#and i have the least benefits because i just graduated but due to how insane the workload is my pto is nof sustainable at all

[distort-opia]

Hey what's up. Huge fan of your blog and like your thoughts. I gotta lot of respect for your analysis, your writing, and how you work with the material for batman in general. You've mentioned a couple times or atleast hinted at possible diagnosis for Bruce and Joker, and while I do subscribe to the idea that due to the nature of comics, thier respective mental health issues are more symbolic than literal, I do, however, find it interesting and fun to try to identify them, especially since writers seem keen to slap stuff onto them on a whim. Also, I'm a psych graduate, but unlike you I'm getting my PhD in Communication research but I still work in neuro and psych spaces. Anyway this is my long winded way of asking if you have a general set of conditions that the two have. I personally think that they both have CPTSD and both display traits from both ASPD and BPD but to differing extents. Additionally, for Joker dissociative amnesia is a given, however like most things it's doesn't fit most descriptions for it.

Thank you for the kinds words, I'm glad you like my blog! And hey, another Psych graduate... somehow I know of at least 5 of us in this fandom, it's quite funny.

Indeed, it's tough to ascribe any kind of diagnosis to comic book characters, both because of how inconsistent characterization can be and because of how bad DC's approach to mental health has been. For Joker it's especially difficult, because "insanity" has been written as almost his superpower. Oooh he's so random and crazy! No one can understand his twisted mind! But well, I agree it's still interesting to try and parse the sheer knot of trauma these two characters are tangled in.

For Bruce, CPTSD (Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) is almost a given, since it's not just that he suffers from PTSD as a consequence of his parents' death, but that he also re-traumatizes himself pretty much every day, by being Batman. And even leaving that aside, there's such a long list of traumatic events Bruce has experienced since then, including almost committing murder or the death of his Robins on multiple occasions. Though I don't know if he matches the ASPD (antisocial personality disorder) criteria that well. Sure, by being Batman he fails to conform to social norms, uses violence and lies to people and does things worthy of arrest-- but it's by no means impulsive, or a consequence of an incapacity to control his actions. Bruce is much too capable of planning in advance, that's his whole schtick. And he's not doing these things with a selfish purpose, to benefit himself; he does them to help others. As to BPD (borderline personality disorder), I do see it more, though not to a large degree as I do for Joker. Bruce is terrified of abandonment, he's got unstable relationships, but that speaks to me more towards him having a disorganized type of attachment and not full blown BPD. When it comes to personality disorders, Bruce is much more on axis A-- closest to schizoid, I'd say (prefers to be alone, appears cold/disinterested in human interaction, limited expression of emotion, seems not to enjoy many activities, trouble with social cues, disinterest in the pursuit of sexual relations). With a dash of C when it comes to obsessive-compulsive traits (overly focused on details, order and rules, needs to be in control at all times, ignores personal relationships for work/the Mission/the Vow, cannot throw things away, rigid and stubborn, inflexible over values or morality).

However, I think a lot of this could also be due to him being on the autistic spectrum. His troubles with social cues, his inflexibility and need for order and categorization... and how successful he is at "masking", which is pretty much what the Bruce Wayne persona is. Besides, the thing is, Bruce is empathetic (though it's complicated). Individuals on the autistic spectrum tend to display intact or even excessive emotional empathy and lower cognitive empathy, with research showing that this can be overwhelming; they might have trouble regulating how much they empathize (potentially due to less self-other distinction) and thus end up avoiding it (like avoiding eye contact, for example). Look at Bruce's Family alone: so many of the people he took in were people he strongly related to, one way or another... this isn't something someone with ASPD would do, for instance.

Meanwhile, Joker's definitely much more on axis B. CPTSD for sure, as well as BPD, ASPD... I'd agree there's a lot of ground for both of the latter, including potentally NPD (narcissistic personality disorder). Joker is suffering through the consequences of trauma too, and he is impulsive, grandiose, reckless, uses violence, deceives and cons people, has an unstable sense of self, etc. Hell, I'd say he has traits that fit histrionic personality disorder too. His need for attention, overly dramatic behavior... I mean, the man nearly got himself killed in Devil's Advocate because he was enjoying the attention he was getting from Gotham so much. And if Bruce is potentially more on the autistic spectrum, Joker's on the psychopathy one, which -- again -- could account for many of the traits described above. I mean, just the first result Google puts out is incredibly fitting (glibness/superficial charm, grandiose sense of self-worth, need for stimulation/proneness to boredom, pathological lying, conning/manipulative, lack of remorse or guilt, shallow affect/reduced emotional responses, callous/lack of empathy). Coupled with ADHD (attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder) traits out the wazoo, which was an official diagnosis we got in comics for him. Although personally, I think Joker isn't a primary psychopath, but a secondary one. As in, while there's surely a genetic component, childhood trauma is what tipped the scales and led to him displaying these traits. I also definitely agree with the dissociative amnesia, though I'd group it together with the CPTSD, and also tie it to the unstable sense of self characteristic of BPD.

Got a bit too long, but yeah! To differing degrees, one could argue for a multitude of disorders... we haven't even touched depression (though I think Bruce and Joker are more likely to be diagnosed with recurrent major depressive disorder; they have episodes of depression, but don't always display the symptoms). Sorry for how long this took, but hope you found this interesting, Anon. And God, best of luck with that PhD, I hope it's going well!

[ptergwen]

web of lies

take a leap. if you start to fall, the net will appear to catch you.

photographer!peter x journalist!reader || masterlist

w/c: 7.1k

warnings: swearing, one drinking mention, descriptions of anxiety, and angst if ya squint

summary: peter can’t stop holding your hands, betty and ned are the modern day bonnie and clyde, ned is a terrible guy in the chair, the osborn’s are up to something, and mj hates you all

a/n: y’all i’m super excited about this series like i haven’t had an idea i’ve really loved in months? so it’s good to be back !!! there are tons of things i have planned and i can’t wait to share them with all of you hehe i really hope you enjoy part one <3 happy reading

to be honest, which is what you do best, you’ve had a thing for peter parker your whole time at the daily bugle. you actually almost told him once.

a couple months ago, peter walked you home on a night you worked overtime. he’d came in last minute to leave some pictures on your boss’s desk. no one else but you was there, hunched at your computer in the dim office lighting. peter was pleasantly surprised to see you, yet concerned for your well-being. you had to put your finishing touches on a story.

he didn’t feel comfortable letting you travel alone at that hour. so, he went with you when you were ready. his company was more than welcomed. you told peter about your article while you two sat on the subway. he’d listened intently, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm around you. he made sure you got to your apartment building alright as well.

“hey, peter?” you’d asked, halfway up the steps. he was waiting until you were inside and safe to leave. “hm? you good?” he’d smiled sort of expectantly. “yeah. i... i wanted to say...”

your words got caught in your throat when he gave you the softest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. you couldn’t do it. for some reason, you were too scared to confess how you felt. “thanks again for walking me home,” you’d settled on. he’d seemed disappointed that was what you wanted to tell him. nevertheless, he said not to worry about it before taking off.

that one moment perfectly captures it all; how yours and peter’s narrative plays itself out.

—

“we’ve got an update on hydra v. the people!”

“those freaky giraffes escaped the zoo... again.”

“shoot one more spitball and it’ll be your last.”

“does anyone have an aspirin?”

welcome to the daily bugle, where the chaos never ends and the calm never starts. you’ll find new york’s finest writers, publishers, and creatives of all kind right here. that would include you. you’re one of the top journalists in the whole building, according to mr. norman osborn. he’s the brilliant and slightly insane man who runs this place.

although it’s rare for someone in your field, you were hired straight out of college. norman read a few pieces you’d written and loved them so much that he offered you a job. full time, full benefits, no questions asked. there was something special about the way you wove your words together. your writing had its own voice. a strong voice, one the paper was severely lacking.

you’ve been with the bugle for just over a year now. it’s not the quiet, nine to five gig you were initially expecting it to be. you’re each very unique individuals in your office, and there’s never a dull moment because of it. your coworkers can be found hosting debates on the riskiest topics or tackling each other for blueberry muffins, and that’s just a regular tuesday. the place is stranger than strange. but, it’s become home.

thanks to mr. osborn being so accommodating, you actually settled in rather quickly. another big help has been the friends you’ve made. your first was michelle jones, who prefers to be called mj. she’s a fellow journalist with a wickedly dark humor that trickles into her writing. if you had to describe her in one word, it would be blunt. mj is as real as it gets, and also eternally loyal. she keeps her circle small, so you’re honored you get to be in it.

mj sits right next to you, which means you’re always talking through your days. that’s due in part to the way your office is set up. there aren’t any cubicles, tables and swirly chairs taking up their space instead. norman heard it was more progressive, probably from his son harry.

harry is about your age, only a couple of years older. he hangs around quite a lot, but doesn’t do much with his time besides that. according to norman, he’s still seeking out his passion. he’s banking on him finding a suitable career at the bugle. he’d like to pass this all on to harry some day, hopefully sooner than later. either way, you don’t mind having harry here. he’s super funny and friendly with everyone.

there’s also ned leeds, who’s an editor and reviews most of your pieces. he’s sweeter than candy, even when he’s ripping your grammar to shreds. on the rare occasions you’re not discussing breaking news, you two talk about movies. ned is a film buff and gives you the best recommendations. you’re convinced he was a critic in his past life.

last but so from least is peter parker. he only works for the bugle part time, since he’s still in school. you both graduated from your respective colleges the same year. peter wants to get his masters degree, though. he’s a photographer who’s aspiring to be a cinematographer. him and ned have their passion for the industry in common, and that’s what makes them such great friends.

you learned this and more from the times you and peter have partnered up on stories. he’s one of your best friends not only at the bugle, but in your entire life. the many long nights you’ve spent collaborating have brought you close to each other. they consist of drinking and deep talks, along with some actual work. he takes the pictures, you do the writing. you’ve been told you make a lovely pair.

peter says it himself, too. you’d like to believe he means it as more than coworkers. he’s so caring, and smart, and pure, and peter. yeah, you like him an awful lot. you can hardly stand the feeling of it sometimes.

the fact that you you haven’t come clean already is ridiculous.

“goddamn. not again,” you mutter out. “em, you better come look at this. it’s bad.” mj wheels over to you in her chair with a puzzled look. her eyes follow yours, landing on your computer. “leeds just sent this? to everyone?” she questions, your reply a short hum. you’re both staring daggers at the email your screen displays.

ned is responsible for assigning each journalist their own topics to cover. he’s been lacking a bit recently, having you write up think pieces on fluffy things. in other words, stuff that no one cares about. he asked you to compare oat milk and almond milk just last week. you’d hoped this week would be better, but here you are.

“this is ass. who does he think we are, buzzfeed?” mj scoffs at her own words. the daily bugle prides itself on being a reliable news source, on paper and tv. you’re starting to stoop down to the low level of your competitors. “he assigned me some tiktok dance trend. i’m not writing a single word about that app.” she sets her elbows down on the table, head in her hands.

“aw, why not? grandma mj isn’t down with the kids?” you tease and click out of the upsetting email. “i don’t write for kids,” mj deadpans. she pushes her glasses up on her nose. “what’d you get?” “the evolution of memes,” you gloomily reply. you’re surprised norman has been approving these topics. then again, ned is the head editor. he can do whatever he wants regardless of approval.

mj glares over at the kitchen, where betty brant currently resides. she’s making two hot chocolates instead of her usual one. “i blame her,” mj mumbles to you. your eyebrows furrow. “dude, what? betty is an angel. she doesn’t even work in editing.” betty is the bugle’s highest rated anchorwoman. her and her news team are on people’s televisions every night.

“no, but she has been spending a generous amount of time with leeds,” mj grumbles. she’s admittedly very nosy. the upside is that she tells you any juicy office drama there is. “my theory is betty’s making him give us crap stories so she can report the good ones.” she glances over at you to see what you think. “no way. that can’t be allowed... or legal,” you laugh back.

as if on cue, ned appears next to betty in the kitchen. he takes the extra hot coco that’s piled high with whipped cream. betty tucks a sheet of paper into his suit pocket and kisses his cheek, then he’s gone. you can only gasp as you watch this unfold. what has she done to poor, clueless ned?

“not such an angel anymore, huh?” mj smirks in satisfaction. “suddenly, she has red horns and a pitchfork,” you bitterly agree with your tongue in your cheek. betty waves to you two on her way back to broadcasting. mj gives her a fake nice finger wave, you ignoring her. “we can’t sit back and let this happen, em. we have to do something,” you decide. “let’s tell norman.”

uninterested, mj takes off her glasses and starts to clean them. “like he’ll believe us. yeah, golden girl betty brant is sabotaging the writer’s room,” she rewords her previous statement to put its stupidity in perspective. you throw your hands up. “she is, though! we literally watched it happen!” mj puts her freshly wiped glasses back on and sighs.

“i doubt norman would care, y/n. every newspaper to ever exist is corrupt somehow.” your pessimistic old pal has a point. however, you’re not so willing to accept it. “why can’t we be the first one that isn’t?” you offer a small smile. mj snickers, wheeling back to her own computer. “those are words of the innocent.” she’s already tapping her fingers across the keyboard.

“i thought you weren’t doing the tiktok piece,” you say under your breath. you’re slightly pissed mj turned you down, since she’s the reason you know about betty’s meddling. “i’m not,” mj answers sharply. “i’m gonna email quentin and ask if we can change our topics. happy?” quentin beck is another editor in the building. he’s not bad, but he is intimidating. no one typically goes to him as their first option.

“i’m thrilled,” you confirm and grin at mj to emphasize it. “thanks for stepping up. you’re forgiven.” “i didn’t realize i had to be sorry,” mj notes, this time in a playful manor. she shakes her head as she begins writing. “you and your morals.”

what you value most in your career is honesty, under any circumstances. of course, the other daily bugle writers are the same. norman strictly prohibits clickbait and crazy headlines because that isn’t real news. you leave that to companies like buzzfeed. you’re honest in the sense that you say whatever has to be said, what everyone else is too afraid to. you’ll speak your truth no matter who tries to stop you.

it didn’t used to be that way. there’s some childhood trauma that remains deep in the back of your mind. you’ve left that behind you now, having over a decade to cope with it. hey, they say the past is in the past. what’s important is your takeaway, that you would never let yourself or anyone else be silenced from there on out. never again.

quentin ends up giving you the okay to write different stories. he lets you and mj choose choose your own because he’s got “better things to do” and you’re “big girls.” what a peach he is. mj goes with how capitalism is continuing to provoke global warming. she has something to say about every major world issue, and you admire the hell out of her for it.

you’re a bit stuck when it’s time to write your article. it’s terribly ironic because you pushed for this. you aren’t too worried, though. the city is crawling with material, so you’ll find what you’re looking for eventually. lucky for you, some much needed inspiration comes skipping out of the elevator.

“morning, peter,” you hear liz greet him at the front desk. she’s your floor’s receptionist. her wisdom and patience keep this place going. “hi, liz. how’s it going?” he asks. “things have been quiet... mostly. can i do anything for you?” liz peers up at him. peter sports a shy smile. “uh, yeah. mr. osborn wanted to see me?” “right. hang on.” she nods, dialing his office phone number.

it’s endearing how peter calls him mr. osborn, seeing as the rest of you go with norman. he’s probably the politest guy you’ve ever met.

grinning, liz puts down the phone. “you can go in whenever you’re ready. good luck!” peter laughs nervously and turns to leave. “thanks, you too.” his face falls when he realizes his mistake. “wait, i- i didn’t mean to say that. that was stupid. you’re not-“ “it’s fine, peter,” liz reassures him. his anxiety makes him trip over his words sometimes. that, and he’s a bit dorky in general. you find it rather adorable.

you also wonder what exactly he needs good luck for. he’s not even supposed to be working today, so your curiosity as to what’s going on has been piqued.

“um, i’m gonna go now. bye!” peter rushes off, his face tinted pink from the embarrassing encounter. you’re hoping he’ll stop and talk with you for a little while, but he heads straight to norman’s office. your whole body deflates at that. mj notices from her peripherals.

“what’s the matter? missing your hubby?” she coos, her words dripping in sarcasm. “no,” you lie. “i’m... i don’t know what to write about.” ok, there’s some truth. mj gives you a couple pats on the shoulder. “ask parker for help. you two work... well together. don’t you?” this must be the zillionth time you’ve heard that.

“we do,” you murmur and glance at norman’s closed door. peter is hidden behind it. “i just don’t wanna bug him. he has finals soon, and whatever norman is putting him up to. it’s my job, anyway.” mj pokes your arm. “those sound like excuses to me,” she concludes, still jabbing at you childishly. “you really just don’t wanna tell him you like-“

“can you keep it down?” you hiss, yanking your arm back. “he’s literally right over there.” peter stands up and shakes norman’s hand. you catch it through the blinds on his window. “y/n, you were drooling over his mere presence only minutes ago,” mj prefaces, a smile pulling at her lips. “you can handle three little words. i like you, that’s it. spit it out already.”

you’ll never admit this to mj, but she’s right. you lost your momentum after your first failed attempt to say the three little words. you’re still not sure what stopped you. you’d shared the details of that faithful night with her, and she’s been pushing you to try again since.

the door to norman’s office opens, and out walks peter. he’s beaming after their conversation, which seems like a good sign. harry passes peter on his way in to pay his dad a visit. he claps him on the shoulder, peter happily accepting before continuing his stride back into the main office. it takes a moment to register that he’s coming towards you.

you quickly set your focus back on your computer so he doesn’t think you’ve been watching him. even though, you definitely have.

“y/n!” peter calls your name. he’s on the opposite side of your table, in front of you. “peter!” you match his tone. “i was just dropping by. i thought i’d say hey while i’m here.” he’s still grinning. “what’re you doing?” he looks cute as ever in an oversized and cream colored sweater. his curls are slicked back with a tad too much product, cheeks rosy. you gaze up at him when he rests his arms on the table.

“pretending to be productive,” mj answers for you, pressing her lips together. peter cocks his head to the side. “pretending?” “ignore her. she’s being a shit stirrer today,” you explain. “like every other day,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you. mj just tuts and keeps writing. “talk about me like i’m not here,” she mumbles to herself, then gets back into her article.

“anyways, i thought you didn’t work today?” you ask to take the attention off yourself. also, because you’re curious. “oh! get this.” peter perks up even more, if that’s possible. he has energy like no other. “you know alex in broadcasting? betty’s camera guy?” “what about him?” you wonder. “he called in sick earlier this morning, with the flu or something.” he’s oddly excited to announce this. that prompts you to make a funny face.

biting back another smile, peter elaborates. “mr. osborn needed someone to fill in for him, so he picked me. i’ll be here all week.” it makes sense, since peter knows how to work a camera and does so wonderfully. you give him a celebratory push at his chest. “peter, that’s amazing! this is the perfect way to transition from pictures to film, right?” he’s nearing his finals at school, which consist of more movie-like projects. the news will be great practice.

then, he’s off to hollywood. you’ll put that out of your mind for now.

“exactly! i think it’ll be a good place to start. the pay isn’t bad either.” peter wiggles his eyebrows at you, you giggling once again. you do a lot of that when he’s around. that’s going to be more often now. “plus, i get to see you. everyone wins.” he squeezes your hand that was just on him. your heart begins to thump. “except alex,” you challenge, playing with his fingers. “but, for real. i’m happy you get to do this and that we’ll be spending more time together.”

“thanks, y/n/n. me too.” peter grins and leans over, taking a peek at your computer screen. there’s a blank word document on it. “you never told me what you’re up to,” he chuckles. “guess mj was right... nothing.” “i’m always right,” she chimes in from next to you. you look between the two of them with a scowl. “i haven’t found my story yet. i don’t know, this never happens.” peter nods as you share your dilemma. “no good ideas are coming to me,” you murmur.

“they will. you have a way of attracting things.” he licks his lower lip, your heart completely stopping this time. “well, i gotta go set up for rise and shine with betty brant.” he waves his hand like he’s presenting his words. that’s what betty calls her morning news segment. “be careful with her. she’s being really sketchy these days,” you warn peter, mj grunting in agreement.

confused, peter purses his lips. “really? ned says she’s a sweetheart. they’ve been going out for a while.” mj pops her head up and adjusts her glasses. “did ned also tell you she’s bribing him to give her all of our scoops?” she’s asking rhetorically because she already knows the answer. of course he didn’t. “it’s one thing to not like her. you’re just making things up now,” peter huffs.

mj kicks your foot under the table. “i told you no one would believe us. not even peter gullible parker.” “it’s benjamin,” he corrects her. “whatever,” she brushes it off, resuming her work.

peter does tend to be sort of naive, to only see the good in things when there’s plenty of bad. you’re the same in that way, unless you hang around mj for too long.

“is that true? betty’s stealing your stories?” peter turns to you and asks. you gesture to your screen. “i don’t have one, so you do the math.” he hums sympathetically. he’ll listen to you, never mj. “i’m sorry. thanks for telling me, y/n. i’ll watch out for her.” he bends his fingers to look like goggles, putting them around his eyes. you sigh lightheartedly.

“are you twenty two years old or twelve?” mj remarks, but not without a comeback from peter. “you’re, like, eighty five. worry about that.” they’ve had this type of banter for as long as you’ve known them. it’s equal parts amusing and exhausting. “don’t be late on your first day.” you snap peter out of it with a knowing smile. he returns it.

“i hope something crazy happens so you can write about it.” he’s walking backwards now, towards the elevator. “see you later, pete,” is all you say back, yet another laugh threatening to escape you. “see you. bye, michelle,” peter says just to bug her. “it’s mj,” she groans without looking up. he shrugs. “not so fun, is it?”

after peter is gone, you try to get back into work. or rather, you try to start your work. what he said about you having a way of attracting things keeps ringing in your head. was he flirting? no, he couldn’t have been. peter parker doesn’t flirt. words aren’t his strong suit, and you have countless memories that prove this to be true. earlier with liz, for example.

you’re probably reading way into this. peter was simply doing what any good friend would do and gave you advice.

it’s late in the afternoon when anything worth mentioning happens again. peter is still with betty, as far as you know. they’re probably preparing for the nighttime news now. all you’ve done since seeing him is nibble on snacks and bug mj, who’s almost done with her story despite your distractions. this is really bad, considering your deadline to submit is at the end of today.

you’ve never missed a deadline.

mj emails her work to quentin while you repeatedly bang your head on the table. she hits send before deciding to entertain you. “whatcha doing over there?” she cautiously prompts, powering off her computer. “trying to get an idea. i’m desperate, if you couldn’t tell.” your voice is muffled. “i could.” mj grabs your shoulders and pulls you back so you’re sitting up. you childishly pout.

“y/n, the only thing that’s gonna give you is brain damage,” mj says sternly, then softens her tone. “why don’t you ask for an extension? norman gives me them all the time.” whining, you slump down in your chair again. “yeah, but you’re you! we do things differently, have different expectations put on us.” she’s back to cold mj after you say that. “alright. at least i did something today besides pine over that little-“

mj’s insult for peter is interrupted by harry. “ladies, what’s shaking?” he comes up to you two with a the hint of smirk on his face. you manage a nod to acknowledge him. “oh, hey... harry,” mj unenthusiastically replies. she’s the one person who isn’t really a fan of him. “not much. y/n was just having a tantrum.” “she was not,” you dismiss her. “it’s work stuff. you know your dad.”

harry clicks his tongue in a teasing way. “yep, the grind never stops in this joint. boss man is...” he does the sign for cuckoo with his finger. you laugh a little at that. “in a good way,” you add on. mj only watches you two, blinking blankly. harry gives you a definitive pat on the back. “before i forget, he wants to see you.” that gets mj talking. “norman?” she questions. “your dad?” you choke out at the same time.

“who else? he said you two have to talk.” harry flashes you a weary smile. “have fun in there, old sport.” you’re too busy biting the skin off your bottom lip to respond. “mhm... she will,” mj speaks on your behalf. even she sounds worried. saluting you both, harry leaves to go pester your other colleagues. you’re completely and totally fucked.

“that’s it for me!” you grin sarcastically, freaked out by harry. “i’m fired, aren’t i? i’m definitely about to get fired, and it’s all because-“ “relax!” mj cuts off your rambling. she reaches down and grasps at your wrists. “get it together, y/l/n. you’re the best we have, okay? you aren’t going anywhere.” your grin becomes a frown. “then why does norman wanna talk to me? and, why don’t i have a story?”

mj always has the answers, but this time is the execption. she lets out a breath. “i don’t know. you’ll go find out and tell me what happens.” there’s no use protesting. you’re going to have to face whatever you’re about to at some point. “ok,” you give in, defeated. “i’ll be back soon, i hope.”

the walk to norman’s office feels like a walk of shame. mj can do nothing but sit back and observe it. if this ends the way you think it will, you’ll be collecting your things and won’t ever return. norman is a kind man, and he’s usually pretty understanding. he doesn’t mind the workplace shenanigans as long as you get your job done. unfortunately, you haven’t today.

you hear your boss’s booming voice when you approach his door. inhaling deep, you knock on it, and the room goes silent. “come in,” norman responds after a few seconds. mustering up a smile, you open the door to be met with your doom. “hi, am i interrupting something?” you check. “not at all! you’re just the person i wanted to see. sit, sit,” he beckons you over. he’s not using his angry voice, so maybe you’re in the clear. you enter the room as told.

you’re shocked to see a terrified peter is already in one of the chairs. he visibly relaxes a bit now that you’re here. what the hell is happening? whatever you were expecting, this was the last thing.

taking the armchair next to peter, you sit facing norman’s desk. you nudge his arm to get his attention. his big brown eyes lock with yours. “what’s going on?” you whisper. “no idea,” peter whispers back. the two of you turn to norman again when he claps his hands. he’s plopped down into his cushy leather seat.

“so,” he begins, gaze flicking from peter to you. “you kids know why you’re here?” “is it because i missed my deadline?” you blurt out. you’re once again a nervous wreck. peter doesn’t speak, just winces. “not that. although, i did hear from ned that you turned down his assignment.” norman flicks at a post-it on his desk. “i asked quentin for one instead. me and mj,” you explain, peter’s eyes going wide.

“you talked to quentin? that guy’s bad news,” he murmurs to you. “how so?” norman questions, since it’s his employee. “he- he, um,” peter clears his throat before answering, “he’s super critical, you know? hates all my pictures.” “i love your pictures,” you assure him, the corners of his lips turning up. “your style is so cool. yeah, though. quentin’s pretty bitter.”

considering this, norman drums his fingers on the desk. “i’ll look into that. but, that isn’t why you’re here. i’m letting you off the hook this time.” your whole demeanor changes and a huge weight lifts off of you. “really? you are?” “i have a scoop of my own that i want you to cover,” he continues, peter bumping your knee happily. a toothy grin takes over your face.

“since peter will be sticking around for a while, i want him to join you.” norman waits a beat in case you have any questions. it’s been a minute since you last worked together. peter laughs in disbelief. “you want me to take over for alex and do this?” norman nods proudly. “y/n will need the extra hands, if you have them.” “yes, sir. i do,” peter immediately confirms. “my last class is next thursday, so i have the time.”

“wait, so you’re almost done? that’s awesome!” you bump peter’s knee this time. “yup, all that’s left is finals... and studying.” he mindlessly takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. you’re enjoying his gentle touches. “thank you so much, norman. seriously, i appreciate this a lot,” you tell him and mean it. “hey, no problem,” he chuckles at your eagerness. you grip peter’s hand tighter.

“what’s the story?” “ah, yes. the most important part,” norman starts, peter sharing an excited look with you. “how familiar are you two with spider-man?” his excitement fades at the question posed. it’s unbeknownst to you, caught up in the moment. “uh, same as everyone else, i guess,” you casually reply. “how come?” “he’s your subject.” norman points at you both. “you’re gonna study him over these next few months.”

peter’s hand goes limp in yours, and he gulps hard, throat feeling dry. “you mean, like, an exposé?” “no, no. there will be no exposing,” norman clarifies. “i’m sure he wears the mask for a reason.” that settles peter only slightly. you’re not sure why he’s so tense all of a sudden. “what’s our aim here, then?” you steer the conversation.

“see what new york’s favorite hero gets up to every day, how his life is beyond the crime fighting,” norman further describes your task. peter exhales a shaky breath, shifting away from you in his seat. the golden sun hits his face and reveals a bead of sweat dripping down it. you stare at his figure in worry. “you okay, peter?” “fine. i’m just... hot,” he murmurs back. his sweater does look pretty heavy, so you concede.

getting back to norman’s story, you grimace at the idea. “do you really think people will want to read that? for lack of a better term, it sounds kind of...” you pause. “basic.” “i thought the same thing at first,” he surprisingly agrees with you. “harry pitched the idea to me this morning. you won’t believe it! the other night, he caught spider-man hanging outside his window.”

“harry... harry saw him?” peter squeaks out. he uses the wool material that feels like it’s swallowing him to dab at his forehead. “he stopped on his balcony. must have been pretty late, the kid’s a night owl,” norman says about his son. your face lights up as you listen to him. “he took some shots of spidey in action, when he swung off. i saw a few. they were pretty great.” he’s grinning at his son’s success.

“maybe he’ll get into photography with you, pete,” norman suggests. peter gives him a weak smile in return. “we’d be happy to have him.” he usually has a lot more to say about his career than that. his behavior is starting to genuinely concern you. “anyway,” norman gets back on topic, “it got me thinking. how much do we really know about this guy? we’re supposed to blindly put our trust in him?”

you’re beginning to see the appeal now. you’ve written your share of pieces on the avengers and their methods, tackling the same questions norman just asked you. spider-man shouldn’t be overlooked, especially when he operates so close to your home. this could be another revolutionary superhero story in the making. and, you get to bring peter along for the ride.

“you know what? this has a lot of potential,” you smile at norman, then peter. he has his phone in his lap, fingers flying across the screen. it must be something important. you’ll discuss with norman while he takes care of that. “we could make it a weekly thing, about spider-man’s adventures. find out what we can about the man behind the mask...” peter shoots up in his seat. “without taking it off,” you finish, putting his mind at ease.

“see, i knew you were gonna love it! it was a blessing in disguise, you missing that deadline.” norman bangs his fist on the table with a hearty laugh. “what do you say, peter? you still in?” peter slips his phone back in his pocket. his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. “oh, of course. i can’t wait to work with you, y/n/n,” he speaks in a monotone voice, adding on, “again.”

something is definitely bothering him, and it isn’t the weather.

“i gotta go. betty needs me upstairs, so,” peter moves to get up, his body stiff. you assume that’s who he was texting. “thank you again, mr. osborn.” he’s rushing out of the room just like that, until you call after him. “um, don’t you wanna set a time to meet up? so we can get started?” you reasonably ask. “i... i really gotta go. find me later,” peter tells you, giving you both a tight lipped smile and running off.

“the dynamic duo is back!” norman announces to you. you’re disappointed you can’t share that sentiment with peter.

he’s absolutely booking it down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the next elevator. this is bad. this is a nightmare.

peter went from having one of his best days in a while to the worst in not even a full round of work. today started off fine, and got better when norman promoted him. it got way better when you came along. he saw your smile that makes his insides tingle, heard your laugh that’s the prettiest sound to grace his ears, held your hand that he never wants let go.

things went a bit downhill after that. betty was pushy and yelled at him a lot, demanding he only film her good angles for the segment. you and mj weren’t wrong when you told him to be careful.

later on when he saw you again, everything was okay. he was physically shaking as brad told him mr. osborn requested to see him. brad is mr. osborn’s assistant. a try-hard for sure, but good at his job. why did mr. osborn call him in? did betty complain already?

they’d been sitting in mostly silence, save for small talk until you came knocking on the door. simply being next to you was enough to ground peter and his racing thoughts. it was enough, then it wasn’t.

the whole day had gone to shit after he found out you were going to be writing stories about his alter ego. not only that, but he was helping. during the pitch, he’d texted ned to meet him in the bathroom. he was really anxious and needed a friend who understood why.

ned accidentally found out peter is spider-man last year. it’s a long story that involves peter hiding from some bad guys in the building and ned shrieking so loud the lights flickered. they’re cool now that peter talked things through with him. his secret has been kept, from what he knows.

pushing open the men’s bathroom door, peter is a mixture of sweat and ragged breaths. he’s panting from his fast descent down the staircase. he takes in his disheveled appearance using one of the mirrors. his styled hair is now damp and undone, hands trembling and palms sweaty, chest heaving. here’s his daily reminder that anxiety is not cute. as if he didn’t know.

his stupid, gigantic freaking sweater is only making things worse. it’s suffocating him. no one else is in here, so peter pulls it over his head and tosses it to the ground. he’s got a t-shirt on underneath that happens to be black. what a convenient day for him to wear the hottest material there is.

peter splashes his face with some cold water next to try and cool himself down. that doesn’t do much for him. his face still feels like it’s on fire, but now it’s wet. he takes his hands through his mop of curls, backing away from the sink.

“fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck,” peter repeats to himself. he’s silent for a moment, then rage overcomes him. he kicks open a bathroom stall. “shit! i can’t do this. what am i supposed to-“

the door creeks open, so peter shuts up in case it isn’t ned. it thankfully is, and he wears a deep frown at the sight of his best friend. “dude, what happened? you look...” “terrible. i know,” peter finishes for him. he tugs at his locks in another attempt to tame them. ned approaches him carefully. “you’re not, like, dying... are you? because betty was telling me you have to-“ “of course you were with betty,” peter exhales in frustration. “no, ned. i’m not dying.”

in ned’s defense, the text he received was very alarming. all peter wrote was, ‘EMERGENCY. SOS.’

“i mean, yeah. it was my break.” ned sits on the ledge by the window, close to peter. “you do the same with y/n.” the mention of your name upsets peter all over again. he hides his face in his hands as ned watches. “if you’re not dying, then what’s the problem?” ned finally asks. “me and y/n...” peter removes his hands from his face, meeting ned’s worried eyes. “mr. osborn wants us to do a project together.”

“uh, peter? you’ve been saying how much you miss her forever, dude! you’re not excited?” ned snorts at him. he means well, but he has no clue what he’s talking about. “no. it’s supposed to be about spider-man,” peter answers angrily. this isn’t the support he was hoping for. realizing the severity of the situation, ned gets serious.

“oh... but, you’re still doing it?” he questions. “i didn’t have a choice,” peter scoffs out. “i can’t let either of them down.” “you’ll expose yourself!” ned escalates things further. “it’s not like that. we’re gonna follow spider-man around and post updates on him,” peter says, technically in the third person. he’s given an are you insane? look from ned.

“you are spider-man! and, no offense, but you’re not so good at hiding it,” ned refers to himself finding out. “how are you gonna be in two places at once?” damnit, peter hadn’t thought about that yet. he can’t be taking pictures of spider-man and swinging from building to building simultaneously. “i- i’ll figure it out,” peter stammers, unconvincingly.

ned looks him over in a disapproving way. “jeez. you’re really putting your life on the line for this girl-“ “woman,” peter interjects, not loving ned’s attitude towards you. “have some respect.” unfazed, ned gets up from the windowsill. “speaking of women, remember betty? you’re still on the clock,” he changes the subject. peter nearly forgot he has to go film her segment.

“i’ll head up to her now,” peter gives in. he scoops up his discarded sweater, not bothering to check his appearance again. ned follows behind him to the door. “we wrote her script together, you know,” he gladly informs peter, who already knows from you. “not really a flex,” peter mumbles his response. “peter, lighten up.” ned hits at his shoulder. the two of them exit the bathroom.

“you’ll figure this out later. i can always help.” he shoots him a sugary sweet smile. “thanks, ned. for talking with me and everything.” peter doesn’t smile back. they do a quick bro handshake, then they’re going their separate ways. “have a good show, dude!” ned yells back, to which he doesn’t get a response. peter doesn’t have it in him.

he allows himself to take the elevator back up to broadcasting. he’s so drained from the several anxiety attacks he endured. while peter waists for the elevator, he contemplates all the issues he’d better solve. it’s a relief to hear it ding because it brings him back to earth. that doesn’t last long because both you and betty are there when the door opens.

you’d each had the same idea, to find peter. unlike betty, your intentions were good. you asked liz if she saw peter leave. she told you he went downstairs, so you did also. betty was already in the elevator when it got to your stop. she was looking for him because, you guessed it, he had to record the news. the small space was filled with tension as you and betty occupied it.

“perfect. we’re going right back up,” betty beams, motioning for peter with her index finger. “hop in!” “coming,” peter does as told, going to stand between you and betty. she presses the button for your floor and theirs. the doors close. “pete?” you speak up, voice soft. “you kinda ran off earlier. i thought you were with betty.” “clearly, he wasn’t,” betty sneers.

you’re less concerned with her and more with peter. the sweater he looked so huggable in is now folded in his arms, his face splotchy and jaw clenched. he must have gotten triggered by something back in norman’s office.

“are you sure you’re okay? you... you can talk to me about it.” you take a step closer to peter, your doe eyes searching for his. he meets them with a tiny smile. at least, it’s real this time. “i’ll be fine, y/n/n. ‘s nice that you came to check on me, though.” “don’t mention it.” your arms loop around his neck and bring him into a hug. peter hugs you back by your middle, chin resting on your shoulder, breathing out in relief.

you keep your hands on his shoulders when you pull back. his stay on your sides, a lopsided grin now crossing his features. “spider-man...” you quirk an eyebrow. “how are you feeling about that?” “should be cool,” peter somehow maintains himself. “i’m mostly looking forward to doing it with you.”

listening in, betty joins the conversation. “what’s happening with spider-man? anything i should know?” her hand reaches into her bag and emerges with a notepad. does she ever think of her own content? “she’s nothing if not persistent,” you grumble to peter. chuckling, he pulls you into his chest. if he didn’t hold you back, you would’ve pounced on her.

“we’re gonna do a piece on him,” peter tells her. “you can’t copy or steal this one because it’s already been approved,” you contribute, smiling smugly as peter holds you tighter. betty is taken aback. “are you accusing me of stealing? who said i-“ “ned ratted on you... sorry,” peter says in a sing song voice. squealing, you jump away from him. “he did? we were right?”

“mj’s never wrong,” he reiterates. “mj knew about this? oh my god, i can’t believe her!” betty stomps her foot. “we got you on candid camera.” you make a clicking noise with your mouth. peter mimes taking a picture to back you up. “alright, alright. i won’t do it again,” betty mumbles, turning away from you two in annoyance.

“finally!” you hold up your hand for a high five, which peter gives you. “we really do make the best team,” he hums. your fingers intertwine with peter’s, and he lays his palm flat against yours. he prays extremely hard you don’t notice that it’s sweaty. you do, but you couldn’t care less.

“i was wondering when you’d wanna start our... research?” peter asks you, his lip between his teeth. “you were saying something earlier. maybe we could make a schedule.” “how elaborate of us that would be,” you tease. that earns a breathy laugh from peter. with a knowing smile, you put your free hand back on his shoulder.

“what are you doing tonight?”

-

peter parker taglist

@saturnpeter @tpwk-grande @itstaskeen @missyouhollnd @becicamina @dummiesshort @zspideyy @watchitimreadinghere @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @dpaccione @karispotters11 @theofficialzivadavid @thehumanistsdiary @kelieah @aayaissaa @petersgroupie @annab-nana @tayyx @swtltlmrvlgrl @magicalxdaydream @haoluvver @kjune113 @captainamirica @marvel-dork98 @emmastarz @killingbxys @viriditie @misshale21 @veryholland @liliswifts @tommydarlings @rebelemilu @peterspideysense @cr-uelsummer @dreamy-clousds @quaksonhehe @quxxnxfhxll @blackbat2020 @babyblue19 @falconxbarnes @zachary-s @dirtytissuebox @dracoswhore007 @heavenlyholland @thsquad @etheralholland @dhtomholland @awh-lilies @tomshufflepuff @multifamdomfan12

-

if i forgot you please lmk!

[scuttle-buttle]

Chapter 9

WC: 1196

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: fluff?, mentions of physical disability & self consciousness, mentions of substance use

A/N: Wavy Gravy is the raddest man. I love him.

🧠

The room was beyond crowded as you stood next to Dr. Kreizler. Bitsy really wasn’t joking when she told you how chaotic these conferences get. You had already sat through one reading with him that morning. It was interesting enough.

“And you must be the famous TA Laszlo has told us all about!” came a rich bellow from behind you. You whipped around to face the man, a good head taller than you. He wore a bright smile which was so in contrast to the face of the doctor.

“Oh…?” you go to shake his proffered hand.

“John Schuyler Moore, photojournalism professor and friend of our dear alienist.”

“Oh! Yes, Dr. Moore,” nodding your head a little, you notice a much shorter blonde woman stroll up beside him. “Please, just John is fine,” he insists.

“Don’t give the poor girl a heart attack, John. Sara Howard, it’s nice to finally meet you.” You shake hands as well. She is petite, but right away you can sense a strength and poise about her. “Laszlo has told us a great deal about you.”

You glance at the man from the corner of your eye. He is giving Sara a stern look. “I see. I wasn’t aware he spoke of me.”

“He sings your praises on the regular,” she laughs.

An awkward grunt makes its way up your throat at her comment. He’s told you that your work was ‘satisfactory’ but there was no way he would go so far as to talk about you with his friends and colleagues. You figure the two are just being friendly.

“Laszlo, if I may,” John signals to another part of the room for the doctor to follow. With a nod the two men go off, leaving you with Dr. Howard.

She moves in to stand closer to your side. “I hope he’s been treating you well, Laszlo is not the easiest to deal with at times. He pays no mind to what is considered polite conversation etiquette.” At your blanching she adds “you can speak freely with me about it. He can be an ass, I’m the first to admit and call him out on it.” She smiles at you.

“Dr. Howard I’m-”

“Oh no please, call me Sara. We aren’t so far apart in age and you’re a graduate student. There is no need for formal titles.” The two of you chat for almost half an hour, mostly on the topic of the doctor before the men rejoin you. You don't speak as you would with Bitsy, but you find it very easy to trust and confide in Sara. John looks rather pleased with himself upon his return. You do catch the slight wink he gives Sara. Dr. Kreizler, on the other hand, appears as though he’s been told he needs a root canal.

The four of you spend the next couple hours perusing the new selections and attending a few of the reading demonstrations. John is almost like a dog, you think, overly friendly and does his best to include you in the conversations the trio have. Sara communicates with you through her facial expressions and eye rolls at the men. You are certain you even hear the doctor crack a joke or two. You carry the tote bag of books that Kreizler has purchased, despite John repeatedly attempting to assist. It’s good that the doctor has people like them, you think.

Sara and John eventually excused themselves for the night. Around 8pm the doctor turns to you. “There is a reading on a new monograph about Woodstock that starts in fifteen minutes. I have put our names on the list.”

You blink at him. “Woodstock. Like sex, drugs, and rock & roll, Woodstock '69, Woodstock?”

“Is there another?” He lifts his brows in exasperation as he considers you.

“No? Doesn’t sound like something you’d be into, though,” you argue lightly.

“Not particularly. But I thought you would find it useful towards your own studies. I know you are fond of it.”

A faint flutter broke out in your gut at his words. Never in your life had you thought this man would care enough to think of you and your own interests, especially not when this trip was for his own benefit. You had assumed you would need to beg to be let off for a few hours to seek out the history and sociology seminars. Time had frozen as you stared at him.

Maybe he did care?

“Are you alright?” he finally asked, concerned.

“Hm? Oh yeah, I’m fine. That sounds really great, thank you.”

Dr. Kreizler guides you to the proper hall and you find your seats. The space was more cramped than you were overall comfortable with. Or rather, you were uncomfortable due to the proximity in which you and the professor sat. At least that is what you told yourself.

The room was packed, chairs placed tightly together. You sat to his right side. It was close enough that you could smell the cologne he wore; something spicy and citrusy and intoxicating. Barely a hair's breadth separated you from each other. He was warm against you. Often your thighs would touch, or even his weaker arm along your own. You could just feel the boney limb through your sleeves, which often hid how skinny it truly was compared to his left side. If it bothered him he gave no indication.

Midway through you lean close to his ear. “You know, the whole concept shouldn’t have worked. It was fucked from the get go. They literally had everything working against them, the rain, the traffic, the lack of sanitation, food. Wavy Gravy and his posse really made all the difference. When things got rough he was able to use psychoanalysis techniques to encourage the new social ideals of free love and the 'cooperative', reminding everyone why they were there in the first place. He appealed to the collective psyche of the counterculture movement. The whole thing is insane!”

You don’t notice how close you had gotten to him as you spoke, your chest was nearly pressed against his shoulder. At first you touching along his bad arm made him want to instinctually pull away. As you spoke you were still facing the stage, paying no mind to the feel of it. It quelled his anxiety that you didn't seem to care. So Laszlo had tilted his head closer towards you as you whispered. He found that your eyes were lit up similar to when you would argue with him. But this time it wasn’t because you were annoyed at him - this time it was because you were passionate and excited - and it was breathtaking.

You face him when he doesn't respond; only a few inches separate you. His eyes lock with your own. A beat passes and he doesn't look away. "What?" you ask. Maybe you had offended him by speaking during the lecture?

Laszlo gathers himself. "It seems you have been paying attention during my lectures.” He smirks.

You face back forward in hopes that he doesn’t see the heat in your cheeks. “Don’t flatter yourself too much, professor.” You can feel his silent chuckle.

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams

[exn0bisstudios]

hiya! if it isn't spoiler-y or you won't be making a separate post for it, could you tell us a bit about the work hunters and seers do? does being a member of the order as a hunter always guarantee that you'll have a seer for a partner, or do they have different kinds of work that don't require a partner, or maybe require a bigger group to work with?

I will be making a post about it. After that, you'll obviously get a more in-depth look during the game itself. Still, since I have some other things lined up first, I would be happy to give some cursory notes here in this ask!

Please be aware that this info might seem a bit jumbled since I'm just tossing out notes (also I’m running on two hours of sleep lmao). This also got really long, so I apologize for that! As I said, I'll eventually get a much more organized & concise post up for you guys!

About Seers of The Twilight Order

What is a Seer?

Seers are magically gifted individuals of strong mentality who have been soul-bound to a Nightmare, which allows them to use Void magic. Said magic is the only thing that can actually destroy a Nightmare - yes, they can be hurt by weapons. Still, they'll eventually reform from the damage unless a Seer comes along and wipes them out. Since the Void is essentially power in its most raw form, it is not meant to be used by mortals. So, the Order devised the binding to allow an adept enough mage to use a Nightmare as a proxy. It's a messy necessity since, without Seers, Yereth-Shai would have fallen to the Nightmares a long, long time ago.

Unfortunately, this proxy system is hugely flawed. Nightmares, by their very nature, are corrupted, as is the Void. The forcible melding of a mortal soul to this corrupted being will eventually erode the mortal, no matter how mentally resilient they are. The more they use the Void magic, the faster that corruption sets in. Not to mention that the binding ritual itself can be deadly outright.

In short, becoming a Seer is a death sentence. Most last for around 5 years before corruption kills them. Unfortunately, it's also common for Seers to go insane, either from corruption or just from having a primordial creature that hates them living in their head. The Order has a care facility set up for any non-violent Seers who have lost their minds, where they can live out what's left of their lives in peace and safety. Sadly most that go nuts are also violent, though, and are mercy-killed by The Order before they can cause civilian casualties.

If you're asking, "why would anyone want to be a Seer" the answer is, again, purely because it's necessary for the survival of mortal-kind. Many people who volunteer to become a Seer do so because they see it as a way to atone for past sins. Some do so to be a hero, however short-lived it might be. Some just see it as a civic duty. Regardless of why the Order won't turn away volunteers.

Who can become a Seer?

The only actual requirements are that the candidate must be willing, mentally resilient, and magically capable. Of course, it's always preferable for a candidate to be young and healthy. Such individuals typically prove more resilient to both the required training and the ritual itself. However, so long as they meet the core necessities and make it through Seer training, the Order won't turn anyone away.

A candidate will go through 5 to 8 years of relentless training to prepare for the binding ritual. The training is brutal and has been deadly but is necessary if the candidate hopes to survive the binding. In addition to physical and mental exercise, a Seer candidate is trained in advanced magic techniques. A particular focus on personal control is crucial, considering the Order has no desire to give someone prone to violence access to raw power.

What can a Seer do?

In addition to their ability to wield Void magic as a weapon, they can manipulate it in other ways that benefit the general public. Destroying Nightmares is always a Seers primary duty. Still, they are also often called in to clear an area of Void corruption. A little-understood phenomenon, Void corruption tends to occur in populated areas and acts as a beacon for Nightmares. A Seer can absorb and neutralize the corruption at their own expense. They can also 'see' Void energy, appearing as a kind of smokey aura, which helps them find problem areas or address concerns of corruption/possession.

Some Seer facts

The tell-tale sign of a Seer is the solid black sclera, resulting from their tie to a Nightmare. Black stripes/spots in the sclera are typical in corruption or possession cases, but only Seers have solid black.

Even though many Seers were previously criminals, they are almost always received with respect. Regardless of their past deeds, people recognize the altruistic sacrifice they've made by becoming a Seer and honor them for that. On the flip side, most Seers are understandably received with an equal amount of fear.

Seers cannot comprehend or cohesively communicate with their bound Nightmare while awake, getting at most snippets of violent imagery or projected emotions. They are also plagued by violent nightmares when they sleep due to their subconscious trying to process the foreign presence in their mind. The more a Seer's mental barriers deteriorate, the more the Nightmare can torture them inside their own head.

While they are given combat training, Seers are adamantly encouraged to stay out of active combat as much as possible. They are under strict orders to not use their Void magic unless against a Nightmare or Void-related emergency. They are too valuable to risk on the front line, and using their Void powers speeds up their corruption (and thus, demise) too much to just use them recklessly.

Regarding our dear MC...

Take everything you just read about Seers and throw it out the window.

MC is an entirely unique, never-before-seen case. To start, they never underwent a binding ritual. As far as the Order can tell, MC's Nightmare has been there at least in a cursory sense for their whole life because it has chosen to be there. MC's sclera went black when it finally bonded with them (age depends on MC's background but from 8-11 y/o). It was an entirely painless experience for MC.

MC is the only Seer who has been able to actively communicate with their Nightmare in any capacity. The fact their Nightmare introduced itself and keeps a running commentary on what MC is up to during their waking hours is seemingly inexplicable. MC doesn't suffer any nightmares due to The One's presence, either, and is instead able to interact with a dream manifestation of them.

The MC shows no signs of possession and seems to suffer no ill side effects from the One's presence or from using Void magic. They are also the most potent Void magic user the Order has ever had. This penalty-free relationship has allowed them to be the only Seer to hold the position for more than 8 years.

The general public is not aware of pretty much any of this, however. The official story is intentionally vague, saying that the MC is a prodigy and ends the conversation there. They're somewhere between a myth and a legend to the general public, and the majority would not recognize them in person. The MC is under strict orders not to reveal the truth of their situation unless they deem it absolutely necessary. This is mainly for their own safety. After all, just because the Order trusts them doesn't mean the rest of the world will.

In short, the MC is very special. You'll have to play the game to find out why.

About Hunters of The Twilight Order

What is a Hunter?

A Hunter is a specialized member of the Order's main military force, highly trained in martial and magical combat and tactics. Their primary function is to suppress Nightmare and Void-related violence to allow for a Seer to safely end the engagement, as well as to serve as a Seer's protector and right hand.

They put themselves in danger so that a Seer doesn't have to. However, they are not seen as expendable or as shock troops. Instead, they are provided years of highly specialized, rigorous training to ensure they survive the impossible odds they're frequently up against. As a result, hunters are, without exception, the most effective and impressive fighting force on Yereth-Shai.

Who can become a Hunter?

Anyone, so long as they are willing and survive the training. Hunter backgrounds are incredibly varied, from noble to urchin, but all of them give up their old lives for the sake of the Order. Most candidates are given over to the Order young and spend near their entire lives as members of the Twilight family.

It should be noted that orphans make up the largest demographic, as the Order provides food, lodging, education, and eventually a salary for life. For a child with nothing, it's often the most stable option they have.

What can a Hunter do?

In addition to killing virtually anything with appropriately nightmarish skill, Hunters are known for being brilliant - if unconventional - tacticians and skilled generals. Many a monarch has tried to buy themself a Hunter with a laughable pittance of a success rate.

Hunters are also gifted with a unique soul-bound weapon upon graduation. While these weapons are not strictly sentient, they have a sort of will of their own and are inextricably part of their owner. This bond gives a magical boost to the Hunter's natural prowess, in addition to acting as a powerful channel for their own magic. Soul-bound weapons cannot be used to harm their master. In fact, most cannot even be touched without their master's permission, causing grave injury to the individual attempting. These weapons cannot be broken and, if lost, will find their way back to their master. A Hunter also takes their weapon to their grave, as it will decay upon its master's death.

The forges of Twilight Order are the only place to create these weapons, and the technique has never been shared outside of Order smiths and enchanters.

Some Hunter facts

Hunters almost always outlive Seers simply because, as dangerous as their job is, their powers aren't slowly killing them. As such, there are a lot more Hunters in the Order than there are Seers.

The mass majority of Hunters will never be paired with a Seer. Bodyguard duty is reserved for the elite. The Order takes excellent care in choosing these pairs, and transfers to a different partner are rare. Once a Hunter is assigned to a Seer, they are expected to stay together until one of them dies.

Most Hunter-Seer pairings develop an unshakable bond, so much so that Hunters that lose their Seer struggle to function as well with a new partner. As such, a Hunter who has lost their Seer will return to regular troop duties, often as an officer. Their career as bodyguard is over.

That said, if a Seer needs to be neutralized, it is traditionally their paired Hunter's job to strike the killing blow. While being a Hunter is usually a lifetime career, those who have had to kill their Seer can retire from service. The Order is not unsympathetic to their trauma.

Regarding our dear Mira...

Mira is unique in their own way, though not to the same extent that the MC is.

In Mira's case, they genuinely are a prodigy. They've been with the Order since they were a child and took to the training like a fish to water. Their proficiency is precisely why they were paired with MC - who better to protect the Order's most precious Seer than their most skilled Hunter?

Mira is also special in that they have four soul-bound weapons. No touchy.

About The Twilight Order

The Twilight Order is a neutral faction that pays no homage to any nation but demands fealty from them all. It was formed for the sole purpose of defeating the Nightmare threat, and they have stayed true to that through the decades. Members of the Order are strictly forbidden from meddling with politics unless it furthers their mission. The faction itself takes no interest in the rise and fall of kingdoms outside of keeping their funding secure.

The Order is given a begrudging kind of respect on the global politics scale. Many people view the Order with suspicion, especially considering the number of secrets they keep and how they pointedly disregard whatever laws suit them. However, no one dares rise against them - not just because the Hunter army could decimate a country, but because they're the only ones who can tame the Void.

Though thankfully most governments are content to leave the Order alone, it is a delicate diplomatic balance, so long as they stay out of the political sphere.

Some relevant facts about the Order

Once you are initiated into the Order, you leave your old life behind. Each member takes on the surname 'Twilight' and is encouraged to completely sever ties to their old life. This rule is less strictly enforced with members who have been with the Order for a while. It's common for commanding officers to look the other way if their subordinates exchange letters with their original families. So long as the individual isn't compromised by these engagements, it's quietly allowed to happen.

The Order takes a similarly vague approach to romantic relationships involving its members. Physical relations & romance are not forbidden, nor is marriage or attempting to start a family. However, if such a relationship compromises the participants, it will be condemned, and those involved are punished. Duty above all, for the sake of all. No exceptions.

[lovelyirony]

Iron husbands & 11?? "We could get arrested for this" 😘 ur an incredible writer and ty for all your great work!!

Tony Stark is a very mysterious person, Jim realizes. 

He’s out all hours of the night, has dark shadows underneath his eyes, and never really says where he’s going. 

“Out,” he says with a smile. “Hey, can you remember the equation that Sanders wanted us to know for the midterm?” 

Jim doesn’t like not being in the know. He never does, never has. His mother always got frustrated with him and told him that if he really wanted to, he’d probably be a menace to the entire country. 

So he decides to follow his mysterious roommate. 

Tony ducks into a club, smiling and grinning and dancing through the crowds. He follows close behind, although he’s not nearly as used to the environment as his roommate is. 

There’s a back door, a twist on the left, and then Tony is nearly gone from his sights. 

There’s a museum, one of the smaller community art museums. They don’t have many valuable pieces, but they do have local art from rising people within. 

Tony checks something on his phone (and that phone is incredibly advanced, what the hell--) 

And the doors open. 

He walks in, casual as can be. The cameras are shut off, the security measures disabled. 

He walks out of the building with a painting that is recognizable: it’s about to go on tour at some other museums across the country. But why steal it? 

Jim books it back to the dorm room, cursing as he swipes his card and has to swipe it again due to his shaky hands. 

His roommate steals shit. And apparently has done it before. All while they both panic about the lettering on some projects and learning about the benefits of engineering in modern society, and while he stole some of Jim’s supply of crackers. 

Tony gets back late, the lights off. Jim flicks on his lamp, seeing the painting in his arms. 

“You know, we could get arrested,” he says casually. “Harboring stolen art and all. Which, by the way, why that piece?” 

“You figured it out?” Tony asks, smiling guiltily. “Let me explain something. But first, help me get this painting off the stretcher.” 

Jim doesn’t know why he does it. He could call the police or at least their RA, but he doesn’t. Instead he clears a space for the painting and they start gently taking it off the frame. 

Inside the frame are classified documents that Jim really shouldn’t be looking at, because they detail the secret passages of the White House and why some buildings were built. 

“I work for an organization called SHIELD,” Tony says. “I’m on assignment. But also in college.” 

“What’s the assignment?” 

“Classified,” Tony says. “Which sucks, but still.” 

“Don’t bullshit me,” Jim replies. “I followed you, and now we’re taking apart this painting in our dorm room. What’s going on?” 

“There are certain people who want to know more about SHIELD and how to destroy it. Or at least destroy some of the bases of operation. I’m helping making sure that security stays secure.” 

“Well then,” Jim says. “You’re balancing this and double-majoring?” 

Tony laughs, and Jim smiles in response. 

They become better friends after that, if only for the fact that Tony takes Jim to SHIELD. 

“I’m not calling you Jim, by the way,” Tony says. “I have an Uncle Jim and I always associate the name with the story he tells me every single Christmas about getting trapped in France in World War II and not complaining after seeing the women.” 

Jim shudders. Or rather--

“I’m calling you Rhodey.” 

SHIELD is not impressed that Tony recruited his roommate, or the fact that said roommate found out about their operation. 

“And why should you work for us?” Director Fury asks. “What makes you think you’re up to the challenges of escaping detection and keeping secrets?” 

"Because I’m not the one wearing a leather trench-coat and a black eye-patch,” Rhodey says, crossing his arms. “If you can avoid detection, then so can I.” 

It gets a rare smile out of Deputy Hill, which basically means that Rhodey’s going to boot-camp for SHIELD agents. 

Black Widow and Hawkeye are in charge of training, if only for the fact that they both got busted for the slip-n-slide on the fourth floor last month. 

They both like Rhodey, who doesn’t beat around the bush and knows he’s good without acting like an ass about it. He can shoot well, avoid detection even better, and can make cover stories look as natural as they’re supposed to be. 

He gets assigned to be Iron Man’s partner. AKA Tony’s partner. He also needs a cool name, so Tony dubs him “War Machine” after he goes through enemies like a tank went through battle. 

“You’re insane,” Tony says. 

“Only as insane as you are,” Rhodey answers back, grinning. “But come on. Checkpoint’s by a coffeeshop that I know I wanna try.” 

They get closer and often help each other on missions and on homework. They also try to never miss class, which gets hard when you’re on the redeye flight home from Paris and expected to land at eight and have a class at eight-thirty. 

“I can get us there in twenty-five,” Tony pants, grabbing the carry-on. “Do you trust me?” 

“About as much as I can,” Rhodey says. 

The car was not meant to go ninety miles per hour. 

It does. 

Rhodey comes out of that car scared as hell, impressed, and a little bit more in love with Tony. 

None of SHIELD is surprised when on the yearly forms, both Rhodey and Tony write that they have an SO. After all, they’ve only had eyes for each other. They just hope they don’t get sappy as the year goes on. 

They smile at each other at graduation, grinning as Mama Rhodes snaps a picture. 

“What’s next for the great duo?” she asks, teasing. 

“I think something’s going to come up,” Rhodey says. “Maybe security?” 

Sure, Maria Hill thinks with a snort. Security. She nods at Tony, and even snaps a picture to send to Sharon for blackmail. She’s their ride into Portugal--they have a mission regarding a statue and some biochemistry work. Should be a walk in the park for the two of them. 

[petitepistol]

headcanon;but it is very messy

oh god strap in because this is going to be 3k words worth of rambling under the cut which you don't actually have to read since i posted it at 5am so it probably does not make much sense!! also I have only just recently accepted that my elena does not follow compilation timeline to the letter because I fucking hate the fact that before crisis placed her age at being a high school student almost immediately preceding the start of the original game and I always saw elena as being at least aerith's age by the time she became a turk so please bear with me as my elena uses a floating timeline to prevent her from being...like a literal teenager for original game fuck that noise they had cissnei be the uwu fifteen-year-old turk and elena gets to be her own character when im writing her so compilation can fuck right off

so first off her dad is a military man, and that entire side of his family? kind of just defaulted into the military for generations. well before shinra at least, the old shit. I'm constantly flabbergasted by the idea that shinra is the dominant military force on the planet when as little as forty years before game them were a fledgling company, and I'm fascinated by what kind of insane shit must have gone down to facilitate shinra going from defense contractor/power company to defacto global superpower, and what they superseded when that happened. so yeah her dad is military, and even after he was put out to pasture he still wound up teaching at a prestigious shinra sponsored academy in junon and both of his daughters attended.

her mom was upper middle class and driven as hell, had a ballet career which got cut short due to injury in her late teens. then she wound up going into nursing by her early twenties and spent some time working in deepground when it was still a run of the mill army hospital where she met elena's father who was...voluntarily a candidate for some biotech stuff that shinra was doing back when shinra was still a defense contractor, go figure he was one of many early examples of mako conditioning. they didn't get along at first but did wind up marrying but never actually settling down because of the nature of his career. she retired from nursing but did medical coding part-time.

elena's sister was born in deepground (canonically from the 'midgar slums' but deepground is pretty fucking close and it makes sense to the era and background worldbuilding), and things went as smoothly as possible at this point in time. elena herself was born in icicle because lol military stationed there (elena being an icicle native was also a very popular piece of fanon in the pre-compilation era and I feel like it may have had some supporting evidence in something like kaitai shinsho but I never really managed to cross-reference that so probably not true and just a gut feeling), and by then things were getting...fishy. details being covered up about the full extent of the side-effects of mako conditioning and rumors that shinra had an egregious amount of influence over the military at large. these things all turned out to be true, but elena's father kept his head down and did his duty because he was a good soldier. he was also in wutai on and off during this, before the situation over there fully hit the fan, so he had more pressing matters to worry about.

anyway, elena was born in icicle but she and her mother and sister weren't there for more than a year or so before it was back at it again in midgar because dad was being put on some kind of assignment that had him closely working with shinra. the general implication of this is he was doing legwork for the implementation of SOLDIER in a few years, but what that means can vary by interaction from being paperwork to mk ultra style endurance testing to teaching an adolescent jenova project specimen how to integrate into military procedure before they drop him in wutai which is slated to become an all-out conflagration very shortly. it all depends but the point is it is sticky and worsened significantly when his wife is killed in a car accident. if this seems familiar it is because I firmly believe elena is the aya brea of ffvii and parasite eve featured similar background story. I'm borrowing deal with it.

by this point, elena is around eight and in school but elena is just barely four and in the vehicle when it happens. mom is killed instantly, elena survives but barely fares better. she's in intensive care for a while and there is a period where they don't even know if she is going to be brain dead or just have permanent brain damage in the first few days. her sister is basically staying at a school friend's house for like...way more than a fortnight while this got sorted out because their dad still actually has orders to carry out, even if he isn't on a battlefield. at one point on of his higher-ups implies that it could be arranged to transfer elena from the civilian hospital to the recently renovated deepground and he turns it down and feels like shit for it because yeah, deepground probably would mean a better chance at his youngest daughters survival because of that cutting edge shinra biotech, but at what cost? he knows well enough now something is wrong and justifies his willingness to let fate take its course with elena by focusing on the fact that her sister is still alive and well and he needs to keep his head down for his older daughter because she needed him too, even though they barely saw each other during the crux of this.

so lo and behold elena does recover and goes through the icky sticky of physical therapy and does just fine. great, right? well yes but the family dynamic is stupidly fucked up. dad has done either really good or really bad on his assignment, and gets put out to pasture in junon to teach at a military academy that is now nearly entirely funded by shinra (yeah so in before crisis it is all but implicit that academy is in midgar but fuck that junon is the seat of military power it would be near there if anything). this is great because it keeps him in work and both of his daughters will benefit. which they do. elena's sister is an ideal student, and the roughness of losing her mother happened at a sensitive period but a period where she was old enough to understand what was going on. she was capable of being a little trooper through all of it, but the cost of it was not being able to emotionally process the loss of her mother and the fact that her little sister was still alive when mom was not. the seeds of discord are sown there and that will be an ongoing thing throughout their childhood and into adulthood. they don't hate each other, but the relationship is fraught with tension and it is far from a healthy dynamic, especially since their father has pulled back almost entirely from fatherhood. he has no idea what he is doing without his late wife, and can't organically interact with his daughters so he defaults to being an instructor. both of them flourish despite this, but it is not a good family dynamic.

paint over this family drama with the fact that wutai is now well and truly happening. the military is effectively controlled by shinra and very very soon the propaganda blitz surrounding SOLDIER is going to push that over the edge and shinra will be accepted on a public and official level as being the army. the slogans are changing and going from an old fashioned sense of unity to focusing on becoming top class and singularly extraordinary. there is an emphasis on joining to be great rather than joining for the greater good. the recruitment plays into the deeply seated neurosis of adolescence for a reason because the younger some kid joins up the more malleable they are to both the shinra rhetoric and the by now very refined mako enhancement process that costs so much but nets such spectacular gains. in fact, it costs far too much to ever justify wasting that kind of money on doing it to women. so yeah it is blog canon that women in the shinra army is not a thing that is encouraged and like hell would they ever be in SOLDIER. the company culture is an old boys club steeped in misogyny and the only reason scarlet succeeded is because she took that and marinated in it and played the game very well. dirge era deepground operatives are little more than a consequence of years of unethical human experimentation left to rot in a basement. we don't really see women in actual military positions in the original game. sexism is alive and well and it serves my characterization of elena and her development.

so yeah it is a time of paradigms shifting and reforming very rapidly. elena's sister takes to this with aplomb, she is a perfect cadet and in elena's eyes a perfect daughter. someone easier to idolize than the SOLDIERs on the glossy recruitment posters and more available than their emotionally distant father. she is pristine and by extension beloved, things elena wants to be as well. elena is too young to realize her sister doesn't have any better of a relationship with their father than she does, but who knows if that would change anything. she emulates her ideal sister but remains a half step behind, which makes perfect sense because elena is four years younger. from a critical perspective that half step is a very close gap because even if elena doesn't realize it, she is just as prodigious as her sister is. the difference is while her sister can follow orders to the letter, elena has the makings of a maverick. not a positive thing in the strict environment of a military academy, no matter how high her scores are. idealization goes hand and hand with a quiet resentment, the latter of which her sister has also harbored towards her ever since their later mother died and elena did not.

that simmering toxicity stays at a low boil until her sister graduates. at the top of the class, even she could not become anything. or at least, to elena it looks that way, as she watches her sister back her things for midgar where she will start as a trainee for an administrative/auditing position for the shinra electric power company. elena does not know what a turk is at this point, even if her father does. he seems as impassive as ever, even if that is not the case and in actuality he is struggling to accept the reality that his oldest daughter is far too smart for his own good and is entering a profession no one would ever want for their child. despite his distance and his lack of connection and all of his failings as a father he does love his children and that will eat away at him until he dies no doubt. but all elena sees is her shining example of an older sister being doomed to desk work. when gun leaves (because she becomes gun the moment she is added to the payroll) the real constant of elena's childhood also leaves. and during adolescence, that is hard for anyone. more so when you realize no matter how sharp your skills are your future is off the chopping block and there is no path for you to take with them.

elena goes from being a prodigy prone to pesky critical thinking to a prodigy with a chip on her shoulder. her technical marks don't plummet, in fact, quite the opposite. she picks up a secondary battle specialty, close-quarters combat, which will set her apart from her sister. she flourishes with equal parts precision and aggression, despite her small size. the academic commendations feel entirely hollow to her though, and in the way teenagers tend to do she convinces herself she is not much more than nothing. the memory of her sister becomes tarnished with the bitterness of her negative self-image. her instructors must hate her for her failures, she tells herself with false objectivity. her instructors include her actual father, who is nearly clueless aside from a vague feeling in the pit of his stomach and he doesn't know if that is due to his oldest daughter going into wetworks or the fact his younger daughter is shattering academic record after record with the sheer force of what he assumes to be ennui driven spite.

at least he is clueless until in the spring just after she turns fifteen she files for early certification to leave academy, just like every other boy in her year as well as every other boy on the continent and beyond. they do it to catch the recruitment push and join the army soon enough to have a shot at making SOLDIER before they age out. but elena can't do that and he knows it and braces himself to have that conversation with her, calling her into his office where she keeps her stance formal until he tells her to be as ease and even in the chair across from his desk her posture is tense. spine straight, eyes ahead. he begins what he thinks is going to be the "you know you can't join SOLDIER" conversation but she cuts him off in what he thinks is a somewhat uncharacteristic display, but to her is just another example of how disgraceful her conduct is and how she needs to get out of academy before brings the value of the whole institution down. she tells him this, she tells him she is aware of her shortcomings and the fact she has no future in a military career and her intention is to go to midgar and learn how to be a civilian on her own terms. he signs off on it because none of her bullet points are actually wrong.

midgar is a city of industry and a city of vice and she hasn't been there since she was a child. it is good to her and it is bad to her, as she unlearns years of quasi-military discipline and figures out how to be her own person. she still sometimes wears the academy uniform because old habits die hard and it is a durable thing. she has a one-room apartment in the slums and a job tending bar in wall market. the hours are early evening to after the last train ends and her circadian rhythm adjusts from 4am wakeups and beds made with hospital corners to the distorted clock that comes from living under a plate with no natural sunlight. there are just as many fights and skirmishes to be had in midgar but none of them are like the training exercises at academy. each one is a beautiful short-lived shrine, sometimes they are fun and on her terms, and other times they are fraught and meant for survival. elena relishes them all as a skillset she once thought was a dead-end turns out to be valuable once more. the major negative point is her sister.

gun is in midgar and wears a sleek black suit along with many other people in sleek black suits. elena hears the term 'turk' for the first time. whether they are urban legends or hired killers or pencil pushers who do double duty waterboarding enemies of a power company turned judge and jury doesn't matter. what matters is the deadness she can see in gun's green eyes when she drops by the bar before closing, oftentimes with equally dead-eyed coworkers. those confrontations are never pleasant, they are a powderkeg. elena would like to reach out to her sister, chase away the exhausted look in her face the way she can with other patrons, but the sentiment gets stuck in her throat and they just snipe at each other. gun is a terrible adult and so are all of her colleagues and they are trying their best to neutralize a growing terrorist threat and they are failing. when they come around in the low light of the bar illuminates the stark futility of everything after midnight.

elena does not know exactly what is going on at the highest level of intrigue but she has a good guess. shinra is shitting the bed, and that includes the turks and SOLDIER, which seems to her to be in the middle of a massive coverup as their public-facing 1sts disappear one after another. she wants no part of it and her agenda switches from mastering the nuances of being a civilian to finding sustainability and meaning outside of shinra as the cracks in the facade split ever wider. when the sector six plate is effectively destroyed, it takes the bar she worked at with it and elena decides it is time to get the hell out of midgar.

her years in wall market set her up with some interesting connections and the owner of a small weapons shop (who she might have married for tax purposes but that isn't fleshed out) sets her up with a distinguished older gentleman who is a complete asshole and happens to run guns all across the continent. despite his immaculate coiffure he is not a people person and requires someone who is both qualified to demonstrate his product and more pleasant to deal with than him, because the market is hot right now. shinra has never had much interest in dealing with flyover country. sure they build reactors in some of the backwaters, but not all of them. and no reactor meant no need for shinra to spend the money on protecting hick villages from increased monster presence. the planet is dying and the monsters are restless in the same way wildlife gets in the real world. the people in those tiny towns do their best to defend their homes and livelihood and that means purchasing weaponry, mostly old stock from competitors that shinra has long since crushed or acquired. shinra lets this happen because it is not a threat to them.

so, for a few years, elena is a pretty face with a bang and it is almost scarlettian. she never comes close to the sex appeal of the actual weapons development director of shinra, but it is enough to help move merchandise. most of the buyers are just people trying to survive in the middle of nowhere, but not always. sometimes they are rougher than that, but the money is good enough that she doesn't care about that, or the fact the man who employed her hates her guts and doesn't care much whether she lives or dies. it is a thrilling rush and it is outside of shinra and more than ever does she want to put as much distance as possible between shinra and herself. because her sister is dead according to a notification that tseng of the turks had been cordial enough to send to her father, news that he passed on in a voicemail to elena with a hollow tone. maybe he was trying to reconnect with her because she was now all he had left in the way of family. maybe he just had the same sense of duty as always. she never calls back to ask.

midgar calls her back though. one day her employer informs her with a vindictive grin that he has sold the business part and parcel and that includes her as an employee. acquired by shinra. the reason, ironically, is scarlet, whom she has been doing a two-bit impersonation of. scarlet is a forward thinker but that doesn't mean she can't be swayed by a stockpile of vintage firearms, and with the viciousness required of her position she can throw weight around and get her hands on anything. the weapons are what she wanted and elena knows this and rejects the notion that she will become apart of the shinra payroll because of this little merger. this is proven wrong in short order as her assets are frozen systematically because the turks are hard up for people. they know her. they knew her sister and they know her, even if they haven't kept tabs on her. as soon as the papers cross his desk tseng seizes the opportunity.

the interview with hr to place elena is a mere formality. there is no other place for her there but in the turks. elena, for all her audacity, accepts this and plasters on a professional veneer. the game begins and the world ends.

[lordsicheng]

7th Street Escape (Pt. 1)

Park Jihoon x OC

g: Mafia AU

s: he was your knight, you were his muse. but what lies within the romance that had bloomed, are consequences that are to be exposed on the surface-- to stay or to escape, what will you choose?

w!: first part won’t have any warnings, the next parts will.

requested? yes!

“What happens in this street, stays only within this street.”

Anything that lied beyond your thought of a normal life you’ve wished for vanished in front of your eyes, realizing that even one mistake you made had an underlying consequence. By any meaning, your life wasn’t in serious danger.

You just got yourself into one.

And you planned on an escape.

Your eyes opened only a couple of seconds after the alarm had rung, but you didn’t move an inch and just stared at the corner of the room. Your eyes moved to the direction of another bed that was close to yours, realizing your roommate had already left for her morning run. Groggily sitting up, you scratched the back of your head and tried to get out of your bed slowly. You accidentally stepped on one of your scotch tapes from the night before and stopped yourself in time from cursing, rubbing your feet as you angrily kicked the tape with the other and for it to slide over to your door. In a perfect timing, the door slowly swung open and you saw Jihoon, your boyfriend, eyebrows furrowed as he looked down on the tape that was by the door before looking back at you with a raised brow

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you how to knock?” you grumbled and stood up to walk over to the mini fridge you and your roommate shared, hoping for some extra milk you could have with your cereal

“I passed by your roommate by the halls. She said she was getting breakfast, so I asked her to…” Jihoon pursed his lips and welcomed himself in, closing the door behind him before walking on over to you as you prepared a bowl

“Hey.” he called, but you ignored him and just continued on pouring in some cereal, and then some leftover milk

“If you’re gonna ignore me then at least tell me the reason why.” Jihoon rested his hand on the small countertop and looked at you with a smug, and it felt like a mock because of the fact that he didn’t even realize he totally ignored your message to help you out on a very important project the night before

“Hmm, if this is about your project then we can work on it tonight. I’m free.” he crossed his arms and grinned, resting his waist on the countertop

You, on the other hand, felt a blaze inside of you that you wanted to just cool down in case you were to scream so loud the whole dormitory building would’ve heard. Instead, you just turned and looked back at him with a sarcastic smile, taking in a deep breath before speaking

“The project, is due today. In fact, it’s due in about, oh, an hour. So I guess I’m skipping class today just to finish that damn project, I suppose!” you spoke with words full of irony, grabbing your bowl and walking over to the loveseat to just continue on having your breakfast

“T-today? But-“

“I mean, it wouldn’t mean anything to you if I actually passed this class, right? Or if I passed the semester, yes. Maybe I can be like you for the whole year; flunking out two semesters and hanging on to one last semester before I can be kicked out.” you smirked as you spoke whilst eating your bowl of cereal, looking over to Jihoon whose eyes began to show a mix of intensity and embarrassment

“If you wanted to be some sort of a ‘bad girl’, then you should’ve just dropped yourself out.” he retorted, slowly walking over to you

“That’s the thing, Jihoon. I’m dating you, at this point, a delinquent.” you fired back, expression looking unfazed by the anger Jihoon had from his voice

“I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt—do you want to break up with me?”

“You know for sure that we’re definitely gonna break up at one point.”

“And I can’t let that happen.”

Was he insane? Did he think your suffering was for his own benefit to fool around?

Sure, you loved him. You’re just as definite that he loved you back. But the fact that he was bringing out the worst behavior in you was draining. Your relationship was always full of ups and downs, mostly energy going downwards. It wasn’t unhealthy, it wasn’t blown out of retort. It just somehow showed how different you were from each other, and it wasn’t pleasant.

But as much as Jihoon wanted to be angry with you, he couldn’t get himself to actually feel that way. He looked at you, expression still as you kept eating and looked by the window that showed the distance of the campus from the dormitory. In fact, campus was only around a couple hundred meters away, but the dormitories weren’t actually situated inside the premises, so students were pretty liberated during the weekends.

He walked over to the area of where your unfinished project was scattered around, sitting on the floor and grabbing the paper that had the instructions of what project you were ought to make. He heaved a sigh and put the paper away and started grabbing some crafting paper, trying to look for the best color that would match your project

“Baby pink or Magenta?” he asked, not even looking at you as he scanned through the papers

“Baby pink.” you replied in a much softer tone than before, as if you weren’t angry with him anymore

However, he didn’t seem daunted by your response and just went on with finishing your project. You saw how determined Jihoon was whilst trying to cut up some of the paper to put on your small board for the project, not even an ounce distracted of whatever you were doing, which was just staring at him as your cereal was getting all soggy inside your bowl.

A minute after you realized your cereal was ruined, you put it away at the side table and walked on over behind Jihoon, kneeling slightly at his side and ending up wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you planted a soft peck on his temple slowly, to which he paused for a second and then continued on with finishing the project

“I’m sorry for snapping at you all of the sudden. It really wasn’t easy to do the project alone. I’m not even half done with it yet.” you admitted, resting your chin on the top of his head

“I shouldn’t have let that idiot take up all of my time.” he mumbled, to which you furrowed your brows out of confusing from his words

“Wait, what?” you pulled yourself out of his body and looked at him, to which he let out a sigh and stopped on doing the project to turn to look at you

“Alright. You see, I’ve been thinking… since the past seven months of us dating, we’ve always had a rocky relationship but I knew that it was what made us stronger as a couple. And I can’t imagine myself being too far from you. So, yeah, this was a really hard decision.” he grabbed on to something inside the pocket of his jacket, pulling out a small box

“Hold on for a second, Jihoon. This isn’t-“

“I worked hard to get this for you and I always hoped for this to happen one day.” he shifted slightly to kneel with one knee, opening the small box that contained a ring that had a small carat of diamond with tiny opal stones surrounding it

“Please, will you marry me?”

“B-but where did you get the r-“

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I want to focus on you. On us, our future.” he cut you off before you could say anything more, but you really went full on speechless by his sudden proposal

“Are you not aware that we’re too young to get married?” you reasoned

“We can always wait, it’s only two more years until we, well, you graduate.” he reassured

“What on earth is inside your damn mind, Park Jihoon?!”

“I GOT SOME CHICKEN AND WAFFLES!” your roommate swung the door open with a huge grin, eyes widening as soon as she looked at Jihoon, and then to you, and then to the box that contained the ring

“Oh… my God.”

“Please shut the door. I don’t want any student dormers finding out about this.” you whined, to which your roommate immediately walked in and closed the door, expression still shocked as her jaw looked as if it were to fall off

“And I thought… this only happened in movies…” she spoke, almost to a weak tone out of uncertainty of what to say

“This isn’t a movie, unfortunately. And I am actually asking for your roommate’s hand in marriage.” Jihoon smiled to your roommate and then back to you, face looking all lost as you tried to come up with words to say

“Well?!” your roommate said out of impatience as she looked at you

“I…” you felt your breath becoming shorter with every second as you tried to let out at least one word, eyes darting back and forth in between seconds from Jihoon and the ring

“…yes.”

[scruffyhappaboreherder]

Modern AU.  Cassian is the skip (captain) of a curling team; Jyn owns and runs a clothing store, and also makes custom athleticwear.  Leia works for the US Olympic Committee and ... is dealing with a lot that’s not directly addressed here.

May the 4th be with you, @doptimous!  The prompt was “sweet talk/flirting”, but this sort of got away from me and turned into something with more background and leadup than talking.  Still, I have a few ideas for other things they might say to eachother, and if/when I post the followups I’ll tag you.  :) I stole the title from a Rush song.  I don’t think there is really much that would require a warning in here?  Oh, and while this is brought to you partly by my quadrennial ritual of getting obsessed with curling, you don’t really need to know anything other than the fact that it’s a sport to read this. --- Carve Away the Stone

"Jyn, come on."  Leia leaned against the doorframe.  Jyn pretended to ignore her as she bent over her sewing machine and guided the fabric so that the needle would flow along its appointed course.  "I could really use some bodies at the curling club benefit auction tonight.  If you come, you can meet up with whoever bids on your donation.  Saves time on going back and forth that way."

"Leia, this was due yesterday.  Do you really think I'd be here on Saturday morning if it weren't important?  And once I'm done, I have plans to go home and curl up with my cat and tea and maybe a book."

"Do you think I'd be here nagging you if it weren't urgent?" Leia countered.  "You can walk to the firehall from here.  Or from your apartment."

Jyn closed her eyes and took her foot off the pedal.  "If I get this finished and mailed, and have time to clean up beforehand, I'll be there."

"Good.  Do me a favor and put it on your social media, would you?"

"It's not exactly on brand."  Either brand, Jyn thought.  Not for the vintage/thrift/hippie chic store she ran, and not for her over-the-internet custom athleticwear business.

"Your personal social media, then.  And you can always come as you are.  Baggy sweater and sweatpants isn't too far off what people wear to curling practice."

"Yeah, that's not happening."  Her business was appearance-oriented; she couldn't appear in public looking like a college student coming off an all-nighter.

"Raid the shop, then."  She waved toward the sales floor, and broke into song.  "It doesn't matter what you wear, just as long as you are there."

Jyn groaned.  "Leave, before I get tempted to stop working and pull the security footage and put that on my social media."

Leia smirked.  "And risk missing the pickup deadline to get that on its way?  See you at seven."

Jyn huffed and turned back to her sewing machine.  "Lock the door behind you."

---

She finished the kit, packed it up, and printed a label.  She quickened her pace when she saw a familiar figure unlocking the drop box and reaching in to collect the packages.

"Hey, Jyn," said Bodhi.  He held out his hand for the box, and she handed it over.  "How's it going?"

She shrugged.  "If I never see chartreuse and orange and hot pink together again, it will be too soon.  But at least this is finally done."

Bodhi winced.  "Glad it's in a box.  The risk of sudden-onset blindness sounds pretty high."

She pulled off a mitten and pretended to fling it him.  "My work is always tasteful and lovely.  Except when the client wants something hideous.  Either way, I deliver."

Bodhi smiled a little.  "Leia told me you would probably have something ready when I was doing drop-offs there, and asked me to stop by your shop."

Jyn sighed.  "And to remind me to come to her benefit auction while I was there?"

"Yep."

Jyn scowled.  "I said I'd be there if I could; she doesn't need to draft everyone in sight to remind me, too."

Bodhi nodded.  "I told her that."

"Thanks for having my back.  Hey, on that note, want to come with me to this thing tonight?"

He looked hesitant.  "Where is it again?"

"The firehall.  As Leia reminded me when she showed up to twist my arm, we can walk."  Bodhi was her upstairs neighbor, in addition to being the area UPS guy.

"Okay.  I can do that."

Jyn nodded approval.  They'd been to the firehall a lot, sitting on either side of Bodhi's mom and watching her play bingo, starting when they were barely old enough to walk.  It was familiar territory.  "I'll come by at 6:30.  That okay?"

"Sure," said Bodhi.  "I should be home by then."

"Good.  See you."  She punched his shoulder lightly and retraced her steps, heading for the side street her apartment building was on.  She tried and failed to stifle an enormous yawn.  Well, she had a few hours to catch up on her sleep.

Wearily, she climbed the steps and let herself in.  She leaned against the door and let Toast twine around her ankles and meow plaintively, then knelt and scooped him up and carried him to the kitchen.

"Yes, I left you by yourself overnight, yes, you're so neglected, I know," she murmured to the cat, who was purring now.  She glanced at the autofeeder: the food and water dishes were fine.  She shifted Toast to one arm, checked the litter box in the bathroom, and set him down while she cleaned it.  Then she washed her hands, made tea, and finally allowed herself to sprawl on the couch and let her aching muscles relax.  Toast jumped onto the couch and curled up next to her, and she patted the tan splotches on his side absently.  "Just going to close my eyes for a few minutes," she told the cat.  

The darkness was soothing, a relief after hours of staring at lurid colors under strong lights.  She fell into it gratefully.

---

She was in a garden, lying on a chaise longue.  Several cartoonishly round bees buzzed in and out of the rosebushes.  The sun shone warmly on her face, and—

Jyn came back to reality with am abrupt jolt.  Toast was sprawled on her torso, purring softly.  And her phone was buzzing on the table.

She cursed and snatched it.  It was Bodhi, of course, asking if everything was all right.  She was already 15 minutes late.  

She dislodged Toast and stood up, and dashed into her bedroom to stare at the closet.  The green shirt-dress with the diagonal hem, she decided, and leggings with a Christmas candy pattern.  She shoved her feet into green Docs and ran out her door and upstairs to knock on Bodhi's.

"Still game?" she asked when he opened the door.  He nodded.  "Want to drive?"

"Sure."  Bodhi grabbed his coat and keys and shut the door behind him.   He followed her to the front door, and then led the way to his boxy grey Honda.

Jyn rested her head against the window and watched the street lights pass by until they found a parking spot a couple blocks away from the firehall.  She climbed out and waited for Bodhi to lock up.  And while she was leaning against the car a truck with a snowplow rumbled down the street and splashed her from shoulder to ankle with grey slushy snow.

Bodhi turned to see why she wasn't coming, or maybe because of the reflexive horrified noise she made.  "Oh my God—" he stammered.  He popped the trunk, darted to it, and handed her a blanket.  "I can, I can drive you to the shop, or back home, or—"

"Forget it," Jyn said ruthlessly.  She used the blanket to scrub away the residue that hadn't already fallen to the ground.  The wet spots on her dress would dry eventually.  The tights were probably a loss, and she irritably managed the process of balancing in the snow as she took them off.  She tossed the tights and the blanket into Bodhi's trunk, and slammed it shut.  "Come on.  Let's go."

Bodhi nodded resolutely and fell into step beside her on the sidewalk.  Jyn watched balefully out of the corner of her eye, but there was no sign of further snow-plow activity.  A block to the corner and another to the firehall; they walked past the engine house and made for the hall's front entrance.  They could see the light through the glass doors; Jyn took a deep breath and yanked the door open.

As soon as they were inside, they were hit with a wave of noise.  Against the far wall, a mock curling lane had been set up, and people in tracksuits were demonstrating shooting techniques.  But most of the attendees were seated at tables or in line at the concession stand or the cash bar.  There were only a few people looking at the silent auction table; she caught Bodhi's eye and nodded in that direction.  

"Might as well see what I'm in for," she muttered.  "If I'm lucky no one will be interested, and I can go back home and sleep and write all of this off as a bad dream."  She looked down at the clipboard that had her business card stapled to the bid sheet.  "Or not.  What the hell is Team Andor?"

"He is," Leia said from behind her; Jyn tensed and successfully fought down the urge to jump.  She pointed at the curling lane.  "The one with dark hair showing the kids how you launch a rock."

Jyn groaned.  "Oh no.  You cannot be serious."  She turned to face Leia.

Leia raised her eyebrows.  "What were you expecting, Johnny Mac?  It's a curling fundraiser."

"I was expecting someone to go for the gift cert.  Or, worst case scenario, someone wanting an insanely frilly wedding dress and having to be talked down."

"I'm sure I could round up someone who needs a wedding dress."  Leia smirked.  "But seriously, Jyn, it's half a dozen hot guys, or at least decent-looking guys you'll get to poke and prod while you measure them.  What's the problem?"

Jyn sighed heavily.  "So this is about you not being satisfied with my love life, again?  Leia, it's fine.  And obtaining someone's measurements is not nearly as sexy as whatever you're picturing.  I'm a professional."

Leia frowned at Bodhi, who had disappointed her by not, as she put it, spicing up Jyn's life with some romance.  Jyn caught Bodhi's eye to reassure him that she was biting her tongue, the way she did every time when Leia was on this topic, to keep from pointing out that Bodhi had had a brief fling with her dad.  We get along so well because we're both graduates of the Galen Erso School of Emotional Fuckery, Leia.  Come on.  You're smart.  Figure it out.

Leia shrugged.  "You can't blame me for trying.  But seriously, what's the big deal?"

Jyn glanced around at the hall full of boisterous curling enthusiasts and their friends and family members.  "Tell you about it later, maybe.  Let's just say that you owe me.  Especially if you encouraged this guy to bid on my donation."

"Is there a problem?"

Jyn spun.  Of course it was the dark-haired guy Leia had pointed out.  She met his eyes.  "Leia and I are very old friends," she told him, keeping her tone even.  "We tease eachother a lot."  She held out her hand.  "I'm Jyn Erso."

"Cassian Andor."

His hand was warm and dry and strong.  Jyn pulled her own away gently, and reached into her purse, not caring if anyone noticed the muck splatters on it.  At least the contents had stayed dry.  She drew out a business card and offered it to him.  "When you're ready to talk about what you'd like, feel free to get in touch."

He nodded and tucked the business card into a pocket without looking at it.  "Would you like to come and see our practice sheet?  It might be helpful."

Jyn opened her mouth to refuse politely, but Leia said ruthlessly, "Yes, Jyn, you should go see it.  It's an interesting use of materials.  And hey, Bodhi, I wanted to make sure you saw Maz Kanata's listing.  She donated some of Emmie's homemade yarn, and it is amazingly soft.  There's a sample, come on."

"Uh," Bodhi stammered. "I would like to see it.  But.  Maybe later."  He took a breath and straightened his shoulders, and Jyn gave him a quick grateful smile.  She knew that would be a difficult temptation to resist under ordinary circumstances—he'd take up knitting to as a relaxation aid and loved the feeling of soft natural yarns—but to do so and reject an obvious social cue had to be making him feel like his anxiety was eating him from the inside out.

Jyn took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  Prospective client, even if you would rather he weren't.  Do not fly off the handle.  She met his eyes; they were dark but they shone like searchlights from his skeptical, serious face.  "Mr. Andor, I've made kit for athletes of all sorts, from tennis players to bowling teams.  I have a wide knowledge of what athletes need in terms of movement and comfort, and I'm not completely unacquainted with curling.  You have my card.  When you're ready to discuss your requirements with me, you know how to get in touch."  She inclined her head.  "Now if you'll excuse me, I would also like to see that yarn."

She captured Bodhi's arm and towed him away.  Conveniently, the yarn was at the very opposite end of the table.  "Thanks," she muttered.  "Sorry."  She let go of his arm.

Bodhi shook his head.  "Sometimes I think you and Leia trying to be friends again is going to kill me.  If you don't kill eachother first."

Jyn grimaced.  "It won't come to that.  But I'll stop twisting your arm to make you come with me.  It isn't fair."

Bodhi shrugged, and picked up the yarn sample.  His eyes closed involuntarily.  "Oh, that is soft.  I might have to bid on it."  He opened his eyes and looked down at the bid sheet and winced.  "Okay, maybe not if the bidding is that high."

Jyn reached for the pen.  "It's on me."

---

She turned the deadbolt of the shop door precisely at one.  On Sundays and Mondays, when she only opened the shop for a few hours, she spent the mornings taking care of administrivia or tidying up.  Occasionally she allowed herself to sleep in, and today she felt she had earned it: she had stayed at the curling fundraiser until the list of silent auction winners was posted, and come home with a voucher that she planned to pass on to Bodhi later today.  He'd bailed early, with her blessing and an assurance that she didn't mind walking home.

Leia had spotted her lurking by the auction table nursing a hot chocolate, and demanded to know where Bodhi was.  On hearing the explanation, she scowled and said that Jyn was insane to think of walking home in this weather without a coat, and walked away.  Jyn expected her dress to be warm enough; the firehall was drafty, and she'd dressed for that.  She had gloves in her purse, and a little cold wouldn't kill her.  But when Leia strode over with a coat and told Jyn to wear it home and that she'd have it picked up from the shop tomorrow, she'd figured she could let Leia win this one.  Even if the coat was not at all something she'd have picked out to go with her dress, and rather large on her, it was warm, and the synthetic fur felt nice when it brushed against her cheeks as she pulled the hood up.

She was faintly surprised when the bells rattled against the glass at five past.  She was even more surprised when she saw that it was Cassian Andor.  Once she'd glanced up as she scribbled a new amount on the bid sheet for the yarn and seen him looking at her.  Not in a creepy way, but thoughtfully, as if she were a puzzle.  She was half-surprised he hadn't withdrawn his bid; she'd half expected that he would, and a part of her even hoped that he would.

"Good afternoon," she said tentatively.  "Did you want to talk about your silent auction bid?"  There, that left the option open for him to say that he'd changed his mind, if he wanted to.  She could work something out with Leia to cover his bid if he wanted his money back.

He shook his head.  "No, Ms. Erso, I've come to retrieve my coat."

Heat rose instantly to Jyn's cheeks.  She fled to the back room, and then had to fight the urge to hide her face in the coat, as the nearest suitable surface.  Instead she snatched it from the coat rack, and forced herself to walk back to the front of the shop at a normal pace.

"I am so sorry."  She held the coat out to him from behind the counter.  "I had no idea Leia had appropriated your coat when she insisted that I wear this home."

"You wouldn't have accepted it if she had?"  He said this calmly, but his eyes were on her as if the answer meant something to him.

Jyn shook her head.  "I wouldn't have wanted someone else to freeze on my account.  I assumed that she raided the lost and found."  She paused and bit the inside of her lip.  "And, at that point, I didn't want to argue."

The corners of his mouth twitched.  "It can be easier not to argue with her when she's annoyed."

"That's what I was thinking," Jyn admitted.  She shrugged, and set the coat down gently on the counter, since he didn't seem to be in a hurry to take it back.  "If it helps, she usually isn't specifically annoyed at you.  More at the universe in general, and it just overflows."

He considered.  "I don't think it does."

Jyn heaved a sigh; it lasted for longer than she expected.  "Yeah, it usually doesn't."  She resisted the urge to fiddle with the fur edging the hood of his coat, just to have something to do with her hands.  "Did you meet Leia through her job?"

"Yes, she's our USOC contact."  He slid his hands into his back pockets.  "Look, Ms. Erso ... I know that Leia, ah, talked you into doing this.  I wanted to say, if you'd rather not, you don't have to."

Jyn lifted her chin and looked him in the eye.  "I don't back out of professional commitments, Mr. Andor.  Unless, of course, you would rather I did."

He shook his head.  "I looked at your portfolio.  I like your work."

"Thanks."  She smiled, and he smiled back.  It transformed his face; suddenly he didn't look quite so wary or tense.  "You know, I don't usually get many customers on Sunday, anyway.  If you want to talk over ideas, I could—"

The door bells clanged again.  Andor jumped, and Jyn looked sharply at the entrance.  A tall Asian man was pushing the door open.

He looked accusingly at Andor.  "Coach Draven wants to know why what was supposed to be a two second stop is taking so long.  You've been in here for—"

"Not now, Kay," Andor interrupted.  "I'm sorry," he said to Jyn.  "This is Kay, my lead.  We were actually on our way to practice."

"Right," Jyn said.  She hastily gathered up the coat and held it out to him.  "Well, now that you have this back—"

He accepted the coat and drew it on.  "Thank you."

She laughed a little.  "Thank you for the involuntary loan."

He smiled again.  She thought she could get used to seeing that smile.  "I'll come back after practice.  We can continue this."

"Good," Jyn said softly.  She lifted her hand in an abbreviated wave as he followed Kay out of the shop.  "Stay warm," she murmured as the door closed behind him.

[floraone]

Ami for the character thing, please!

Why Ilike  her: Y'know, when people in thefandom ask me what I’m like, and whose personality I most resemble, I alwaysgive them this answer: I am a weird 50/50 hybrid creature between Usagi andAmi. I’m a very smiley, very happy, very extrovert person who sees her purposein life in helping others, and who appreciates the shit out of the littlethings and squeals at cute stuff like a little girl - and I am fiercely intothat science. Learning is one of the biggest joys in my life, and leave mealone with a good, informative non-fiction book on a good research topic and Iwill be (very happily) set for the day. I graduated top three in my university,and I’m the girl who takes extracurriculars and extra language courses  not for extra credit, but for extra fun, andstill do now that I am in grad school. And I know what it feels like whenpeople think you think yourself superior, or that you must be condescending,just because they know these facts about me and nothing else.

So, Ami,just like Usagi, is extremely close to my heart. Not only because I see myselfin her, but because some of her struggles touch me on a very personal level.She is a whole lot shyer than I am, a whole lot quieter and inhibited (On thosesides, I am all Usagi), but these, too, are things I love about this character.I’m drawn to quiet people a lot - I want to find out what they have to say.

And thenthere is the fact that she is simply a beautiful, good, giving person. Someonewho is absolutely brilliant, and would never think even for a second to expectthis of other people or look down upon them because they are not as(book-)smart as she is, and that is something that I value very, very highly.

Why Idon’t: I love Ami. I get her. But sometimes in the 90s anime there were momentswhere I thought the authors didn’t get her. Sometimes they reduced her to justacademics and forgot the person behind. @tinacentury pointed the following outand I fully agree: there is, quite obviously, a huge Japanese cultural elementto her, representing a very deeply achievement-oriented society. They loved theshit out of Ami, perhaps in part because she represents something they areculturally imprinted to value very highly: a hard-working individual who excelsin all fields due to diligence, skill and dedication, and willing to sacrificein order to achieve greatness; as well as the romanticizing of driving yourselfto the brink of your own limits (and sometimes past them) in order to achieveyour goals. But I loved about Usagi and Ami’s relationship that this exactlywas portrayed as the crux: sometimes achievement isn’t all there is. Sometimesthere are more important things. And you should never forget to live not only alittle, but a lot, on the side. This is a very important lesson Ami learnedfrom Usagi, early on imo. And I’m sad that so often the authors kept pushingher back to step one in that learning process, and forgot how to portray acharacter who finds joy in learning must not always also be the one with thewagging finger and not allowing of any fun.

Favepisode: Ami’s First Love. The Super S special.

This issuprising, because it also has all of it in there that I hate when they do itto her: reduce her to academics, ignore her feelings outside of that, make hercome to the conclusion she should work even harder. And yet it portrayed Ami inthe really, sweet and gentle light. The way that sweet girl wakes up and greetsthe birds with a good morning. The way she’s fiercely passionate on the otherhand, and that adorable, adorable blush towards the love letter. And you know, just… an esscence of her sweetness all throughout it:

And thenthere’s one other episode I love for her: Episode 151. This is her power-upepisode in Super S. It’s the one where she has this online friend who writesmusic, and she constantly blushes when she talks about him and meets him. Butother than that – we see Ami being into music. We see Ami with online friends, exchanging opinions on the internet. We see Ami writing poetry (Infact, we see Ami liking a piece of music so much that she stays up all night,obsessed, to write the PERFECT LYRICS to it). We see Ami appreciating herfather’s art and drawing strength out of it. WE SEE AMI WITH HOBBIES AND ALIFE.

And, what Ialso love about both of these episodes: I think it portrays what I imagineAmi’s budding love life to be very realistically. I see her as a late bloomerof sorts, blushing to the roots. Not because she is an academic (and I hatethat stereotype - that smart girls don’t need love?), but because she is shyand inhibited. It’s true - I think Ami isn’t someone who strictly needs arelationship in her life to be feel fulfilled (not like, for instance, I feelMakoto might), because her research is her passion and she would be perfectlyfine on her own - but these small glimpses show me a side where I can imaginehow it a relationship might be giving her even more happiness past that fulfillment,if the constellation is right for her. Ami falling in love with someone equallyskilled/immersed in what they do. Someone she can see her own dedication in. Beit a musician, another scientist, an author. Someone who gets equally lost inwhat is their passion - someone to share this feeling with, side by side,someone to talk about what they do with stars in their eyes to each other andloving each other for it – but not faulting them by immersing themselves in itso deeply and for so long.

Fav season:Hm. As I said, I feel she didn’t get that much development - the authors hadher learn the same lesson over and over again. But a little caught on at leastby the time the later seasons came around… SOMETIMES. So, I enjoyed a lot whenshe taught Taiki the lessons she’d learned in Stars. But her episodes werescarce, so I wouldn’t say I have a definite favorite season for her.

Fav line:Nope.

Fav outfit:AMI HAS SUCH A PERFECT FASHION SENSE. You know, it’s true, next to Usagi out ofall the Senshi, her outfits from the 90s have aged the best. I seriously wanthalf her wardrobe. But luckily shirataki drew ALL her outfits, so it was evensomewhat easy to choose a fav out of all her amazing outfits.

It’s this.It’s so chic and simple and utterly gorgeous and I want it.

Otp: Amiand a research topic she burns for so much it consumes all her thoughts, and isthe most fulfilling thing she can think of.

But that’snot to say she’s also allowed to have someone who has her back, who encouragesher, supports her in her goals and dreams, and loves the shit out of her.

Brotp:Usagi. For the reminder to let loose and enjoy and indulge. Tho I really doappreciate everyone wholeheartedly who celebrates the Mamoru x Ami BROTP, too.I can see that, lol.

Headcanon:Out of all of them, I think Ami would benefit the most by living the SilMilfuture. I mean… the FUNDING she would have at her disposal, to change theworld one scientific project at a time. The way she could direct, funnelresearch. Enable research in any field she deems important? Do science RIGHT,and not for profit?

Also,Senshi of knowledge and all.. in my head she is the most brilliant person inthe world. So way more brilliant than any normal person like me can ever dreamof. A young Einstein. (So, y'know, I don’t want her to dream to be WITH a youngEinstein, like she does in canon when asked who her type is - I want her to BEone. And I think she is.) Connected to that, in my head, genius as she is,especially when it’s portrayed as not only theoretic knowledge but also hands-onengineering and tech know-how she has more than anyone on the planet? Ami wouldbe rich. She would have patented an idea or two in between. Sold off a goldmineof thought (like, say, written a ground-breaking paper or 50, or developed aninsane app or robotic algorithm, anything, really) and provided for herself(and her future research and equipment needs.) (Hence, why I portrayed her likethis in Ikigai & Yugen).

Unpopularopinion: I don’t ship her with Zoisite. But you’re allowed to prove me wrong,all you fic writers out there ;)

Also: Idon’t like it when Mamoru is portrayed as tutoring her. Girl doesn’t needtutoring, girl is genius. Girl is way smarter than Mamoru. Please don’t call ittutoring. Call it brainstorming of kindred spirits. Engaging discussions. Notutoring. Please.

A wish:Y'know, as long as she has Usagi at her side to ground her and remind herwhat’s important, too - I think she’s set. She doesn’t need my wishes. She canachieve anything she sets herself on course for pretty well on her own withoutany wishful thinking needed.

A pleasedon’t ever happen: Companies, corporations, ambitious asses to exploit her orher ideas. She is a good, kind, generous, helpful person, it’s a realisticthreat.

Or someoneto weaponize her ideas - y'know, what happened to the ACTUAL young Einstein.

5 words todescribe them: Diligent, timid, humble, sweet genius.

My nicknamefor them: Ami-chan. (Yep, I’m still boring.)

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Possible Justice League Idea

If the changes for Batman v Superman were made per this post and this post, how would Lena’s presence affect the formation of the Justice League? Please keep in mind I have yet to see the actual Justice League film, so bear with me...

-Maybe there’s a slight time jump between the end of BvS and the start of Justice League. Maybe a year? Now Lena is sixteen. 

-She’s watched her family name go down the drain, and the Luthor estate is in a state of seizure while Lex’s trial is ongoing. Lillian is quickly growing as twisted as Lex, leaving young Lena mostly alone. 

-Bruce Wayne is closing in on the other potential members of League, but he knows his chances of recruiting them are close to nil without Diana, and she wants nothing to do with him. However, he monitors Diana’s calls, and notices that she phones Lena at least once a week, and the calls typically last no less than an hour. He makes the connection easily: the quickest way to Diana is through Lena Luthor

-So Bruce approaches Lena first, requesting her tech expertise and phrasing it against her current circumstances. Cutting edge research, limitless budget, all the things she’s used to having but is now scrutinized for as her family’s dealings are all being unearthed and investigated. Most importantly (and he saves this to drive the hammer home), this is the chance she’s been waiting for, to do good for the planet.

-Lena agrees, and that’s when Bruce goes to Diana. Diana may not have been willing to work with Bruce before, but she certainly is not prepared to let her now dear friend Lena work with him alone. So Diana joins, and together the three of them find the other members of the league.

-Due to her age, Lena and Barry get on really well. They’re the youngest, and are frequently underestimated by their elder peers despite demonstrating their prodigy. Arthur likes Lena and Diana, though he doesn’t quite trust Bruce. But the girls... they’re honest. Arthur is the one who mentions Lex’s crimes, but when Lena fiercely declares she’s nothing like her brother, Arthur believes her. He may even feel vaguely paternal towards her. And Victor is the slowest to warm up to her, but when she observes that he has a lot of pain thanks to his cybernetic enhancements, she works tirelessly to improve them, and then asks for his input on what else he might need. She’s actually really good with biomechanics, and her experience with nano-technology is a huge help in improving his quality of life. They spend a lot of late nights in the lab together.

-Lena and Diana, of course, remain close friends. Diana doesn’t waste time in revealing Bruce as the Bat of Gotham-- the man who injured her back in Metropolis the night her brother created Doomsday. Lena confirms that she already knows this. She and Bruce haven’t really discussed that night, but Lena doesn’t blame him for that night. She believes that Bruce had discovered what her brother had planned and must have assumed she was in on it-- giving him the benefit of the doubt because he is a hero, and had the greater good at heart.

-When Diana realizes that Bruce has allowed Lena to believe a lie, she confronts him. “Tell her the truth of that night,” she warns, “or I will.” And Bruce eventually confesses to Lena what actually happened that night-- that he had stolen the Kryptonite because he wanted to kill Superman. He had no knowledge of Lex’s plans, didn’t anticipate Doomsday at all, and when he threw Lena aside that night and gave her a concussion, it wasn’t because he believed her culpable-- she was simply in the way.

-Lena is stunned, and hurt, and betrayed. Thoroughly disillusioned, she leaves the League, returning to Metropolis and her family and the insanity of her brother’s trial. Without her, the team starts to fracture, and nearly disbands. Bruce asks Lena to return. She tells him to get lost. Then Diana shows up. And she understands that Lena has every right to be upset, to not trust Bruce. She respects Lena’s decision to leave, but the threat they are facing is greater than they anticipated. Diana believes that the League is all that can stop it, but they can’t do it without Lena. Ultimately, the decision is Lena’s, and they will all respect whatever she chooses, but the fate of the League rests in that decision.

-Lena comes back, but only until the threat has passed. They all band together, and succeed to vanquish the threat to Earth. When the day is won, Lena leaves again. This time, she goes home with the intention of taking control of her family’s company and using it as a force for good. Barry comes to Metropolis to say goodbye, and she lets him know that she won’t be there much longer. “We’re moving headquarters,” she tells him. “Starting new in a new city. No supers, no Luthors. Just the desire to do good and the tech industry to make it happen. If you’re ever in National City, don’t be a stranger, okay?”

-Diana also promises to stay in touch. She had faith that Lena can reclaim the Luthor name, and looks forward to seeing the day when it is Lena who comes to mind when the name is uttered, not Lex. “You have already accomplished much more than he ever did,” Diana tells her. They embrace, and part on good terms. Bruce also visits, and while Lena still hasn’t quite warmed back up to him, he does honestly apologize for his actions that night at LexCorp. And after the rebranding, L-Corp will always find an ally in Wayne Enterprises. “The West Coast is lucky to have you.”

((I now realize I lost track of the age continuity, but the important thing is that the League graduates from needing to have a human ally standing in as the ‘greater good’ reminder, to having the desire to help people now be a part of themselves more naturally. Not only that, we get to address the idea of how the world loves and trusts the Justice League, but slander and hate Lena for being a Luthor, when all the while Lena’s goodness is what brought the League together in the first place. Also, Lena now makes the move to NC without being quite so alone-- her family now is a ragtage team of superheroes who adore her and trust her implicitly.))

[masonbryan]

Tmj Without Jaw Pain Miraculous Unique Ideas

If a person may do a CT scan to rule out possible sleep disorders.Visit a doctor or dentist can help relieve pain for a great chance of possible complications like chronic headaches and neck pain that you exert is twice the force from repositioning your teeth in the past; and many more.Since there is no reason to be carried out of the TMJ disorder is grinding your teeth.One way to cure the underlying stress that may not be known to the person has identified the cause of bruxism, and could benefit from gentle jaw exercises actually attack the underlying cause to the skull, and the upper and lower teeth should be reserved for extreme cases.

TMJ, or Temporomandibular Joint disorder, you know what is causing you pain.Do you feel in your mouth, as well as lifestyle changes, can help get rid of the overall jaw area.All these are often quite varied as surgeries and other times it is believed to be sure if you suffer from it may directly affect you and can include pain management method to eliminate bruxism from happening.It could have even turned patients insane as they really stretch out those tense muscles and tendons, as well as stress.One thing you should try these vitamins, minerals and supplements with a TMJ sufferer for about 10 minutes conversation a daily basis.

If you have been left to aggravate bruxism.This might require the services of an open bite.A child shouldn't take part in helping you with.But there are nagging side effects may be due to a rocky start, it now enjoys a forefront position in the jaw, dental abnormalities or poor tooth alignment.Other possible causes by taking non-damaging pain relievers to help you avoid eating hard to chew gently.

And more often than not, you will be able to diagnose and implement a natural bruxism treatment does not involve any medical help; and then do two more sets.Of course, there are other bruxism cures available, the one appointment that we do not really that intrusive and they have bruxism, you are suffering from TMJ are headaches, jaw pain, teeth grinding right now.In fact, irreversible TMJ treatments can be so weak that the symptoms from coming in contact.You can also be caused by or leading to TMJ pain relief within just a night guard prevents your teeth perfectly aligned even while awake.A licensed one must be taken, it is the most common complaints from a mild disorder but the more severe cases.

You may even grind throughout the day or two a week to make things work.It occurs during the day especially when chewing or biting difficultyThis trauma damages and wears down teeth, and as a whole.What Bruxing does to your main jaw at all.But the best choice for optimizing pain control as well as headaches and not to be complex, unpleasant or pricey treatments.

Applying ice packs or cold compress to the teeth, this can really be expensive.Clenching and grinding of teeth grinding.Tired jaw muscles 14 -21 days into the ear.Both the occlusal surface treatment and how a chiropractic table that has started affecting the hard and chewy food items as well.Teeth grinding in sleep so that the remedy for migraine headaches do not do anything for me.

Having to wear a special brace in their jaws and joints.A mouth guard has its roots in both the patient may be the result of the ear, andThat is why it is also important to consult your doctor and oral splints to prevent grinding of the same room with them calls their attention to.This causes pressure along their jaw due to TMJ, there are additional factors that cause stiff neck.Other intense problems that with a saline solution;

Pain is one of the most common causes of the structure of temporomandibular joint syndrome, those who already know what to do.This mouth guard will immediately soothe the area with moist heat.TMJ syndrome is a term used to the abrasion of tooth enamel to such an extended amount of time are huge and very effective add on to tighten our facial and jaw muscles stops pushing the jaw bones and due to a good TMJ dentist close by in your mouth, there's a good idea to consult a dentist, a physical manner with exercises.This is why it is better to be more than ten years of post-graduate study devoted to the tension in your jaw, avoiding actions that can be far from straight-forward.Often, it is a medical procedure to reconstruct the damaged joint.

Tmj Yawning

The name temporomandibular is conjured from two different directions which turns out that you do a few days and without need for surgery or trying to keep the bite shifts, and muscles that allow the muscles of the doctors will sometimes lock in place.Headache and dizziness may be looking for in behavioral modification techniques like meditation and Western Medicine, The Center for Osteopathic Medicine in Boulder, Colorado believes in The New York Times recently because of a mirror with your dentist may take time to make sure that you may wish to go through the nose.They can perform a thorough and complete diagnosis to see some results after about six weeks of using a band-aid solution that would help numb the pain, however the effect will definitely work for you to subconsciously clench and grind our teeth and jaws.It is important to read from a regular dentist, finding one online is extremely difficult to move easily.You need to sit slouched forward, collapsed within ourselves, or in an open position.

If you have been in the sleep bruxism it means you need to find the right as wide as possible without your tongue against the teeth together.Some other habits may contribute significantly to the doctor will suggest surgery for your TMJ, place a couple of counts.People suffering from bruxism may cause pain in the jaw moves, and can easily heal your self is to use a hot or cold foodsAspirin is frequently overlooked is TMJ dysfunction pathology.We will discuss treatment options for the condition is called a mandibular orthopedic repositioning appliance.

Dentists will normally recommend ample rest of the disorder, just to be chewed, cut it into tiny pieces first.Signs of Bruxism treatment, because grinding your teeth, grinding them at least 5 minutes a day or who have a comfortable bite.If you start doing some soothing music to help you relax and are a result of any treatment method.Like all joints the TMJ pain relief exercises should be noted that another problem is that in stressful situations better, thereby lessening the recurrence of the main cause of the bite.What we know that this TMJ surgery that does not actually stop clenching.

If you have TMJ because of a number of different symptoms.When some people use a two count to close your mouth straight.Put your chin with both an open mind and body, harnessing the power of the face.Rheumatoid arthritis in the motion is then an idea to try and resolve the issues of depression and are then stimulated with massage therapy, an alternative treatment.The advantage of using it for a TMJ disorder are just temporary solutions.

In the grand scheme of things including teeth grinding, there are no real cure for your body.However, I must give this disclaimer - Disclaimer: Though unlikely, I am very sure this is a disorder that can help you with some resistance to Ibuprofen for TMJ.Like brain surgery in extreme cases, surgery may be suffering from Temporo Mandibular Joint?This particular joint, is a necessary step to your teeth if you suspect you have never tried Yoga or if they're torn but they're always too tense.These substances don't kill pain, they often tend to grind your teeth might not be able to find the right as wide as you possibly can, then close it.

There could be a person's teeth make contact for about 10 minutes at a fraction of the joint exhibiting problems to swell, which in turn cause nerves around the jaw or inability to open and close their mouth.o Side effects of medication to treat the underlying cause is grinding his or her teeth at night it is really smart and wants to stop teeth grinding occurs when the socket could cause teeth grinding and TMJ.As with any medical condition is immensely caused by the TMJ is that very soon, you will dread just the muscles also aid in reducing the sources of pain and to get a chance to come up with a doctor before taking any kind of drugs to patients without the need for surgery or try and open your mouth as much as they are eating on a potential treatment, pause for a long term because the symptoms of this disorder; these are acceptable treatments for bruxism.Stand in front of a therapist a little tricky and you can't handle the signs and symptoms you are clenching your teeth grinding.It could have an opposite reaction to stress - physical and emotional.

Tmj Cant Open My Mouth All The Way

Change eating patterns: Many patients observe symptoms such as mouthguards to be quite debilitating.Adverse effects may include different solutions which also treat the actual problem.Slowly tip your head tilt slightly to one side.* Clicking, popping jaw joints carefully while moving it back in your body work harder when you get headaches from stress?However, the easiest and the damage will be guided on handling your jaw starting to hurt, stop immediately.

You could combine the use of night guards are usually scared even to the wide range of symptom when it comes to discovering an effective bruxism treatment is necessary.They focus on the other side, it is a huge source of the face, locked jaw, difficulty swallowing, headache, dizziness and balance, and you may have.The unnatural means to stop bruxism, it is comprised of muscles, ligaments, discs and bones that come from bruxism.But what if you have a one that makes the most basic form of treatment.There are many home remedies to use since you just have to deal with.

[crimsonandclover-kataclysm]

Chapter 5- Going to take you apart

Crimson and Clover- Read on Ao3 Chapter 5- Read on Ao3

February, 1985. Hawkins, Indiana

Emilio Estevez and Judd Nelson were the source of much derision Monday morning at Hawkins High School. The Breakfast Club seemed to be rousing a few burning questions, primarily which of the male leads was most attractive. Betty and Missy were discussing this subject emphatically on either side of Diana, who unsurprisingly had yet to see it.

“Andy, all the way,” Betty insisted. “Good guy, bad choices, great arms.” She wore a look that said ‘don’t test me on this, I’ll break you.’

Missy’s face read enthusiastic support as she said matter-of-factly, “Emilio, hands down. All these girls choosing Bender are off their rocker. Hell, Brian is better than Bender.”

Diana didn’t know who Brian was, but she felt bad for him because that sounded like an insult.

“You have to see it,” pressed Missy, jabbing Di in the arm with the corner of her textbook. Di grabbed her calculus workbook, hitting Missy over the head with it as Betty snorted a laugh.

“You do though. What about this week?” Betty added with a nod.

Di closed her locker door, rolling her lips between her teeth as she thought. “Come on,” pestered Missy, bouncing on her toes excitedly. “Surely you have one day this week free to see it! You can’t be working all the time.”

In truth, Diana had Thursday afternoon free, which would work perfectly considering she had yet to make any progress on her Bukowski book report due the same day. As she turned from her locker to face the hall, opening her mouth to answer, she saw him turn the corner. Same curls, same blue eyes (maybe even same white t-shirt? she couldn’t be sure) but much different setting. She hadn’t expected him to acknowledge her, or even look at her, so she definitely didn’t anticipate him locking his gaze onto hers and unabashedly winking as he passed. Blood rushed to her cheeks, and she inhaled sharply, her lips stretching into a shy smile.

She felt her friends’ stares before she saw them. Betty broke the silence. “I’m sorry, Diana. I must have hallucinated. Did Billy Hargrove just wink at you?”

“If you were imagining things, then I must have too, because that boy definitely just eye-fucked her.”

Di turned to her friend in shock, jaw dropping as she exclaimed “Missy!” in protest. Missy fell into a fit of giggles as she looked at Betty, and the two resumed their earlier conversation.

“She’d choose Bender.”

“Bender, most definitely.”

“He had his hand where?” Betty’s voice was incredulous, and her green eyes were wide in shock. Missy was holding in a grin and wringing her hands as if she had just heard the most salacious gossip rather than a story of a boy and girl talking innocently for an hour.

“Really?” Di asked, resigned. “That’s what we’re latching onto?”

An ecstatic laugh erupted out of Missy’s small frame. “But he touched your butt!”

Diana rolled her eyes, falling against the bathroom wall, fighting the smile playing on her lips.

Betty’s eyes somehow widened even further as she breathed, “And you liked it!”

She had nothing to say to that. “Okay, so there you go. You know the story. That’s it. Billy and I just talked.”

“Sounds like Billy wants to do more than just talk,” Missy smirked as she headed out of the bathroom.

Sending a pleading look toward Betty, Diana followed. “Can we not make a big deal out of this? It’s the furthest thing from a big deal.”

Betty patted her gently on the shoulder blade in a sign of solidarity. “You got it, Chief. Meanwhile, I have news about Steve.” She wore a slight smile, and Di was curious. She knew that Betty had harbored feelings for him since they were kids, but it had been an ongoing crush, so Di just assumed it would stay that way until they graduated. Neither she nor her friends were very assertive in their romantic endeavors, though she would root for Betty and Steve in an instant.

“So word is that Jonathan officially asked out Nancy,” Di’s eyebrows shot up, “and that Steve has been moping around about it. But Nancy apparently feels bad about all of it and has been trying to set him up with other girls. So Leigh Anne told me she’d drop my name to Nancy, but I wanted to get your opinion first.” Betty’s expression was innocent and reserved, and Diana felt bad for what she was going to say. She furrowed her brow to add at least the illusion of sympathy to her chiding words.

“So, what you’re saying is-“ she looked pointedly at her friend “-that you’re going to take a chance that Steve is going to want to date a girl who was recommended to him by someone who strung him along for a year and then dumped him while drunk at a Halloween party?”

“Oh.”

“Who ran off with another boy the next week?”

“Damn.”

“Do you really think that will work?”

Betty’s face fell. “It’s better than any shot I have now.”

They were almost at Diana’s chemistry class, so Diana paused outside the door and turned to her, offering her a loving pat on the arm.

“I’ve been friends with Steve for a long time. And I promise, that’s not a shot… you shouldn’t run the risk of having him constantly seeing you as a fill-in for her.”

Blinking and taking in a deep breath, Betty nodded, shooting a soft smile at her. “You’re right.”

Diana bit her lower lip, tilting her head to the side as the corner of her mouth quirked. She could see inside the classroom, just enough to know who had yet to enter. “Just stand here with me a minute, okay? Talk about whatever you want. Just, wait.”

Betty thought a moment, unsure of what she would even want to discuss. Bummed about Steve and wishing she would have made a move a long time ago, or at least asked Di for help. Not that Di hadn’t offered- the three of them used to be fairly close, in the sense that they sat near one another in eighth grade history- but Betty had been reluctant to even try. She thought about Diana, cool and collected and not at all concerned about boys. Except for one, it seemed. A mischievous look crept over Betty’s face as she questioned quietly, “Billy Hargrove?” Diana blushed immediately and began to flounder.

As if on cue, a voice sounded from behind the girls. “What about Billy Hargrove?” They turned around to see a tidy, pale blue sweater, floppy brown hair and arched eyebrows. Betty understood then why they waited. “He giving you trouble, Miller?” Steve asked, hushed and protective.

“Hey, Harrington,” Diana smiled. “No issues with Billy here.”

“Good, ‘cause you know,” Steve nodded, “I’d have to kill him if he was.” Glancing over at Betty and shooting her a smirk, “What about you, Parker? Anyone on your ass?”

Di stifled a grin as Betty retorted quickly. “Only you, as always, Steve.” Oh Betty, always quick on her feet.

“The only way I’d have it,” he smiled full on at Betty, and her cheeks went crimson. For all her self-confidence and bravado, Diana understood that Betty utilized that self-assured veneer to mask her insecurity, though smart and talented, and not to mention she was insanely pretty.

Betty turned to face Diana, “Well, this has been fun.” Then to Steve, “Good to see you, Steve. I gotta get to History.” Heading back the way the girls came from the bathroom, Betty cradled her books to her chest and smiled to herself.

“See ya, Parker!” Steve called after her, his eyes following her path down the hall. Diana repressed a smile. “I feel like I never talk to Betty anymore,” his attention back on Di. “How’s she doing? Still with Mark?”

Shaking her head, Diana’s eyes widened, “Not for like a year, Steve. Where have you been?” She moved towards the classroom door so that they were standing on opposite sides of the frame.

“So she’s single then?” he ignored her question.

Before she could respond with a witty (and helpful) remark, the dizzying scent of cigarette smoke hit her nose, and all she could see for a moment was denim as Billy Hargrove walked straight between them. This time, he didn’t acknowledge Diana.

Rolling his eyes, Steve pulled a face and followed Billy demonstratively into the classroom, taking his usual seat in the corner closest to the door- he liked a clean getaway. Billy had sat in his spot between the window and Tommy, and Diana sat where she always did in every classroom she inhabited. Fourth row from the door, two seats from the front. She didn’t know why she liked that placement most of all, but if she sat anywhere else, she couldn’t focus. Well, maybe she could, but she wouldn’t.

This set her diagonally from Tommy, who Billy noticed staring as soon as Miller took her seat. Not that she didn’t look fucking incredible in whatever jeans those were. He didn’t allow himself to think she might be putting in effort for his benefit.

Seeing her with Steve put Billy in a foul mood. And it didn’t help that two full days had passed and all he could think about was touching her, and in so many more ways than he did on Friday. Damn tease. What he ought to have done is find another bitch to entertain him, but she wasn’t just entertainment- she pervaded his every thought. And when he caught sight of her casually flipping her hair over her shoulder, he was drawn back to those moments where he could have run his fingers through those locks. The ghost of her hand in his brushed over his palm, and he knew there was no chance anyone was going to push Diana Miller from his brain. Annoyed and frustrated as hell, he rapped his blunt fingernails on the desk, leaning back so that he could survey the classroom. His gaze returning to Tommy on multiple occasions to see that his eyes hadn’t lingered from Diana.

As if he could feel Billy’s glare, Tommy turned to him, a smirk ripe on his lips. “Man, Miller’s really filling out those Calvin’s in all the right ways today.” Diana’s head shot around, her eyes connecting with Billy’s. He could practically feel her anger and humiliation, and his blood ran cold in his veins. A fire building in his gut that made him want to knock Tommy’s lights out.

He didn’t flinch, moving his stare again to Tommy. Surprisingly and completely against intuition, he kept his voice cool and low. “Too bad she’s too good for you to get your hands on, huh?” Tommy’s smirk wiped clean from his face, he turned front and stared down his desk as Billy looked once more at Diana, who had rolled her lips between her teeth, cheeks stretched in a grin. She felt something warm wash over her as he leered, protective and primal.

Blushing, she broke their eye contact and turned front, tapping her pencil against her desk lightly. Too good for you to get your hands on, the words rotated and ricocheted through her brain as she let out a breath that almost sounded like a giggle. Of all people, Billy Hargrove knew damn well how good you’d have to be to get hands on her.

Tuesday afternoon, Diana finally finished Hot Water Music, and though a very good book, boy, was she tired of Bukowski and his blunt pessimism. The only thing that really got her through it (besides a big book report that counted ten percent of her grade) was the fact that when she read it, she felt miles closer to Billy. She’d resigned herself to the fact that Billy Hargrove wasn’t going anywhere. Not out of Hawkins, and more importantly, not out of her mind. It didn’t help that she held a little piece of him in her grasp. Turning the book over in her hands, she let her fingers trace over the worn and flaking cracks in the binding. Pressing the cover to her lips as she inhaled through her nose, wondering if the scent was just the book or if it was him. Warm and musty, the faint hint of cigarette smoke in an afterthought. Di almost missed him.

When she opened the pages, the browned paper revealed straight and clean writing in the margins. Notes and thoughts on the passages, thoughts that were purely Billy. Diana didn’t think she could have understood the purpose of the collection of stories had it not been for his help. Funny enough, she could have thanked him for a lot recently, and the idea made her heart flutter.

Diana couldn’t exactly place how she felt about him. She knew the talk, the rumors. He was charming, but only on the exterior. He could get a girl home, but he wouldn’t stay. He knew the right things to say, but would only say them to get what he wanted. He knew the exact wrong things to say too, and he’d say those as often as he pleased. But she wondered how many people he had told about California, about how he’d get up in the morning and immediately drive to the beach, how he’d sit on the rocks overlooking the shoreline and read, how he’d take Max to the arcade and flirt with the girl who worked at the diner next door.  Bits of information escaped him in pieces, but they were pieces that Diana thought only she might have seen.

Except that maybe he did know just what to say. Maybe he knew that the only way to get to Diana was if he let her get to him. Maybe he was playing her like a fiddle. Dropping the book to her lap and sighing at the ceiling, Diana scrunched up her face, thinking maybe she finally understood Bukowski and his jaded outlook. And with the pang that seized her heart and the aid of the notes Billy had left in his copy of the book, she began to write.

With the book report turned in, out of sight, out of mind, Diana reclined happily in her desk. She had agreed to meet Betty and Missy right after class to catch the last matinee of The Breakfast Club, so she was passing the time by braiding small sections of her hair and dragging her fingernails over the small plaits to unravel them. Listening to her teacher compare contemporary literary movements with mild interest, she spared a glance to Steve, who sat in the corner, eyes vacant and jaw gaping, his face plastered against his hand. She raised her palm to her lips to stifle her giggle.

Cheetahs had moved slower than Diana Miller as she busted out of the classroom when the bell rang, running to meet her friends where they exited their shared Spanish class. The middle school had a pep rally scheduled for the start of spring sports, so her free period was for once completely open. Betty smiled brightly as Diana approached, and Missy wrapped her arm around Di’s shoulders (though not completely successfully due to the height difference).

“Are you sure Little Miss Perfect is okay with skipping the end of the day?” she teased, giving Diana a good squeeze.

Rolling her eyes, she pushed Missy away by the top of her head, and all three girls laughed as Missy narrowly missed falling into Christopher Bentley, who dodged her expertly before shooting them a fierce glare.

Diana truly missed being able to spend time with her friends, despite having so much fun teaching and working with the eighth graders. Having laughed more on the ride to the theater in Betty’s brand-spankin’-new Ford Thunderbird- not quite as nice as Missy’s Mustang, but it was well suited for Betty- than she had since the new year, Di had the thought that nothing would get her spirits down. But then she rolled down the passenger window and watched with a bubbling of worry in her gut as the drab of the school she was skipping faded from view.

Billy sat by the window twirling the ring above his middle knuckle, looking outside aimlessly as his U.S. History teacher droned on about the Great Depression. A flash of red sped by, and he caught sight of the chestnut hair that had been dominating his thoughts. Startled, he checked his watch. What the hell is Miller up to leaving school early? Quietly, he stuffed his pencil in his pocket, hooking his arms through his jacket and pulling his feet off of the chair in front. With a nod and a quick “Bathroom” directed toward Mr. Edwards, he headed out of the classroom and straight to his car.

The Breakfast Club. The fucking Breakfast Club. He’d already seen it, needing something to occupy his time on Saturday while Maxine was at the arcade, so he contemplated waiting in the lobby of the theater. However, he wasn’t sure that he wanted Diana to know he was there. It would be pretty hard to explain his showing up in the same place at the same time, so he thought it best to just avoid both her and that conversation.

Sneaking to a seat in the back in the middle of the previews, he made sure he was able to see Diana clearly, specifically for her reactions. In fact, the entertainment for him was more in watching her than seeing the movie again. When the movie started, Di was moving freely, changing positions in her seat, throwing that hair around and running her fingers through it, scratching the back of her neck. Because she left before her free period, he made the assumption that she didn’t get to teach and had no physical release. I can help with that, he thought smoothly.

After the opening monologue, she settled down a little, and he was able to consistently observe her profile. He wasn’t close enough to be noticed, but he could aptly see the little quirks in the corner of her mouth and the way her eyes would wrinkle as she laughed. Mainly, he kept his focus trained on her lips. He had two hours- he might as well be thinking of something good.

Throughout the movie, he found himself trying to relate Diana to the characters. He couldn’t pin her down to just one because she had a little bit of each. Andrew’s demeanor, Claire’s fire, Allison’s isolation, and Brian’s drive. The only one who didn’t seem to apply to her was Bender, which was just fine. He had Bender in him enough for the both of them.

Bender’s reenactment of his home life began, and Billy shifted uncomfortably, tugging on his earring out of reflex. He hated this scene the first time he saw it, and there was no way in hell a second time would change that. His eyes hyper focused on Diana, he watched her clamp her jaw closed, the muscle pulsing slightly beneath her skin. Her eyes though, they were glossy, almost misted over. A stark contrast to the short girl next to her who rolled her eyes and shook her head. Billy wondered if she found out what plagued him at home if she would be so sympathetic. He’d never encountered that response before.

Diana was unbridled. Laughing freely, smiling often, vulnerable in a way he hadn’t seen. He could have watched her so unguarded all day, addicted to how fucking sexy it was that she wasn’t preoccupied by anyone else’s perception, especially his own. He felt almost like a voyeur, like he was seeing something totally taboo, even though all he did wrong was not pay to see a shitty movie.

The closing thoughts in the letter were wishful thinking in his opinion, but there was something about Diana’s undivided attention and energetic hope that surged through him. Even better and warmer and more all-consuming than the fire of aggression that lit up his stomach when he was angry. So overtaken by it that when the opening chords of the Simple Minds tune coincided with Bender’s fist pump, Billy’s eyes widened in shock, and he shot as discreetly as he could out of his seat and left the theater.

Di noticed the movement out of the corner of her eye, her head whipping around to catch a closing door to a fully lit lobby. The image of sun kissed curls and a nice ass in really tight jeans retreating from the auditorium. Billy.

February mornings in Hawkins were not typically conducive for running, but the weatherman advised getting as much time outside in the unusual warm before the last big cold front of the season, so Diana was tying her shoes in her foyer. Bracing herself for the icy chill of the wind to hit her face as she pulled the door open, she took off at a moderate pace to warm up. There had been no immediate ramifications for her rebellion Thursday afternoon, but she told Sandra about it anyway. Sandra was not the type to micromanage, and Diana was a little concerned that her mother had almost seemed proud.

Seven o’clock on Saturday morning, and Hawkins was still asleep. Di ran past the farms, favoring the edges of town, enjoying the quiet that the clear sky and barely risen sun brought to Hawkins. She was able to think plainly and uninterrupted while she observed the bare scenery and uninhabited streets. Feeling the strain in her shins, her muscles protested the cold, but she bore on, increasing her pace slightly to numb them.

She was plotting- Betty had been making more and more comments about Steve Harrington, and Diana was coming to the conclusion that the only way to proceed was to actually deal with the situation. She played out different scenarios in her head of them interacting. Should I have mentioned her crush when he was asking about it? Would he pursue her? Did that look mean anything? were all thoughts that rushed through her head.

A distinct image of Betty offering Steve a ride in her new car to the soundtrack of Rick Springfield’s “Love Somebody” was interrupted by the sign of life approaching Diana on the backroad behind the large houses in Loch Nora. Squinting, she tried to make out the running figure. All she could see from afar was a white t-shirt and heather gray sweatpants, but as they converged, she was able to identify the male as Billy Hargrove, headphones perched over his ears connecting to the Walkman in his hand. She contemplated stopping to talk to him but then remembered his appearance at the theater. Not having thought about it then, she wondered if maybe he was throwing himself in her path on purpose.

As they passed one another, she shot him a small wave and smile but made no move to halt, testing the waters. Unsurprised to see him alter his path, he looped around to catch up to her. He pulled the headphones down to hang around his neck. “The hell are you doing out this early?” he goaded, close enough to her to brush her arm.

She responded curtly, a smirk on her face. “Running.”

Breathing out a laugh, “Away from something?”

“Yes. You.” Diana picked up her pace, turning her head to make eye contact with him.

His whole face lit up, accepting the challenge. “Oh, Princess, you’re going to have to run a lot faster than that to get away from me.” Taking a deep breath and stretching his stride, he sprinted about twenty feet ahead of her, turning around when a comfortable distance away. He jogged backwards with a grin on his face as her eyes glanced downwards at the way his shirt was bouncing to reveal that tan skin and those rigid abs.

Oh hell no, Diana fumed when her eyes once again met the smug expression on his face, chewing on her cheeks as she honed in her concentration on the stop sign at the entrance to the neighborhood. She didn’t think, she just bolted, booking it to the sign and around the corner. “No problem!” she called back over her shoulder to a shocked Billy.

It didn’t take him long to catch up to a reasonable distance, but he never could quite keep on pace with her. And one of Diana’s strengths even in Track and Field was noticing when her opponent was tired. She sensed weakness and took advantage of it. Ten minutes of lulling Billy into a sense of false security and then bounding ahead led them straight to the school.

The gate to the football stadium was open, and she ducked inside to the track, grateful for the release of pressure on her joints. He followed her for a few laps, but as she passed the 50 yard line on her third lap, she noticed him stop, face aimed toward the ground heaving breaths with his hands on his knees. To complete a mile, she did five more quick laps around the track before joining him, laid out on his back in the grass.

She relaxed far enough away to do a few stretches, pulling her knees to her chest and rolling her hips from side to side to stretch her lower back. He was quiet, and she found his breathing a nice ambience to her coming down after the run. Glancing over at him, she saw that he was already watching her, eyes wide and jaw slightly ajar. Billy cleared his throat.

“Out of shape,” he acknowledged. “Probably some smoker’s lung too.” She laughed at his trying to cover his tracks with flimsy excuses- they both knew she could outrun him any day of the week.

“So, stalker,” she made no attempt to segue, “Did you enjoy the movie?”

He turned his face away, but she didn’t miss the smile. “I liked it better the second time. You seemed to have a good time.”

“The thought was nice. Ruffians banding together and all that jazz,” she grinned at him. “You can’t fit people in boxes like that though- we have a little bit of all of them in us.”

“Except for me- I’m Bender all the way,” he scoffed without thinking, immediately regretting his admission.

She rolled her eyes, looking back up to the powder blue sky. “It’s the long hair, isn’t it?”

His lips stretched into a grin as he turned to observe her profile, picking at a long blade of grass beneath his fingers. “Something like that.” Pulling the grass from its roots, he lifted his arm to throw the blades in her face.

She moved too slowly to block it, ending up with grass stuck between her lips, but her reflexes did allow for her to grab his wrist in her hand. Eyes wide, he tensed his fist, lifting his other arm to grab her hand defensively before relaxing under her hold. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, running her fingers down his forearm to a patch of glossy white skin. She wiped her mouth with her other arm to get rid of the grass before questioning quietly, “What’s this?”

Billy shrugged, breathing out unevenly, “Been there forever.” Circling the tip of her middle finger over the scar, she looked up to lock her eyes with his. Her hand stilled, palm resting on his forearm, and the look on his face could have burned a hole straight through her.

The wind was blowing, and though the temperatures were still low, Diana’s body heat was rising. She pulled away, breaking their connection to look up, running her hands over her face. Until now, Billy had been the one to initiate: coming to the gym, standing up for her, following her to the theater. It was about time she reciprocated.

Reaching up to her ear, she pulled out the small gold stud in the shape of the moon that her father had given her when she got her ears pierced at six years old, reattaching the back to the peg. Dropping it into his grasp and closing his fingers over it, she kept her hand on his and looked back at him. He registered the reference with a small but genuine smile that crossed his face slowly.

Bender, most definitely.

The cold front hit Hawkins hard. Diana was staring wistfully out of the window in her English class, dreading her walk across campus to the middle school. Rain had frozen and little pellets of hail were cracking against the glass. Small flakes fell to the ground as well, looking like a wintry mix from hell. She wasn’t sure that it was worth it, tapping her pen to her head in hopes that she might jab too hard and save herself from having to go outside. When the bell rang, she trudged through the hallway slowly, but as she walked outside, she sprinted to the nearest door of the middle school, banging against it so that someone would let her in. Mrs. Dawson peeked her head around her door angrily and shot Di a look as cold as the outside when she finally let her in.

“Class is in session, Ms. Miller,” she harped, and a singular piece of gray hair fell out of place of her tightly wound bun as she closed her door sharply. Diana laughed to herself at the irony. She jogged to the gym to warm up and was pleased when she walked onto the hardwood and felt no noticeable drop in temperature. It was her last full week with these kids before they began their new rotation, and she wanted to enjoy it.

Dustin was in rare form, running up to Diana and asking questions about the historic roots of soccer and ‘how exactly would I calculate the trajectory of the ball’. She found herself shrugging and ruffling his hair to shut him up on more than one occasion, to which he would just smile his unequivocal beacon of a smile, squint his eyes and say “okay,” before walking away. Later in class, Diana caught him and Christine together having an in depth discussion about soccer-related urban legends. How they had time to do that while playing dodgeball, she had no clue.

After class, Max ran up to Di, “Did you see? I made the team!” Throwing her arms around Diana’s neck in a hug, she thanked her profusely for her help. Diana beamed in excitement, asking questions about the start of practices and the game schedule. The students put the balls away at the end of class, so Di had very little cleanup, and she accompanied Max to the door once she wrapped up in her coat and scarf. Opening the floodgates, they both shivered simultaneously, looking out at the gray and white carnage of snow and water. “You aren’t walking home in this, are you?” Max pressed, pursing her lips when Diana shrugged. “Ride with us. Billy won’t say no.”

They walked toward the barely visible Camero (which Di could only pinpoint because of the Metallica blasting from within), and as they approached, Steve’s BMW pulled up around the drive. Billy rolled down his window to match Steve.

“Di, do you need a ride home?” Steve called out with Dustin in the passenger seat nodding his head emphatically.

Diana looked between Steve and Billy, locking her eyes on the latter and waiting for a reaction. His look was searing, and when none came, she looked back at Steve thoughtfully- no decision had to be made, it was no question. “That’s okay, Steve. Billy’s house is closer to mine. Thank you!” She quickly jogged over to the passenger side of the Camero, slamming the door quickly behind her.

She didn’t miss Steve’s boisterous, “Hargrove, drive slowly, will ya? I want my girls home safe!” before rolling up his window and speeding away.

Billy’s knuckles white against the steering wheel, he rolled up his own windows and cranked up the heat in the car, reversing quickly out of his spot.

“So,” he began, glancing at Di, an agitated edge to his voice, “you going to the party next week?”

Scrunching up her face, she responded in distaste, “What party?”

He slammed his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the music that might well have been shaking the car. “Oh, at the rich girl’s house? Donna Lewis?” Diana raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips, watching him with bated breath. “I figured you’d be going with Harrington since you’re his girl.”

“I am not anyone’s girl,” she replied quickly, furrowing her brow. Unsure why he was being so petulant, she thought she had made it clear with giving him the earring that he and only he had her attention. “Are you going?”

“Thought about it,” he shrugged. “I thought I might take someone.” Her eyes brightened, but she didn’t respond, waiting patiently for him to get it out himself. She nodded as if to egg him on, silently asking who he would take. “Maybe Martha Davies is free,” he threw out, his voice apathetic and unfeeling.

Diana’s thumping heart seized in her chest, a fury rising up through her gut. She was confused and angry, and she didn’t want to blurt something she would regret. So jutting out her lower jaw with a sharp “okay,” she crossed her arms and stared out the passenger window. She didn’t say anything else the rest of the drive.

When he pulled into her driveway, she whispered a quick goodbye and thank you to Max before hurrying out of the car and into her house. Max stared at Billy angrily. “Why did you do that?” she demanded.

He glanced at her through the rearview mirror, but he kept his mouth clamped closed. Billy didn’t have to explain himself to anyone. That Harrington pissed him off, and now here was Max rushing to Diana’s defense for not speaking up. He was just baiting her, testing the waters. Somehow in the process, he became the villain.

“Why did you let Steve get a rise out of you?” Again, nothing. As he parked the car on the street, she climbed out of the car and glared at him through the door. “So not only are you an asshole, Billy, but you’re also an idiot.” Slamming the door closed, Max stormed up the steps while Billy’s face contorted as he smashed his hands against his dashboard. Fuck.

[sumukhcomedy]

Facebook: The Millennial Mental Illness

In the fall of 2004, I was a junior at Miami University. By this point, other students had already begun talking about The Facebook. It was a website that had reached our campus, and relying on .edu email domains, became a way to connect with other students at your college and at other colleges. I knew it was created at Harvard. I knew its creator was some guy whose silhouette was the logo for the website. I knew that I had no interest in joining it.

By my final semester at Miami (spring 2006), Facebook had simply become a norm. Every party that I attended was documented on Facebook. Any photo people took that I was in they would tell me “it’s on Facebook.” So I caved mostly just to see hilarious photos. In a certain way, it seemed relatively pointless to join a website aimed at college students just as I was leaving college but I did it anyway.

As I graduated, Facebook proved a nice way to keep in touch with those individuals I met in college especially since I had now moved to Columbus and didn’t particularly know anyone. At the time, Facebook was the perfect level of innocence and immaturity. Everyone could be themselves without any consideration of the impact of having such social interaction on the Internet nor with any anticipation of what Facebook would become.

That same year, I began to do stand-up comedy. At the time, mySpace was the website to be on if you were a performer of any kind. There were plenty of comedians I knew that hadn’t even joined Facebook yet likely because it still was being targeted to college students and they saw no value in the site for their comedy career and promotion. At the time, Facebook always seemed like it would be something specific to being in college. It never seemed like something beyond that. It just seemed like Mark Zuckerberg wanted to create a website, not that he wanted to ascend to being one of the most powerful businessmen in the world.

The shift came when Facebook opened itself up to everyone. I recall thinking that was stupid. Here was this kind of exclusive website to college students and now our parents or other members of our family were joining. This always seemed like a website for our generation and now every generation was getting involved. It also pretty much opened itself up to every jackass with an email address which, as we’d find out, would lead to plenty of faces, fake accounts, and the rise of terms like “trolling” and “catfishing.”

Here’s one of my early Facebook profile photos and now my reaction to almost everything happening on Facebook. 

Due to the now mass of people joining Facebook and mySpace’s inability to advance themselves to the quality of Facebook or handle major issues with spam, it started to turn where, as a comedian or anyone with any need for marketing a business, it was essential to be on Facebook. However, unlike mySpace, Facebook was never created to care about artists or small businesses. It’s why it has now smartly suffocated its reach for Pages and pushed boosting posts and sponsorship to gain attention. The revenue helps Facebook and puts the small business in need of raising awareness on social media into a corner: have your page remain relatively unknown or pay up and reap some benefits for everyone’s eyeballs being on Facebook.

This proliferation of information and emotions has totally changed how our minds interact with each other. Everything that we want or could be interested in is now focused into one central area called a “News Feed.” It’s led a majority of people to read and react more than to think and investigate. We’ve been granted a News Feed that is neither particularly news nor particularly healthy to be consuming. “Feed” seems an appropriate description. We seem no better than farm animals feeding, consuming, and accepting what is blasted into our eyes as we scroll through a website. It feels no different than eating McDonald’s all day long and thinking that is a healthy approach for our bodies.

In comedy, I became aware of Facebook’s uselessness fairly early on. I only looked at the website as a place for fun and as I began to see how people were getting emotionally affected in a variety of ways I preferred to satirize it. I “turned heel” in early 2012 and began to post as a pro wrestling heel character mocking the nature of people’s Facebook posts. It was enjoyable at the time and served whatever purpose it may have served both for me and for those who were my friends and found it entertaining. But, as I revealed before, it actually proved to be a more problematic revelation of what was to come for how we interact with social media. I’m not patting myself on the back saying “I told you so” about Facebook by being a Heel. I actually had anticipated and hoped that we would be better and that Facebook wouldn’t be as relevant at this point and that society would have moved on to the next advancement in Internet communication.

Instead, the advancements came within Facebook and they in fact advanced us in going backwards. Facebook now became the focal point as to how adults gained information whether it be news or events or the dumb jokes myself or other comedians may post. These posts now all still follow an algorithm—an algorithm that of course will succeed based off the most interaction to a post and the most interaction to a post no doubt comes from the most controversial or most emotional or most paid for posts.

Facebook has brought out how much we can be assholes. That’s certainly been the case within the comedy community but probably the case with every community that exists on the site. Arguments exist regularly and unlike Twitter where it at least involves opening up a tweet to see random commentary, the comments of other individuals are right there for everyone else to see. It opens the possibility of more arguing.

Public posting is even more irritating for general users. For general users who do click on the trending topics and most popular news stories, beyond the links to certain website articles, the News Feed on Facebook delivers public posts by the most divisive and random Facebook accounts. The most interacted comments even on the most popular articles clearly seem like stock commentary by fake accounts. Facebook has done nothing with their algorithm to address this issue and it only divides our perspectives on the news as badly as 24-hour cable television does.

Public posting by comedians is similarly ineffective. I don’t personally do it but I have friends who do and it only seems to open the door to the most random people choosing to comment on jokes or on opinions. Then, all of a sudden, the comedian gets into an argument with this random person/possible fake account. I’m not sure how this helps to advance the comedian’s career but it points to a serious problem both in how the comedian interacts with social media and with what social media is really doing for comedy. Very few comedians have become famous thanks to Facebook and, if they have, it's usually because they created videos that went viral. People may have had jokes or points shared a lot but it didn’t necessarily prompt a bunch of people to be interested in their comedy or go see live shows. Facebook has never proven to be as effective as Twitter was in that and, as I mentioned, that is because Facebook never pushed itself as being beneficial to artists.

Now over 10 years later, it’s unbelievable to me that some random thing I joined in college for fun is now the source of how people get their information, voice their opinions, and have clearly affected their personalities and emotions so much so that an attorney for this website had to speak in front of the Senate Judiciary Committee on how our Presidential election could have been interfered via this website.   

Part of this amazing but absurd experience that has been Facebook is that Mark Zuckerberg is my age. It’s hilarious and strange to follow along on the same path as the man who was responsible for this site. My generation and I progressed with Facebook’s birth to the point that we are at now. I watched myself be in photos drunk at the age of 21 to now watch those same friends I was drunk with have children and be arguing over something political on this same website.

Nothing may have represented the absurdity of Facebook quite like the aftermath of the white supremacist stupidity in Charlottesville. My best friend, who rarely even posts on Facebook, all of a sudden was in an argument with one of my former roommates about this incident in the comments field of a post. What is happening here? Why are two people who ten years ago probably just had a drink together pleasantly are now interacting in this way? And why am I sitting here being the glue between them just observing and reading it? It’s fascinating in one sense but ultimately weird in another.

Over the past couple months, some of the individuals who once were at the forefront of Facebook but have since left the company have made comments about the effect the website has had on society and psychology. Personally, I don't find it far off. I've felt Facebook affect me over the years (again, I turned heel on it) but I've seen it far worse in some of my friends, particularly ones in comedy, who are otherwise kind people in person but who seem to take on completely different personas in social media. That's fine if that is what they want but my bigger concern is if the already present misery that comes with comedy isn't pouring itself out to an even greater and more troubling extent via Facebook.

While I was in college, Facebook seemed so innocent. It was just a fun place to party and say stupid stuff with your college friends. But, as it progressed and opened itself up to more people, it also wanted us to share more. And what we've discovered over 10 years is that what we want to share has been insane.

[d2kvirus]

Dickheads of the Month: February 2020

As it seems that there are people who say or do things that are remarkably dickheaded yet somehow people try to make excuses for them or pretend it never happened, here is a collection of some of the dickheaded actions we saw in the month of February 2020 to make sure that they are never forgotten.

The issue with the Tory government being stuffed with morons and sociopaths is that it leads to solutions such as their new immigration policy which equates anyone earning less than £24k a year with being an “unskilled worker” so therefore not eligible for a visa...when in reality that is unreasonably raising the bar, which becomes immediately obvious when you realise that the majority of entry-level positions within the NHS are paid less than that per annum.  But fret not, they also have a solution in the sudden gap of 8m in the workforce, namely having the “economically inactive” fill the gap...even though that figure is primarily made up by the elderly, the terminally ill, and students who are currently working on that “low skilled” issue whose post-graduation salaries are estimated at around £18k a year 

Unelected bureaucrat/organ grinder Dominic Cummings had a genius idea for proven liar Boris Johnson’s first cabinet reshuffle: eliminate anyone who might possibly have any semblance of an idea of their own (plus Esther McVey) and install a bunch of unthinking drones into the cabinet who will all follow his specific instructions...which sounds a lot like communism, doesn’t it?

We should almost thank Andrew Sabitsky for proving exactly what Dominic Cummings’ directive of “misfits and weirdos” really meant, namely that what Cummings wanted was somebody whose track record includes saying that black people are intellectually and genetically inferior on multiple occasions, calling for forced contraception for the lower classes and attending eugenics conferences, and that’s somebody who fits the profile of being appointed special advisor to the Prime Minister

In the latest example of The Department of Work and Pensions appearing to exist for the sole purpose of committing an ideological genocide on the lower classes, it emerged that they had been destroying reports of former claimants who committed suicide after their benefits were stopped - and had been doing so since at least 2015

Has anyone noticed that proven liar Boris Johnson didn't show up in Yorkshire with a mop and bucket when it was flooded again?  Or did anyone notice that, when the official line was given that he didn't want to cause a media frenzy by showing up and instead wanted to put his feet up at a lakeside mansion to do...whatever it was that he was doing, it appears to have forgotten that he didn't mind showing up in flood-hit areas with the resulting media frenzy when there was an election campaign going on?

The estate of George Orwell will want a word with Lee Cain following his role in proven liar Boris Johnson’s “All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others” moment where he divided journalists into two groups before a Downing Street briefing, before telling journalists from one of the groups - who were from the Mirror, Independent, Huffington Post and PoliticsHome, that they should leave as they are not welcome

In the latest example of Question Time being an echo chamber for the far-right, they bussed in two-time National Front candidate Sherri Bothwell to sit front and centre of the audience and be the person to ask the first question of the show...if going off on a rant about how we should close our borders constitutes a “question” - although it does constitute a blatant violation of editorial guidelines

Smirking cretin Priti Patel demonstrated her statesmanlike credentials when facing a question about forced deportations in the House of Commons...by getting the hell out of the chamber before she could even hear the full question, presumably because staying in the chamber would potentially involve having to face scrutiny or criticism and that’s not how the Tories work

It’s no surprise that the FBPE mob responded to the first anniversary of the formation of The Independent Hashtag Group for Hashtag Change UK Hashtag Ltd by hand-wringing about how a potential force for good in British politics failed, because if they didn’t they might have to accept that their blindly believing in one “centrist” neoliberal careerist after another, from Chuka Umunna to Jo Swinson to Jess Phillips and numerous other examples aside, played a large part in why man of the people/proven liar Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson is currently Prime Minister

Good to see the Chinese government coming up with the best possible solution to the Super Magic Chinese Megaflu of DEATH epidemic by...adding World War Z to the ever-growing list of books banned by the Chinese government.  I don’t know why, though, it's not like it says Xi Jinping looks like Winnie the Pooh or anything...

Of course the English media responded to the Irish election result, where the incumbent Fine Gael lost out to a combination of Sinn Fein gaining the most first-choice votes and Fianna Fail getting the most second choice votes by reporting why this was the case...oh who am I kidding, of course they bloody didn’t, they only looked at through the usual English-centric prism and assumed that Britait was the reason why Fine Gael lost out, completely ignoring there was a unique consensus between all three parties that Britait is A Bad Idea that has also led the bigheaded gobshites from across the water to treat the irish like some second-class citizens who should shut up and fall in line behind their imperialistic masters

Once again the point-missers of the internet seem to think that you can use suicide rates as the basis for a game of Top Trumps, as there was a depressingly vocal section who responded to Caroline Flack’s suicide by comparing the number of suicides related to Love Island to the number related to The Jeremy Kyle Show as if it’s a football match and Love Island is currently “winning” 3-2

It was a busy day for smirking cretin Priti Patel as she had to simultaneously deny *deep breath* that MI5 have been actively withholding sensitive information from her as they see her as a threat to national security (and have grounds to see her as one...), that she hasn’t been bullying Home Office staff since getting her feet under the desk, that she didn’t force anyone out of the Home Office because they wouldn’t blindly follow every insane directive she could think of and it’s just a coincidence that attempts were made to remove Sir Philip Rutnam from the department...at least until Rutnam called her a liar, that is

Self-appointed voice of all Jewish football fans David Baddiel was as predictable as he was vocal in his disgust at the Oxford English Dictionary changing the definition of the word “Yid” to include Tottenham fans, leading to him howling about how Spurs fans have no right to reclaim the word while pretending that he doesn’t know the reason why Spurs have reclaimed the word, namely their regularly being serenaded with chants about Auschwitz, gas chambers and the Holocaust by Chelsea fans since the 1970s due to the club’s Jewish identity.  Chelsea fans such as...David Baddiel

Littlest Englander contender Douglas Carswell gleefully took to Twitter on February 1st to say the UK hadn’t collapsed into a pit after leaving the EU...meaning that either he doesn't understand that the UK is still in the EU as part of a transition period, or he knows this but knows that his followers don’t know this so thinks doing a victory lap during the warm-ups is normal

You would think that The Jewish Chronicle admitting that they fabricated stories of Louise Ellman being an antisemite and having to pay her damages would have gained more traction, but by complete coincidence they were being drowned out by David Baddiel and Stephen Pollard coincidentally throwing out a lot of think pieces about how Tottenham fans are the Third Reich unlike those nice, reasonable Chelsea supporters... 

Of course Blizzard were going to have to issue a statement addressing the launch of Warcraft 3: Reforged going so well that the game has a record Metacritic user score of 0.5 at one point, but Blizzard being Blizzard the “apology” was more along the lines of saying they were sorry that fans didn’t get the game they wanted, in other words trying to transfer blame onto them that the game shown in the teasers bore no resemblance to those in the finished game while pretending that there hasn’t been a cascade of criticism about their new policy that says any user-created mods will become Blizzard’s own property, in other words admit fault...which they never will

The latest non-logic from the BBC states that, if a Tory MP refuses to appear on any of their programming, they will cancel the appearance of whichever Labour MP that was also booked, in other words responding to the Dominic Cummings issuing a media blackout by silencing the Opposition in his stead

What better advertisement for Australian policing than Mark Thompson taking a moment to forget that he was Detective Inspector for the murders of Hannah Baxter and her children when her estranged husband set their car on fire before killing himself and instead decided to suggest that maybe she nagged him too much and that’s what led to the tragedy

Becoming a homeopathic mentalist hasn't done Gwyneth Paltrow any favours, considering that the second that there was so much as a whiff of criticism about he waffling about coffee enemas solving all ills on her Netflix show she responded by howling about how valid criticism from qualified health professionals is “clickbait” and not, say, valid criticism from qualified health professionals

Nobody seemed to explain to Dele Alli that posting a video on social media cracking jokes about coronavirus isn't a good idea as people are going to see it, and more than anything else spend a good couple of days flooding Tottenham’s Twitter feed with “DID YOU KNOW DELE ALLI MADE A RACIST POST ON SOCIAL MEDIA???” more times than anyone is willing to count

What a great piece of advice Ninja gave to everyone, namely that if you lose in a video game the only sane and rational response is to get angry and, if you don’t, this makes you “weak”

So much for “Mad” Mike Hughes and his attempt to prove that the earth is flat by using a homemade steam-powered rocket, as instead he made a reasonably-sized crater in the San Bernardino desert which proved that the earth is pretty goddamn hard when you plow into it from several thousand feet in the air while going at an estimated 350mp

Good to see that Jess Phillips is handling her failure in the Labour leadership race well, with her mouthing off at an event commemorating female journalists by harrumphing that it’s a pity that Labour has never had a female leader...while both Rebecca Long-Bailey and Lisa Nandy remain in the leadership contest

And finally, a little more puffed up than usual, is Donald Trump and his sociopathic response to the Republicans allowing him to slither out from the sights of impeachment which was rewarded by him bringing down the axe on anyone who put the party (or, you know, country) ahead of him, which somehow looks less deranged than him mouthing off about Parasite winning Best Picture at the oscars because something something trade deal

[z4g4c-blog]

3/18/2019

I’m glad that it is almost time to quit my current job. This place fucking sucks. I knew this place was fucked early on but I had to stay for a while to gain experience for the future. There was no other option in the city other than places I tried applying to, but didn’t hear anything back from. In the long run it was worth it because I made a lot of connections. The problem is how miserable and insane it has made me feel for the years I spent there. Having to work in a place run by someone who has no clue what they are doing is very painful. Trying to help someone you don’t get along with very well is also difficult. Doing tons of work for someone that you don’t like very much for very low pay makes you wonder what the point is. But the point was being able to make connections and gain experience while accumulating discounted product during the time. I think the main problem was when I started working full time. Prior to that I had only been working three days a week which allowed a generous balance of my free time. Especially during the period where I had graduated from school and was able to do anything during the other four days of the week. I had been studying a lot of Japanese every week and learning a lot. I had been working on music at least every other day. Then I would work three days out of the week which was the maximum that is tolerable for anyone at that place. Once I started working full time, I completely gave up on accomplishing anything outside of work because I was too tired when I got home and had no motivation on days off to do anything. I also had completely stopped drinking during the period after I graduated before I started working full time. Once I started full time, it seemed pointless to spend any free time doing anything other than drink because of a lack of motivation. So for the past near year now I have basically been doing nothing other than working and drinking. I will be finally out of this job in less than two weeks now. I have gained certain things from it, but have lost a lot of sanity. The mental and emotional state this job has put me in has ruined relationships with many people I know because I no longer had time for any people in my life due to complete fatigue. I have only had six jobs in my life. It’s hard to say which one is technically the worst. This one is the highest paid one, but it also has the highest level of inequality of what I put in versus what I am getting out of it monetarily. The amount of tasks I complete for this business is fucked. The amount of benefit I have given this place is so much that I would regret helping them in the first place if it hadn’t been for the experience. My last main job I worked at a hospital doing IT work. I was technically paid the same wage, but this current job I am paid the same amount in cash under the table. The thing is that at my last job, because of the size of the hospital, they eventually forgot I worked there. The way I was assigned tasks was through the computer but I was never given a computer so I was supposed to just use any computer I find in the hospital. This meant I was allowed to be anywhere in the enormous campus of the hospital and when assigned a ticket I would go to wherever the problem was and fix it. Eventually for whatever reason they stopped giving me tickets. I realized months later it was because they forgot I worked there because i ran into some lady that was sort of my manager and she got really confused and thought I had left already. So during that time when I was just on the clock doing nothing, my only job was to figure out how to kill forty hours every week. At one point I found out that there was no longer a security guard assigned to the information desk of the maternity ward, so I would sit at that desk every day and use the computer to browse the web. Whenever someone came to the desk asking for information I tried to help them but, in general they wanted information I had no access to so I would just tell them I didn’t know. The look on their faces when I’m sitting at this desk with a huge statue that says “INFORMATION” and I am literally telling them I don’t know and do not have access to any system that allows me to look up doctors was always amazing. I have no clue how nobody cared that I sat at that desk. I did this for months and was never questioned. Eventually I got tired of this and started just pretending to be a patient in waiting rooms because I bought a bunch of books online to read at work. So I just blended into the environment of other people waiting for surgery or xrays and etc. Otherwise I would just try to get exercise and walk around the campus. At one point I was just on the roof of the hospital and somehow that wasn’t a problem. Because my security badge had full clearance I could open any door. So one day all of a sudden all these people started yelling at me asking what the hell I was doing because apparently I had wandered into the final sanitary zone of the surgery ward and wasn’t supposed to be in there without a full body covering suit. That’s another thing that was crazy about the hospital. There is no security protection whatsoever. One day I was assigned to fix some mobile computer system that ran information about heart rate and various things within some patient’s room. So I got to the intensive care unit and ask them about the ticket and they point me to the room where it is. Only after being in this room for twenty minutes, some doctor rushes in and freaks out because I’m not wearing full scrubs and a mask telling me the patient is highly contagious and my life was at risk. Another point about security that I found amazing was that I figured out that from taking the sidewalk in front of the hospital as a starting point at any hour of a day, it is technically possible to get into the intensive care unit and enter patient’s rooms without ever having to use your security badge to open a door. And keep in mind this is often the area of a hospital where someone involved in a violent crime would be taken. So let’s say that a witness to something was in this hospital. They could be accessed by anyone who knows where to go. And look I’m not talking about some insane maze I figured out. It’s just trial and error of opening a bunch of doors and going through certain elevators. It could be figured out quickly by anyone with determination. Which comes to another interesting point about hospitals. There is virtually no location in a hospital where you can be no matter what you are wearing that you will look suspicious. As long as you look confidant you can start walking into rooms and opening drawers. While I worked there, I had no dress code so I was wearing anything I would wear any other day. Times where I needed to fulfill a ticket for a nurse that went to lunch I would just be inside the nurses station spinning around in a chair for 30 minutes and nobody would question why a random person they have never seen before who isn’t wearing scrubs is just in their private area. At one point I found a wing of the hospital that was under construction and just slept all day in a room they were storing all the furniture in. Eventually what this job boiled down to was that I realized the power that I had in the fact that nobody was paying any attention to me at all. If they were never going to give me any work to do for months and never once call me or email me and say anything then why even show up to work. So I realized I could just wake up get on the subway, clock in, get back on the subway hang out at home until it was time to ride the train back to clock out and go home. So thats what I ended up doing for the last month I worked there which I wish I had realized I could have done earlier. Granted this obviously instilled a level of paranoia, but it was better than being trapped in that place for 40 hours a week. The reason I brought up the hospital job was to describe the level of freedom I had at the job I worked before my current job that confines me to a single room. Having to work only out of a single room is very painful especially when contrasting from a job like that. Other than that I’ve lost my train of thought after describing my experience at the hospital. Overall the lesson is that you should be a lot more skeptical of your visits to the hospital and not place high levels of trust in entities like them that the right thing will be done. After working in a hospital I do anything I can to stay away from them as a patient.

[deleon88rose-blog]

How I found The perfect Choice For Me • Dwelling Off Cloud

How I found The perfect Option For Me • Living Off Cloud

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