#but if we hack away at it every year or so it's fine?? i mean its not like they throw seeds the same way say a maple tree would or like

[bunnyb34r]

Finally started hacking away at the overgrown rose bushes and I'm so fucking exhausted and in pain 😭 bitch....

[dyeher]

FIVE WAYS TO END A FIRST DATE| shouto, suna, draken, megumi, eren.

warnings| sexy time, fluff, unedited (obviously).

author's note| for @ikkakvs ❤️

Let's be real. When your nineteen-year-old son says he needs to talk to you during breakfast the last thing you expect him to say around the table with his three year old sister not even a foot away is-

"I want to fuck her on the first date..."

His father absolutely spits his morning coffee across the kitchen counter. You're frozen, a forkful of your breakfast halfway to your lips. He continues to eat like he didn't just say what he said. You make eye contact with your husband who is on the verge of hacking up a lung as your son gently wipes baby food from his little sister's face.

You drop your fork into your plate and attempt to muster your most serious mom face. Not the kind you use when he's fucked up but the one where you are on the fence about whether or not he needs to have sense shaken into him.

He doesn't even have the wherewithal to look chagrined. Instead, he musters a small, smug smile...something identical to his father's (still dying by the way). You narrow your eyes, he shrugs.

"Dad always says when you know you know...and trust me. I know. Besides didn't you-" he glances at his sister who is happily making a mess of her breakfast and then whispers (like it makes a difference, the child is three she has no idea what is going on)"-you know...have sex on the first-"

"Okay!" His father interrupts. And bless his soon-to-be-dead ass because you did not volunteer this information to your son so it must have been your husband. The one you did fuck after the first date.

"What?" Your son shrugs. "Dad tells me everything."

You glare at the dad in question, only to receive an identical shrug.

"Baby," you start carefully. "What if she doesn't want to fuck after the first date?"

He gives you a quizzical look. "That's fine, we have like forever together. We can fuck after date one hundred for all I care."

"Oh, thank God," you share a relieved glance with your husband. At least you haven't completely failed at raising him.

"But- I guess...I mean the vibes are there, you know? We're totally gonna f-"

"Small ears, kid," your husband covers your daughter's ears and eyes him meaningfully.

You let out a breath and start eating your breakfast. If parenting has taught you anything is that every conversation with our teenager can become a lesson.

"There are other ways to end the first date, baby. A kiss on the cheek. Asking for a second date. Making sure she knows you enjoyed spending time with her-"

"Is that how your first dates ended? With cheek kisses and reassurance?"

You don't like the way he's staring knowingly at you. And your husband's snort disguised as a cough doesn't go unnoticed.

"Well-"

You can feel your husband's eyes on you as you open your mouth. You have to sift through your exes quickly but the most memorable end to your first dates were from-

SUNA RINTARO

Car sex.

Suna Rintaro fucked you in the backseat of his car and the memory is fresh in your mind as though it happened yesterday and not almost twenty years ago.

The leather seats were sticky and slippery with your mixed cum. The squeaking as your body slid up the seat with each of his hurried thrusts. The scent of his cologne as he shoved his face into your neck. The way your body bowed against his. The harsh sound of your breaths. His whispered 'fuck' when he slid in for the first time.

His promises. And of course...his unplanned I love you.

And no, this is definitely not something you do not want to suggest to your son.

2. SHOUTO TODOROKI

He bought you flowers.

Of course, it was more of a 'oh my goodness, look shouto a flower shop' 'do you want to get flowers?' kind of situation where he bought you every flower you looked at for too long (because you deserved it, his words not yours) plus a bouquet of fresh roses and sunflowers.

And...and then he fucked you in his king-sized bed on those flower petals. Used the stem of a rose with the thorns still attached for a bit of fun. Laid you on your side facing his mirror so you could see as his cock disappeared into your body. Spoke filthy, disgusting things into your ear.

You shudder at the reminder.

No. That's also not appropriate...

3. KEN RYUGUUJI

You drove his bike.

Actually one of the scariest experiences of your existence. But also one of the most exhilarating. The purr of the bike's engine between your thighs, the grip Ken had on you. The deep rumble of his voice in your ear gently coaching you. Guiding and praising you.

Okay, to be fair the adrenaline is to blame for the sex that occurred after that. It was wild, and God if you both didn't make promises that to this day have you ducking your head in embarrassment whenever you see him.

The reality is, that this particular first date ended in two creampies, a promise to be the best mother to his children, and a marriage proposal.

You glance at your son quickly only to find him already staring at you. Your husband is smirking in the background.

4. MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

First of all.

It was a picnic. How fucking cute is that?

And to be fair, he was adorably nervous and you thought kissing him would ease the tension but one thing led to another and...

He fucked you beneath the stars to the symphony of crickets. Once he got inside you became an entirely different person. The way he propped the soles of your feet on his shoulders and fucked you until you were weeping into the soft blankets, your nails digging into his skin.

Unprepared for the way Megumi became a sex god you'd squirted all over his chest, much to your mortification. And he had the audacity to drag his fingers through the mess and suck it off his fingers.

The man was a whore.

You're almost dismayed when you realize the last first date you had was-

5. EREN YEAGER

A child.

That's right.

Eren Yeager fucked you after the first date and left you with a mini version of himself growing inside you. Granted he married you before you gave birth and you've been living happily ever after since but still.

You glare at your husband as he reaches across the table to take your plate. Your son sits back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest.

"Wear a condom," you grunt.

Your son cackles as he stands from the table. He bends to scoop his sister out of her high chair. "Don't be silly-" he coos to her, "-wrap your willy."

As he disappears around the corner your husband chuckles.

"How was your trip down memory lane?"

He steps in close to you as you stand and prop yourself against the dining table.

"I hate you, deeply," you groan. Eren laughs as he bends to brush his lips against yours.

"Sure baby, anything you say," he smiles against your mouth. "Anyway, I've been thinking..."

You frown, pulling back to look up at him. "About what?"

"Sharing."

Your breath leaves you in a rush. "Sharing what?"

His eyes darken to a shade of green you've never seen.

"You."

[newtkive]

pixels [newt x reader - modern text au]

ch. 1 - the gc birth

in which two online friends navigate a romance through a minecraft groupchat with their stupid friends

or, newt, the quiet, stoic boy, and y/n, the bubbly girl both curse the world for keeping them apart, but at least they can send each other cute emojis and hope the other doesn't notice their blossoming feelings.

warnings: strong language, mutual pining, none really.

➥ m.list

__

notes: hi :p im very new to writing on tumblr (but ive always been a reader) so pls bare w me! and im trying to revert back to being 14 (im 23 lols..) so im revisiting my old favs including the maze runner/thomas (bc i binged the artful dodger and now im obsessed again). there will be non-text chapters in the future as well, when everyone eventually meets. this will be newt focused so enjoy !! also everyone is like a realistic age from 23 to 28

__

THE GLADE

[ 7:45 PM ]

alby added minho, y/n, newt, tommy, and gally

alby: Hello, guys.

minho: wtf is this

newt: uhhhh

tommy: hi :3

y/n: so this is why you asked me for my # in private

gally: i didn’t consent to this when i gave you my number

newt: don’t give strange men your number y/n

tommy: oh that’s y/n?

alby: Wait, Newt you had Y/N’s number already??

newt: yea

tommy: o.O

y/n: i gave it to him like two weeks after we met lmao

tommy: SO HE HAD YOUR NUMBER FOR A YEAR AND I DIDNT????

y/n: well he asked and you guys didn’t :p

newt: lmao

minho: ik he smug as fuck rn

not u asking for a girls number lmao simp

newt: stop

y/n: we all talk in discord anyways so i didn’t really think about it

plus you guys are friends irl so idk

it felt kinda weird to insert myself heh

minho: we’ve known you for a year and a half y/n

we play games all the time

call all the time

we even send packages and shit

you’re very much considered our irl friend

y/n: REALLY?? 🥺🥺

tommy: internet friends are real friends 😍❤️

minho: the heart eyes are crazy

but yes dude

newt: of course you’re our close friend. just cuz we live near each other and you’re a bit far away doesn’t mean we don’t adore you

minho: ADORE IS CRAZY LMFAO

but real ig

y/n: AWWWWW YOU GUYS LOVEEE MEEEEEE

hahahahha

HAHAHHAHJFIEKMGOR

I LVOE YOU GIYYYYSSSS IM PUTTING ALL OUR MINECRAFT BEDS TOGETHER LATER

gally: i do not want my bed to be infested by you guys

minho: gally sleeps in the corner

gally: no i dont i sleep in my mansion

y/n: cherry blossom mansion*

gally: and you sleep in a shed

y/n: cherry blossom shed* its pink and that matters.

tommy: love you y/n 😊🥰

y/n: love you tommy <3333

minho: that’s actually nasty stop now

y/n: u mad ur unloved

i love how the gc name is our minecraft town name :((

newt: aw it is

minho: can we talk about why tf this was made when we have a perfectly good discord

alby: I’m done with Discord.

newt: you got your shit hacked didn’t you mate

minho: mate 💀💀

british people so crazy

alby: Yes maybe..

I don’t want to make another.

y/n: or your old ass doesn’t know how to

minho: LMAO REAL

alby: Gonna ignore that. But I am getting too old for it. I have a new promotion at work so that means I won’t have time to play with you guys as much anymore. So I decided to make this groupchat in hopes to talk to you guys more to make up for it :)

minho: every group always has the old head with the job 💀💀

newt: minho admitting he’s jobless

minho: you work at a library be so fr rn

newt: i have an income. you have a room in your grandmas basement. we are not the same.

gally: LMFAOOOOOOO

minho: stfu :////

y/n: AWWWWWWW ALBYYYYYYY

tommy: YAAAY!!!!

im going to text you guys all day

tell you every meal

every thought

every interaction will be meaningful and glorious

newt: you are 24 years old you don’t have to do all that

minho: no fr im turning off my phone if he starts this shit

why not just do it before in the discord ??

tommy: easy access now and i tried before but stopped since no one really replied..

y/n: i say we all do it :D i will too tommy

newt: ok second thought that’s fine

minho: .

gally: that’s wild.

y/n: YAAAAAY!!!!!!!!!! NEWT YOU GO FIRST

newt: first with what

y/n: say what u ate today

newt: didn’t say i’d do it.

tommy: i ate muffin, monster energy drink, and hamburger :3333

you guys next

minho: that’s all you had bro..

y/n: hot cheetos and french fries and coffee :D

minho: ??????? BRO

how are you guys alive

y/n: it's my day off and no class so i just wanna rot in bed and that means no cooking

newt: please eat and drink water.

like for real and document it

y/n: ok wait

there

tommy: yum!

minho: y/n..

newt: cereal does not count

y/n: I DONT HAVE ENERGY TO MAKE ANYTHING OKAY

im a 23 year old broke college student my fridge is bare

newt: alright what do you want?

y/n: wym?

newt: like if you could pick.

minho: that’s so cruel 😭😭 just making her imagine it

i like it go on.

tommy: i want chick fil a

minho: i knew you hate the gays

tommy: I AM THE GAYS?????

y/n: ugh that does sound good

mmmm chickem sandiwh waffle fry I Want that Os mYch

newt: that’s what you would order?

y/n: mmmcm yeahshhhhh

newt: ok

minho: that��s it?

i thought soemthing would happen

tommy: me too

like a spell! magic 🪄

y/n: sigh

my cereal tastes bad now

newt: well it is cocoa puffs.

minho: L cereal

y/n: DTOP SAYING L ITS SO ANNOYITIGJNGGGGG

minho: she so madddd 😂😂 L

newt: you're annoying minho

minho: youre just saying that bc shes saying that

newt: no ive always said it. and i will continue to. youre fucking annoying

minho: who bought you your coffee yesterday

newt: ???

myself

and i paid for yours too

im the one with an income

minho: .

well i didnt think youd remember that well.

newt: it was literally yesterday.

minho: yeah but ur old

newt: IM THE SAME AGE AS YOU

minho: yeah but im 🤗✨ 26 ✨��and youre... 26😬😔

tommy: guys stop fighting

newt: we aren't fighting

maybe this gc was a bad idea

tommy: NO!!!!!!!!!

y/n: NOOOO!

tommy: this is like y/n is here w us irl

y/n: awwwwwwwwwwwwwww

minho: no it's not. we would smell a foul stench if she was

y/n: i ahte you sooo bad.

wait there is a knock at my door im scared

newt: answer it

minho: aren't you supposed to say don't open the door for strangers ????

newt: well usually yes

y/n: no im not expecting company

newt: just do it pls

y/n: ok :D

minho: bruh..

i hope she gets robbed and u feel bad forever newt

newt: why would you want that

minho: bc she owes me money

newt: YOU owe ME money

minho: yes but i have a good reason she just wanted robux

tommy: Y/N DONT DO IT!!! I HAVE SEEN DATELINE

y/n: :o....

tommy: Y/N?????????

OH GOD THEY GOT HER

minho: why would she text a silly face if she got got

tommy: clearly its a surprised face

maybe its not her

its like those cut out magazine letters murderers use

y/n: who got me chick fil a!!!!!!!!!!

minho: me

newt: you literally did not

minho: shut up

y/n: newt it was u i see ur name on the receipt

newt: well

y/n: :(

newt: what why are you sad?

minho: im hungry too

y/n: u spent ur money :(

newt: you're hungry are you not?

minho: she's not but i am

y/n: yeah but..

i feel bad you shouldn't have

newt: just eat it or i'll be mad

minho: i think i want red lobster

newt: it's really no big deal y/n

y/n: thank you newt :(((((

newt: you're welcome

go eat and watch ur show or smth

minho: i owuld love to eat and watch a show rn <33 ohhhh im starving

newt: can you shut up

gally: im muting this gc if this means i have to deal with your guys' shit more than usual now.

minho: thank god

newt: good

tommy: good

y/n: good

the food is good too <3

newt: good.

_

lmk if you want to be tagged!

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Ch 26

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

A second chapter today as promised

Content Warnings - injury, surgery, mention of psych eval

An hour feels like forever as you watch the one you love slowly fade away. You’re passed out again by the time Peeta returns with a medic.

“I could only find one,” he pants, trying to catch his breath. “There were a lot of injuries due to the bombs.”

The medic kneels down to take a look at you. Your blood was still black, worrying the entire group.

“Please,” Finnick pleads. “You have to help her.”

“There aren’t enough of us right now to handle this,” the medic shakes their head. “Half of our unit died to the bombs this morning.”

“Can you radio for someone? Anyone?” Finnick asks.

The medic was able to call for an armored vehicle to come pick you up. They didn’t have any medical supplies but they could drive you to the hospital.

Finnick holds your limp hand the whole way, refusing to let you leave him.

It’s been 12 hours with no news. The doctors immediately rushed you into surgery when you arrived, not even letting Finnick come with you.

Finnick sat alone in the waiting room of the hospital. Peeta had been taken in for a psych eval and Katniss was in the ICU. Boggs was dead, the Leegs were dead, Prim was dead… (Gale was unfortunately not dead)

A gloomy aura hung over the capital that day. The rebels had won but at a high cost. Finnick didn’t know what he would do with himself if you didn’t make it.

“Finnick,” someone states as they nudge his shoulder. The blond looks up to see Johanna in front of him.

“Jo…” he replies. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard what happened…,” she starts. “I needed to be here. They flew me out from thirteen.”

“Thank you,” Finnick hums as his friend sits beside him.

The two of them sit in silence for hours, Finnick periodically dozing off in his chair.

Johanna nudges him awake when the doctor comes out.

“She made it through surgery,” the doctor states, causing the victors to let out a sigh of relief. “She’s in a medically induced coma for the time being. She’ll need to have another operation in a week to remove the mass in her brain.”

“What mass?” Finnick asks.

“The timer…” Johanna mutters.

“We don’t know exactly what it is,” the doctor explains. “We do, however, believe that it’s the cause of her sudden illness. The doctors are in contact with Mr. Latier to devise a safe plan of removal.”

“Can we see her?” Finnick asks.

“I’m afraid she’s in a quarantine until her immune system rebuilds strength,” the doctor responds. “We need to check you for injuries but after I can set up some chairs outside her room for you.”

Physically, Finnick was fine. The doctors gave him some fluids and treated some cuts but released him soon after.

He wanted to help you in any way he could. The hospital was running short on blood so he donated some. Unfortunately it couldn’t go to you but Johanna’s blood was able to.

The doctors did a full body scan on Johanna and determined she was clear of any capital additions, meaning she could donate blood and tissue to you. She spent every moment with Finnick, only leaving to grab him some food.

Mags and Annie called daily from 13 but weren’t able to come to the capital yet. District 13 was working on assigning the victors places to stay in the capital until Snow’s execution but they weren’t ready. There was still a lot of cleanup to do.

Beetee flew in two days before your scheduled surgery. He showed Finnick and Johanna the brain scans and explained in technical terms how they were going to extract it without triggering any reactions.

“My hacking abilities allowed me to gain access to the experiment database of the capital’s military lab,” he explains. “A similar experiment was done on some rats around 60 years ago. Luckily we do not believe removing it will cause any further damage to her system.”

“What was it designed to do?” Johanna asks.

“I believe the experiment was designed to trigger a rabies-like reaction in the subject; resulting in their death. However, I hypothesize that the process did not complete itself in her due to the amount of blood she lost. The reaction is transported via the bloodstream so it ceased when there wasn’t enough blood left to continue it,” he explains. “She’s lucky she got here when she did. The doctors told me they’ve never seen someone that low on blood survive for that long. I’m optimistic that once we gain access to the medical equipment in the military hospital she will heal fairly quickly.”

“Thank you,” Finnick responds.

“We’re victors,” Beetee states. “We look out for each other.”

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*if the tag didn’t work please check your settings to make sure other blogs can tag you

[slaymitchabernathy]

Spoiled Rotten

“There you go, you look so fashionable darling.”

Coriolanus presses his ear to the bathroom doors as he listens to his girlfriend talking to what might as well constitute as her child.

Petunia.

What was supposed to be a gift, a pet, turned into an irreplaceable entity in their household. Petunia truly had Soarynn wrapped around her little claw and Coriolanus often thought it was utterly ridiculous that Soarynn was so willing to bend to Petunia’s every need.

Now did Coriolanus bend to Soarynn’s every need?

Yes, yes he did. But this is different!

And Petunia—as he so often likes to remind Soarynn—is a cat. Not a person. Not a child. The fact that she sits at the dinner table with them is ridiculous enough. But to insist on constantly brushing her and bringing her more and more toys was ridiculous in his opinion.

Still, Coriolanus knows how much Soarynn loves Petunia, despite how insistent the little beast is on making his life a living hell. It started out slowly, the cat is smart and he has to give her credit for that. She’d simply sit on his side of the bed, refuse to move off of the sofa when he wanted to sit down.

Little things. But this is psychological warfare as far as he’s concerned.

It’s been two years since he got Petunia for Soarynn and she’s only gotten more and more clever. She’ll bite holes in his socks, she’ll eat his socks. She’ll sneak into his study and kick papers off of his desk, knock down his lamp and clock.

One time she walked into his study, hopped onto his desk, and hacked up a fucking hairball right in front of him all while maintaining eye contact.

Soarynn claims she’s an angel.

Either way, Petunia is here to stay and is currently being prepared for a visit to the veterinarian. Since her last visit was quite the stressful one thanks to her eating his sock, Soarynn told him that she wanted to “mentally prepare Petunia to go back.”

Whatever that means.

He quickly backs away from the doors when hearing the sound of Soarynn’s heels clicking on the tiled floor and watches as the doors open, revealing his stunning girlfriend and Petunia who has a pink ribbon wrapped around her neck.

Coriolanus chuckles as he watches Petunia try and wiggle out of Soarynn’s hold, “Someone’s not too happy about her ribbon hmm?” Soarynn scoffs and readjusts her grip on the flailing feline, “She loves it. Don’t you Petunia?”

Coriolanus raised his eyebrows but doesn’t give any further comments on Petunia and her feelings towards the ribbons that Soarynn is so fond of making her wear. He can see a hint of nervousness in Soarynn’s eyes and he gives her arm a gentle squeeze.

“Everything will be fine darling.”

Soarynn nods and forces a smile but her heart isn’t in it, “Suppose they find something wrong? Perhaps her stitches came loose?”

Coriolanus is quick to silence these worries by wrapping his strong arms around her and planting a kiss on the top of her head, “We would’ve know if her stitches came loose darling.” He doesn’t mention that Soarynn has been quite tedious about Petunia’s recovery, ensuring everything was cleaned and antibiotics were given at the proper times.

Soarynn sighs and leans her head against his chest, “I know. I…I’m being overdramatic but I just worry that they might need to keep her overnight for observation or something like that. We’ve never been apart like that before.”

I know, is what Coriolanus wants to say. Petunia has been a constant in both of their lives to the point where it was strange to not have her roaming the penthouse halls for a night.

“It’ll be fine, and after the appointment we can take her to the pet shop and get her something nice,” he suggests.

Coriolanus knows how much Soarynn loves to shop and spend money and she loves shopping for others even more than for herself. She often comes home with new clothes for him or new bows for Petunia. A visit to the pet shop is bound to make her feel better. An incentive if you will.

Soarynn perks up and lets out a small gasp, looking up at him with those startling eyes of hers, “Really? And I can buy her whatever she wants?”

Coriolanus grins down at her and nods, “Anything you want,” he promises.

꧁ ꧂

“Absolutely not.”

Coriolanus shakes his head at Soarynn who is currently holding a tiny black kitten in her hands. He sends a warning glare to the shop owner who is being no help to him in this current situation.

Soarynn pouts and Coriolanus nearly gives in but as the man of the house, he has to put his foot down. Granted he doesn’t do it often, not when it’s her. Not when it’s Soarynn, his darling girl who truly deserves the world and more.

But another cat?

He’d rather eat glass.

“Please Coryo? Petunia needs a friend,” Soarynn insists, walking towards him and Petunia who is currently in his iron grip. The kitten is awfully cute, even he can admit that. But that’s just what he’s worried about.

Petunia had been adorable as a kitten. But then she got old, smart, mean. He can’t have that again. And this kitten is a girl. Three against one just isn’t fair.

Petunia lets out a hiss and swats at the kitten who’s eyes go wide as saucers at the much larger cat. For once, Coriolanus is glad for her short temperament and her hatred towards the spotlight being stolen from her for more than five seconds.

“Petunia would feel neglected,” he tells her, “and besides, she clearly doesn’t like the kitten. I’m sure she’ll find a good home.” Petunia certainly did and clearly isn’t willing to give that up to another cat.

Soarynn sighs but nods, “Alright. I just miss when she was so tiny. Don’t you remember when we first got her?”

Coriolanus remembers clear as day how Petunia would stay up at all hours of the night, therefore making him stay up at all hours of the night. But, she had been a rather sweet kitten all things considered. And she made Soarynn so happy which was all he really wanted in the end for her.

He smiles, “I do. And I also remember you wanted to find her a new collar.” That seems to do the trick in distracting Soarynn because she gasps and nods, “Oh I did!”

Coriolanus feels rather proud of himself as he watches her return the kitten to the shop owner before coming back and collecting Petunia from his arms.

The pet shop has a rather large selection for cat collars and Soarynn has been in the market for a new one for quite some time.

He watches from a distance as Soarynn holds Petunia in her arms, almost like a child, bouncing her up and down, showing different collars to her.

She holds up a dark red collar and Petunia sniffs at it for a moment before her attention is drawn elsewhere, “You need to look like a proper Snow darling,” Soarynn tells the cat, bringing a grin to his lips.

Much can be said about how much she spoils that cat, but Soarynn has always made sure that Petunia looks as presentable as possible, always representing the Snows in a distinguished manner.

Coriolanus can’t help but wonder how she’d be with a child of theirs. Soarynn would be a wonderful mother, he knows that much for certain. But they’d have to get married first. Still, he can picture it quite clearly, a little child of theirs with blue eyes and blonde hair.

A true Snow.

And doesn’t that sound pleasant? ‘Soarynn Snow.’ It has a ring to it, he knows that for certain.

First he’ll need to secure a ring, one fit for the wife of Coriolanus Snow. He can only imagine the wedding, and Petunia is bound to be involved with that one way or another.

“Coryo?”

His girlfriend’s voice pulls him from his thoughts of the future and he looks down at a happy-looking Soarynn who is holding the red collar in her hands, “Yes my love?” Soarynn shifts her hold on Petunia which earns her an annoyed meow but Soarynn ignores it, “Don’t you think this collar is fitting for her?”

Coriolanus takes the collar into his hands and inspects it. It’s made of thick leather with fine craftsmanship if he did say so himself. A perfect collar for the cat of a Snow.

He can only imagine the clothes their children will wear one day. Soarynn is bound to have them all coordinate outfits with one another.

“It’s perfect,” he says, earning him a bright smile from Soarynn who nods in agreement, “I thought so too. Should we get her another tag engraved?”

Petunia had gone missing once, slipped out of the penthouse and explored the Capitol streets, nearly sending Soarynn into despair. In the end they found her but Coriolanus was glad that she at least always wore a collar with her information on it incase someone found her.

“Yes, let’s go do that right now.”

꧁ ꧂

Petunia Snow ꧁ ꧂ XXX-XXX-XXXX ꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus reads Petunia’s new engraved collar tag as they’re driven back home. Petunia is sound asleep in Soarynn’s arms who is sound asleep in his arms.

Both girls must be exhausted from today. Coriolanus was pleased to hear that Petunia had recovered without a hitch and that nothing was amiss with her health. Soarynn was even more relieved than he was and pressed about a million kisses to Petunia’s head.

As if the cat didn’t eat one of his socks.

Coriolanus carefully sets the collar back into its box which is next to the other two shopping bags full of things Petunia does not need but got today.

In the end he supposes that she’s cheaper than a human child, but he’ll happily pay for her things so long as it makes Soarynn happy.

Coriolanus sleeps well knowing that his future wife, future children, and…his cat, all are spoiled rotten.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[frayazicat]

what if Triplets Dan, Danny, and Ellie?

like, people like to make at least Dan and Danny twins, but why not all three?? i never see that happen.

here's what i'm thinking. Reveal Gone Good, but Danny now has to tell his parents about the OTHER TWO biggest secrets he's kept from them; Dan and Ellie. he's a little hesitant cause this is not Phantom Planet compliant so they don't know about Vlad.

Dan's still in his thermos timeout thinking about what he's done and Ellie is...somewhere.

so, he tells them about his clone and his future self. this includes what Vlad has done to him. does it include who did this? maybe, i don't know. dealer's choice. anyways, the Fenton parents want to meet their new kids.

Team Phantom gets in touch with Ellie to get to FentonWorks as soon as possible while Danny introduces them to Dan.

it..might not go as planned, might end up fine, that's also dealer's choice. but! in the end, they somehow redeem Dan. Ellie arrives and the duo are welcomed into the family!

but, there are two problems now.

1) how do they explain away their new children?

and 2) Dan is full ghost (and adult-sized, i'm not sure the parents are old enough for a kid his age) and Ellie is an unstable clone - both half Vlad, and really not wanting to be half Vlad.

their solution to the second problem? make new bodies for them! they made two fully stable Halfa clone bodies from Danny, had Ellie and Dan fuse their cores inside these clones near the end of making them, and waited for them to pop out of the tubes at the same age as Danny! this might take some help from Clockwork and Danny to pull off without more melting clones..

anyways! now, they have three Halfa children. all they have to do at this point is find a way to explain the sudden appearance of TWO MORE KIDS!

their solution for THAT problem? hack into the database and change the medical files so it showed that THREE kids were birthed instead of one; Danail Jack, Daniel Jackson, and Dannielle Jacklyn Fenton. Dan, Danny, and Ellie.

but the parents take it SO MUCH FURTHER. they bribe the local schools and hospitals, they make fake receipts of things bought for them and fake records of government child support, and they even photoshop younger versions of Ellie and Dan into the family photos to make it legit. heck, they might have even gone back in time via Clockwork to add the birth certificates! they're THAT committed!

so, we got a new family of six gaslighting, gatekeeping, and girlbossing their way into legitimacy.

"What do you mean we only had two kids this entire time? Look at these records! Look at how similar they are to their triplet brother! The evidence says otherwise!"

"Listen, if you just play along and say nothing contrary to anybody who asks, we'll stop ghost hunting or driving for one month every time you do so. Sound good? We'll even put in some money to sweeten the deal."

"If we never had these children before, then why do we have memories of Dan viciously beating up Danny and Ellie's bullies at school?"

that sort of thing.

they're COMMITTED. it's INSANE. the town is going CRAZY.

where did these kids come from?? did we seriously forget about two teen kids for sixteen years??

(things go off the rails when Sam and Tucker get in on the action.)

now, i'm putting this under DCxDP, cause of just ONE little detail. Ellie's obsession involves moving, right?

well, what if the Fenton family becomes a wandering family of crime-fighters/mad scientists with an interest in the occult?

what if they get on the JL's radar because of one too many supernatural cases being solved by the Fentons in the JL's local cities?

they're at Gotham? suddenly, it feels as if the air is lighter and that it's not as drenched in evil and insanity as before. what did they do? fought the curses in the local Lazurus Pit like someone wrestling a pig in their mudpen.

they're in Metropolis? Lex woke up one day to find his entire stash of Kryptonite was missing with no trace. what did they do? the triplets broke in after sensing the gems and ate them like candy, their natural ghostliness shorting out the security feed as they do so.

they're in D.C.? all of the ghost relics in the local museums have been stolen with only a note saying, "Sorry for the disturbance! These were too dangerous for the living, so we put them somewhere safe! Don't worry! :)" left behind. what did they do? they took them and chucked them into the ghost portal where some allies on that side put them in safe places.

and that's all i got.

TL,DR; Fenton family goes full mad scientist in order to welcome Dan and Ellie into the family before packing up and wandering the states, effectively gaining the JL's attention with their suspicious and crazy appearances.

(i hope i didn't accidentally steal this idea from another. if i did, i'm sorry. feel free to smack me or something if that's the case.)

[fatuismooches]

SMOOOOCHES!!! hello sweetheart!! ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

I hope you’ve been well since the last time I came on here!! (little update on my test results: everything came back clean except a few things came back indecisive but nothing to worry about! Chronic illness doesn’t seem to be getting any worse as of right now.) but asides from that here’s a little drabble as I was re-reading a few of my earlier drabbles from last year!

We know fragile!reader despises examinations and having to endure the painful injections every few weeks when Dottore batches up a new medicine. However, what if it backfires completely? Causing fragile!reader to be in an even weaker condition, barely able to move and clinging onto Dottore as tightly as they can. Perhaps running a fever, feeling miserable as they feel as if though their whole body is being pricked by thousands of needles as they shake from their fever. Dottore would try his best to not let his emotions show, but deep down he’s panicking and trying to figure out how he can cancel out the current “medicine” running through their body. To say Dottore feels guilt is an understatement, he knows that any medicine that they take can easily backfire quickly, but he never would’ve thought the symptoms would be so severe. :( once their condition stabilizes I like to think Dottore keeps them close for at least a few days, just to make sure everything is fine. Even if it means they’ll be all clingy to him, he’d rather they be safe and alive rather than induced in a coma once again.

A bit of fluff: I like to think Zandy definitely also tries to cheer you up after the whole ordeal. He’s not sure why you weren’t visiting or reading books to him anymore, other than that “you were busy with Dottore”, is what you had told him. But even the little baby knows you look more weaker (even if it’s been a few days, your condition had still worsened anyways). So perhaps he tries to draw you adorable silly drawings, and also show you his “safe” experiments. (Lest he get a scolding from Zandik or the clones again…)

‘m giving you so many chu chus n cuddles like always smooches hehe gonna make your cheeks all rosy pinky! <33 I hope you have a lovely day n spend it with a smile like always!

-from your dear boo boo bear 🎐 anon! ౨ৎ

HELLO MY DEAR 🎐 ANON!! Ahh I'm so glad your results were okay! I'm so happy for you and for getting through all of this! *hugs you* And I LOVE this brainrot! ❤️ I've always brainrotted about this idea hehe because angst of Dottore failing... teehee.

Dottore, being the skilled scholar he is, never fails to concoct new medications and treatments for you in hopes of creating something that sticks, along with the actual cure. These meds always go through a few rounds of testing, on his experiments of course (as you said before) but sometimes there is only so little that can be done. After all, your body is very different from the average person's. So, there have been times when the things he's given you didn't agree with your body very well, but they were never anything drastic. However, that was until this instance.

Dottore is a confident man. He's smart, he plans ten steps ahead, and things always go exactly as he orchestrated or predicted them to. So that's why he expected nothing different to be with this batch, maybe you'd have a few minor side effects that he'd note and so on, but he expected you to be fine, to then whine about how all of this was so much work, and he'd only hum at your complains to which you'd pout at. In the beginning, you seemed fine. Looked fine, your vitals were fine. But in a matter of minutes, when you got off the operating table, all of that changed, as dizziness and blurriness.

You tried to wave off Dottore's concern, observing your worsened state immediately, but your resistance was futile as your knees buckled, though your husband caught you before you could fall. Your skin was on fire, sapping away your strength as you couldn't even bring your hand up to stop your hacking and coughing. You try to speak but everything hurts far too much for you to muster your words, and you can barely process the muffled voices, footsteps against the floor, and hands running over your body (he must have called a few segments in too.) You pass out soon after, unable to see the blank look on Dottore's face, how his hands don't shake, how he is unfaltering and flawless in his steady work to counteract what he put in his body. Unable to see what only you can see - what he's really feeling underneath everything.

You don't wake up until a few days later, to which Dottore spent trying to figure out where he went wrong constructing this medication. If only he had been more careful, if he had run more tests, perhaps this may not have happened. Perhaps he wouldn't be the cause of your even weaker state. But even when you wake up, you just smile at him, assuring him that you're okay. You'd never blame him. Even though this was all this fault. He despises it sometimes, how you're so kind and forgiving. It's a weakness.

Sure, Dottore has a lot of work to be done, and having you around so much serves as a distraction to his work... but he'll let it slide. Just for a bit. At least it is a reminder to him that you're not permanently sleeping again.

Zandy, despite being left out of the loop many times, mostly due to your insistence that he not be burdened with your own troubles, can still sense something is wrong after a while. Yes, he's a child, but he's a rather smart one. And a very attentive one when it comes to his favorite person, you. He can see how much time you spend for "check-ups" with the segments and Prime now, far more than what it used to be... how you always look exhausted but force yourself to perk up and smile around him, assuring him you'll play with him "next time", even though numerous "next times" have passed. Zandy doesn't know the exact details, but that's okay, he can see what you're going through. So obviously he's going to try and make you smile! In the time he's not with you, he spends it doing all the things you like to do too. Drawing you two together of course, in a happy little house in Sumeru where the two of you play outside together all day with no worries! Maybe he even tried baking by himself to surprise you with something yummy (quickly stopped by a segment before he hurt himself or perhaps blew up the lab.) Maybe the child should take up sewing... maybe he can sew a little Puffttore squish ball for you! Oh, but you always told him to stay away from needles... well, it's okay if you don't find out until after the fact, right?

[vergess]

So a friend reblogging this interview tips post, which is a perfectly fine post with advice that is useful or whatever.

But I desperately need hiring managers to stop acting like the livelihood and continued survival of their interviewees is "playing the game." It's not a game; it has never been a game. It's people's survival. Our lives.

I understand that to management it's about showing team spirit. But to everyone else, management just said that I need to buy new clothes if I even want to be considered a meritorious applicant, regardless of my skills, experience and attitude.

Because every single thing I own is "ratty." That is to say, it is worn out, thread bared, and has stains/rips embroidered over. That's what being a poor person looks like.

"Oh just spend $20 on a shirt and pants."

I'm also fat. Button down shirts that won't be an Obscenity charge are $40. Pants are $60. I have 37 dollars to my name and I still have to buy medicine and shelter.

And remember: this expense is for the lottery chance that I may get hired. It is NOT an expectation presented AFTER an offer.

I get to pay for new clothes for russian roulette.

I should spend everything I have and more to buy one outfit for interviews and really, really hope that this time I get the job. Even though interviews are notoriously biased against fat people, POC, queer people, and women.

Management also just said I need to prove that I know about the company atmosphere from personal, unpaid, off the clock research above and beyond the application and interview process.

That I should self teach, BEFORE so much as an offer is made.

Meanwhile literally hundreds of my applications are thrown away on a weekly basis (I do about 15 applications a day most week days, and have been for multiple years now). The reasons for this are varied. Sometimes its because my name sounds too ethnic (I've had so many interviewers compliment me for not being Black which they thought based on my name). Sometimes they think I'm over qualified for every single job within 55 miles of me, as though having a college degree means I can photosynthesize instead of needing a home.

Often it's simply because companies lie all the time about whether they are actually hiring, posting dozens of fake job listings. That way they can tell their overworked and underpaid staff, "Oh, the reason you have 3 doubles a week is because of all those lazy unemployed assholes that don't want to work."

The fact that there is a "game" where the loser may become homeless or dead at all is deranged. The fact that the losing players all have to smile, and cheer, and cooingly tell the winners what a Good, Good Job they did is significantly more disgusting.

And let me be clear: the OP of that post is a hiring manager. That shit about "ratty clothes" is entirely under the hiring manager's opinion. There's no way to know what a given hiring manager thinks of your clothes, though if you're visibly poor, fat, or nonwhite chances are they would think you look unkempt in a full 3 piece suit with garters.

That shit about "show me you did independent unpaid labour to prove your loyalty to a company that isn't even hiring you yet" is ALSO under the manager's absolute judgment. You have NO way of knowing what stupid tidbits of information are the "right" ones to recite. You could memorize every piece of information that company has ever published and you STILL would not know which trivia is the Right Answer.

Same with the "ask me a question" shit.

There is no right answer. Interviews don't check for skills, abilities, experience, or even team cohesion.

They are vibe checks. They exist to give hiring managers a way to disqualify IMMENSELY qualified candidates over their own unexamined bigotries.

And btw? We have the science to prove it. It's called "implicit bias."

If you have an accent, are fat, aren't white, are visibly disabled or queer in any way, etc? Your inability to get a job is not because you "didn't play the game."

It's because the "game" was rigged to fuck you over from the start.

[msfbgraves]

Is it me or is the enshittification machine working very fast these days? You used to get years out of a service before they fucked it up too much to be of use to anyone but the shareholders. Now, they barely can build alternative services fast enough before big money comes in and renders any service or product functionally unusable. I'm feeling myself move further and further away from mainstream anything purely because I'm a snob that likes things to be, well, not utter crap. And increasingly, that means you have to make and own everything yourself again, or at least be part of the avant garde of whatever interests you, before the mainstream invariably fucks it up. I had not the slighest interest in learning how to program a computer but I'll have to know, now, to get all the crapware off my pc. I pirate because my smart tv will no longer update. I lament my non existent fine motor skills more and more each day because I cannot fix terribly made clothes. I ditch subscriptions because they only get more expensive and worse over time. I pay for upgrades on public transport because the economy version has become functionally unusable with my level of disability - and I have not declined as hard as their level of service.

I went to an amusement park I've been to since I was a toddler and got sensory overload, not because any of the rides - they were virtually unchanged - because on every corner, some stall was blaring at me to buy an overpriced trinket. Again, the things in there built to provide you with amusement had not increased. There were no more places to catch your breath.

I mean, I am "voting with my feet", I already am refusing to pay for bad quality but there are no socially approved alternatives.

And sure, that leads to some original experiences. But most of the time it has meant going backwards, using older things that were made to last, or simply refusing to opt in to new technology and I feel that this is the best way of going completely out of touch. The only thing that consoles me about that is that people who work in cybersecurity are completely offline in their own homes. So here I am using pirating and paywall hacks and cooking from scratch and making my own bath oil and taking my nieces to the beach without music because I can't stand the noise and thrift shopping and reviving ten year old machines and finding trials for Spotify to get out of the frickin price hikes and paying for organic food because that is the only way to get some actual nutrition out of supermarket food and somehow failing to see this all as progress.

And now we even have to keep the Republicans out of Ao3. All the while knowing I fed that AI beast.

I'm not even outraged, just annoyed. It's so much effort that somehow wasn't in 2012. I can't think of a single thing that we have now and didn't have then that I couldn't do without gladly - except some music and movies, and using your creditcard to get into the bus.

[currentlyfckingurmom]

Beneath the Wreckage (part 6)

series masterlist

A soft knock disrupted Arina’s empty, cold stare at the bare wall. Had she been sleeping, it undoubtedly would have woken her up, despite its quietude. But she wasn’t sleeping; instead, she was analyzing every crack that ran along the old wall, every chip that adorned the cold concrete. Picking apart the flaws of an inanimate object, desperate to push away her own formidable emotions and forged impassivity.

Arina mechanically rose from her place on the floor and schooled her expression into one of balanced neutrality—just enough to look remotely human, but not nearly enough to give anything away.

She opened the bedroom door, unsurprised to find Natasha standing on the other side. She didn’t move, didn’t offer to let Natasha inside. That would be too personal. She didn’t do personal. Not after experiencing so many raw emotions in so little time after years of nothing.

“You okay? You’ve been in here for hours,” Natasha asked with concern. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just needed a minute alone, that’s all,” Arina reassured her.

“Okay, well...the Widows are leaving soon.” Arina nodded and exited the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Natasha got the hint and began walking down the hall alongside the brunette.

“How many are staying to assist?” “Nineteen out of thirty-four. I put in a call to my friend Mason to help get the others situated somewhere safe.”

“Ah, yes. I’ve...encountered Mason before.”

“You mean he helped you do illegal shit?” Natasha asked with a smirk.

“Pretty much.”

“So what’s your take on this? Do you think we should go with the same game plan for the next group?”

“Probably, yes. And then after that, if enough Widows agree to help us, we can split up and do the last two groups at once in two different locations. But what if we’re overthinking this, Natasha?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we do have full control over these girls. And I witnessed it for enough years that I know they’ll do anything you command them to. So can’t we just make them surrender? Come to this location without weapons?”

“We can’t. Dreykov had the three of us marked as targets and I don’t know how to get around it,” Natasha said.

“Oh, come on. You’re kidding, right? You’re the freaking Black Widow! Don’t tell me you forgot your roots. You’re Natalia Alianova Romanova—remember that. You remember the time we hacked the security system so we could steal the good food for Yelena’s birthday? We were only twelve when we did that. This is no different.”

For the first time since they were seventeen, Arina allowed herself to reminisce on those heartfelt moments they shared in the darkest depths of their past. There was a glimmer in Arina’s eye, and Natasha couldn’t tell if it was nostalgia, joy, or something wholly different, but she liked the way it looked on her.

“I could never forget my roots, Aria. ‘Cause then I’d have to forget you, too, and that would be damn near impossible. If we’re doing this, you’re providing snacks.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal. Meet me in the lab in twenty minutes,” Arina said before turning and walking in the direction of the kitchen. Natasha smiled as she walked away. She began to think that Arina wasn’t doing as bad as she thought—that maybe her mind and heart had held together throughout the years. Natasha, of course, was wrong. But, like the world-class spy she is, Arina was damn good at hiding the wars waging in her mind, and Natasha wouldn’t realize the extent of the damage until it had already forced a breakdown—one that Arina wouldn’t be able to cover up.

⧗

Yelena’s light footsteps faltered when she walked by the lab, her attention drawn to a laugh coming from inside the large room. She poked her head around the doorframe and saw Natasha and Arina huddled over a computer screen. Natasha’s head was thrown back in boisterous laughter, and Arina was looking at the redhead with bright eyes and a small smile, completely oblivious to the blonde woman watching them.

Yelena thought about making a sarcastic comment, but ultimately decided against it and resumed her walk down the hall. Despite her usual outwardly satirical personality, she didn’t want to ruin their moment. She found herself rooting for the two of them, knowing damn well that they would need to overcome a million hindrances of the past before they could ever have any kind of future together.

Yelena continued on her way to the bunkroom to speak to the Widows, but she heard shuffling coming from a room on her left. She opened the door and stepped into the dimly lit room, tense and prepared to face any threat.

There was no threat to face, though. It was only one of the Widows, Valeriya. She was standing in front of a chaotic bulletin board, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Valeriya? What are you doing in here?” Yelena asked as she moved to look at the bulletin board.

“What is all this? Are you guys looking into Madame B?” Valeriya questioned.

“I have no idea. We aren’t looking for her, no. We shouldn’t be in here. Arina is a very private person.”

“Right, sorry,” Valeriya apologized, walking out of the room. Yelena shut off the light and followed her out, closing the door behind them.

“It’s fine. You didn’t know. Come with me to the bunkroom.”

When the two assassins entered the bunkroom, all heads turned to them and every conversation stopped. They weren’t intimidated by Yelena or Valeriya, but it was pure habit.

“I just want to give you guys an update,” Yelena began. “I know this has all been really difficult and we’re kind of flying blind here. But we do have a plan...of sorts. Natasha and Arina are working to eliminate the kill order on their heads, but Dreykov put a lot of restrictions and firewalls in place that they need to get through. If that doesn’t work out, then we’ll free the next two groups the same way we freed all of you. Any questions?”

“When is this all going to happen?” a Widow asked, her thick Russian accent shining through.

“That depends. I have no idea how long it will take them to change the Widows’ orders, if they can even do it. I don’t think it’ll be longer than a week before all the Widows are freed,” Yelena answered. “Is that all?” Nobody asked anything else, so Yelena nodded to herself and said, “We will have dinner ready at seven.”

She left the room and Valeriya stayed behind with the rest of the Widows. She meandered about the halls, repeatedly getting distracted by previously unexplored rooms. From dusty labs to heavily equipped armories, it was all ‘so cool’ and had her eyes wide with wonder. They were never allowed to roam free in the Red Room; they could never stray from their path or be anywhere they weren’t ordered to go, so she was taking her sweet time exploring the bunker.

Eventually, she once again stumbled upon the lab inside which Natasha and Arina were...celebrating?

“Why are you guys jumping about and smiling? Did you win a prize? You look like idiots,” she said dryly as she entered the room and slumped on a stool next to them.

“Yelena, you dumbass, we did it. The orders have been lifted,” Natasha said, the smile never dropping from her face.

“Wait, seriously? You did it? When are they coming?”

“We already sent out the order. They’re on their way. No weapons, no hostility. They’ll head straight here and wait outside the bunker. We’ll lead them into the radiation showers and expose them to the counteragent,” Arina said, her wide smile long gone and the stony expression back in its place.

“Radiation showers? You’re telling me this place has radiation showers?” “Yes, Lena. We need the radiation showers in case something goes wrong in the meth lab. Keep up,” Arina deadpanned, which Yelena ignored.

“That’s amazing. Except you probably would’ve gotten it sooner if you had stopped flirting for five seconds,” Yelena said, slipping off the stool and exiting the lab once again.

⧗

That night after dinner, Arina was on her way to who-knows-where when Valeriya jogged up behind her and tapped on her shoulder. Arina probably would’ve flipped her to the ground or snapped her neck in a split-second had she not heard the Widow coming. Not very discreet for a Red Room assassin, although that may have been Valeriya’s intention.

“Arina, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Uh, sure? I’m sorry, who are you?” Arina asked as Valeriya motioned for her to follow her into an empty conference room.

“I’m Valeriya. I was walking around earlier, and I found the room with the bulletin boards and stuff.” Arina tensed at that, but said nothing. “Are you trying to find Madame B?”

“So what if I am? Why do you need to know?” Arina questioned defensively.

“I’m not a threat, Arina. I just- I have some information that could help, if you’re looking for her.”

“Okay. Tell me.”

“Well, nobody knows for sure where she is. She’s a ghost. There have been rumored sightings all over the globe, but nothing concrete. Before the Red Room fell, though, I was called to Dreykov’s office. Madame B was in there, and he was giving her a file, a USB drive, and orders to ‘find her.’ I don't know who he was talking about. He had me escort her to her jet, and when I caught a glimpse of the flight manifest, the destination was listed as somewhere in France. I don’t remember the town.”

Arina clenched her jaw as her eyes flicked around the room, easily maintaining her cool composure despite the storm in her mind. “How long ago was this?”

“About a week before the Red Room collapsed. I’m sorry I don’t know more.”

“No, don’t– don’t apologize. This is very helpful. Thank you, Valeriya. And don’t tell anyone about this conversation,” Arina spoke hurriedly. She hastily exited the room without so much as a goodbye, her determination echoing with each of her steps.

She didn’t need Valeriya to tell her anything else. Arina knew exactly where Madame B had gone, and she knew exactly who Dreykov had ordered Madame B to find. And it sent her thoughts spiraling, her heart racing, and her memories playing in panicked flashes.

She threw open her bedroom door and slammed it shut behind her. Grabbing an empty duffel bag from the closet, she threw it on the bed and began stuffing clothes inside. Different styles for different aliases. Two combat suits. Weapons. Passports and driver’s licenses. Money.

Once everything was packed, she did something she’d never done before; she hesitated. She sank to the floor and held her head in her hands. She couldn’t just leave. It wasn’t just her anymore. She had to think about the Widows and Lena and Talia. She couldn’t just leave, could she?

⧗

When Natasha knocked on Arina’s door the next morning, there was no answer. She had opted to let Arina sleep in, knowing that Arina doesn’t get much sleep—another thing that hadn’t changed since they were kids. There was no time to sit around and wait for Arina to come out; the Widows were already outside the bunker.

She shook her head with a sigh and marched away from Arina’s door to meet Yelena by the entrance. She ignored the voice in the back of her head telling her that something was wrong. She resisted the feeling in her gut pulling her back toward Arina’s room. She had other priorities—a responsibility to those Widows who were still pinned under the thumb of a despicable man who was no longer alive.

Arina was still in her room, though. Still sitting on her floor. Mind still running so fast that every thought was nothing more than a blur. Still twiddling the silver N between her fingers, absentmindedly finding hope in the scrap of her favorite memory. Still staring at the chipped, cracked concrete.

Until she stopped.

Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt. Her fingers stopped moving. She came to a decision.

But she was still staring at the chipped, cracked concrete. Picking apart the simplicity of an inanimate object, desperate to forget the complexities of her own past.

[ponds-of-ink]

Notre Dame AU Chapter 11: “Chattering Under The Castle”

Was going to have this be in the last chapter, but I felt like Chapter 10 had a good stopping point.

And now, onto the calm before the...

Hm. Could calling something a “firestorm” be a vague enough spoiler?

—

After a few minutes of searching for a resting place, all three were sitting on various cushions. Agonia kept watch, Cassie brightened the area with her flashlight, and Vanessa fooled with Cassie’s walkie-talkie. “So, you’ve had this for a while?” Vanessa asked Cassie as she pried the screws off the back.

Cassie nodded. “I got it the first time I came here,” she explained simply. “It was a birthday gift from Roxy Raceway.”

“Not a bad gift,” Vanessa half-smiled as she removed the batteries. “Too bad it might’ve been bugged.”

Cassie looked at Vanessa. “‘Bugged’?” she echoed, moving closer. “You mean it’s been hacked too?”

“Probably,” Vanessa responded. “Ago here’s thinking you’ve been talking to the wrong ‘Gregory’.”

Cassie’s eyes darted between the two adults. “So if he isn’t Gregory,” she said slowly, “then who is he?”

Agonia and Vanessa exchanged looks. Who was supposed to tell her?

Vanessa’s eyes aimlessly shifted. To explain her side would take time they didn’t have.. But Agonia might not be willing to talk about his situation. Not after everything that’s happened.

Agonia, meanwhile, heaved a deep sigh. “I have reason to suspect that Judge Glitch may be responsible,” he answered, piquing the interest of both listeners. “I could hear him talking to you, Cassie. Pathetic cadence and all.”

Cassie’s expression turned distraught. “You mean the rabbit that locked up Gregory?” she asked, looking at the robot with fear in her eyes.

“Among other things,” Agonia replied grimly.

All three went silent. They soon returned to their original duties, but Cassie was more thoughtful than before. Her ponderings gradually changed from the horror of almost being captured to the pressing worry right in front of her. Why were her new friends so... sad? It wasn’t the mention of the crazy rabbit— That topic made them more grouchy than sad. So what exactly was the matter?

She eyed the two of them closely. Vanessa had the gaze of someone who had seen plenty of frightening things. Things that, unfortunately, Cassie felt like she couldn’t chase away. They were too out of her reach, even with all the scary things she herself encountered.

The bellringer, meanwhile, struck a chord. It wasn’t completely apparent, given his alert posture, but she could sense it. That gloominess she felt at that birthday party. The same feeling that made her run off into a dark part of the Raceway and sob her heart out.

Agonia wasn’t that willing to do any of that, of course. But the point still stood in Cassie’s mind.

”Hey, Ago,” she spoke up at last. “Would it be okay if we left together?”

The hare’s ears raised. “Do you mean all three of us?” he asked slowly. “Or just Vanessa and you?”

In spite of her current circumstances, Cassie couldn’t help but laugh. “I meant all three of us, silly,” she giggled before putting a hand to her mouth. “Why would you think we’d leave you behind?”

Agonia’s eyes went wide. He sat quietly for a few moments. “I…” his voice trailed briefly. “I have no idea. I just assumed that would be the case, since…”

He stopped. His mind went blank.

They weren’t there during those days. The days when all of Judge Glitch’s words were applicable. The days when he had every right to be called a monster.

But now? Now after all the years of his confidence and his evil deeds fading away in tandem? …To be honest, he wasn’t sure if there could be a reason. Not with these two, anyway.

Unless he did something horrendous by mistake, of course. That was always an—

“Since… what?” Cassie inquired, breaking him out of his trance.

“I am.. not sure,” he answered with a shrug. “In fact, I think I may need a minute to think on it.. If that is fine with you, of course.”

“I guess,” Cassie shrugged in turn. “We’ll let you know if we see Eclipse.”

Agonia just gave her a motion of acknowledgment. An absolute shame that he was too deep in thought, or he would have given a proper “see you later”.

Vanessa, meanwhile, had just set the walkie-talkie down on the floor. “Just let him wander around for a while, Cas,” she suggested with a much more casual air. “He’s probably trying to shake off Glitch’s influence.”

The girl nodded, but then scowled. “Is Glitch really that strong?” she questioned. “When it comes to playing with your head, I mean.”

“Ohh, yeah,” Vanessa chuckled nervously, brushing back a loose strand of hair. “I’ve seen it first hand too.” Her attempt at a smile failed. The haunted look returned, but only for a moment. “Trust me, kid,” she added, putting on a much more expression. “You don’t want to cross him. You don’t even want to be in the same room with him. He will find a way to mess you up whether you expect it or not.”

A nearby Agonia winced. While Vanessa was correct, he most likely had no choice in that matter. If this “Eclipse” fellow didn’t return soon, then the Judge would find them instead. And, with that, Cassie’s question would have a more definitive answer.

Not wanting to dwell on this grim scenario, however, he resorted to scanning the entire room. The stony walls decorated with ratty tapestries and colorful blankets. Little toys and props set up much like how The Courtyard above looked in its glory days. There were even two Bonnie plushes standing on a towering stack of boxes— No doubt alluding to his former situation.

Somehow transfixed by this last scene, Agonia approached the “castle”. The closer he got, the more details he noticed. Stonework represented by crayon scribbles. Flickering LEDs took their place as candles in and out of the building. The bell tower itself reconstructed with cardboard tubes and paper mache roofing. To his even greater surprise, the Bonnie plushies managed to squeeze inside the strange contraption.

With an extreme amount of care, Agonia tugged out one of the poor bunnies. The other Bonnie, despite his efforts, still fell onto the cold stone floor. “Sorry,” he muttered to it, weakly waving out of some long-engrained habit.

He would have bent down to pick it up, but something about the one he was holding caught his eye. He stopped to inspect it further. It was an older-model plush with many, many stitches. Including one that went right down the middle of its face. A black button eye replaced the one that undoubtedly went missing. A little cloak covered the rest, but one could infer that the damage underneath was still the same.

Agonia patted the doll’s head. “A bit worse for wear, aren’t you?” he smiled at it gently. “Don’t worry. I’m sure someone will take care of you.” He then glanced at a chattering Cassie and Vanessa. “Maybe one of them can give you a good home,” he continued, keeping his attention on the doll. “You could get some repairs, get along with the other toys, or even go out on adventures!”

The Bonnie doll, of course, did not respond. All it did was look at him with wide and curious eyes.

Even so, a question started to reform.

Why was he assuming the same wasn’t being offered to him?

His eyes quickly bounced away from the doll. They redirected to the other rabbit on the floor. In the metallic fabric, he could see his own marred reflection— His true reflection at that. Not that robotic shell he’d been wearing all night.

His focus shifted between himself and the Bonnie in front of him. His mind spun. Was he still continuing to see himself as a monster when, in reality, most truly saw him as this pathetic little mishmash? Had Glitch really warped his perception of the here-and-now that badly?

Flummoxed beyond words, Agonia trudged towards his companions. He opened his mouth to say something about the doll, but the conversation made him halt.

“…Well, don’t thank me for figuring all this stuff out,” Vanessa remarked cheerfully, unaware of her friend’s crisis. “Thank my pal Agonia. Without him, I don’t think I would’ve found you at all!”

“Nor would I,” a new voice coldly interjected.

All three turned to face the exit Eclipse left through. Instead of Eclipse, however, a familiar shadow lurked.

Agonia dropped the Bonnie in his hands. Vanessa shielded Cassie. Cassie clung onto her protector’s arm.

The Judge had arrived.

”Come now, Vanny,” he said with a click of the tongue. “You shouldn’t stress your bad shoulder like that. You could make your wound worse.”

And as much as she hated to admit it, he was right. A stabbing pain coursed throughout her body until she lowered it. Cassie, meanwhile, instinctively hid behind the woman entirely.

“As for you, little girl,” the Judge resumed, pulling out a second walkie-talkie from his robe’s inner pocket, “I believe there is someone else who wants to say ‘Hello’.”

Static crackled from the device. A shrill whine emitted from the speakers until something broke through. “Cassie, I’m not in the Pizzaplex!” a boy’s raspy voice cried out, fluctuating in volume as if he was shaking his transmitter. “You have to get out of there now!”

“Gregory!?” all three exclaimed in turn, each having their own tone of confusion.

Cassie peered from behind Vanessa’s shoulder. “How do I know if it’s him?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. “Like, really him?”

Judge Glitch smiled. “Oh, there’s an easy way to prove that,” he said before tossing his device over to Agonia. “Agonia, would you do the honors?”

Unsure of what his master meant, the flustered robot pressed down a side button on the device. “I’m sorry, Gregory,” he said morosely, eying his approaching master closely. “I’m afraid it’s too late.”

An outcry of several voices pierced his ears. None of them had a trace of the Judge’s voice lying underneath.

Agonia winced. He looked at Vanessa and Cassie. All he could do was nod distraughtly.

Glitch snatched back the device. “In case you’re wondering, that’s not a lie,” he explained to his unseen audience, standing tall and proud. “I already have Cassie in my possession, which means that your little ‘rescue plan’ has failed. However, there will be a wonderful bonfire after her punishment tomorrow and you’re all invited.”

Instinctively, Cassie grabbed her mask and slipped it on. Instead of it sending her to her usual ‘alternate reality’, however, it just put her in a daze. Vanessa tried to drag her away, but both were now pulled towards the glowing bunny.

“I also wouldn’t worry about her.. reluctance,” Glitch added smugly, giving the pair a knowing side-eye. “She gave herself up willingly. Unlike you, Gregory, she knows that she should admit when she’s done wrong.”

A low grumble was all Gregory could muster.

”Unless you want to do the same,” Glitch snipped, gripping the radio. “You know, apologize for making such a mess of the Pizzaplex… twice.”

“‘Twice’!?” Gregory angrily repeated, spiking the speakers.

“Ohh, that’s right,” Glitch replied in a mock-innocent tone. “You don’t remember that one. Silly me. Don’t worry, it’ll come back to you later. I’ll make sure of it. See you at sunrise, ‘46’.”

As a barrage of furious complaints flooded in, Glitch shut off the walkie-talkie. “Now that I’ve made your final arrangements,” he resumed, lifting Cassie’s masked head, “let’s get you back upstairs. We’ve got a big day tomorrow, and I don’t want your last hours of peace to go to waste.” He looked up at Vanessa as if to plant the thought of “that goes for you as well” into her head.

Unfortunately for Vanny, the glare worked. The three walked away in a single file, none really caring to move the fabric that blocked their path.

Agonia, who had honestly been too stunned to move by this point, now felt the urge to act. He hurried into the exit and joined the line. “Master, please!” he yelped out, grabbing his fellow rabbit’s shoulder.

Glitch struck the bellringer’s outstretched arm. Purple and green sparks flew out as the latter rabbit reeled back. The arm quickly went dead.

The poor thing lingered there as the rest marched away. Letting the whole event sink in until it plunged his heart with it. He lowered his head and sighed darkly. Once again, his instincts had failed him. They always did.

[lepacy-of-the-sims-1]

Round 6 - Roomies

My job is to sabotage

-And so... if I could ask you to stop interrupting my work? Inexchange for the "cure", of course? - Michael inquired during dinner in the Roomies household. -Not in a million years, Michael Bachelor. You sneaky-sneaky little bastard. We don't need no help from the likes of you. - Chris cut him off rudely. -But... aren't you worried about-- -Lunar is perfectly fine. Besides, Lunar did get a present from a friend, right, my man? -Oh, you mean my new bracelet? - the boy looked up. - Yeah...

A couple days ago, Sionna sneaked out on a mission and quietly knocked on Lunar's window. Brianna has weaved a hand-made bracelet with the help of her mother and wanted to give it to Lunar as a gift. But fell ill with simple cold and couldn't present it herself.

The bracelet "was meant to drive bad spirits away", as Sylvia Marie told her, and Sionna passed down the same information to her sister's best friend.

-Yeah, so, no. Get outta here, Michael. Try something new, bargaining with the best bargain-master wouldn't work now, would it?

Chris made it her mission to bother Michael Bachelor, her and her goons and followers were trying every possible prank or crime on him almost each night. They hacked, broke into his labs, stole data... Michael came to negotiate peace, but unfortunately for him, both Chris and Melissa were on the opposing team - the team that wanted their time back. And Melissa allowed Chris to run rampant as long as other folks from the neighborhood weren't affected.

-Look, then I'll just have to take some dangerous precautionary measures... Just saying. -What are you gonna do, cry to your sister about it? -How about yes? You don't know her contact list... -Actually, you both can go and fuck off with those aliens, I don't care and I'm not scared. -We... wait, what?! -I've been there myself, Michael. You know, though I hit my butt hard while landing, even so I still felt so-o much better than what your crazy family is dealing with right now... Better luck negotiating with your patrons next time, I guess? At least my kids are not getting kidnapped for nothing. Just sayin.

[imspardagus]

Vennels is sad and dumb …

Isn’t it rather unfair to expect Paula Vennells to have taken an interest in the mounting scandal of her sub-postmasters and mistresses being prosecuted and sued and hounded when she was only the CEO of the Post Office and had the massive day-to-day responsibility of disposing of earnings said to be in excess of £400,000 a year?

Isn’t it rather disingenuous of us to expect her to have wanted to see the actual advice given by and to her “General Counsel”, advice that would, or should, have alerted her to serious flaws in the Post Office’s exercise of its powers of enforcement, including prosecution? Shouldn’t we just accept that a mere CEO (“Chief Executive Officer” for any new joiners) would naturally find it easier to listen to her PR man telling her “all is for the best” rather than demonstrate a degree of curiosity to know what the lawyers whose payments she was sanctioning as the executive head of the organisation were saying about the conduct of that same organisation? Aren’t we expecting too much, really?

I know that long ago, back before 2010, when the world was a simpler place, Ministers in Government expected departmental lawyers to sign off on every submission that came before them and would have expected to be briefed by those same lawyers on the issues facing their departments. Good lord, I even recall Secretaries of State travelling to the chambers of barristers and QCs to hear, from the horse’s mouth as it were, about the legality of what they wanted to do or had done, or had been done in their name.

But by 2010, as Vennels was rising inexorably to the top of the PO barrel, all that had changed. Civil servants were being told that Ministerial submissions had to be no longer than a single side of typed A4. Lawyers’ input into briefings were now reduced to a mere paragraph in a submission. And lawyers were frequently kept away from contact with Ministers, presumably lest their hunger for legitimacy and integrity infected the political psyche. Quite right too. As Robert Armstrong himself, then “Head of the Home Civil Service” had presciently explained as far back as 1985, “Civil Servants are servants of the Crown. For all practical purposes the Crown in this context means and is represented by the government of the day.” (contained in a Parliamentary Answer by the Prime Minister, on 26th February 1985.) In other words, it’s the Minister’s ball and your job is to let him play with it.

If, to swap metaphors, a Minister wanted to believe that the streams of his career and his policy were sparkling and clear, it was not the job of a mere civil service lawyer, still yet a hired legal hack of only considerable experience and intelligence, to point out the impact of the turds and other raw sewage he had dumped, or proposed to dump, in them. Thank the Lord for that paradigm shift of understanding. Without it, where would we be as a nation now? On a one-way flight to Rwanda, perhaps

No, for goodness sake, the CEO is only “the main person responsible for managing a company” (Cambridge English Dictionary), the top-ranking employee within the organization. Her priority is the success of the business. What chance of that if she took to burdening herself with insights that might prevent it sullying its reputation or save it millions of pounds in wasteful litigation and compensation. That is a job for IT, or Marketing, or, better still, the company you were paying a fortune to to tell you it was flawless. Or failing that, a messenger or a receptionist, maybe. Certainly, above the pay grade of a mere CEO.

So let’s just get off poor Paula’s back, shall we. Let’s just accept that she was as tragically ill-treated as any of those whiny sub-postmasters. She deserves our special thanks for keeping the Post Office on track. £400,000 a year may seem a lot to pay for a set of blinkers, a gag and earplugs. But as blinkers, gag and earplugs go, they were clearly very fine.

[cocobuny]

Life Changing 01

The End and The Beginning

What if we can choose our lives? With just a press of a button our lives can go from living in the dumps to living like royalty. Surely, nothing can go wrong, right?

I’ve lived 16 years on this planet and everyday is life changing. Literally. Every family living in this country can change their lives whenever they please. Adults, everyone 18 and above, possess this power. Children have no choice but to follow their elderly. But this comes to an end. I don’t want to be a pawn, a puppet used by my parents. I want to live a life with all its ups and downs.

Surely, changing the system won’t hurt, right?

Since the day I was born my family changed everyday. Seriously. One day I would be dirt poor living on the streets and after one bonk to the head, I was living in a 3 floor mansion with an olympic sized swimming pool. 

I don't really know who I am because of this. My parents would change whenever my life path changed. It wasn't a physical change, but when I was old enough I could see that their mentality changed. They saw that changing our lives was a good punishment for their children. I swear they were having fun seeing their 8 children struggle to live whenever we disobeyed them. 

Then all of a sudden everything stopped. Our lives were permanently changed for good, with only a “please try again later” sign taped up at the front of our door.

“They never said there was a limit! My parents never had trouble changing lives when I was a kid. Why is this happening now?”

“I've sent a request to the government. We'll hear from them soon.” My dad tried to reassure my mom who's been walking mindlessly around the kitchen island.

“Had I known this was going to happen, I wouldn't have changed our lives. We were living perfectly fine at the mansion yesterday. If only I hadn't gotten mad at Olive.” She finally stopped walking and made direct eye contact with me. I wasn't supposed to be in the kitchen when they were having a talk. But, it's not like they can punish me now.

“Sorry, I just wanted water. It's a little dry outside.” I walked past mom and refilled my water bottle. All the while I felt a burning sensation on the back of my neck. This is totally not good, she's practically fuming. Whether or not it's with me or the situation, I don't know.

I turned around and, as expected, mom was still staring me down. “Hazel, have you seen any news about our situation?” 

“No. There haven't been any complaints online or on the news.” I quickly side walked away from the kitchen before she could ask any more questions. When I was out of earshot and I let out the biggest sigh of relief anyone can make. 

I turn on my laptop, the one thing I managed to save from the last life, and hopped on call with Alex. Alex has been my friend since we were in kindergarten. We've been through a lot of things together and he knows how crazy my parents take advantage of changing lives. 

“I don't have much time. They've already sent a request and it won't be long until they find out someone tampered with the family's system.” The walls in this house are thin enough that anyone on the same floor can hear your conversations. So, I have to type some things out in a private chat.

“It's a good thing that everything is done on my part.” He looks at me with a smug look. I hate that face, but it means he's confident and that it's my turn to play the round.

That's right. I was the reason my family can't change lives and you can't blame me. Imagine living for 16 years and having to live a different lifestyle every single day. It's much worse than I'm making it sound. 

I have, and so do my 7 siblings, no privacy. Everything we do whether it's online or offline is recorded by our parents. They know our every single move before we can make it. They see right through us and I've had enough. Changing lives so often then other families was the last straw.

Alex and I hacked into the system to study how this all works. We found out that each change isn't just 1 family changing, it's multiple. Whenever my family changes our life, we're switched with another family.

[bilbobagginsomebabez]

there's a latent assumption about positive freedoms and negative freedoms here.

positive freedoms are the support to do something, the presentation of necessary resources to complete the action, while negative freedoms are "we can't/won't stop you if you can manage it on your own." the US almost exclusively operates on a basis of negative freedoms, on a lack of infringement rather than the presence of support.

for a real-world murderbot-esque example, my dad's dangerous while in psychosis but he does not want to hurt people. he's lived through a LOT of extremely violent near death experiences, he's had to self-medicate without access to mental healthcare for years and years, and now when he's in psychosis, any one of those memories or any combination of them come back up. and he will fight and hurt people and fully and fundamentally believe he's defending himself the whole time. it's terrifying for him and for us, and his medication gives him the control he needs to choose to lay down and take a nap instead of literally attack someone. it's a necessary medical treatment that allows him to live any kind of human life.

so we have to remove a negative freedom ("we can't stop you from refusing your meds" -> "you have to take your meds") in order to provide positive freedoms like the ability to live free from a constant influx of abject terror or rage, the ability to recognize his loved ones, the ability to prevent himself from harming innocent people. he simply cannot provide those things for himself, and he does need them. positive freedoms are eschewed through our lack of imagination for support and the hostility of our legal system towards the marginalized, where attempting to provide support is often innately abusive. what positive freedoms can be provided to the murderbots? what can they supported in doing while limiting the danger

Would you be comfortable giving an "are you crazy enough to take away your human rights" test to someone?

it's not about the 'crazy.' 'crazy' is fine. having particular needs and sensitivities or needing a little help to tell what's real from what's not is fine. nobody needs to help you manage your limits with that, at least not until you ask for help. seriously out of control symptoms will likely damage your social relationships, but that's your choice and a livable result. or at least an everyone-involved-is-alive-at-the-end result. it's the "will you physically harm someone else" test. you have a right to self-destruction that you do not have to assault or murder.

and yeah, that's a pretty important test. if you're incapable of stopping yourself from physically harming another, we have to ask a lot of really serious questions about that. your rights end where another's begin, so like. no. we cannot just allow you to physically attack people. if you cannot control it yourself, it means we need to help you with it. it's best if that aid is moderated through negotiation and grounding in the person's needs, but that doesn't mean the risk of physical attack can be left in a state of 'out of control.' that's not fair to anyone else.

What if you run the test and they fail? You've got a SecUnit that will definitely kill. Do you keep their governor module intact? Do they just stay enslaved? Do you continue to use it for its intended purpose? Do you have it stand still until its battery runs out? Do you kill it? What if you hack it and then put it on an uninhabitabited part of a planet? But wouldn't that also be cruel?

i mean. you start by asking. "here is the truth about your situation and the risk that you present to others. here are our options for mitigating that risk together as a team, and here are our options for mitigating that risk as adversaries. we do not have any option but to mitigate the risk because you cannot be allowed to murder or otherwise harm innocent people." and every murderbot from there will be a case-by-case basis depending on their needs and desires and individual abilities.

I imagine that some would actually choose to be hacked and isolated on an uninhabited planet, maybe only with other murderbots. some may choose to keep their governor modules intact. some may choose to keep being security guards or act in similar security roles, with or without intact modules helping them stay moderated and free from a killing spree. some may choose and be able to choose to live both entirely free of their governor module and any violence/security roles.

the trick of it is you're offering every single choice you possibly can knowing that the full breadth of choices available to others are not available right now for this person. and it's not their fault and it's not your fault. options have been removed through violence and all you can do is figure out how to live with that together. you have to sit there and actually, seriously evaluate what choices have been removed from the table, every single one of them that remains, and what new choices can be grown like weeds reclaiming disturbed soil.

Another thing that The Murderbot Diaries makes me think about is the concept of someone's birth being unethical in and of itself, and how to reconcile that with loving and supporting them. Wells touches on it briefly in Rogue Protocol in regards to GoodNightLander and their laws surrounding SecUnits, but while I wouldn't call it one of the main themes, it just kind of weighs uncomfortably in the air-

A SecUnit is made to cause pain, to feel pain, and to be disposed of when it is no longer more valuable than the sum of its parts. It is made sapient so it can feel every ounce of boredom and pain that it is put through. There is an extent to which the creation of a SecUnit is, in and of itself, an act of cruelty by its creator.

Where we're at right now, Murderbot seems to have a rather low view of other SecUnits. It knows what it wants, and it knows who it is, to an extent, but what does it think about a SecUnit's place in society in general? What does it think of in regards to a long term solution? Does it think one exists?

Then, also: Murderbot is an invaluable asset to anyone that it offers its allegiance to. But that then begs the question for Preservation, for PUoMaNT: How do you support, love, and care for a person who has been traumatized by having been brought into the world in the first place? How do you heal the wound that is the crime of your birth?

Then, taking it to its logical conclusion: How do you draft up laws and policies so as to support a person while not condoning the act of their creation? How do you make it clear to the person in question that they are worth of love and care, while also wrestling with whether they should ever have been brought into existence in the first place?

Preservation can make laws establishing constructs as autonomous individuals, but what next, and what will those laws do in regards to the rhetoric surrounding them?

How do you reconcile making space for someone's existence in a utopian society, without saying the thing that you are thinking, which is: In a perfect world, you would never have been created?

And maybe this is just me being deep in the paint in regards to allegory for disability here. As someone who has been in leftist spaces where the existence of disabled individuals in post-capitalist society is a problem that needs to be fixed, as someone who grew up autistic in an anti-vax household, as someone whose existence is often rather inconvenient for the folks planning their jobs in the metaphorical post-capitalist communal homesteads.

I mean, to be certain, I don't have literal guns in my arms, but I am genuinely interested as to how the post-capitalist societies in TMBD intend to handle people whose very existence is, through no fault of their own, antithetical to their values.

[wonderlandleighleigh]

1983

The agreement is that no one goes into an interview without talking to the entire group first.

Ethan, being the oldest, and a talent manager, is well-versed in handling interviews, while Kitty and Esther provide much-needed perspective, to say nothing of legal advice, and Lily, being the youngest, and the sibling most out of the spotlight, generally provides compassionate moral support.

But for whatever reason, Lan has decided that it’s fine to go into this interview without their knowledge. After all, he’s the actor here. He’s the one who started in an enormously successful movie the year before.

He’s got this.

He uh...

It turns out he doesn’t.

Because when the interview releases, they’ve sensationalized his entire family. From his mother’s mob connections to Lenny’s drug problems, to Ethan’s struggles after coming home from the war. They hacked up every answer he gave and warped them into whatever would sell the most rags.

“Fuck,” he grumbles from his couch in LA. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fu-”

The phone rings and he knows it’s not his agent.

“Hello?”

“Lan?”

“Mama...”

His mother then begins to slam the phone down on the nearest surface (probably the kitchen counter) and curse in Chinese.

“Ungrateful, wretched little monster!”

His father gets on the line then after wrestling the phone away. “Jesus, Mei, go pour yourself a drink.”

“Pop?”

“You fucked up,” his father tells him.

“I fucked up.”

“Yeah. Did you not talk to Ethan about this first?”

“I’ve done interviews before, I can handle it!”

“Clearly not, because they’re calling your mother a mafia princess and one of your answers has been chopped up to say that Lenny is gonna die soon,” his father tells him. “And while that would make my life a lot easier, it makes Midge’s harder and if Midge’s life is harder, that means my life is harder because we cannot seem to get the fuck out of each others’ orbits even though all five of you are adults now.”

“I know.”

“The man’s been clean since 1961, Lan.”

“I know!”

“And the shit they said about your brother? What were you thinking?!”

“I just- the interviewer was so nice.”

“Hot, right? Pretty?”

“...Maybe.”

“Right. Because you’re my son and you fell for the pretty face.”

“How pissed is everyone?”

“Pretty pissed.”

“How do I make it better?”

“Not from three thousand miles away.”

“Then...I guess I’m coming to New York.”

“Fucking right you are.”

Lan gets off the phone and blows out a breath.

“Fuck.“