Bucky asked.

“Let’s get something straight. We’re only going to do the bare minimum when it comes to this. Outside the home, we’re the perfect couple. Inside of it, you stay in your room, I’ll stay in mine. We’ll stay out of each other’s way, got it?”

As you spoke, you didn’t realize you were poking him in the chest or advancing on him until he grabbed your outstretched hand and tugged you close. Your chest rubbed against his and the smell of him clouded your senses.

He looked down at you, making his eyes half closed. His long eyelashes nearly fanned his cheeks. He licked his lips slowly as he perused your face.

“Got it,” he whispered, with a smirk. 

“And no touching,” you said. You yanked your hand back and stalked off down the hallway, hating how he made you feel. You were so not okay with this.

[okamirayne]

Hi Rayn, I love spending time in the BTB world and have really enjoyed your style of writing through the years, and I'm so curious if we will see more of the Hyuga clan in the future should you return to this space. I loved Hitaro in all of his nastiness and love how you added meat to the Hyugas. Will we get a glimpse into more of the hyuga household or neji's experience in it while alive then when he returns *hiding* if thats more spoilery would love to hear thoughts on hyuga dynamic generally

Heya @virginhawks💜

Aww, luv, thank you for this lovely message. I'm so happy to hear that you've enjoyed the BtB-verse throughout the years. To know it's something you've given time to makes me a very happy and humbled storyteller. 🥰

The Hyuga clan! Well how could I resist if returning to that world? They're a fascinating political entity as well as a family community, what with their hardline traditions and customs.

I loved Hitaro in all of his nastiness and love how you added meat to the Hyugas.

Oh awesome! Thank you 🥰 I'm really chuffed to hear that, as you never quite know how OCs will hit. Hitaro was fun and interesting to write. I'd certainly enjoy revisiting his presence post-UtS. I'm really pleased you felt the Hyugas were fleshed out a bit. Again, like the Uchiha, Kishimoto drew them a pretty complex portrait...I do love filling in the details as they play out in my crazy noggin, and I'm delighted that brings you entertainment and enjoyment.

Will we get a glimpse into more of the hyuga household or neji's experience in it while alive then when he returns *hiding* if thats more spoilery would love to hear thoughts on hyuga dynamic generally

Oh, if I were to return to the BtB-world then I would certainly like to say I'd be keen to explore that. Both via Neji and through some of the other Hyuga members. Don't worry, it's not spoilery per se as a lot of stuff tends to unfold organically as I write it, unless I have very set plot points that I know for certain need to happen. Specific conversations etc. between certain characters.

Regarding my own thoughts on the Hyuga dynamics, generally speaking? Hmn. That's tough, as there are lots of different players involved. And a lot of emotions...especially post War. I mean heck...this happened..

So there'd be no shortage of perspectives to explore - in light of all that ugliness and tragedy. From the old-school elders, to Hiashi and Hitaro's generation, then of course Neji and the Hyuga sisters. In the background of those immediate choices, I would be tempted to look at the Hyuga mothers belonging to both castes, Branch and Main House. The pain those women would go through? Ouch. The impact that would leave on Hinata and Hanabi regarding having kids of their own? Double ouch. Yeah, it's a big fat angsty abscess wanting to be popped. Gross, sorry.

Thank you again for your message, luv. For bolstering my spirits and reminding me why I love storytelling and why I so deeply appreciate the kindness of readers such as yourself. 🥰😘

[golden--doodler]

Okay so I asked ChatGPT to write what Bob and Linda's wedding vows were and I'm 😭🥺👌🏼

We NEED a Boblin wedding flashback RIGHT NOW

Okay, Linda's first:

"Bob, my love, my burger-flipping hero, today I stand before you with a heart bursting with love and gratitude. From the moment our paths crossed, my life took a delicious turn, and I found my partner in both culinary and life adventures.

Bob, you are the patty to my bun, the cheese to my melt, and the secret spice that brings flavor to every day. Your unwavering support and belief in me have given me the courage to chase my dreams and embrace my quirks. You've seen me through my kitchen catastrophes, my terrible singing, and my wild ideas, and yet, you love me just the same.

You're the grill master who never fails to create mouthwatering masterpieces, the shoulder to lean on when life gets tough, and the pun king who can always make me laugh. Your patience and understanding have been my rock, and your warm hugs have comforted me in my darkest moments.

Today, I promise to be your biggest cheerleader, encouraging you in all your endeavors. I vow to stand by your side through the ups and downs, sharing in the joys and challenges that come our way. Together, we can conquer any obstacle, whether it's a stubborn health inspector or a shortage of pickles.

I promise to cherish our family, to create a loving and nurturing home where our children can grow, laugh, and embrace their own quirks. I will be your partner in parenthood, supporting and guiding them with love and patience.

In the grand buffet of life, I choose you, Bob, as my forever meal. With each passing day, my love for you grows deeper, stronger, and spicier. Today and always, I promise to love you unconditionally, to be your biggest fan, and to savor every moment we share together.

So, with a heart full of love and a stomach full of anticipation, I say 'I do' to a lifetime of adventures, laughter, and perfectly cooked burgers. Bob, you are my everything, and I am eternally grateful to have you as my husband and partner in flipping burgers and flipping life. I love you, Bob Belcher."

Now Bob's:

"Linda, my flame-grilled muse, today I stand here in awe of the incredible woman you are. From the moment you walked into my life, you brought with you a whirlwind of energy, passion, and love that has transformed my existence in ways I never thought possible.

Linda, you are the sizzle to my griddle, the mayo to my bun, and the special sauce that makes every day brighter. Your infectious laughter, your zest for life, and your unwavering belief in me have inspired me to become the best version of myself.

You've stood by my side through grease fires, questionable puns, and the occasional mishap in the kitchen. Your unwavering support and belief in my burger creations have fueled my culinary dreams and given me the courage to keep flipping patties with pride. Despite not being able to hear, I've never had someone who listened to me, truly listened to me the way you have.

Today, I promise to be your rock, your sounding board, and your partner in all our wacky adventures. I vow to listen to your dreams, support your ambitions, and hold your hand through life's twists and turns. Together, we can conquer any challenge, whether it's dealing with quirky customers or navigating the ups and downs of the restaurant business.

I promise to be your shoulder to lean on, your comfort in times of uncertainty, and your source of strength when life gets tough. I will cherish and respect you, celebrating the beautiful, vibrant, and one-of-a-kind person you are.

In this crazy journey we call life, I choose you, Linda, as my eternal partner. With you, every day is an adventure, every meal is a feast, and every moment is a treasure. Today and always, I promise to love you fiercely, to appreciate your amazing dance moves, and to be the best husband and father I can be.

Together, we'll create a home filled with laughter, love, and perfectly grilled burgers. I will be the Bob to your Linda, the guy who makes you laugh, supports your dreams, and appreciates your unique sense of style. With you by my side, I know that our love will only grow stronger, spicier, and more delicious with each passing year.

So, with all my heart and my apron strings tied tight, I proudly say 'I do' to a lifetime of love, laughter, and endless burger creations. Linda, you are my sunshine, my muse, and my forever partner. I am eternally grateful to have you as my wife, and I love you more than words can express."

[readatrix]

"The blood is the life." ~Dracula, by Bram Stoker

"Marion! Marion! Come out wherever you are! The hounds would like to play!" ~House of Hunger, Alexis Henderson

I have loved this sort of book pretty much since I've been able to read. Spooky house or castle. Isolation. A love interest with questionable motives and morals. Fleeing in the middle of the night.

Marion is a poor young woman living in an industrialized urban area, think London in the Victorian era, working as a housemaid. She supports her drug-addicted, dying brother. She sees a notice in the paper for a bloodmaid, and ends of applying in hopes that after her terms of indenture she will obtain financial and personal freedom.

In this world, aristocrats feed of the blood of poor women, and they live on the moors in the north. There's no indication, that I can see, that the blood does them actual good, and it's certainly not great for the people doing the bleeding.

The moors/moors are a staple of gothic literature because they're wild, untamed, and symbolically cruel. In Seanan Mcguire's Wayward Children series -- first book if the series is Every Heart a Doorway -- one of the world they visit and revisit is called The Moors, and it's the embodiment of where vampires and mad scientists reign.

What would you give or gamble to change your life? Would you bleed? How much? Alexis Henderson makes no bones about how this is a form of sex work. Bloodmaids are mistresses, jockying for favor, making the best choices they can with limited options in order to some day be independent.

Marion is indentured to Lisavet Bathory. If you're a fan of vampire stories or creepy history, you might have heard of this character's obvious inspiration, Countess Elizabeth Bathory, a Hungarian noblewoman. What she got up to in her spare time -- both real and rumored -- well, I suppose due to the nature of the homage, would be a bit of a spoiler to share. However, whenever you see a quip about bathing in the blood of virgins to retain your youth, you have those rumors to blame.

Lisavet is beautiful, mysterious, demanding, and the people in her sphere fall under her spell, no one more than Marion, and the other 4 bloodmaids. The story is blood-drenched, and as meat is repeatedly described it's clear that the women in this house are another form of meat served up in a futile effort to sate the insatiable.

It IS the House of Hunger.

Every chapter starts with a quote from bloodmaid.

"We are all alike in the fact that our great life's work is deciding who and what we're willing to bleed for." "We bleed for those we love most." "It's a strange thing to go from hungry ... to the thing hungered for."

I don't want to say much more about the plot, so I'll say the author has given a lot of thought of the role of classism and sexism. Exploitation. Sex work and sex trafficking. There's talk of how important youth is and how vulnerable that makes girls.

"We're broken into submission, by grief and poverty, long before we ever set foot in this House. And then we arrive, on the promise of the first kindness many of us have received in years, and you take advantage of weakness. You cultivate it, to better exploit us."

It's fine to read this as a horror novel, and it works great on that level, but I appreciated the thought and symbolism, which only further engaged me.

The last portion of the book was pretty tense and pretty scary. And extra bloody in a book with no shortage of blood.

I had this at 4 stars, but I'm bumping it up to 5, because it honestly gave me everything I needed in this subgenre, and I bookmarked a million passages.

"Sometimes I feel like I've been building you a House out of my own bones. And still, you look at me with so much contempt and mistrust. You complain because there are gaps in the roof of my ribs, and you ask me to give more of myself to fill them. You want my hips to be the bowl you drink from. My shoulders, your bed. My arms, your walls. My legs, the very ground you stand on. You want your fill of my blood whenever you crave it. What more do you want from me?"

[jcmarchi]

Creating connection with science communication

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/creating-connection-with-science-communication/

Creating connection with science communication

Before completing her undergraduate studies, Sophie Hartley, a student in MIT’s Graduate Program in Science Writing, had an epiphany that was years in the making.

“The classes I took in my last undergraduate semester changed my career goals, but it started with my grandfather,” she says when asked about what led her to science writing. She’d been studying comparative human development at the University of Chicago, which Hartley describes as “a combination of psychology and anthropology,” when she took courses in environmental writing and digital science communications.

“What if my life could be about learning more of life’s intricacies?” she thought.

Hartley’s grandfather introduced her to photography when she was younger, which helped her develop an appreciation for the natural world. Each summer, they would explore tide pools, overgrown forests, and his sprawling backyard. He gave her a camera and encouraged her to take pictures of anything interesting.

“Photography was a door into science journalism,” she notes. “It lets you capture the raw beauty of a moment and return to it later.”

Lasting impact through storytelling

Hartley spent time in Wisconsin and Vermont while growing up. That’s when she noticed a divide between rural communities and urban spaces. She wants to tell stories about communities that are less likely to be covered, and “connect them to people in cities who might not otherwise understand what’s happening and why.”

People have important roles to play in arresting climate change impacts, improving land management practices and policies, and taking better care of our natural resources, according to Hartley. Challenges related to conservation, land management, and farming affect us all, which is why she believes effective science writing is so important.

“We’re way more connected than we believe or understand,” Hartley says. “Climate change is creating problems throughout the entire agricultural supply chain.”

For her news writing course, Hartley wrote a story about how flooding in Vermont led to hay shortages, which impacted comestibles as diverse as goat cheese and beef. “When the hay can’t dry, it’s ruined,” she says. “That means cows and goats aren’t eating, which means they can’t produce our beef, milk, and cheese.”

Ultimately, Hartley believes her work can build compassion for others while also educating people about how everything we do affects nature and one another.

“The connective tissues between humans persist,” she said. “People who live in cities aren’t exempt from rural concerns.”

Creating connections with science writing

During her year-long study in the MIT Graduate Program in Science Writing, Hartley is also busy producing reporting for major news outlets.

Earlier this year, Hartley authored a piece for Ars Technica that explored ongoing efforts to develop technology aimed at preventing car collisions with kangaroos. As Hartley reported, given the unique and unpredictable behavior of kangaroos, vehicle animal detection systems have proven ineffective. That’s forced Australian communities to develop alternative solutions, such as virtual fencing, to keep kangaroos away from the roads.

In June, Hartley co-produced a story for GBH News with Hannah Richter, a fellow student in the science writing program. They reported on how and why officials at a new Peabody power plant are backtracking on an earlier pledge to run the facility on clean fuels.

The story was a collaboration between GBH News and the investigative journalism class in the science writing program. Hartley recalls wonderful experience working with Richter. “We were able to lean on each other’s strengths and learn from each other,” she says. “The piece took a long time to report and write, and it was helpful to have a friend and colleague to continuously motivate me when we would pick it back up after a while.”

Co-reporting can also help evenly divide what can sometimes become a massive workload, particularly with deeply, well-researched pieces like the Peabody story. “When there is so much research to do, it’s helpful to have another person to divvy up the work,” she continued. “It felt like everything was stronger and better, from the writing to the fact-checking, because we had two eyes on it during the reporting process.”

Hartley’s favorite piece in 2024 focused on beech leaf disease, a deadly pathogen devastating North American forests. Her story, which was later published in The Boston Globe Magazine, followed a team of four researchers racing to discover how the disease works. Beech leaf disease kills swiftly and en masse, leaving space for invasive species to thrive on forest floors. Her interest in land management and natural resources shines through in much of her work.

Local news organizations are an endangered species as newsrooms across America shed staff and increasingly rely on aggregated news accounts from larger organizations. What can be lost, however, are opportunities to tell small-scale stories with potentially large-scale impacts. “Small and rural accountability stories are being told less and less,” Hartley notes. “I think it’s important that communities are aware of what is happening around them, especially if it impacts them.”