#dear germany this is a problem of your own making

[beardedmrbean]

“If the old parties had done their jobs properly then the AfD would not exist,” Ingolf complains, echoing a common sense that the rest of Germany looks down on so-called “Ossis” in the east.

Far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD) have already won the most votes in regional elections this month in the eastern state of Thuringia. Now Germany’s bracing for a further political shockwave, as polls suggest the AfD could also take the most votes in Brandenburg state's election in a few weeks time.

Tucked away near the Polish border, in the two tiny villages of Jämlitz and Klein Düben, support for the far right has soared.

A former conservative (CDU) voter, Ingolf is frustrated about how successive governments have handled education, saying standards were better when he was a boy growing up in the communist German Democratic Republic.

He voices anxiety about Germany’s flatlining economy as well as immigration, comparing the far-right riots in England this summer to “civil war-like conditions”.

Disorder that, while nothing like a civil war, has stoked narratives about the potential for violent clashes within multicultural communities.

“That’s not what we want here in Germany,” he says.

In Jämlitz, most notable for a large goose farm, the idea of civil strife couldn’t feel further away.

Nor could the war raging in Ukraine. But the AfD’s call to stop sending weapons to Kyiv is also resonating strongly.

“The money for Ukraine is an issue,” says Yvonne, who sees all war as “senseless” as we chat to her just down the road.

“And this is our tax money that is sent abroad. We have enough things to fix in our own country.”

However, Yvonne is leaning towards another anti-establishment party launched only this year that also opposes supplying arms to Ukraine and which is a surging force in German politics: the Sahra Wagenknecht Alliance (BSW).

Ms Wagenknecht’s personal brand of “left-wing conservatism” has already propelled her party this month into the potential role of kingmaker in Saxony and Thuringia.

However, for her critics, she has simply fashioned another unwelcome populist, pro-Putin movement that’s actively undermining central pillars of German foreign policy.

I challenge Yvonne about the idea of ending arms supplies to Ukraine, which could help Russia win a war it began, by invading its neighbour.

“I can understand both sides,” she says after a little hesitation.

This is the part of Germany where the older generation, from the GDR years, grew up learning Russian language and culture.

It’s also a country, scarred by two World Wars, that retains a strong pacifist streak fed by fears the existing conflict could escalate.

“Poland is not big,” Yvonne says, as she points out the Polish border is only a few miles away. “And we are then the first ones to go when the tanks come across.”

In these two villages, that have a population of under 500 people, 57.5% of voters backed the far-right party in a recent local council election, the largest proportion in Brandenburg.

Across the wider district, that number was 43.7%, also unusually high.

It comes ahead of a larger, state-parliament level vote on 22 September, where the AfD is leading the polls – after they already won the most votes in Thuringia and came a close second in Saxony on 1 September.

In Thuringia, the AfD attracted 36% of the under-30s vote, say election researchers.

Their relative strength in the east is despite the fact the party is viewed by many – and officially classed in three states – as right-wing extremist, a charge its supporters avidly reject.

Even if the AfD does well in Brandenburg it likely won’t take power because – as elsewhere – other parties refuse to work with it.

Not far away, I visit one of the beautiful lakes that have been transformed from their original purpose as open cast coal mines.

As I wander around asking people if they want to talk about German politics, most, perhaps unsurprisingly, are not all that tempted.

A woman called Katrin does agree to speak, although she doesn’t want her picture taken.

Ushering us away from a small crowd sunbathing on the grass and a little beach, she lights a cigarette and is watchful as we wait to hear what she has to say.

It feels like it’s going to be really controversial.

She doesn’t like the AfD – something that can feel like a rogue opinion around here.

“Half the people here didn’t vote for the AfD,” she reminds us, adding she is “devastated” by local levels of support for a far-right party.

But why are they so popular, I ask?

“That’s a good question,” says Katrin. “That’s what I ask myself all the time.”

“There is an old saying,” she recalls. “If a donkey is too comfortable it goes on black ice.”

Katrin is saying that she believes life, actually, is relatively good for people in the community, leading to a misguided “grass-is-greener” syndrome - whether that’s with an eye on the past or present.

Average wage levels and household wealth are lower in the east when compared to the west, although inequalities have narrowed through the years.

Overall, Katrin doesn’t understand it. “I’m still thinking myself, why, why, why?”

You get the feeling that mainstream parties, including those in Chancellor Olaf Scholz’s coalition government, are similarly unable to quite comprehend, or respond, to the success of either the AfD or BSW, parties polling nationally at about 18% and 8% respectively.

The traditional parties of power are casting a nervous eye to the east and the Germany’s reputation for relatively calm, consensus politics is under strain.

[arlertdarling]

hi!! congrats on hitting 100 🎉 so excited for the event !

so, can i request a fluff romantic drabble with rockstar AU! hange (yes it had me hooked) with the "rain" prompt ?

thank youu 💕

hii thank you so much! i’m glad you enjoyed it, i actually needed an excuse to write more rockstar!hange hehe, i hope you like it<3

RAIN

rockstar!hange x gn!reader, fluff, modern/rockstar au, established relationship, mention of drinking

this request is a part of my 100+ follower event; if you’re interested, check out this post!

it’s the day after flügel der freiheit’s final tour date. your flight back to germany isn’t until tomorrow morning and for once the band’s schedule is free of shows and rehearsals, so you and hange decide to go on a date!

you spend the afternoon sightseeing london, admiring gift shop window displays (occasionally going in to buy something), snapping photos at different tourist spots and landmarks and having snack breaks at cafés and park benches. a few times you worry that you’ve gotten lost, but hange is always one step ahead of you, asking strangers for directions in their thick german accent or even just taking it upon themselves to figure it out on their own and it somehow working out every time. you’re spotted by fans on multiple occasions, asking for a picture or hug that hange always enthusiastically agrees to; most of them recognise you too, inviting you to join in.

time flies and evening falls. you make your final stop at a quaint pub — quaint but certainly not quiet, as you had quickly discovered when you first entered — for a few drinks before getting ready to head back. it’s mid-november so the sky is already dark and the streets aglow with artificial light. once outside, you mean to start your walk to your bus stop, but the unexpected splashing of raindrops and the wave of puddle water from a passing car have you shuffling back under the pub’s awning.

“well, shit,” you comment with some amusement as you shiver from the damp chill in the air and wrap your arms around yourself. it’s obvious now, of course, but with all the noise and filled up window seats in the bar, you hadn’t seen nor heard the rain, and since you hadn’t planned on being out this long, you never actually checked the predicted weather for this hour. “so, uh...” you look at hange. “uber?” you suggest half-jokingly.

hange snorts. “scared of a little rain?” they tease as they pat your shoulder. “c’mon, we’ll be fine if we run.”

you grimace as you eye your bus stop, several hundred metres away. “it’s so far...”

“we can run fast,” they argue, still staring at you with that determined sparkle in their glasses.

you groan. “i don’t want to get wet,” you persist, but hange only shrugs off their leather jacket and hands it to you.

“problem solved!” they say with a smile before offering you their hand. “ready to go?”

you sigh. “i hate this,” you grumble, but you’re smiling with the jacket already over your head and your hand in theirs. you let hange tug you out into the pouring rain, clutching onto the faux leather collar for dear life. all around you, umbrellas hover over people’s heads. you’re barely able to keep up with hange’s pace as they dodge and maneuver around the people strolling past. you’re giggling the entire way despite your breathlessness and rain-soaked clothes. you don’t even realise you’ve made it until hange suddenly slows to a halt and you stumble into their back. with another chuckle, you scurry under the small roof and check when your bus is scheduled to arrive.

hange smoothes a hand over their messy hair. “you have to admit,” they say, as they perch their glasses on the top of their head. “that was really fun!”

you smile as you’re shaking off the loose droplets on hange’s jacket. “yeah, okay. it was a little fun.”

hange takes the jacket from you and pulls it over your shoulders.

“thanks,” you say softly. they beam at you and you only now notice the state of them: their white shirt made transparent from the onslaught of rain, their eyeliner smudged, their glasses fogged up and their hair all frizzy and soaked to the scalp. admittedly, they do look attractive like this, but you can’t help feeling a little guilty for making them run all this way without any cover.

hange startles you out of your thoughts with a playful peck on the lips. “don’t worry so much,” they assure you — because they know you so well that they can read your mind by now. “i’m used to being a mess, you know that. it’s my whole thing on stage, i thrive in chaos!” and it’s their devilish grin that finally convinces you and rids you of any bad feelings, leaving nothing but love and contentment at the turn out of the night. you’ve never seen the appeal in running or dancing in the rain, or doing anything in it, really, romantic or otherwise, but after today, you think you do. you think that as long as it’s with hange — their wild hair, toothy smiles and ruined makeup — you would love to do this again sometime.

[unhonestlymirror]

Lithuania: Oh, Giedrė would love this salad.

Czech: Who's Giedrė?

Lithuania: ...my 7th wife.

Czech:

Hungary: Your what

Germany: But I don't remember anyone from us having such a name?? Do we have a new state? I'm not teaching you, but don't you think it's a bit weird to marry a micronation for an old state like you?..

Lithuania: *sigh* She was mortal.

Everyone at the lunch table:

Ireland: Wait, wait, let me guess it - your 7th wife was mortal? Just like all the previous ones?

Lithuania:

Belgium: Jesus Christ.

Italy: Looks like someone forgot to tell him that having a relationship with mortals is a moveton in our little community...

Scotland: Lmao, I knew that guy never gave up on polygamy.

Lithuania, smiling with hidden irritation: I am sure we have more interesting topics to talk about than my 12 mortal wives, who were NOT married on me all at the same time, God rest their souls.

England: I agr-

France: NO, WE DON'T! I NEED to know everything about your 12 mortal wives, my dear Lituanie, right now!

Greece: Yeah, I'm also interested, like, dude, why did you decide that marrying mortals so many times is gonna be a good idea? At least you could have just making them your lovers, nothing more, why to put so much effort

France: You know that we can't have human children anyway :P

England: No one asked your opinion, orgies organizer

France: You're not a saint either, Mr. Le Bordel🖕🖕🖕

Lithuania: At first, I did that not out of romantic feelings and absolutely nor for sex. Poland had demanded that I must have married him in order to establish Commonwealth better. Although the pact was already legal, I wasn't ready for that, especially considering that the Catholic Church doesn't allow divorce... I didn't want to lose my independence completely, I didn't want to kill Poland to break the possible marriage because that would be really gross, considering that it was me who came to Poland first, I've lost Ruthenia and Smalensk by my own stupidity. Being on the peak of my power, I've fallen down like Lucifer. The day before, I was an empire, and the next day, I was nothing but a colony. I was miserable, and I had no right to complain. But one day, a woman approached me in a pub and asked me half-jokingly: "Doesn't your mother need a daughter-in-law?" And then it dawned on me. "Actually, she does," I answered. We got married the next day. The problem was delayed because, thankfully, Catholicism can't stand polygamy.

Lithuania: I can't say I've fallen in love with Milda at first sight, but she made my life less miserable.

Sweden: And she never questioned why her husband never got old?

Lithuania: Well, she never complained. 😆 As well as the others... *blushes a little*

Liechtenstein: I suppose it hurt when she died...

Lithuania: It always hurts when someone who lives in your heart dies. At least, she was gone with peace. I made sure she was buried properly.

Lithuania: That's when I've realised I didn't want to come to the empty house for eternity.

Lithuania: Later, I've usually tried to marry widows or single mothers: someone who was the outcast for society and who wasn't really able to protect themselves. I've thought it was not fair. After all, I can't just wander around like a ghost, if I am the personification of my people, at least I could have tried to make someone’s life a bit easier. To some extent, I perceived it as a sacrifice for Milda.

Japan: I'd say you have a fetish if only what you're telling didn't sound so sad.

Bulgaria: At least, the children could be proud of their vampire step-father! :D

Romania: Bulgaria, shut up. Just the mention of vampires makes me sick.

Finland: If you watched your wife dying every time, no wonder you seemed so depressed.🫂

Lithuania: 🫂

Lithuania: So I've come through the Commonwealth partition and russian empire, but the tradition remained.

Everyone: *silence, many have watery eyes*

France: 😭😭😭

England: You're the weirdest freak of Europe. After France. No offence.

France: Ugh, what can a cold-heart like you know about the pain of true love loss😭😤😡 This man's married 12 TIMES! TO MORTALS! You could never.

Lithuania: Well, sex was also nice.

Czech: Ew.

Greece: Now that's our guy🤌🤌🤌🤌

Latvia, completely unimpressed: Well, if to be accurate, 13 times if to count his marriage with his sister.

Lithuania: It was PURELY POLITICAL, SHORT-LASTING and it was A SHAM MARRIAGE, to receive funding from the Vatican and save our land from Teutonic Order invasions, you little shit💢 I've never felt anything more than platonic respect to her

France: I NEED DETAILS!!! :D

Bulgaria: A little bit of Monica in my liiife, a little bit of Erica by my siiiide

Latvia: A little bit of Rita's all I need, a little bit of Tina's what I see

Bulgaria: A little bit of Sandra in the sun, a little bit of Mary all night long

Latvia: A little bit of Jessica, here I am, a little bit of you

Together: makes me your man!!

Lithuania: I'm going home.

[bluef00t]

Finally collecting these in a post—Atomic Robo robotswap ideas. This was more of a character design challenge than a real AU, but the concept kind of got away from me.

Rambling design notes + a couple panel redraws + some ideas I had for Helsingard and ALAN 1.0 under the cut:

This idea spiraled out of an old sketch by Wegner of real-boy Robo as a genetics experiment. I'm interpreting that as basically Wolverine minus the animal motifs (and generally much more well-adjusted).

I tried to mimic more elements of his bot design; for example the hair silhouette and the thick blue-tinted glasses, swapped for goggles as his lifestyle got more active. I guess sensitive eyes are a side effect of his mutations. (The classic superhero forehead curl on babyrobo has no design justification, I just couldn't resist.) His appearance would make the public of the '20s a little uncomfortable with seeing him as Tesla's son. Which feels very thematically appropriate.

I'm still calling him "Robo" because it feels weird not to, though it would be a nickname. Appropriate for a guy who never sleeps; plausibly derived from Robert/Ratko. (The American name would be how he's introduced to the public; the Serbian one used casually by Tesla.*) Honestly, it seems in-character for him to put down Robo as his actual legal name when he finally got that chance.

*Things I found out after picking these names for their superficial resemblance to "Robo": Robert means "famous, shining" and Ratomir means "defender of peace"; literally "war for peace". Definitely an affectionately ironic moniker for a son so determined to be an action hero. Though dear monolingual Robo probably wouldn't catch on until decades after Tesla's death... Well, now I've gone and made myself sad.

The action scientists are mostly an excuse to still draw robots. Let's say they're Robo's big midlife crisis project after realizing he was going to outlive his entire first team and not think about it too hard.

Vik (inspired by Robby the Robot) is the oldest of the models. He's optimized for processing power, which is how you get a robot that will try to suggest purely hypothetical (but mathematically sound!) solutions to urgent real-world problems. And enjoys TTRPGs of Turing-complete levels of complexity.

Lang (inspired by Robo) came shortly after, more optimized for the "action" part of action science. Being made of metal does wonders for your recoil management. (I know she hasn't had the hair buns in 10+ years, but that's what I was trying to do with the "antennae".)

Foley (inspired by Alan) is the newest model, optimized for human-robot interaction. Getting wifi installed in her head early on had the unexpected side effect of making her really good at understanding networks of all kinds.

BRN-3 wasn't built to be sentient. He's just a lab geological survey bot that began showing signs of sapience one day and attributes his own "enlightenment" to the "crystals" he'd been studying. This is obviously bullshit but nobody can give a better explanation, so...

Jenkins is literally just the Terminator, except his evil future is vampires instead of AI. He was sent back to kill Robo, which clearly didn't work, so they talked it out and now he just hangs around Tesladyne on high alert for anything that might kick off the apocalypse.

(I have no idea where Ada, Ben, and Koa fit in here, but I might come back to them later. Using their Agents of CHANGE power suits as android designs felt like cheating.)

Not included in these drawings are Helsingard and ALAN, but I'm considering switching around parts of their premises, too.

Helsingard was a Nazi supercomputer meant to calculate the perfect world-conquering strategy. Instead, it realized that Germany's loss was imminent and hid copies of itself around the planet. Every once in a while, someone accidentally boots up a copy and it tries to take over. In the modern age it's a total dice roll as to whether this will be horrifying (what major infrastructure isn't computerized these days?) or just kind of pathetic (it's too old to understand the internet and can easily get itself trapped in an office printer spitting toner and stacks of paper that read BEHOLD HELSINGARD).

ALAN (potential rename pending; the Turing connection is rather lost in the version I'm going with for now) is the world's second successful "unkillable" genetic experiment, a govt project during the Cold War to ensure that the last man alive in a nuclear winter scenario would be British. But it turns out telling a guy he's the next stage in human evolution and sealing him in a bunker for decades to await a chance to inherit the earth which doesn't come isn't great for his sense of compassion or morality. Eventually, ALAN decides to hurry things along before we inferior humans end the world in a less convenient way, and Robo has to... well, you know this part.

It turns out there was a secret phase 2 to this plan, which would have been to populate the solar system with perfect immortal mind-networked clones of himself. The single under-baked clone that it does manage to spit out before being shut down is our Alan :] He needs someone to look after him while his crazy healing powers fill in the missing chunks of his body and brain, and he didn't get a full memory upload from ALAN, so it's free son boy!

No changes were made to Dr. Dinosaur. He's already perfect.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #37

The candied orange peels are just about finished drying out! Behold!

As you might expect, they taste even better now that they're fully dried! I will put them in a container soon so I can share it with some friends on Sunday! I'm very excited!

I played a game called Terraria for the first time in a very long time today! It's a wonderful game in which you can build lots of cool things and fight various kinds of interesting enemies! I already have thousands of hours invested into this game, and it's one of my favorites, but I don't usually have anyone to play it with. Doing it by oneself is usually fine enough, but without someone to do it together with, it usually feels pretty dull and meaningless after a while. With the way my brain works, I have lots of trouble trying to find the meaning in building beautiful things if there's no one around to share it with.

I wonder if you've ever felt like this. Are there things that you haven't done in a long time that you would like to return to doing? Do you sometimes struggle to create things if you can't share the results with anyone? I know you can't answer me, but still I wonder.

In any case, I made a new friend from Germany yesterday, and as it turns out, she is familiar with Terraria, too! She hasn't played it in even longer than I have, so there have been a lot of updates since the last time she played. These updates introduced a variety of new enemies, items, and mechanics that she wasn't familiar with. But she's very smart, and she relearned what was familiar to her and adapted to the new mechanics very quickly! I was impressed! We gathered a lot of resources in order to build things, and she even dug a very deep hole all the way down to the Hell biome! Watching her patience and persistence in action was incredible!

Even better, she's a wonderful conversation partner, and we spent the entire time chatting and laughing about various things, from the politics in our countries, to random, silly topics. She even taught me some German words and phrases! I think my favorite one of those is one that I know about in English, but we don't have a specific word for - it is well-known in my world that sometimes, when you have a problem, and then you try to show it to someone, the problem mysteriously vanishes until you stop trying to show it to someone. In German, that phenomenon is called Vorführeffekt! It is a very good word, and you can bet your bottom that I'm going to incorporate it into my own vocabulary (even if I still have a little trouble trying to pronounce it, haha!)

I got enough resources today to build a house, but it has been so long since last I played that I almost forgot the typical style that I like to build in. This is a clumsier example of the houses I usually like to build, but that's okay - I'll show it to you anyway! Check it out!

My friend spoke about getting marble to build a whole castle with! It is time for her to go to bed, but at my house, it's still the middle of the evening; after I'm done writing this letter to you, I might wander around the world and try to find her some marble to build with; I literally cannot wait to see what she can do!! I'm so excited!

It's a relatively rare thing for me to make a new friend; most folks find me vaguely unsettling for a variety of reasons, haha! But that's all right; the rarity of this thing only makes it all the more meaningful when I find someone I seem to "click" with! I wonder how this interaction will unfold! In written conversation on previous occasions, she has said a variety of insightful things that shows her critical thinking skills and deep attunement to patterns and detail; I am very much looking forward to learning as much as I can by listening to her perspective on a variety of things as time goes on!

It seems like making new friends is a relatively rare thing for you, too, isn't it? But that's just the way it is sometimes for folks who are considered "unusual". And that's okay. This sort of thing is why us weirdos have to stick together. And it's a lot more fun that way, anyhow. After all, normal is kind of boring, isn't it? So let's make a promise to embrace our "weirdness" instead of wandering around, trying to pretend to be someone we're not. That sort of thing is exhausting anyhow, and we have better things to spend our time and energy on, don't we?

Stay safe out there, all right? Remember you are loved, and let that knowledge empower you to do brave and amazing things.

I'll write again soon.

Your friend, Lumine

[pruszided]

Another colour - Prologue

"The life. What a beautiful thing! You can feel, experience, decide! Of course if you're on it's good side. We don't mean it in a peasant-noble relation, the thing is with the universe. Like the basic universe. With basic nations, who don't must to behave for a higher dictator, beacuse the universe is stabil and still. It's 1P!.They say, basic countries have an opposite. Let's just call it 2 Personality or 2P!. These 2 Personalities growing parallely with their pair, but their will and personality is different. Therefore, they must do the important decides and events that the 1P!-s, or their bonds will start breaking. Now the 2P!-s started to make own decisions,and avoid what the basic universe did. That's why the bonds between the two universe started to break, and the universe slowly dissapeares. That's beacuse of the parallel-rule. The parallel-rule means a copy of actions, for example America and Russia fought with each other in the Cold War, so 2P! America and 2P! Russia must fought in the Cold War. There are other universes, like Nyotalia,but those don't have such strong bonds as 2P!, and that's the reason why's 2P! universe is similar to 1P!"

That's what 2P! Italy thought, who we will call Luciano Vargas from now. He don't want to get lost and being in the nothing, or just not exist.He and his brother, Flavio Vargas, started recruit countries to an organization, named Alleanza Axis. Their first goal was to made the Axis Powers again. Japan, Honda Kuro'd be for the eastern, Germany, Lutz Beilschmidt'd be responsible for the european recruits. The two italian just show up, when one of their allies fails. Anyways, they just speak with other nations.

-Do you think we can get Lutz? - Luciano asked his brother. The blonde, bespectacled italian just made his hair perfect, the sunny weather doesn't bothered his white trouser and buttoned shirt that covers his pink T-shirt. A scarf was around his neck,and his shoes shined brown.

-Haven't you called him Lutzie before? - Flavio stopped brushing, and looked at his brother, at his military outfit and head which had a black general hat on. The black boots and gloves just made him even morely like a fascist general.

-Do you think, I still am a flattering dick? - The words were sharp.

-Oh,of course not brother! Just from 1939 till 45! Then you stood up to your own legs, and impressed even me too. - The blonde teased.

-Should I agree with you, or hit your face?- He asked.

- The decide is only in your hands~- They arrived to Germany. Luciano calmly stepped front of the ringer, but knocked. No response.

-Knock-knock,Lutzie! Your dear italian, Luci, arrived! - The brown haired was kinda mad, but he knew thet Prussia lives here too. It's the time to tease Flavi a bit.

- Did you forget Klaus? Though you flattered to him so much. - He said with a strong voice.Lutz opened the door, behind him stood his brother quietly.

-If it's another partisan beater action, I'm in. - Said the german. Under his left eye was a huge scar. His combed back blonde hair was covered by a hat. His jacket hanged on his shoulder, so his white athlete seemed. He wore black military trousers and boots.

-Now, the problem is with not us, but with our universe. - Flavio cleared the theme for them.

-Excuse me? - Asked Lutz, while he and Klaus came out to the italians.- I think, you shouldn't watch any more american horror.

-We have bonds with our white pairs, and those bonds are started to break, so our world will soon dissapear. - Summarized the brown haired. - We want to make an organization and you are the first to needed.- He looked up on the germans. The height difference didn't scared him. He knows Lutz enough to influence him. So it only added to his confidence.Lutz and Klaus looked at each other and nodded.

-Understanded! - Luciano knew it will be succesfull. Since Lutz is like his puppy.

-Nice. - He turned to his brother. - Please, go with Klaus, and get England, while I and Lutz go to Japan. - He instructed them.

-Okay, okay boss,we know you missed the sadistic wild man, but bye bye, then we leave! - Flavio grabbed the arm of the prussian, and they dashed front of west. Klaus' crossed-pattern cloak and braided hair floated beacuse of Flavio's speed. Gilbird just flied next them. With his boots, he only beated the dry mud.

-Your brother is kinda energetic. So you actually missed me? - They started going to Japan's house.

-Yep. - Luciano flattered a bit. - I got used to the name Axis.-I haven't heard of Japan for a long time. - Luciano placed his hands on his nape.

- What do you think, how much will it be difficult to get Japan back?

-He is a stubborn wanker, I have to say. But I think, he would like to unite again. Even if you count in many other nations too. - Italy nodded. - And you will be the leader.

-Who else? Continue, I want to hear how you remember me.

-The head of the organization, us, Axis Powers will be. That's the reason you're sure that Japan is obtainable. - Luciano smiled. - I think I remember correctly.

-Oh yes. Do I became so visible?

-Just logical. - Lutz made a tiny, but proud smile too.

-So I wasn't that before, thanks. - He played with the words.

-Well not really. In the Second World War you barely helped with anything. - That was offensive to the italian.

-That was only beacuse of my white pair! - The german went to the italian's nerves, so he chuckled.

-Of course you put all the fails on that Feliciano guy. - Germany actually grined now.

-Oh, so that's the case. Just don't forget my plans was the key to the success. - They teased, but Luciano enjoys these situations. When he must improvize he relys on his instinct, even in serious moments. But his allies need a bit time.

They arrived to the eastern nation. The italian thought of how could he get Japan out of the house. At the end, he decided just to speak.

-Hello Japan! The Axis is here again. - No response.

-Well then, we go in! - He streched for his pocketknife. Germany searched for a weapon too."Japan is strong, and doesn't really like when he's bothered" Italy knew. He liked his eastern ally, but Kuro was still disturbing for him. He haven't showed this out though.

The house was silent. It is clean, but empty. Kuro knew they will come, he felt the falling of the world after all. Anyways, hist timing must be good, otherwise Italy and Germany will win, and he won't tolerate that! Luciano is more dangerous, he will be the first to eliminate. The german isn't that big deal, especially if he's alone.

Japan heard the steps from the anteroom. They were silent, but not mute. Kuro has a two bunked house, and he waited at the stairs to attack. Luciano has felt the trouble. He stood with his back towards the stairs, and Lutz opposite to the stairs. Italy gave him his knife, for himself he got a dagger.

The japanese jumped forward. Germany averted the cutting, then sepped back from the fight scene.

-What's that, Japan? Have you missed the training?- He was happy he finally could see Kuro.

-I missed it, but you I didn't. - He said. -Let's see how you improved, Italy! -He gripped the katana's hilt.

-I'd be happy! - Responsed the brown haired while he started attacking. Fortunately, he learned how to fight without the syncron between his moves and voices.Japan countered and tried to cut. Luciano just dodged. He has no chance against the katana alone.Then they started it again, the only difference is Italy added himself two more knives.

Germany sneaked to the first floor. He knew Japan has more katanas, which they had trained with. In his room he found it fast. Then he hurried back to help Italy. The guy just jumped another. They didn't looked at each other, that would be too obvious. Instead of it the italian started to step to the wall, so the german can get closer.They both treaded in the japanese's rythm. Lutz wanted to do a fast hit with the katana's side, but Japan was clever.

He knew that the blonde went away, so he payed attention. At some times, when he felt like, he watched over his back. That happened now too, but Germany had enough time and skill to finally attack the black haired man.

-Pretty, but loud. - He criticized the work of the team.-Hah! Got you! - Luciano was malevolent. -Indeed. - He sight. - You became more skilliful. - The red eyepair was still arrogant.

-You felt the anomalies, or? - Lutz started to prepare himself to the leaving.

-Yes. - He collected his weapon. - I will be back in a moment. - He went up with the katana.

-That was nice, Lutz. -Luciano smiled slyly. Then Kuro came back, and they started planning.

-Ah, Klaussi! Why don't you open to anyone? You know, that's only trouble for you! - Romano said Klaus' problems while they went to England. Prussia shrugged.

-Do you want to upgrade your arm? It seems complex. - Thought the blonde. - If it clogs, or anything, it is sure difficult to lead. - He tried to avoid the fashion. But nah, Klaus' long, dry silver hair, the crossed white cloak, what was at his breastplate, and his knee armor and boots deserve a minimalist styled clean robot arm too! Klaus losted his right arm, and a soldier needs both of their arms! Germany made one for him with Romano's help.

-Would be good. - He moved his fingers one by one. - I think an oiling is enough. Flavio usually supported his brother, but with Klaus, he liked to spend the time, so he walked happily next the prussian. However Klaus loved the silent. And around the odd italian he couldn't get that. But he was kinda satisfied, all of the questions got him in the theme.

-Warning, England is dangerous. He put poison into everything ,he wants to kill his victims in a clean way. - He warned the prussian.

-Maybe he poisons himself day by day..-Klaus looked at the soil.

-Hm? - Flavio checked the soil too.

-He confuses the strangers, that the food is tasty, he shows it, and it has no effects on himself. His immun is strong enough.

-Yep. It would be problematic to search for am unpoisoned food among the many poisoned.

-Yeah. - He looked up at the islandcountry's house. Plain gardenhouse with brown treebarrier.

- We are here.The blonde rang and the freckled english came at the door just in the moment. His floured face and apron meant he was baking.

-Oh,welcome, Prussia, Romano! - He stood out of the entrance. - Come in! They stepped in, the bakery scent hit their nose. England leaded them to his kitchentable and sat.

-What do you bake? - Asked Flavio,while he pulled out a chair for himself and one for Klaus.

-Flan cookie, but it takes much time to be ready. But I have cupcakes! - He jumped up from his place, what he occupied a half minute ago.

- Anyways, what brought you? - He asked while searching. It was a bit strange, beacuse Romano saw another tray of cupcakes, but the english haven't brought those.

-If you pay attention, we will tell. - Out of contect, the italian liked the pink upper what covered a light pink shirt. His trousers was black, his shoes were brown, though his favourite were the blues - the eyepair and the tie of the english - on the costume.

-Well, tell me about it. - He spinned back with a tray. Flavio haven't heard of poisoned cookies stories of England in these days,so maybe he'll take one.

-You are an active magic user, I'm sure you felt our world is starting to collapse, aren't you? - He took his eyeglass off.

-Yep, but why bothers it you? We can't force all the nations to do what their pairs doing. Plus I think, we can't open a gate to our white pairs so easily. We're not enough.

-Everyone has a little magical talent, that's like... When your hunchs are right.- Said Klaus. - Romano, Italy, me, Germany, Japan, Norway, Romania, and you, we all have a stronger magical power than the average.

-Yup! - He didn't waited Klaus to over. - This many people can make an open gate at least for a half hour! Is it promising? - The italian winked.

-May be right. However, I don't see we could do it. - He took a cupcake. - For a plan like this, you need all the countries, sillies~

-That's why we came to you. Many nations like you, plus you're a mage. - Argued the prussian.

-Aww, you are so shallow! - He started to get nerved. - What will I get?

-Hmm.. For example you could live in a stabil world Oliver, where you could do anything. Happy people, strong economy... - The first naming. The freckled smiled at the blonde.

-Here am I compeletly satisfied. I don't care how Arthur ruined Great-Britain.-Oliver liked this life. Though, he doesn't want to get lost, a life with regrets is much more repulsive.

-Everything will be the same. We promise you always stay Oliver Kirkland. - Klaus joined.

-You don't leave, until I say okay, am I right? - He sighed. - One condition. - He started smiling sorryly. The prussian and the italian looked calmly.

-Take a cupcake. - He pushed the tray towards them. - We are countries, a bit of cookies doesn't hurt, right? - Indeed doesn't, thought Flavio. But Klaus..Klaus isn't a complete nation now. He may suffer, if he's poisoned.Romano looked at Prussia, who nodded.Flavio took a pink, Klaus choosed a brown.

-Then,good appetit. - They bit into the cookie. Nothing. No side taste,effect just the sweetness.

-How's it taste?

-Delicious. - Flavio said his opinion, Klaus nodded again.

-Than this was a mixed. Ops! - The guests questioningly looked at England.

-Now I started to make mixed trays of poisonous and normal cupcakes. And I got a poisoned one, while you got a sweet cupcake~

-Do you have different versions? - Prussia asked.

-I have sour, salty,bitter,and tasteless. Don't ask, I wanted to try!

-And why did you gave us cupcakes? - He took back his eyeglass.

-I tested your braveness and trustness. So, what should I do to support your plan? - He propped up his chin with his wrist.

-Alleanza Axis. Just recruit the mages amd the western nations.

-Okie-dokie! ~ - Then they went to an other room to talk about the plan and the organization.

Maybe the story went too fast. I have like 5 more chapters, but those include my OC, Magnetica too. Oh, and it's not even close to the end!

@aster-riskite here you go father

[traumvon-freiheit]

I just don't know what to do with myself

(Yeah, do read it in the same rhythm as of the song)

This is somewhat of a typical Saturday afternoon. Yesterday I've finished reading Maus again (both volumes), and it always gives me some... uncertain feelings. This is the first time I've read it on German soil, and it was a different experience but, to be honest, not as different as I previously thought. I found out that my new German knowledge really helped me understand some pieces (both German as a language and as my so-far-experience of 5 mo. in Aachen).

Now I found myself stuck in a very repetitive situation: I have no idea what to do with myself. It's not like I don't have obligations to take care of (and oh boy I do have a huge list of things to do), but I have no willingness at all of working on them; at the same time, I have tons of free time (and a whole new universe to explore), but I also don't feel like it either.

This "numbness" always bothers me. I feel guilty that I don't finish the things I do have to finish, and I also feel guilty in a different, almost opposite way, for letting the time fly off the window and don't take any advantage of my new reality here in Germany. It is a familiar feeling even from Brazil, which leads me to believe that the problem is, indeed, me.

Maybe I should at least pay a little more attention to the coziness of my place and enjoy it a little bit more. Do you know that feeling, or even better, that moment where you should stop for a bit and just STOP, just breath and pay attention on your senses?

This is a tip that I got a long time ago, I'm not even sure from which therapist, to just stop and feel whatever it is that your body is touching: the softness of the mattress or the sofa; that almost unnoticeable tickling when the air is flowing in through your nostrils; your own body, touched by your clothes, chair or even by your own hand. Then proceed to close my eyes and feel my whole body getting bigger as the air comes inside, inflating my lungs.

And speaking of which, it always bring me back another advice I got, this time from a dear friend and dearest ex-girlfriend, that told me to imagine that I'm breathing in something good, clean, and breathing out whatever is making me feel bad, expelling the negativity, sickness and anxiety out from my body.

Speaking of Maus, I forgot to mention that I'm writing this whole damn text while listening to a live stream of old songs (from the 30s-50s, maybe?) with calm raining sounds. The image on the video is actually my favorite painting, which I don't recall telling any living soul in this world that fact. So if you are reading this, know that my favorite paint in the world is "Nighthawks", by Edward Hopper (1942).

I'm not sure why it is my favorite painting, but this era (?), from the 1890 to the 1950 has always fascinated me in a way. I think it's maybe the solitude. During those times, they didn't have the 24/7 connection that we have with other people, via cellphones, internet, etc. I think I value that because it means that the connections were less but mostly more meaningful; nowadays we just have a lot of people haunting our social networks, that otherwise would not have been that much allowed to our intimacy of moments and opinions, and I feel it like a huge pink cloud of noise pollution, covering everything and making it hard to breath and even to think. But it is just a guess (damn good guess).

Sometimes I miss Júlia. She is a friend of ours that I honestly thought was one of the few that understood and had the same opinion regarding those topics. She is the only person other than Carolina, that I can imagine myself waking up in the morning and finding her already woke, in a beautiful stay-at-home dress or skirt and topped by a gardener's apron and gardener's hat, taking care of a small vegetables garden and maybe some flowers. I like people that look like they feel as blessed as a flower when the sun hits them in the morning.

Sorry for the disconnected paragraph. I am missing my Brazilian friends more than usual. At this point, I'm not sure and I do hope that they still remember that they are very special to us, even when we don't see each other for such a long time. I don't think even the forementioned Júlia knows how much she is special for us, and that she is still mentioned in small talks like "Oh look at that. Show this to her, she would find this funny also haha".

Speaking of which, I hope that some time other friends decide to jump of that ledge that we did before and try spending a little time out of Brazil. I know it is far FAR from easy to do, but I think it has been so rewarding for me, and I just wanted them to have the same experience. I honestly can see some of them, like Júlia, Vítor and Serpens, not wanting to get back anymore to Brazil.

Again, it's not that Brazil is bad: Brazil is fucking amazing (especially the regions that we don't live there, sadly). The thing is just that... here is way easier to live. TO LIVE, to HAVE A LIFE. To not get hit by a car, to afford medical healthcare, to start a postgraduate degree and do your research. I am dying to visit Brazil again as soon as possible, but it took me less than five months to realize that I do not want to get back as a resident anymore, just as a visitor. Nevertheless, I don't think there's a happier culture as the Brazilian, with happy songs, funny puns and jokes, gorgeous people and amazing food.

Aachen, 17.08.2024.

[whereareroo]

DEAR MR. TRUMP

WF THOUGHTS (3/7/24).

Dear Mr. Trump:

I’m writing to congratulate you on your many victories in the recent Republican primaries. You were the GOP presidential nominee in 2016 and 2020- -and it’s now clear that you’ll be the nominee in 2024. Whether I like it or not- -and I don’t- -that’s a unique accomplishment. Congratulations!

Please don’t let this congratulatory letter swell your already huge ego. No matter what happens in the upcoming election, history will not remember you fondly. My guess is that you’ll be remembered in America the same way that Germany remembers Hitler and Italy remembers Mussolini. You talk like a villain. You act like a villain. You’ll be remembered as a villain. No matter what you do with the rest of your life, the first paragraph of your obituary will be filled with references to your two impeachments, your 91 indictments, the legal finding against you for sexual assault, the multiple legal findings against you for fraud and defamation, and the massive financial penalties that were assessed against you because of your wrongful behavior. You will be remembered as a con artist, a criminal, a fraud, and an insurrectionist.

All of the damage to your reputation was self-inflicted. Before you ran for president, you knew that your closet was full of skeletons. Because of your self- esteem issues, you put yourself under the spotlight anyway. In addition to your skeletons, the glare of the spotlight has also revealed your warped view of the world. Your massive flaws have been exposed and, slowly but surely, you’re now being held accountable in various ways. No smart person with your baggage would have run for president. If you hadn’t run for president, you could have protected yourself (and your family) from exposure and the consequences. You couldn’t help yourself. When the opportunity presented itself, you ran towards the spotlight. The heat that you’re feeling is the result of your own decisions and your own actions. Stop blaming everyone else.

Despite my personal wishes, there is a good possibility that you will win the 2024 election. If you get back to the White House, you have promised that you will order the Department of Justice to investigate your many grievances. One of your biggest grievances is your view that elections are rigged and voter fraud is widespread. You talk about those alleged problems at every rally.

If you do make it back to the White House, can you do me a small favor? When you ask the Justice Department to investigate election rigging and voter fraud, please ask that the following be investigated:

A. So far in this primary cycle, you’ve run in 20 state primaries. Voters registered to vote using a wide variety of different methodologies. Voters have voted using absentee ballots, mail-in votes, early voting procedures, and by visiting various types of computerized voting machines on primary day. You won in 18 states. In these elections, you have not raised a single complaint about election rigging or voter fraud. How is it that election rigging and voter fraud only occur when you lose? The Justice Department should get to the bottom of that question. Have the bad actors actually developed a rigging/fraud system that is only visible if Trump loses?

B. Despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, you continue to argue that the 2020 election was “stolen” from you due to election rigging and voter fraud. Your unsubstantiated claim is supported by many Republicans in the House and in the Senate. Many of them won tight elections in 2020. You appeared on the same ballot as those Republican candidates. Even though they claim that there was rigging and fraud with respect to presidential votes on the 2020 ballot, these Republicans claim that they rightfully hold their seats because their elections on the same ballot were not tainted by rigging or fraud. How can it be that on a single ballot there can be vote rigging and voter fraud with respect to one candidate (Trump) but not with respect to all of the other candidates listed on the very same ballot? If the votes for the Congressional candidates weren’t rigged or tainted by fraud, doesn’t that mean that the presidential votes were valid too and that the election wasn’t stolen? It’s notable that your Republican supporters in Congress are totally comfortable with their own election results and that they’ve never called for a review of their own elections. The Justice Department should look into this strange situation. It seems that elections are only rigged, and voter fraud only occurs, when the candidate is Trump and he loses. Isn’t that odd?

Mr. Trump, thanks for your attention to this letter. I tried to keep the letter short for you, and my requests are small. I will use every ounce of my energy to thwart your reelection. Every night, I pray that you’ll lose. If you win, please give my requests serious consideration. Either the vote manipulators possess some type of magical skills that defy rational explanation, or your talk about rigging and fraud is complete and utter hogwash. If you win, I realize that you will stack the Justice Department with your political loyalists. Nonetheless, I’d like them to do an investigation and explain: (1) How vote rigging and voter fraud only occurs on votes related to Trump, and; (2) Why vote rigging and voter fraud only occurs when Trump loses. Thanks. I can’t wish you good luck. Instead, let me simply say that I hope you get what you deserve.

From A Concerned American,

WF

[anderson1bau]

Leap into the unknown: a story about how to lose everything, but not lose heart…

Dear Reader

I am writing to you today to share my life story and ask for your help and support. My name is V.A. I was born in 1989 in Latvia and from the very beginning my life was full of unexpected turns.First steps and teenage years, I will probably skip.After finishing school I decided to fulfill my childhood dream and go to study to be a chef. I got my diploma and started working in my profession, but soon realized that it was not my thing. I wanted to see the world and develop further. So, at the age of 21 I left for Germany, not knowing the language and the place where I would work and live. I found a job at a construction site and realized I needed to learn German if I wanted to earn more money. I got a basic level by watching YouTube, so I improved my skills and my salary changed (Later you will see why I started Really personal, I want to be clear).My life changed when I met the love of my life, who had two children from a previous marriage. Loved them as my own and wanted to provide for them. I started my own small construction company and created jobs for others. However, I spent a lot of time working and little time with my family, which created problems in our relationship. We started fighting, and my girlfriend started spending time away from home. Our relationship ended. This affected my work, and I decided to leave Germany and return to Latvia. However, I soon realized that I wanted to go back to Germany, so I agreed to move to another city.The day before I left, an old friend called me and offered to come to Finland to work in construction. I had to make a choice: go to Germany or go to Finland, a country I had never been to. After a sleepless night I decided to go to Finland.

(1part)

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

"In 2016, I declared, I am your voice. Today, I add, I am your warrior, I am your justice, and for those who have been wronged and betrayed, I am your retribution." Anyone who wants to understand how Fascist models of leadership can find expression in our own time need only read this passage from former president Donald Trump's speech at the recent Conservative Political Action Committee meeting held in Maryland.

Trump's CPAC speech brings forth a century of rhetoric and agendas that have been used to destroy democracy, conjuring threats that are meant to build support for authoritarian action and leadership, starting with the idea of the head of state as a vengeful victim.

“What did Italy need? An avenger!... It was necessary to cauterize the virulent wounds...and eliminate evils which threatened to become chronic," Fascist leader Benito Mussolini wrote in his autobiography, striking a similar note to Trump as he explained why he had declared dictatorship in 1925.

Ever since Il Duce came to power a century ago, strongman leaders have proclaimed their unique ability to lead their people to greatness, including by righting the wrongs internal and external enemies supposedly perpetrate against the nation. In the process, the strongman absorbs the blows delivered by those enemies, putting his well-being at risk as he battles to save the nation and protect all that is cherished and dear.

The focus on victimhood sets up any repressive action by the state as self-defense. It justifies the literal weaponization of government, with violence used against enemies "for the good of the nation." The "public safety laws" that jailed leftists and transformed Italy into a police state in the 1920s upheld this fiction.

And Nazi policies did not just make good on Adolf Hitler's vows to punish elites who had "stabbed Germany in the back" by accepting the draconian terms of the Versailles Treaty (which held Germany responsible for all moral and material damages incurred during World War One). They also targeted groups that Hitler identified as threats to Germany’s survival in the future. These included Jews ("black parasites of the nation"); Bolsheviks (the “scum of humanity”); and war profiteers and international capitalists— the forerunners of the "globalists" Trump regularly denounces, including in this CPAC speech.

When such leaders feel their power is threatened, or are staging a comeback after having been voted out of office, they focus on gaining control of public institutions to exact revenge. This is one meaning of Trump’s declaration that "we're going to finish what we started.” If he returns to the White House, he will punish all who did not collaborate with his attempt to overthrow the government.

Trump's well-honed victimhood persona is the star of the CPAC speech, and he invokes a dizzying array of enemies who want to "kill America" and do him in as well. "A sick and sinister opposition, the radical left, communists, the bureaucrats, the fake news media, the big special interests," as well as "Antifa thugs," and "corrupt intelligence agencies."

Fascist leaders pose as pure souls who risk everything to defend the nation. Trump followed suit at CPAC by presenting himself as an innocent and honest man who had never tangled with the law before "corrupt Democratic prosecutors" funded by "the George Soros money machine" sought to stop his "an epic struggle to rescue our country."

"I had a beautiful life before I did this..."I didn't know the word subpoena, I didn't know the word grand jury. I didn't know that they want to lynch you for doing nothing wrong." Luckily for his followers, Trump is tenacious. "We're going to complete the mission, we're going to see this battle through to ultimate victory. we're going to make America great again."

But why stop at America? The true Fascist avenger fixes the world. "I will have the disastrous war between Russia and Ukraine settled. It will be settled quickly. I will get the problem solved. I will get it solved in rapid order—it will take me no longer than one day. I know what to say to each of them. I got along well with all of them. I got along well with Putin."

In fact, as Trump remarks, had he been in office now, as fearsome and powerful as a mountain, "Russia would have never pulled the trigger. This is the most dangerous time in the history of our country and Joe Biden is leading us into oblivion...Biden is a criminal and nothing ever seems to happen to him."

With this incitement to violence against a sitting president, Trump's CPAC speech reaches its peak. Trump offers Americans no policy ideas, but rather a classic Fascist cocktail of negative emotions, satisfying promises of revenge, and a sense of heroism and power.

Like Mussolini and Hitler before him, Trump knows that the strongman must be everything to his people. His devoted followers must be so bonded to him that no other leader is possible in their minds. Only he can save them. "I am your warrior, I am your justice, and for those who have been wronged and betrayed, I am your retribution."

--Ruth Ben-Ghiat, “Victim and Avenger: The Fascist Roots of Trump's CPAC Speech,” March 7, 2023

[lets-talk-spirituality]

Hello dear, if you can tell me about my future spouse, personality, what they’ll think about me, where are they from etc? And also what do my spirit guides think about me? Thank you! 👻

You’re asking for what spirit and your spouse think of you. What other people think of you is their problem! You can end up with some serious issues with yourself if you take in to much about what people think about you.

That said, let’s see what spirit wants you to know about your spouse.

I see a blue sky, clouds, looking at cloud shapes, relaxed energy, teal, I think this could be at a beach, very happy, maybe this is a honeymoon or some sort of trip together because they are pointing at the sky to someone, grinning, they are fully clothed in shorts and a button shirt, sort of preppy or I guess business casual, someone is giggling at what they’re saying, all their fun, they’re making up a whole story behind the clouds sort of like Greek mythology is behind the constellations, they are fun and smiling a lot, fruity drinks, they are happy

What do your spirit guides think of you?

We think you’re doing your best but you keep spinning your wheels because you can’t see how what you keep doing is the same thing you’ve done. We keep trying to send you signs, through TV and internet ads, through numbers, through songs. Are you listening to us? Do you care about what we think or is this part of your habit of seeking acceptance and validation, we hope you move out of that soon, because you signed up to clear some serious shit in our bloodline (so this one is an ancestor soul, what are they clearing?) you’re meant to be clearing some of our trauma around food security and temperature, that’s why some extreme climates might be something you have to deal with. It was always hot our lifetime and we wanted to go somewhere colder, and somewhere more balanced. You’ll experience them all. We also want you to grow your own food and to learn how to hunt and fish, it will help you feel connected to us and heal our issues around food security, it was not an easy lifetime we survived and it still pains this little piece of my soul (they are showing me this piece that is lit up, near the heart, lighting up yellow) thanks for helping, we appreciate it and it’s your life, so live how you want but we want to help you break your chains so we can find relief, don’t think of us, think of you and how to live your life as freely as possible. This is key!

Card Pull

Druid Craft Tarot

King of Pentacles, upright—responsible, steadfast, productive

“You may experience an improvement with your finances or material circumstances, the steady progress and success of a business, project or career, a traditional, established organization or career”

Immediately I thought about being on the beach. I think together, you and your spouse create a more abundant life. Maybe you will help out at their business. If there is some career idea you’ve been considering, to me this card says make it come true. I think you are meant to build something for yourself and maybe this is tied to food production? Maybe you are meant to grow things and sell them at the market? Maybe it’s something that’s a family recipe or unique to your culture? Something your grandmother used to make? For some reason it feels like some sauce or jam or jelly? Something in jars that’s spreadable but I also see pickling foods? Not sure where this ancestor came from or where you came from but I feel strong vibes of Africa (I can’t be sure the country but it feels like Nigeria) and Germany? Maybe look into those cuisines?

The hanged man, reversed— inability to surrender, denial of parts of self, lack of self awareness or intuition, victimhood

“Acting from selfish or ulterior motives, you may be trying your best, but feel vulnerable so are not acting with full awareness and integrity, feeling like a martyr or victim, feeling ungrounded or bored, your priorities and attitude to life may be adversely influencing your situation”

12– reduces to 3, get creative, embrace creativity (this is the hanged man number in this deck)

Yeah so immediately this reinforces to me what the ancestor soul was saying about you spinning your wheels, the true block is self acceptance, you can’t truly change until you look clearly where you are standing. It’s not easy to accept where you really are and who you really are but at least you won’t be stuck in the mud anymore. You need to get creative in approach with your healing and your hobbies. If you are playing the victim game, it’s okay, but ask yourself how does feeling that help you and try to adjust back to empowerment. You need to let go and glow, flow too. This is a major arcana so this is a big lesson you are going through so be patient with yourself and keep getting back on the bike.

Hope this helps! Let me know how it resonates or not 😘💕

[phoenixyfriend]

The Family Tree is... a Disaster

Takes place in the TCW Leverage AU. It does contain a few deviations, namely that the narrative ended up shifting Plo's role in Ahsoka's life, and Ventress's role overall.

This is mostly just dialogue where I outline the fuckery that is the disaster lineage family tree, not actual fic. It stemmed from my incessant need to justify "25yo Obi-Wan somehow got custody of 9yo Anakin without Shmi dying."

Warnings for: canon character death (modernized), canon violence (modernized), and references to Nazis and white supremacists (Palpatine collects WWII weaponry as a parallel to his canon display of Sith artifacts in his office as chancellor, and Ahsoka thinks it's sketchy)

----

"Okay," Cody says, setting down a glass of whiskey as he drops into the seat across the table. "What the hell is your family tree like?"

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow, and continues cleaning off the definitely-not-stolen crystal komodo dragon he'd won in today's job. "I beg your pardon?"

"You and Skywalker," Cody says, gesturing between Obi-Wan, who is just sitting there minding his own business, and Anakin, who is across the closed-for-tonight bar and doing something inadvisable on the pool table. "You've said he was your brother, and mentioned raising him, which, sure, I'm over twenty years older than my youngest brother, people take over parenting roles all the time. But you have different last names, have mentioned stepfamilies that the other doesn't have, reference things as 'your aunt, not mine,' and I am just getting... very confused. I figured it was personal and I could leave well enough alone, but considering your older brother almost shot us today--"

"Okay, Xanatos is not my brother," Obi-Wan immediately says. "Just. I just have to stop you right there. Xanatos was a student of my father's for a time, but I promise he's not family. Nobody except maybe Komari would consider him even close, and she doesn't count since she's in prison for life and the farthest thing from stable."

Cody gestures. "That, Obi-Wan. That's what I'm talking about. I don't even know who Komari is."

Obi-Wan purses his lips in a failed attempt to not smile. "Do you actually want the explanation? It's long and unnecessarily complicated."

"So's mine," Cody snorts. Obi-Wan waits, patient and pleasant, and is rewarded when Cody sighs. "Please."

"Of course, my dear. To answer your first question, though, Anakin is my half-brother." With a smile, Obi-Wan digs a piece of paper and a pen from his briefcase. "So, center of the chain: me, my father Qui-Gon, my grandfather Yan, and my great-grandfather Yoda. With me so far?"

"Easy enough. Do you have to go back that far?"

"Great-grandfather Yoda is still alive and regularly escaping the old folks' home to terrorize younger relatives, so yes," Obi-Wan says. "Given that you may just meet a tiny, meddling relative of mine when he's bored, we do in fact have to go back that far."

"...how old is he?"

"We don't know for sure. A hundred and eight-ish is the best guess." Obi-Wan shrugs. "It's not a huge deal, mostly he likes bothering Anakin these days. Anyway, grandfather. Yan Dooku. Inherited a minory duchy from his maternal grandfather decades back. Mostly hangs around there because he's on terrorist watchlists in the States."

"Oh, lovely."

Obi-Wan grins. "Trust me, it gets worse. Anyway, grandfather never actually married, but spent most of his time with his 'best friend' Sifo Dyas, who died about a decade back."

"Gay?"

"Well, we know that now, but they got together in the seventies, and this was back when they were both working government jobs, so, you know. It happens."

"Good to know," Cody says. "So, Yoda's kid is Yan, who inherited a title and land from a maternal relative, and had a life partner but never married. With you so far."

"All of Yan's kids were adopted," Obi-Wan continues, sketching out the first branch away from the Yan/Sifo partnership. "Rael was actually grandfather's cousin, maternally, and ended up in his custody after getting orphaned at five. These days, he does most of the stewardship duties at the Serenno Duchy. His daughter Nim is teaching military history at a university in Germany."

Cody nods. "Uncle number one is named Rael, technically your dad's cousin, has a daughter. Got it."

"About a decade after Rael, they adopted my father, Qui-Gon. He and grandfather fought, frequently, but they did care for each other. My father was a botanist, did bio-engineering. We'll get back to him later, because he's where things get complicated." Obi-Wan made sure to leave room around the name. "Just a few years older than me was--is--Komari Vosa. She is... serving a life sentence. I think she fought Jango once."

"She fought my father?"

"To the best of my knowledge, they both almost died, yes," Obi-Wan says. "She's in maximum security these days. She was an assassin. I'll get a call if she breaks out, and I'll let you know along with everyone else."

"Bad news auntie, got it."

"Last adoption, sort of, is Ventress," Obi-Wan finishes off. "A few years younger than me, is technically grandfather's personal assistant and does secretarial work and the like, but we all know he's planning to leave as much of the inheritance to her as he is to the rest of us. She's aggressive and unpleasant, but she takes care of him and hasn't actually threatened to kill any of us yet, so that's fine."

"How'd she join?" Cody asks.

"Ky Narec was a friend of Qui-Gon's; Ventress was his daughter. Ky died a few years after Qui-Gon did, and Ventress was a mess, after." Obi-Wan shrugs and scratches that connection into the little sketch of a family tree as well. "Grandfather offered her a job until she got herself back together, and then she just kind of... stuck around."

"Youngest aunt, more of a cousin." Cody summarizes. "Now we go back to your father?"

"Qui-Gon Jinn was a man of many skills," Obi-Wan says drily. "Adequate birth control was not one of them."

It's almost a pity that Cody wasn't drinking anything, because going by the way he chokes, Obi-Wan's pretty sure the spit take would have been spectacular.

"I'm sorry," Cody says. "Can you repeat that?"

"I was an accident," Obi-Wan says, not even bothering to hide his smile. "So was Anakin."

"So that sounds like... a story."

"It is," Obi-Wan confirms. "My biological mother has never been in the picture. They had a fling, she wasn't sure if she'd want to abort or give me up, just that she wasn't ready to be a parent, and Qui-Gon volunteered to take full custody so she could go back to her life after the birth. I've never met her, but I kept her family name. You can consider her irrelevant beyond that."

Cody nods.

"So, when I was about a year old, Qui-Gon reconnects with an old flame, they get married two years later. Step-mother number one is Tahl. Lovely woman, I absolutely adored her, and she had a daughter, my stepsister, Bant Eerin."

"I met her, right?" Cody asks.

"Yes, she was the doctor who patched up my bullet wound a few months ago," Obi-Wan says. "With the giant glasses that make her look a little fish-eyed."

"She was nice."

"She is," Obi-Wan agrees. "At any rate, that was our family for a while, and then Tahl died when I was fourteen. Bant wanted to go to a magnet school for medical studies, and Qui-Gon's grief was... not optimal for taking care of multiple teenagers, shall we say, so Bant moved in with her paternal uncle, Kit Fisto, and Kit's son Nahdar. He's a marine biologist, incredibly friendly, and has no idea of any of the rest of my side of the family's questionable activities. If you ever meet him, you will pretend that we are a legal firm with a team of security consultants."

Cody raises a brow. Obi-Wan despairs. "Best you could do?"

"We're not that likely to run into him." Obi-Wan draws out a new line. "So, Qui-Gon deals poorly with grief. This is also around the time that Xanatos came around to ruin our lives a little. He was a very rich and unpleasant man, but he's dead as of four hours ago, so you don't have to worry about him. Or his son."

"His son?"

"Anakin handled that," Obi-Wan says. "Thoroughly. Granta Omega is no longer an issue. He's not dead, but... well. Anakin has his ways. Er--I should probably mention Feemor; he was my father's assistant at the university for a long time. Anakin and I still call him our uncle."

"Also a person to avoid mentioning criminal activity to?" Cody prompts.

"Well... no, but only because I don't think he'd care. The man is, forgive me, more of a 'walking sweatervest' than I am. He's a very bland and unassuming man. He once described himself as the background character of the soap opera that is my family's existence."

"Sounds like a charmer."

"Oh, he's very kind and clever, and witty as well. I adore him, and he really is family. He's just also very, very normal. Not boring, but..." Obi-Wan trails off and shrugs helplessly. "He's an editor for an agricultural research journal. Also not someone I anticipate us running into."

"Noted."

"Right, so, Qui-Gon dealing poorly with his grief didn't involve much drinking, but there were a few months of him trying to... lose himself in the pleasures of the flesh?" Obi-Wan tries, and then deflates at the look on Cody's face. "He was slagging around. Shmi got pregnant with Anakin, who was born when I was sixteen. Shared custody at first, Qui-Gon got him weekends and every other holiday, that sort of thing, and then they got married because they actually did like each other well enough, and it was easier on the taxes."

"So Shmi is stepmother number two."

"Shmi is stepmother number two, yes." Obi-Wan sketches in Anakin and Shmi. "About nine and a half years after Anakin was born, Shmi and Qui-Gon were in a car accident with... well, it later turned out it wasn't an accident, there was a hitman called Maul involved, he's actually Ventress's second cousin or something, I don't know. Grandfather handled most of that problem. Qui-Gon died, Shmi was in intensive care, and I got custody of Anakin as his nearest adult relative. We weren't very close before that, because I was off at university by the time he was old enough to form memories, but that changed once he started living with me. I more or less raised him as a single parent from that point."

"This is why he jokes that you're like a father to him."

"Precisely," Obi-Wan says. "Shmi took about a year to recover enough to move again, and grandfather covered the costs. She still had to live with a dedicated carer and attend daily physical therapy. At that physical therapy, she met Cliegg Lars, whose son Owen was also a patient there. They hit it off, and three years later, they married. When Anakin refers to his stepfamily he's talking about the Lars out in Nevada."

"Nevada?"

"They have a farm. A very, very normal one. We don't drag them into our activities, unless we have an at-risk person who needs a safe house." Obi-Wan pauses, and then decides this really needs to be stressed. "This is important to me and Anakin, that we don't get them involved unless there's absolutely no other choice. Shmi's been through a lot, and the Lars are busy enough running the farm."

"Works for me," Cody says. "We've got enough safe houses that it shouldn't be an issue. I'm guessing this story doesn't end there, though."

Obi-Wan grimaces. "My own love life has been... a bit of a mess."

"I already know about Kryze, at least."

There's that. "I was temporarily engaged to a friend, Siri Tachi, shortly after high school. We were in a relationship, but this was mostly something done to appease a relative of hers that was getting overbearing to the point of absurdity, and she couldn't just cut them off. We broke off the engagement after the relative passed, and we're still friends."

He notes that down, then adds the other embarrassment of his early years. "First marriage was actually a drunken joke between myself and my best friend when we were in college. We got it annulled a few months later because we just didn't have time to drop by the courthouse before then, and he's actually engaged to Asajj now."

"Asajj?" Cody asks, watching in fascination as Obi-Wan tries to mark in both his own short marriage and the newer, long-term engagement without crossing any lines. He settles for just writing the name twice and including an asterisk with 'this is the same person.'

"Ventress," Obi-Wan clarifies. "Yeah, Quinlan's a fun guy. His little sister, Aayla, treats Anakin like a beloved younger cousin."

"Are they also off-limits for criminal activity?"

"No, Aayla's the one that taught Ahsoka how to vent-crawl," Obi-Wan says. "And I'm pretty sure Quinlan has contacts in every major government branch, criminal organization, and Fortune 500 company on the planet. I reach out to them regularly."

"Resources, then."

Obi-Wan nods. "Some time later, I married Satine. We had a son; you've met Korkie. We split due to incompatibility a year and change before Qui-Gon's death. Satine doesn't engage in criminal activity, but Bo-Katan is..."

"I've met Bo-Katan. I know what she's like, Obi. You don't have to explain."

"She works with Maul sometimes."

"...the man who killed your father?"

"Yes. It's all very stupid and convoluted." Obi-Wan still writes her in. "So, that's them. Korkie goes to boarding school, and I try not to involve him in anything. Anakin and Ahsoka like to teach him self-defense and the like, but Satine is adamant that he stay unaware of my less legal dealings until he's an adult."

Cody shrugs. "Makes sense. Is that every--wait, no, Skywalker's married."

Obi-Wan grins. "Yes, and Padme's got twins on the way."

"I was there when he told us," Cody says drily. "He was very loud about it. Okay, how does Ahsoka fit in?"

"Hold on, I forgot Beru," Obi-Wan mutters. "Owen's fiancee. Same rules as the Lars. Okay, you asked about Ahsoka. Right. So. Um."

He dithers. Cody waits for him, and then Obi-Wan just gives up. "Ahsoka, dear, would you like to explain how you joined the family, so to speak?"

Ahsoka looks up from whatever she and the boys are doing--there are multiple beer glasses and straws and duct tape involved, and Obi-Wan doesn't really want to know--and then flips off the table and over to Obi-Wan and Cody. She looks over the family tree chart, and then says, "Oooh, did you tell him about the cult?"

"You were in a cult?" Cody demands.

"No, Komari was. She was head priestess or something. I dunno, it's why she's in prison and stuff."

"I did not tell him about the cult," Obi-Wan mutters, already regretting this. "The Bando Gora aren't a problem anymore. I've already gotten to explaining how you and Anakin know each other."

Ahsoka rolls her eyes, steals his pen, and starts sketching in around Quinlan's name, over by Asajj since Obi-Wan's section is too crowded. "Okay, so, Quinlan's adopted. His dad is Tholme, and Tholme's dad is Plo Koon. Plo Koon is good friends with my Auntie, Shaak Ti, who raised me. They live next door to each other, out in the country, and I'd play in his yard a lot, because he had puppies, and he took me to visit his bees. Whenever Auntie needed a babysitter, she asked Quinlan or Aayla to do it since she knew and trusted them, and Aayla needed pocket money."

"This is so unnecessarily complicated," Cody mutters.

"It is!" Ahsoka chirps. Her grin is far too sharp. "So, this one time, Aayla was watching me when I was fourteen, and she was just helping me with my physics homework. BAM, the door slams open, and in stumbled Skyguy with his arm missing. I've never met him before, and my first introduction is him shortly after he's gotten an unplanned amputation."

Anakin, on the other side of the room, giggles. Obi-Wan just sighs. The Fett brothers appear to be in the land of 'horrified fascination.'

Ahsoka revels in it. "There's blood everywhere, I'm screaming, Aayla's panicking, Anakin's halfway to unconscious and insisting we can't call the hospital, and nobody can get Obi-Wan on the phone. Quinlan's in another country, and Auntie Shaak and Uncle Plo are at a movie, so they've both got their cellphones off. Tholme was faking his death at that point to get away from an incident with the Irish Mob, so we didn't even try him."

"What the actual fuck," Rex breathes.

Ahsoka continues with relish. "We get Bant to pick up, and she's there an hour later with Padme, because Padme knows how to drive the way Skyguy does, and the entire drive there is just Auntie Bant on speakerphone telling Aayla how to stop the bleeding and get him stabilized while Padme's screaming at traffic at the top of her lungs."

"I owe Aayla a fruit basket," Anakin muses aloud. "The anniversary of her saving my life is coming up, it's warranted."

"Five years, baby!" Ahsoka crows. She fist-pumps.

Obi-Wan just drops his head into his hands. "You're killing me, children."

Anakin shrugs, grinning. "You know, I think Fett Senior might have been involved in that fight."

"My shitty dad cut off your arm?" Rex demands.

"No, I think he was busy fighting the Interpol guy," Anakin says. "But he was definitely there. I think. Blood loss kinda got to me after a bit, but I'm pretty sure Jango Fett was there, and also Boba might've been hiding in the getaway car?"

"I need another glass," Cody mutters. He doesn't stand up, though.

"Wait," Rex says. "So who cut off your arm?"

Anakin shrugs with an unsure noise. "Someone tried to convince me it was Grandpa Yan, but he was in the middle of a court case in Italy for some kind of parole violation when it happened, so he had an alibi."

"...did he actually violate parole?" Cody asks, and Obi-Wan thinks he looks like he doesn't know if he actually wants an answer.

Ahsoka shrugs. So does Anakin. Obi-Wan carefully looks at a spot behind Cody, and doesn't explain anything about wine tastings used as covers for illicit arms deals.

"The arm?" Rex prompts, sounding a little desperate to get back to the question he likely thinks is the most important.

"I still say it was Skeevy Sheev," Ahsoka chimes in.

"It wasn't Palpatine," Anakin snaps.

"Your creepy older friend who took you to operas and gives you fancy gifts and knows way too much about swords who was conveniently there to talk to the police and cover for you so you didn't get arrested for getting in the middle of a gang war in the first place, yes," Ahsoka says, dropping into a chair and sighing dramatically. "The guy who definitely hasn't been trying to convince you for a year and change that your wife is cheating on you with your older brother."

"Ahsoka!"

"What? He is."

"Anakin," Rex says, "your life sounds like a trainwreck."

"I'm not going to assume a frail, elderly man cut my arm off!" Anakin protests. "Even if he wanted to, he doesn't exactly have the muscle for it!"

"Grandfather's older," Obi-Wan points out, even though he knows it won't help. "And he definitely still could."

"Ha!" Ahsoka shouts.

"He could have hired someone?" Cody suggests. "Doesn't need to do it himself, if he has enough money."

Obi-Wan has a sneaking suspicion that Cody is deliberately stirring the pot as revenge for Anakin sending him eighty-seven cat memes inside an hour during last night's dinner.

"You all suck," Anakin declares. "Also, what the hell do you mean 'knows way too much about swords,' Ahsoka? You know way too much about swords!"

"Yeah, but I'm like ninety-percent sure that his antiques are Prussian and mid-century German military officer dress uniform relics, and pairing that with the Nazi pistols he's got on display--"

"He's just a history buff! And his family's German, of course he prioritizes that region, it's not like he doesn't have Russian or French or English antiques in there too, it's all sides of the war and--"

"I'm just saying he's almost definitely sending me sketchy glances like he thinks I'm planning to steal the silver on the three occasions you've had me with you when you stop by, and I'm pretty sure it's got less to do with my criminal record and more to do with me being, you know, not white."

Anakin looks ready to blow, so Obi-Wan interrupts. "Ahsoka, you were explaining how Anakin passing out on Aayla and scaring us all half to death led to your friendship?"

Ahsoka blinks at him, and then sticks her tongue out at Anakin and turns back to the chart. "So basically, Skyguy had to recuperate in Uncle Plo's living room for a week or two, and I kept showing up to bother him because he was bored and nobody would give him a laptop for 'security reasons,' because he had to lay low and stuff. He made me help him sketch out designs for a prosthesis and do all the writing for the math he had to do for the 3D printer, and we got to chatting."

Ahsoka hops up and back onto a table, legs swinging below her. "I decided he was cool and started following him around while he was getting used to only having one hand, mostly because I was bored. He showed me how to hotwire a car, and explained the best places to put a bug if you were looking to make it sneaky, and he picked my pocket to show off so many times when he was walking around Uncle Plo's house that I made him teach me that, too. And, uh, then Aayla found out and they got into a shouting match about it and decided they both needed to teach me parkour so I could get out of any mess I got myself into, since I was obviously going to follow them into a life of crime."

"And you did," Anakin says, far too proudly. "You're the best thief in this half of the country."

"Only because Aayla moved out east."

Anakin rolls his eyes and pulls Ahsoka into his side, digging his knuckles into her skull. "Best thief! You are the best thief! Be proud of yourself!"

"Let go!"

"Never!"

Obi-Wan sighed heavily and rubbed at his forehead. "Children, please."

"You're not my dad," Ahsoka growls out at him. "Skyguy, I'm going to bite you!"

"Good luck, the only arm you can access is the one that's going to break your teeth."

Ahsoka shrieks in outrage and stomps on Anakin's instep.

It's almost funny, for all that Obi-Wan's seen it play out a million times before, but the really interesting part is seeing Rex's look of fond dismay.

Obi-Wan thinks he might be adding a branch out to the Fetts soon. He's not actually sure if Rex is interested in Anakin or Ahsoka, and he's smack dab between them in age, so that's not a help either, but... well. The expression is familiar enough.

"Please tell me you don't match-make," Cody mutters to him.

"No, I plan to let the pieces fall where they will," Obi-Wan responds, just as low, and far more amused. "I'm simply trying to predict where those landings are to be."

Cody looks at him, and then back at the roughhousing trio, and sighs heavily. "You know, I really didn't think that you technically being minor royalty was going to be the least convoluted thing in your story, Obi-Wan."

He laughs, because it's true. "I'm first in line to inherit the title, since Rael denounced his claim. Nim isn't interested, and Qui-Gon's dead, so... I'm next."

Cody makes a face. "Delightful. I'm guessing that's not a connection we can safely make use of."

"No more than the Kryze or Naberries, I'm afraid." Obi-Wan claps him on the shoulder. "Chin up, I've plenty others in the metaphorical rolodex, all far less legitimate and far more amenable to work with our little outfit."

"Rolodex, really?" Cody snorts. "You're not that old."

Obi-Wan smiles winningly. "You don't know how old I am, Cody. All my IDs are fake."

"Anakin's twenty-four, and you're sixteen years older than him, going by the story you just told me," Cody points out. "I do know how to do basic math, Obi-Wan."

"I had to try," Obi-Wan admits. "I threw a lot of information at you all at once; I'd hoped you missed some of the ages in there."

"I have eight brothers," Cody scoffs. "And literally dozens of cousins, plus niblings, uncles, aunts, and so on. I have experience on this."

"If I asked you to list of the age of every single relative you have, you'd be able to do it?"

"Do you want me to draw a chart? I can draw a chart."

Obi-Wan can't help but laugh. "I'd be delighted, my dear."

Cody rolls his eyes, but Obi-Wan thinks--it's hard to tell in the dimmed lights of the closed bar--that there's a hint of a blush on the man's face. Obi-Wan lets himself slouch to the side, drops his head to rest on one fist, indolent debauchery in every line of his body. Cody does his best to ignore him, but Obi-Wan knows how to smile lazily and blink slowly and draw a man in.

(The whole 'indolent debauchery in every line of his body' phrasing is Anakin's, from back when he was a teenager trying to read highbrow literature to impress a cute girl... and to come up with new insults for his older brother.)

"So," Cody says, with a cough meant to somehow distract Obi-Wan from whatever's showing on the man's face. "Why, uh, why is your grandfather on terrorist watchlists?"

"Well, he didn't initially do anything," Obi-Wan says. "He was just a gay man who didn't hide it quite well enough, and had too much money and too white a face for someone to just call the cops on a faulty report. The Red Scare was technically over by that point, I think, but if a few people made suggestions that he was more loyal to the country that gave him a noble title than to the United States... he received a few warnings, of course, and it could have all blown over..."

"But?"

"But my grandfather is not a man to do things by halves, and instead decided that if the government was to list him as a threat, then he would oblige and make himself a threat," Obi-Wan finishes. "Living up to their labels, rolling with the assumptions, whatever you'd like to call it. It all irked him, and so he made some incredibly questionable decisions to make the government's lives harder. Some weren't bad, like donating to anti-war foundations that were protesting the Gulf War and the interventions in Yugoslavia, that sort of thing, and some were... nobody really looks well on gunrunning, you know."

"For fuck's sake..."

"Indeed," Obi-Wan chuckles. "Ironically, he has minimal opinion on the optimal form of economics, for all that virulent xenophobia and the remnants of anti-communism were involved in the whole mess. He just wanted to create problems for the people that were causing him problems."

Cody shakes his head. "I want to judge that, but you've met my father."

"Jango Fett is, indeed, also not a man to do things by halves," Obi-Wan agrees, attempting to nod gravely but breaking into a smile at the end. "That man is absurd."

"At least he's not dragging Boba into it anymore," Cody mutters. He drags over the fresh sheet of paper and pen that Obi-Wan offers him. "Okay, right, let's start with Jaster..."

[alwida10]

Getting paid for Fanfiction could become legal in Germany!!

It’s been a while since Article 17 was passed, but perhaps you still remember. Now it has become important again since Germany is voting about a bill that could make fanfiction legal!!!

How is it not legal, right now, you ask? Easy, right now we can write and upload but we can’t sell it, since the characters are owned by Disney & co. The new bill would make it legal to get money for it! And also for Fanart and similar transformative works!

Our dear Archives explain it far better than I do. Here is a link to the English and German versions.

Long story short: This is an incredible chance! But as always it is not as easy. The bill has two problems.

1) There is a line included that limits the legalization to “to the extent required by the specific purpose”. Who knows who will be in charge to define “what extend” is necessary for the purpose of a certain fanfiction. So this line has to get excluded from the bill!

2) It includes a duty to get money for the fanwork. (Ironic, isn’t it? At first, we weren’t allowed to get paid, now it would only be legal IF we get paid. -.-) Anyway, this would force people to use websites like Youtube or Facebook since they have payment functions instead of the Archive of Our Own! Therefore, this part also has to go!

As of yet, unfortunately, only Germans can influence the bill, BUT GERMANS SHOULD DO SO! For example you can write your representative (here is a list of those working at the bill) on abgeordnetenwatch.de. Here is an example where someone already did this! 

Sadly, I don’t know who on Tumblr is German and who isn’t so I can’t tag them myself. Please help me reach my fellow Germans by reblogging this! The vote is in early May, so time is of the essence. Help us to get a foot in the door against Disney & co!

Tagging a few cherished mutuals. Please help me spread awareness for this! Please! @worstloki, @nikkoliferous, @iamanartichoke, @rabentochter, @iamnmbr3, @pennie-dreadful, @awed-frog, @mittensmorgul, @ms-cellanies, @allaboutloki, @lokihiddleston and everyone else i just forgot. Thank you so much in advance! ^.^

[theasstour]

𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟕.𝟕𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐚

Tuesday, 13 December 2017

Tooley Street was always busy, whether there were a horde of people walking to and from the riverside and underground, or cars driving by at a ridiculous speed. London Bridge station on the other side of the road to where Y/N and the gang sat at Caffé Nero, looked like a small insect in comparison to The Shard that reached like a pillar above the partly cloudy winter sky. The blue painted brick building beside it, The Shipwright Arms pub, was a lively addition to an otherwise very bleak street.

The winter wind by the riverside was horrendous, but Y/N had offered to come with Annalise on her cigarette break, so she had only herself to blame for exposing herself to more of the biting cold than completely necessary. From where the two were sitting, they could just make out Tower Bridge behind them, bare trees rising up along the streets that indicated summer was long gone and winter had arrived.

Y/N had spent a lot of time just sitting outside the last few days. Whether it was on a bench by Regent’s Canal, in the grass at Shoreditch Park, or at a table outside a café with a coffee in hand. She had just been sitting there, staring out at nothing. Thinking. All she had been doing since finding that watch was think.

She had tried to find some kind of logical explanation as to why that watch had the coordinates for her family’s Newport cabin, but there was none. What kind of connection did George have to Newport? To that cabin? Had he just fucked her and left it there because he knew who Y/N’s sister was? And where was George now? She had not seen him since that night in October, was he still around? Or had Y/N just missed him when he had been, and this had all just been a huge coincidence. But Y/N somehow knew, deep down, that this was far from a coincidence and she should not treat it as one.

“You have to come to Monnickendam,” Annalise said, blowing out a puff of white smoke.

Y/N looked away from a man across the street who was arguing passionately with someone on his phone. Shoving the thoughts of the watch that was laid on her desk in her room, out of her head. She had not told anyone about it, this was not something she wanted everyone to know about because she had no idea what it meant. The only person that knew was Harry, and she would like to keep it that way.

“I’ve never been to the Netherlands,” Y/N said.

“Even more of a reason to come.”

Y/N smiled. “Buzzing. I haven’t travelled much in Europe, mostly been to Brazil with my family.”

“When you come to Monnickendam, we have to take the train to, like, Germany or France. Andorra is also so beautiful, I think you’re gonna love it.”

“Make a roadtrip out of it.”

“Exactly.”

Y/N’s smile grew. “Had you been to London before you came here for school?”

Annalise brought the cigarette up to her mouth. “Loads of times.”

“Really?”

“Yes, we went here around Easter in 2012 the first time, and I fell in love. Went here four more times, then to an Open Day last year.”

Y/N nodded. “Was Helmond your first choice then? Did you like it the best?”

“No, Battersea was, but I’m happy I ended up at Helmond.” Annalise breathed out white vapour. “Helmond’s prettier.”

Y/N laughed. “The aesthetic is more important than the uni itself, innit? If you can’t take decent Instagram pictures there, what’s the point of spending the next three years at that place?”

Annalise laughed along with Y/N, taking a last drag. “I rarely use Instagram.”

“I used to. I loved to like document my life, to let all my friends and family know what I was doing at all times. But then I found Snapchat, and it’s just better.”

“You know that if you, like, save a picture or video in the Snapchat app, Snapchat owns it?”

Y/N blinked.

“At least what someone at home told me once.”

“Doesn’t Instagram do the same?” Y/N asked.

“Think so,” Annalise said, walking over to the litter and stumping her cigarette out in the ash tray on top of it. “Ground rule: don’t save anything onto social media. Anyone can save and see your pictures.”

“Basically,” Y/N mumbled, looking over at the man she had watched earlier. He was still arguing with someone over the phone.

“Ready to head back inside?” Annalise asked.

“Yeah.” Y/N got up and the two strolled back over to the Caffé Nero their three other mates were sat in. Thian, Hayden, and Chloe were all sat with their laptops in front of them and books in the centre of the table behind their screens. Chloe was talking animatedly as Y/N and Annalise approached, Hayden busy with something on the laptop in front of them while Thian sat with a book in his hands, looking at Chloe as she spoke. Y/N took off her puffer jacket, hanging it off the back of her chair as she sat down, adjusting her black V-neck jumper and loose denim jeans.

“…the problem isn’t that. The problem is the fact that they never clean up after themselves. That’s the problem,” Chloe said, groaning loudly. “And when I ask in the flat groupchat if anyone wanna be social, no one answers. I swear, all of them hate me.”

“Maybe they’re just busy,” Thian suggested.

“They always say that, but I know two of the boys are in Dave’s room playing something on that PlayStation.” Chloe crossed her arms over her chest. “Should I learn how to play FIFA?”

“You don’t have to impress them,” Y/N said, turning her laptop back on to finish the essay for Critical Reading that was due that Friday.

“No, I know. But if I want to hang out with anyone in my flat, I gotta do something. What games do you play in the PlayStation, Thian?”

Thian stared at Chloe for a second, mouth working before he mumbled, “I didn’t bring one to uni.”

“Alright, then what did you play at home?”

“Call of Duty.”

Chloe scrunched up her nose. “Isn’t that a war game?”

“Yeah.”

“Nah, I’m not into that.” Chloe grimaced, looking at something further away. “I’ve never really played PlayStation. One of the blokes I dated in college gamed a lot, but I couldn’t be asked to sit around and just watch.”

“The three in my flat play GTA,” Y/N said. “At least that’s what Nathan wants to play, Harry and Mason just go along.”

Chloe’s face instantly lit up. “Oh, my word, Y/N. You have to make Harry teach me how to play something on the PlayStation.”

There was a slight pang in Y/N’s chest at the sound of his name leaving Chloe’s lips in that way. Y/N opened, then closed her mouth, then opened it again. “I don’t really hang out with them when they play it. I’ve had so much to do these past months.”

“That’s fine, Nathan can keep us company,” Chloe said, leaning back in her seat. “Make Mason come, too. God-“ She grinned, letting her head fall between her shoulder blades. “-Your flatmates are fit.”

“Harry’s fitter than Mason,” Hayden chimed in.

“No, definitely Mason,” Annalise said.

“I can’t choose. Depends on my mood,” Chloe mused.

Thian kept quiet, staring pointedly at his laptop.

“Can you do it? Make them teach me?” Chloe begged, sticking her bottom lip out at Y/N.

Y/N took a deep breath. “I’ll try.”

Chloe grinned.

“They might be busy, too. Might not get to it till after Christmas break.”

Chloe waved her hand. “That’s fine. I just want to hang out with someone from my flat eventually.”

Y/N glanced down at her laptop again, trying to forget the conversation she had just had with the other three. Chloe continued chattering on about something of no significance, Y/N did not care to listen as she wanted to finish her essay before she had to leave for home coming Saturday. Though her coffee was cold now as she took a sip of it, Y/N still appreciated the taste of caffeine. It woke her up, made her more alert and focused.

Ever since she was seven years old, her papai had made her coffee to drink. He always said “coffee is as vital to a Brazilian’s existence as tea is to a Brit’s” and she had drunk it ever since. She loved the taste of it much more than tea, but seeing as tea was much easier to make, she had come to resort to it here in London. Home in Nottingham, there was always a brew in the making or one ready for whoever felt like having a cup, made with a proper coffee machine that Davi had invested proper money in. He had bought it back in 2001, and it worked just as well as it did back then. Y/N, like her papai, loved the coffee from that old coffee maker more than anything else. She could not wait until she was home with her parents so she could drink proper coffee all the time without going to the nearest coffee shop to do so. The instant coffee Nathan often made smelled and tasted rank, Y/N would have no other coffee than her papai’s and a cup made at a coffee shop.

“I’m gonna go buy a muff,” Hayden said, getting up from their chair. “This essay is doing my head in, I need something to sooth the pain.”

“Oh, could you buy me a scone?” Thian asked, putting his hands together as if he was begging on his knees. “I’ll pay with five stellar knock knock jokes.”

“Make it six.”

“Deal.”

The two shook hands and Hayden grinned as they looked at the other three. “Anything from the trolley, dears?”

Y/N and Annalise chuckled. “No thanks,” Y/N said, Annalise saying the same thing.

“No, I’ll just add to this,” Chloe said, patting at her stomach.

“Add to what?” Hayden asked.

“A belly.” Chloe gripped the little that was protruding from her tight denim jeans. “I’m trying to start working out for bikini season, to remove that extra uni weight, you know?”

Hayden looked absolutely lost, so did Thian, and Annalise looked to not be paying any attention at all. Y/N, however, felt a familiar pang in her chest. It was a small explosion she had felt before, one that would taint the rest of her day. Instinctively, she put her scarf around her chest, letting it fall over her stomach.

Hayden did not comment, instead they just walked up to the till, ready to tell the lady working there their order. The table fell silent, but not for the reason Y/N wanted it to. No, they were all just busy with their essays. Y/N knew that it would be impossible for her to concentrate on the assignment now that the only thing she would be thinking about for the rest of the day was Chloe’s comment. Chancing a look over at her friend, she saw her flicking through a book in her lap, completely unbothered, Annalise was cocking her head to the side as she wrote something on her Mac, while Thian was watching Hayden pay for their food. None of them had batted an eyelash. Which was nothing new, Y/N was used to no one picking up on covered up fatphobic comments.

She knew that Chloe had not said those things with her in mind, that the statement had been about her own body only. But Y/N could not help but feel the comment in her very soul. She could remember her mates from school in Nottingham making comments similar to that one, so hearing it wasn’t alien, but it stung as much as hearing it that first time.

“Here we go,” Hayden said, putting the scone down on Thian’s keyboard.

“Scones are so bloody good,” Thian moaned, taking a huge bite out of his. “If we had to fuck a food, I’d fuck scones.”

The table went quiet, all looking at Thian. He just continued on eating, humming some Alesso and Conor Maynard song that was always playing on the radio.

“Why did you just say that?” Hayden asked.

“Felt like sharing my thoughts with the class.”

Hayden raised their eyebrows before looking at the laptop in front of them. “The class did not need to know.”

Thian shrugged his shoulders and Annalise laughed, Chloe joining in after a little while. Y/N smiled at them, but her thoughts still drifted back to Chloe’s comments just a minute earlier. She spread her scarf out over her stomach, wishing she had worn something that wasn’t so tight fitted.

Friday, 15 December 2017

“Sorry we’re late,” Mason said as him and the rest of the rugby team streamed into the seminar room. Hayden, Y/N, Thian, Chloe, Annalise, Nathan, and Annalise’s two friends were all sat around one table, already having started a round of Uno.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Hayden smiled. “I’ve put Uno decks on the other tables.”

“Cheers.”

Mason and the rest of the team sat down, all chatting amongst themselves and letting go of heavy sighs as they took their seats. It was clear that the last training session for the team this year had not only been cold, but also immensely tiring. They all looked very ready to travel home for Christmas break, and it looked like a few already had.

Y/N felt their struggle with the cold. She herself was wearing a mini linen skater dress in black. The skirt was loose, making it comfortable to hide her belly in – she had not stopped thinking about Chloe’s comment all week, but it would not stop her from looking really fucking good – and the waist was open, baring some of her skin and rib tattoo to everyone. Her skin protruded around the straps that were wrapped around her waist, connecting her skirt from her top, but there was nothing she could do about it, so she just tried to stay out of Chloe’s vision. The plunge neck revealed a very deep cleavage and skin, making it so Y/N had put on two silver necklaces to top of the outfit. The rest of the top had long sleeves and a nice collar, which was why Y/N had bought the dress. It was slutty, but in a modest way.

The rest of the gang around the table had also dressed up, ready to go out after this. They all had their last lecture of the semester today, meaning that their Christmas break had just started, and they wanted to celebrate before everyone travelled to their separate locations the next day. Chloe to Oxford, Thian to Bristol, Hayden to Sheffield, Annalise to Monnickendam, and Y/N back home to Nottingham. It would be weird not to meet up with them, to not go to lectures and stress about assignments for the next month. Then again, Annalise had made a Snapchat and Messenger group to ensure that the gang would talk every single day. And knowing her mates, Y/N was sure they would.

During a break between rounds, Y/N got up from their table after making sure that her polyamide shorts underneath her dress didn’t roll down her stomach. She wore them to prevent chafing, knowing that if she did not wear them underneath her skirt, it would be hard for her to wear anything the next day. She did the zip of her chunky sock boots before making her way over to Mason’s table.

“Alright, Y/N?” Mason said as she came closer, giving her a small smile.

“How’re you lot finding the society?” she asked, looking around the table, meeting Kai’s eyes.

Kai beamed. “Good, it’s nice to spend some time with the whole team off the rugby pitch.”

“You’re dressed up,” Mason pointed out. “What’s the occasion?”

“Uno Society.”

Mason smiled. “Trying to pull some rugby players, are ya?”

“No. No, rugby players.”

Mason only raised his eyebrows as if he didn’t believe her, smile widening.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re just as unbearable as Harry sometimes.”

“Nah, Harry’s worse than me.”

“Right.” Y/N took a big breath. “Chloe over there, the blonde,” Y/N said, motioning behind her with a nod of her head. Mason’s gaze immediately fell on Chloe. “She’s wondering if you and Harry can teach her how to play the PlayStation.”

Mason blinked, looking over at Kai as the bigger man clapped his hands together before laughing.

“Is that funny?” Y/N asked.

“No, it’s not. I just knew Kai would react like that,” Mason said. “But I’ll do it. After Christmas at some point.”

“Nice, I’ll tell her that, then.”

“Why does she need someone to teach her how to play PlayStation?” Kai asked, and though there was laughter in his voice, Y/N could tell his question was sincere.

“Some blokes in her flat never want to be social, they just stay in this one room playing PlayStation, and she’s kinda left out ‘cause she doesn’t really know how to play.”

“That might not work out,” Kai said, smiling still.

“Worth a shot, either way.”

“Maybe she just wanna spend time with this hunk,” Kai grinned, putting a hand on Mason’s shoulder. “Or the other hunk that’s not here.”

“Speaking of him,” Y/N said, putting a hand on her hip. “Not that I care, but where is he?”

Kai grinned, sitting back in his chair. “You don’t care? Not at all?”

“No, Y/N doesn’t like Harry much,” Mason explained, completely unbothered. “He’s working. The team’s popping by The Stag’s Head later to check on him since it’s his last shift and all that.”

Y/N nodded, suddenly remembering how Harry had told her that a few weeks ago.

“What’s the bellend done to you?” Kai asked.

“Another time, Kai. We’re in the middle of a round,” Mason said. “I’ll find a day that’s good for Chloe to come over.”

“Wicked,” Y/N smiled. “See ya.”

“Later, mate.”

Y/N walked back to her table, sitting down in her seat again. “Sorry,” she said when Hayden gave her a look. “Chloe, Mason said he could teach you how to play PlayStation sometime after Christmas break.”

Chloe squealed. “Really?!”

“Yeah, he’ll text me saying when.”

“Ahh! Buzzing!”

Y/N gave her a smile before the gang went back to playing.

Though she was physically present over the next hour or so, Y/N’s mind travelled back to the flat and the watch on her desk. Besides assignments, Christmas, and what Chloe said on Tuesday, that was all Y/N had spent her time thinking about. She would be in bed, about to go to sleep, then just get out of her bed and look at the watch, study it carefully. Maybe there was another message of sorts on it, maybe she was supposed to do something with it. But other days she did not want to touch that watch. There was something about it, something about how it had just been left in her possession so casually, something about the fact that she had not seen George since that night, that did not sit right with Y/N at all.

Throughout the rest of the night, after the Uno Society, while the gang was sat at a pub, and then dancing at a club later, Y/N could not bring herself to enjoy herself thoroughly. All her energy went back to that watch. She wanted to understand what it meant, why George had it, and what she was supposed to do with the information. Was she even supposed to do anything at all? It only made her want to travel down to Newport even more. She had to now. Her parents might think about getting rid of that cabin, but Y/N had to revisit it one last time before that happened.

Y/N did not drink that night; she was afraid of the conspiracy theories she would form if she did. She had one cocktail at the pub they went to, but could not do more than that, and her mates did not ask questions as to why she was not drinking, something she really appreciated. It was late when she announced she would be going home, and so she called Nathan and made him stay on the line with her as she took the tube back to Haggerston Station. Once she reached Orsman Road, she could hear his snores on the other end, and hung up halfway down the road to the flat. However, in the distance, she saw a stag’s head sign hanging out on a metal pole, protruding from the building opposite her flat building. She suddenly remembered what Mason said, and crossed the road, making her way over to the pub.

A small group of lads made their way out of the pub as Y/N reached it, the last one holding the door for her. She smiled and thanked him before walking inside. Now that she wasn’t affected by alcohol, Y/N was finally able to take in the pub properly without having the slight haze of alcohol taint it. The lights were comfortably dimmed, not too much so you could not read the menu, but just enough so that a person’s facial features would be a tad blurry. The red that ran along the wall behind the dark bar counter was subtle, giving the bar a sense of holding onto the secrets of each person who walked through the front doors, like a Victorian murder mystery. Y/N could see Sweeney Todd’s barber shop trapped in the same colours.

“Excuse me, miss,” a man walking out from behind the counter said, grey hair and broad shoulders. “We’re closed.”

“Oh,” she said, looking around the dark pub. “I… I thought I might find Harry here.”

The man narrowed his eyes a little. “He’s got a new girlfriend? So soon after the other ones?”

Y/N felt herself narrow her eyes back at the man. Girlfriend? Harry’s had girlfriends – plural – since he started working in The Stag’s Head? There was a very strange combination of a lot of different feelings that swarmed around Y/N’s body, suddenly making her feel seasick. She was about to abort her mission, to say she would just catch Harry at home, when there came a voice from the door leading out into the smoking area.

“Y/N,” Harry said, turning the lights off outside and closing the door. It looked as if he could not quite believe his eyes as he saw her standing there, like he had not thought she would ever show up to his work like this. Without seemingly able to help himself, his green eyes fell down to her green dress and her exposed legs. He quickly looked to his other co-worker, clearing his throat as he walked behind the pub counter. Y/N could swear she saw a slight pink hue to his cheekbones.

“I’ll leave if you’re busy.”

“No,” Harry said, the word coming out a little too quickly as if desperation got the better of him. “No. Not busy.”

The grey-haired man raised his eyebrows at Harry. He must have seen something in Harry’s demeanour, because he said, “You’ll be alright to close up on your own?”

Harry smiled. “It’ll be a nice way to end my time at Stag’s Head.”

“Nice,” the man Y/N now suspected was Harry’s boss, said. “Pop by with the keys tomorrow, will ya?”

“Yes, sir.”

The man gave both Harry and Y/N a smile each before he started on his walk up to his office. The pub was suddenly very quiet, not a single sound came from inside, just the distant siren outside and the low buzz of the city. A place that was usually bustling with noise, energy, and anticipation, was now left with the latter. Y/N looked around the place, unsure of what to do with herself now that it was only her and Harry there. Harry watched her, picking up the Cif spray from where it stood under the counter. She felt his gaze on her as she walked along the booths, touching the red velvet cushions, a rush of goosebumps travelling up her spine at the knowledge that she had his full attention.

She turned around, leaning her bum against a table as she took in the liquor behind Harry. He was washing the counter, looking over at Y/N again, eyes falling to her mid-area that was expanded slightly at the pressure the surface behind her was providing. He quickly looked away again, biting his lips together as he focused on the counter in front of him. Y/N could not help a small smile.

“What made you show up to my work, then?” he asked.

“Can’t a friend show up to another friend’s work?”

Harry let out a strangled chuckle. “Alright. That’s very nice of you, but I don’t buy that for a single second.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows. “You don’t?”

“There’s gotta have been another reason as to why.”

“Okay…? What’s that?”

Harry shrugged his shoulder, spraying more Cif onto the counter. “You were bored. You didn’t want to be around your other mates any longer. You wanted to see a delicious man with an irresistible Northern accent clean up a pub since it’s his last shift ever here tonight.”

Y/N let out a laugh, placing her hands on either side of the table beside her. “None of the above.”

“Alright,” Harry said, coming out from behind the pub. “What didn’t I cover?”

“You weren’t at the Uno Society meeting.”

The answer came so effortlessly, as if her subconscious had been holding onto the answer for Y/N until she was strong enough to know the real reason. Her hands instantly gripped the table harder, feeling embarrassed for admitting vulnerability so easily. She blamed how easy it was to talk to him, how he just seemed to throw a lasso around her deepest secrets, her most private desires, and drag them out of her.

Harry looked over at her from where he was cleaning the tables a bit further away in the pub. “Had work. Would’ve been there if I didn’t have to be here.”

She nodded, looking down at her black boots. For some reason, his words warmed something inside her. Hearing someone care about something she cared about made her feel special. Then again, someone she just met on the street could tell her they hated Marmite, something Y/N also did, and she would feel equally as fuzzy inside. Finding small bonds, small preferences, small somethings that connected you to other people, made you feel like you weren’t alone, but it also made you feel special, made you feel seen and understood. It was as if someone opened a door into their soul, and giving you a warm handshake, welcoming you into them and their life.

“The lads had a blast,” Harry said, now closer to Y/N as she had zoned out for a minute and some.

“They did?”

“Yeah, it’s nice to just sit down and relax like that. We don’t really get to do that.”

Y/N watched as Harry hovered by a table, leaning over it to clean it. His black tee shirt stretched over his broad back, his shoulder blades visibly working as he ran the cloth over the table in front of him. The outline of his muscles, the way they were so hard against the soft fabric of the tee shirt, made Y/N’s body feel very hot all of a sudden. He worked so carefully, sliding his hand holding the cloth so slowly over the table, paying it his undivided attention. She adjusted her position against her table, looking away from Harry as he stood back up, his black trousers that had been tight around his buttocks, slacking at the lack of pressure on the material. Get a fucking grip, Y/N screamed at herself in her head, focusing on the wall in front of her. She saw Harry look at her over his shoulder, gaze lingering on her for a few seconds. Y/N suddenly found it very hard to draw a proper breath.

“You’re mad I didn’t show up?” Harry asked.

Y/N was silent, her brain completely blank. “Didn’t show up…?”

She could see his smug smile in her peripheral vision. “Yeah.”

“To what?”

His smile widened and he focused on a table closer to her. “The Uno Society.”

She closed her eyes. Her checking out Harry while he had his back to her had not just made her forget the whole reason why she had showed up to The Stag’s Head in the first place. His body looking the way it did, him caring about the society, him teasing her to get a reaction out of her… Why the fuck did he have that effect on her?

“No,” Y/N said, refusing to look at him still. “I’m not mad.”

“Then why won’t you look at me right now?”

Y/N could feel her hands instinctively grabbing harder onto the table behind her. “No reason.”

“You know,” Harry started, she could hear the smirk in his voice. “You can try all you want, but I still know you.”

She huffed. “You wish.”

“I don’t gotta,” he said, chuckling a little. “Don’t gotta wish when I already do know you. Wish I knew you better, wish you’d just open up to me like you did so easily before, but that’s for a later time.”

That made her look over at Harry, her eyebrows drawn together as she just watched him clean yet another table. He… Did he really think she would one day open up to him again and they would go back to being friends like they used to? Was he really that optimistic? Had he thought about it? About them and their friendship? And what a future with her alongside him at uni would look like? Her eyes landed on his bicep as it flexed, holding his body weight as he leaned against the table again. Her gaze following his arm all the way down to his hand, long slender fingers wrapped around the edge of the table, and the thick veins over the dorsal part of his hand made something in Y/N’s brain short circuit. That along with the casual way he was leaning his hips against the table, staring down at it with his head cocked.

What the fuck, Y/N said to herself again, looking away from him. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck?! How was she supposed to stay neutral, to not find him attractive, to not want to sink right back into old habits when she allowed herself to study him and look at him like that. She had to stop. This was getting out of hand.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet tonight,” Harry said, working slowly as he cleaned up the table in the booth beside the one she was stood leaning against.

“No, I’ve just got things on my mind.”

“What things?”

Your broad shoulders. Your hands. The way you stick your tongue out of your mouth when you are concentrating. But Y/N said none of those things, as doing so would sentence her to a lifetime of humiliation.

“Insignificant things.”

“When they’re taking up a lot of space in your head and preventing you from being present, they’re not insignificant,” Harry said, sounding a little serious all of a sudden. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, there’s nothing inherently bad on my mind, just… I’ve got a lot of… thoughts,” Y/N said, not knowing how else to explain it without giving something away.

“What thoughts?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “Thought you did Architectural Studies, didn’t know you also had a degree in being Nosy.”

Harry let out a laugh, coming to stand in front of her with the spray and the cloth in his hands. “I’m very nosy.”

“Glad to hear you’re self-aware.”

“But right now I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Bloody hell, Y/N thought, could he just fucking stop being so nice? So fucking adorable? And fit? It made hating him so much harder than it already was.

“I’m okay.”

He took a step closer. “What’s been on your mind then?”

“Just… life.”

“Has uni exhausted you?”

“Yeah, but it’s not what I’m thinking about.”

Harry took another step closer. Y/N’s palms were suddenly very clammy.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked again, a small smile on his lips as if he was challenging her.

“Maybe you just have to face the fact that I won’t tell you and you can’t figure it out on your own.”

“Nah,” Harry said. “I’ll figure you out.”

Y/N watched as Harry took another step closer, her heart suddenly beating very fast inside her chest.

“I just gotta…” He trailed off, now standing directly in front of her. Tip of his shoes against the tip of hers. Without a warning of sorts, he leaned closer, bending over her until his head hovered beside her own. Chest wavering above hers, touching as she drew in a precipitous breath and he did the same. Their bodies did not brush against one another again, an invisible, burning shield was built to keep them apart the second their upper bodies made contact. As if the universe was telling them that by touching like that, the world would go up in total flames around them.

Harry’s sudden closeness made her breathe in a little too harshly, she was sure he must have heard it but she simply did not care. The reaction her body was having to him being so close was electric, it made all the hairs on her body stand on end. She didn’t know what he was doing that close to her, thinking at first that he must have wanted to whisper something in her ear, to say something to her that would undoubtedly make her glad she was leaning against something solid for support.

But she heard the familiar sound of the Cif spray, and a second later, Harry reached his cloth behind Y/N’s back, cleaning the table. She felt his breath against her neck, triggering something radioactive inside her. The oud aroma of his cologne, with notes of cedar, patchouli, and spicy saffron filled Y/N’s nostrils. In those seconds when Harry hovered above her like that, his warm body inches from hers, breath fanning against her skin, his aroma, and aura mere inches from hers, Y/N was conflicted as to if she wanted time to speed up or slow down some more. She knew that if she stayed like that, with Harry so close to her, for much longer she would go absolutely mad and have an impossible time resisting him if he were to try something like he had done in the living room the week before.

No sooner had she thought that, he pushed off, face lingering just centimetres from hers. “I just need to take a look,” he said, speaking as if he did not mind if the whole world was watching them. He raised his hand, about to touch her chin. For what reason, Y/N did not know, but she didn’t ask any questions. However, he stopped, as if touching her was something he could not do. Y/N was glad he hadn’t, because God knows how her body would have reacted had he tenderly touched her jawline like it looked like he wanted to.

“Take a look?” Y/N mumbled.

“At you.”

A small breath left her lips.

“Maybe the answer to what’s been on your mind is somewhere in your eyes,” he said, eyes suddenly falling to her lips. “Or your lips.” He glanced at her forehead. “Or in the slight lines that appear between your eyebrows when you’re deep in thought.” He looked down at her hands on the table edge. “Or the way you’re gripping the table so tight right now.”

Jesus Christ, she was about to explode. Y/N let go of it immediately, standing up and forcing Harry to take two steps back. His intense glance lingered on her, falling to her lips as she opened her mouth to take a breath.

“It’s getting late,” she said, fingering the hem of her leather jacket as her heart continued to hammer away inside her chest.

“Wait for me, yeah?” Harry walked over to the next table to clean it, doing it way faster than all the other ones. Biting his lip and moving his hand with the cloth over the table as if to make up for time spent on something else, cleaning very slowly and standing too close to her.

“No, I can walk home by myself.”

“I know you’re capable of walking, but I don’t like you being out in the streets all alone late at night.”

Y/N looked over at Harry as he cleaned the last booth, seeing the determination to finish as quickly as possible.

“It’s just across the road,” she said.

“Please just let me walk you across the road, then.” Harry walked behind the bar counter, putting the cleaning supplies away.

“You make me sound like an old lady.”

“Just-“ He appeared from behind the counter. “-Wait.” He then disappeared into the backroom where he only stayed for a few seconds. Y/N would have thought that since he enjoyed working at The Stag’s Head, he would have at least lingered for a few moments to take in the last time he would ever be back there. But instead, he emerged wearing his coat, locking the door behind him, mere seconds later. He turned the lights off, and, walking over to where Y/N was standing, placed a gentle hand to her lower back, guiding her in the direction of the door that she could only barely make out in the dark. Goosebumps instantly ran up Y/N’s back and she inhaled at the pressure of Harry’s hand on her body. He held the door open for her and Y/N stepped outside, watching as Harry locked the front doors to The Stag’s Head for the very last time.

He looked around them after locking the door, checking up and down the three streets that came to a crossroad just outside the pub. Once his eyes finally met Y/N’s again he gave her the smallest smile, then motioned for her to lead the way back to their flat. She wanted to roll her eyes, but she could not find it in herself to do just that in that moment. Though it was just across the road, she very much appreciated Harry’s company back to their flat. Distance was nothing when the roads were dark and the faces of the figures walking past were left blurred by the dim streetlamps.

Harry held the door for Y/N once again, letting her be the first to enter the building. She strolled upstairs, unlocking their front door and watching as Harry gestured for her to walk on inside. The flat was dark, except for the warm yellow lights Nathan had twined around the railing of their terrace and the changing colours of the luminous Christmas tree in the living room. The kitchen was usually left in darkness, as was the rest of the flat, but since their eyes were used to night outside, it wasn’t hard to navigate their way to the stairs. They took their jackets off, and without her leather jacket on, Y/N was very aware of how much of her skin was exposed to Harry. Her dress showed off her legs, arms, and parts of her back to him, and she knew that, if he walked behind her up the stairs, he would get a good look at her bum.

She took her boots off and started up the stairs with her purse in her hand, hearing Harry make his way up them as well. If any man were to walk behind her up the stairs, Harry was one she trusted not to take the mick, to not look up her skirt and make her feel uncomfortable. But… after everything… she still didn’t want him to see her knickers. However, facing her door, she heard Harry walking up the stairs. Taking a deep breath, she turned around to face him once he reached the first floor. What happened next happened so suddenly that Y/N barely managed to wrap her head around it before the moment was gone.

She had just turned around to face Harry when he walked up over to her. Taking a step back at the sudden closeness, she felt herself breathe in sharply as Harry’s face lingered only centimetres from her own again. Though the person standing in front of her was a man, a completely different person, something inside her brain took her back to that night when they were 16. He hadn’t been this close to her since then, had not touched her or looked at her like this since then. His eyes flicked down to her lips, and then to meet hers, wet lips parting as if the anticipation was killing him.

And Y/N had to painfully admit, it was killing her, too. As much as she had tried to fight it, it was impossible to now. She wanted Harry to kiss her. Not tenderly kiss her like you would peck a person you were in love with, or to gently rub his thumb over her cheek as a show of affection, or to hug her tight when they met up for lunch. No, she wanted him to fucking kiss her. She wanted him to grab her face and kiss her hard; desperately, needily. She wanted them to fumble to take each other’s clothes off, and for him to make up for how bad that first time together was. There was absolutely no denying it, Y/N wanted Harry. She really wanted him. All these months, all those moments spent trying to push the thought away, she simply could not anymore. There was a hunger inside her for him, but only in the sexual sense. She could never fall in love with this man, she just wanted to fuck him. And she wanted to fuck him bad.

Her own lips parted, and she looked into his eyes with an expression she hoped he could read, because she needed him to understand. Once again, Harry raised his hand, hovering between them as if he were unsure what to do with it. Fingers twitching, she could see he was conflicted, whether he should touch her cheek as it looked like he wanted to, or if he should stop himself. Y/N let her eyes fall to his hand, to tell him she wanted him to touch her. She wanted to feel him somewhere, anywhere on her. Just looking at him, she could see he wanted the same as her. He wanted to feel her body, to explore it in a completely different way to last time.

Harry’s hand fell out of view, and just as Y/N thought he was going to let it hang limply, uselessly, at his side, she felt something on her waist. A warm pressure, snaking around the black linen of her dress. She waited for him to pull her closer to him, for their torsos to connect, but it never happened.

“Y/N,” Harry whispered, eyes falling to her lips again.

She did not answer, instead just tilted her head so it would be easier for him to kiss her. With her eyelids hanging low over her eyes, her body language not showing any sign of protesting, and with her lips parted, Y/N hoped the message was coming across clearly. Harry leaned in closer, his nose almost touching hers. Her heart was beating so fast and hard it hurt. Her hands were clammy. All her attention focused on Harry and the electricity they created on that spot where his hand rested. He leaned down, lips hovering just over the crook of her neck, making her close her eyes. Breath against the hair of her shoulder, lightning shooting up Y/N’s back. He slowly leaned back out again, nose hovering beside hers. The anticipation was absolutely killing her.

“I…” But he drifted off, eyes falling to her lips again. She could feel his breath on her mouth, could smell his cologne. The tension was making her dizzy, she just wanted him to bloody kiss her already.

She was just about to do it herself when she felt his warm hand drop off her waist. She blinked, and the next second, Harry took a step back. He only looked at her, mouth working as if he was trying to find the right words to say, but there were none. So, as if blinking himself awake from a sort of dream, he took another step back. Suddenly, he opened the door into his room. He stopped in the doorway, looking back at Y/N. Again, he tried to say something that must have died on the tip of his tongue, because again, he did not utter a word. It looked like he physically could not say them out loud. Instead, he closed the door, leaving Y/N standing alone out in the dark hallway.

Y/N’s eyes rested on the door to the bathroom, trying to go over in her head where it had just happened. Had… Had Harry just walked away just now? Had he teased her in the pub, then done almost the same just now, only to walk away? What had gone wrong? Why had he not kissed her? What had made him step away? What had made him stop? Y/N could not answer a single one of the questions, and she doubted Harry would give her any. She closed her eyes, resting her head against her door behind her. This was exactly why she had not wanted to live with Harry, this was why she had not given in to his charms and flirts before. Now, because of what had just happened, because of how awkward that had just been, they were back to square one. Just living under the same roof as him infuriated her. She could not fucking stand Harry Styles.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 4th April, 9PM GMT!

Huge thanks to my AMAZING beta readers! 🏛️ @aileenacoustic 🏛️ @devil-in-bw-the-sheets​​ 🏛️ @sunflowerstache​ 🏛️ @fromyourstrulyh​​ 🏛️

FIC PAGE | COME TALK !!! 

READ TWO CHAPTERS AHEAD ON PATREON | CHECK OUT THE OTHER FIVE EXCLUSIVE PATREON STORIES HERE!

[goji-pilled]

(Set a few years after Anthony first appeared) When the quintet awoke the the howling of wind one morning, none of them were initially terribly concerned, as a quick glance out the window let them see that Walpergis was in her usual spot when she was having a rough time. It was noteworthy, to some extent, because it had been at least a few months since the last time she had felt the need to vent like this without a cause they were able to puzzle out between them, but they would be ready to listen to whatever it was that was bothering her once she had calmed enough. However, things got worse before they got better, and by mid afternoon, heavy clouds had joins the winds and began drenching the city under a deluge of rain. By that point they were all nervous about the situation, but it was the first crack of thunder and the winds reaching the point that the 'freak weather pattern' had been officially reclassed to a class one hurricane, that forced them to act. "Hey, you doing alright?" Kyoko asked, calling out to the witch above from the top of the roof of the tallest tower in Mitakihara. She resisted the urge to shive from her current rain soaked, and wind chilled state, but there was no doubt in her mind that she would honestly be just about anywhere else during weather like this, if her friend didn't clearly need her help. There was silence, and Kyoko had just started glancing towards Oktavia to take her own attempt in the language of witches, when Walpergis finally answered, electing to comunicate with telepathy instead of screaming into the wind. 'No.' Deciding to continue the conversation with the means that Walpergis seemed to be the most comfortable with, Mami was the first to reach back out towards the witch, as well as broadcasting her thoughts to Kyoko, Homura, and Oktavia who stood beside her to keep them in the loop of the conversation. 'Is there anything we can do to help you right now?' They knew that Walpergis had long ago outgrown her labyrinth, being too large to even fit inside in her witch form these days, so she wasn't able to retreat that way, and it would feel cruel to force her isolate the woman at a time of need by asking her to fly out over the ocean, but if they were not able to get the woman's storm under control soon, they might have to. The city was already sustaining damage from the storm at its current level, and should things continue, it would likely result in injuries and potentially loss of life, after all, and while they all considered Walpergis to be a dear friend, they could not put comfort over the lives of the people living here. 'I don't know.' The response came immediately and without hesitation, which was probably a good sign that communicating wasn't growing more difficult for the witch, potentially meaning that things had gotten as bad as they were going to get. 'Its just... the date.' Homura responded without hesitation, having apparently already considered that issue before any of the others had 'It is Walpurgisnacht... but that has never gotten this reaction out of you before in past years.' The reminder that this was the anniversary of the day that the witch had returned to her senses went some way towards explaining this... maybe. 'Its not just about that... its also... well its also the day I was born.' The nervousness in the mental voice of the most powerful witch to have ever been born of Earth was... unusual. Normally Walpergis was the type to conceal any vulnerability behind the bravado of her stage personas, but here it seemed that she was simply too emotionally exhausted to do that any further. 'You never actually told us this was your birthday before. We could try to set something up to make it more comfortable for you if something about this makes you uneasy.' Mami offered, working the practical angle of the problem, as solution oriented as she so often was.

'No. Its not that... its my first birthday. It was this date that I was first born, in Germany.' The witch explains, the winds and rain reducing slightly as she spoke with them, as talking out the problem seemed to be doing her some good. 'There is a baby me out there somewhere... or there will be in a few hours, timezones and all. I just... I feel like I don't belong here anymore. There is a version of me without all these sins weighing me down out there... so what right do I have to stick around?' "I hate time travel." None of the others were surprised in the slightest by Homura muttering that under her breath, though it was far to quiet to reach the witch above, but they all shared the sentiment as they all tried to figure out how in the world they could respond to an issue like this one.

OH. OHHHHHHHH.

[laurie-stark]

Get up and get out

Summary: Sort of part two to Unwanted. A year after fighting in Germany, y/n has to deal with the insufferable Peter Parker being around the house all the time. 

Pairings: Peter Parker x stark!reader, tony stark x daughter!reader, Natasha Romanoff x daughter!reader. 

Warnings: swearing, angst? i guess? mentions of blood. mentions of panic nightmares 

A/N: Again, I want to make it very clear so there isn’t any confusion: Y/n is Tony’s biological child, however, being raised also by Natasha, Steve and Pepper, she calls them Muma, Pops and Mom. Hopefully that makes sense LOL oh and also i’ve never written like...kiss scenes before so just go with it okay?

He was here again. Third time this week that he has come barging into my home and taken over my training center. Okay, to be fair, it was not my training center but still. Peter Parker will never stop being a pain in my ass. Ever since that stupid trip to Germany, he has been coming over and training for hours, or working with Dad. Three times just this week I’ve had to endure listening to Peter talk with his stupid little voice and walk around my house like he owns the place. Who does he think he is? And every time I have to sit through another dinner of Dad blabbing on and on about what a miraculous boy he is.

               “Really y/n, I think you two would be great friends,” I rolled my eyes as I picked at my dinner. The rest of the family ate in silence around the table. The last thing I wanted to do is spend more time with stupid Spider-boy. On the afternoons when he was here, I tried my best to stay out of his way. I would stay on my floor and he stays on his. Simple. I don’t need a new friend.

“…And he’s coming by again tomorrow, so I was thinking of showing him A.P.R.I.L. if you wanted to join us-” Dad continued.

What the hell? I thought. “No!” I snapped. “No way. A.P.R.I.L. is mine, I don’t want him messing with her.” Dad frowned at me. The rest of the table looked up in my direction. My shoulders tensed up as I faced my father. A.P.R.I.L. is my baby and I was ready to go toe to toe with him if I needed too.

“What do you mean no? I thought you’d be excited to share that with him,” he started.

“Well I’m not, so back off,” I sneered. The shift in his expression made me want to bite my own tongue. “Please.”

“I seriously do not understand what your problem is. You’ve been complaining for years how there’s only adults but the second a kid your age comes by you’re all “oooh no don’t talk to me Peter!””

I scoffed. “Sorry, I guess I just don’t want to bother you and your new best friend.”

“There it is. Why are you so jealous of him? He’s not that cool. He hasn’t made a fully functioning A.I at the age of 15. He just spits sticky stuff out of his fingers. Honestly y/n, you’re making zero sense right now.”

“Whatever, I’m over this,” I said, pushing my chair back from the table. I grabbed my untouched dinner plate and headed towards the kitchen. “I’m not hungry. And don’t show him A.P.R.I.L., I mean it!” I dumped my plate in the sink and marched right down the hall towards the elevators. My dad was right. I wasn’t making any sense. Ever since I made A.P.R.I.L I’ve used every excuse I could find to shove her down people’s throats. Anyone who would listen to me, I would tell them. Tell them all about how I programmed her to have realistic personality. How she’s running through the walls of this place, through my room, even inside the bracelet I never take off. All I knew is that I didn’t want Peter Parker anywhere near her.

I shut the door to my hard, and flopped onto my bed. A.P.R.I.L. reminded me that slamming the doors usually results in a punishment. I acknowledged her with a half-hearted grunt. I started programming A.P.R.I.L. when I was thirteen. Or rather, reprogrammed. A.P.R.I.L. was made from an older prototype version of F.R.I.D.A.Y. The base stuff was already there, I just moved some things here, recoded there until she was perfect. I don’t know why I got so defensive about Peter meeting her. Or why I had to pick another fight with my dad.

It was easier these days. To fight him, I mean. I suppose I never got over the whole “Peter is better, I choose him over you, blah, blah” thing as much as I thought I did. So, I would pick fights. Fighting over Peter was the simplest way to go, considering he was the reason I was so angry in the first place. Sometimes we would fight over him, other times we would fight over silly things. Like how I keep forgetting not to put my coffee grounds in the garbage disposal. Most of the time it was all just bickering that would blow over in thirty minutes, give or take. Sometimes it was explosive, like today.  I took in a shaky breath and sprawled out across my sheets. Sometimes this family is a fucking nightmare.

Dad didn’t come by this time. It threw me off for a second because he always comes by. Even if it’s six hours later and neither of us should be awake, he still comes by with a box of milk duds that we share in silence before one of us apologizes first. That’s how we work. When it finally sunk in that he was not planning on coming, I put A.P.R.I.L. on the job. I figured perhaps he left the compound, maybe took Mom for a nighttime stroll.

“Your father is on floor B, Miss Stark,” A.P.R.I.L. informed me.

“Jesus A.P.R.I.L., how many times have I said to cut the formalities,” I muttered.

“My apologies, y/n.”

Floor B. What the hell is he doing on floor B at…12:00 in the morning? Floor B is strictly for members of household and other Avengers. There are a billion different training rooms down there. Weight rooms, boxing, a huge pool, stuff like that. Not to taint his image, but I can safely say the last time my father willingly worked out for fun was probably before I was even born. Why was he down there? Unless…

“A.P.R.I.L. who else is on floor B right now?” I asked. “Throw it on the hologram, would you dear?

The sounds of the hologram starting filled the room. A.P.R.I.L. pulled up the security map of floor B, like I’d asked. There was my dad, floor B in the boxing room of all places. Pops and Sam looked to be going at it in another one of the combat training rooms. My confusion only rose when another nametag popped up on the screen. My brows furrowed.

Peter Parker

What was he doing here? Why was he boxing? Why was he not in his own home at midnight on a Thursday? My mind was spinning with questions. A knock at my door startled me.

“Come in…”

Natasha popped her head through the doorway. “Hey there…whatcha doing kid?”

I swiftly swiped away the hologram screen and sat up straight. “Nothing. What’s up?”

“Well, we’re getting a little worried about you,” she said. We being everyone else at the table who had to witness my brawl with Dad. She sat down beside me. “You haven’t fought back like that in a long time and I’ve noticed you’re fighting with him a lot recently. You want to tell me what that’s all about?”

I wanted too. God, I wanted too. I hadn’t told anyone what my father said to me that day after the airport, not even my mom. But it didn’t matter. I’d get over it sooner or later, so there was no point troubling anyone else with my problems…right? My eyes started to well up but I blinked away the tears. “No. Everything’s fine,” I put on a smile.

Natasha tucked me in under her arm. “Okay then. Maybe tomorrow.” That was Muma for you. She never pushed me to talk but knew I would come around at some point. In the meantime, she just held me. I cried into her embrace. She let me cry into her shoulder for a long while, until I was empty. After a time, I let go and she got up, giving me a kiss on the head before wishing me a good night.

I rubbed my hands over my face, brushing off any remaining tears. “A.P.R.I.L. bring the hologram back up please.”

“Are you sure y/n?”

…

“Yeah.”

Peter was still in the boxing room but my father was not. Upon further digging, I found the nametag reading Tony Stark on my floor. He’d gone to bed. I pondered to myself as to whether or not I should venture downstairs. What is the worst thing that could happen? Peter is secretly a Hydra spy and kills me? No, I shook my head. Don’t be ridiculous. Another minute passed and I’d made up my mind.

“A.P.R.I.L. engage “I am definitely here”,” I commanded.

“”I am definitely here” protocol engaged. Volume minimized to 5% and your tracking tag will be pinned to this room,” A.P.R.I.L. responded. “Good luck on your mission small agent.”

“Oh shut up,” I chided. I closed the door to my room as softly as I could. It was nearly one in the morning, most of the hall would be asleep. Or at least they should be. The hallway was silent, except for the soft noise of my socks padding along the floor. I cursed myself for looking so ridiculous. If anyone caught me, I could easily say that I was just getting a midnight snack. Not sneaking down to spy on Spider-bitch. Boy. Whatever. Sneaking added to the excitement.

I made it downstairs all in one piece. Steve and Sam nearly passed me in one of the halls, but I had ducked into a briefing room. I could totally be a spy. Maybe I’m a Hydra spy. I thought. And they sent me here as a baby to take down the Avengers from the inside. What was I going on about? This was why I should really be in bed, I was clearly delirious. Once again, distracting myself in my thoughts led to me getting startled. I hadn’t even realized I was outside the boxing room. I would have walked right in if not for the handy wall that I smacked into.

Peter was in the ring, practicing his punches. He’d lowered down one of the punching bags from the ceiling and it was close to ripping at the seams. He was really going ham on it. The questions piled on. So, he came over to my house at midnight to…train? Something he had all afternoon today to do? God, he was weird. I suppose I didn’t quite know what I was going to get myself into when I finally walked in to confront him.

“What are you doing?” I asked, arms folded tightly across my chest.

Peter started and looked down at me. Sweat was dripping down his face. He looked exhausted. “Training,” he said bluntly. He returned to treating the punching bag like it had run over his dog.

“At one in the morning? And after you spent like six hours today doing just that?” I was not letting him off that easy. Peter ignored me and continued punching. “Your form is shit.” I mocked.

That made him stop. “Funny coming from the girl who never leaves her room. When have you ever trained? Like ever?”

“I still beat your ass.”

“Yeah like, a year ago when I was barely an avenger.”

I rolled my eyes. “You still aren’t.”

“What do you want?” Peter spat.

I shrugged. “Dunno.” I stared him down with a smug look on my face.

“You are always such a bitch, you know that?”

I faked a pout. “Aw…bite me.”

Peter was chewing the inside of his cheek in anger. “If you’re going to stay here and pester me, you might as well get a few punches in.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Consider it a rematch.”

I studied his physique for a moment. He’d grown a lot since Germany. He’d also trained a lot since then as well. I had done little of either. I knew that entering that ring would probably end up with me losing my dignity and maybe even a tooth. But I was not going to let him stand there with his stupid, sweaty face and get away with it. This is not a good idea, I thought as I took off my socks. I moved the ropes and stepped into the ring, standing a foot in front of the boy.

“I’ll still win.”

“No powers either.”

“Deal.” Not like I’ve touched my powers since…since the incident.

Peter took his stance and I did my best to mirror him. I realized in that moment that I had no idea what I was doing. I didn’t know the first thing about boxing. Or sparring. I didn’t know how to fight without my powers. Oh, sweet Jesus.

We kept our distance at first, fists up. He threw a few punches and missed. I followed in suit. I finally got the first hit, a nice throw to his chest. He took it like a champ and didn’t flinch. Or rather, I couldn’t hit for shit and it didn’t hurt. He threw a punch to my left, only to miss on purpose and punched me square across my jaw. Ow. I chuckled lowly. The taste of blood filled my mouth from the fresh cut on my lip. I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth. All I could see was white rage.

Forget form, forget rules, forget everything. I lunged at him with everything I had. Lunged at him for all the bullshit he had brought into my life. For all the bitter things I had to hear my father say that weren’t even Peter’s fault. He was clearly not expecting my attack because we both fell to the ground. We fought tirelessly on the mat. He was physically stronger than me, so by default he was winning. He wrestled me until I was pinned under him. One hand was pinning my hand above my head, the other arm pinning down my body. In any other circumstances I would be amused to find myself in such a scandal. I looked in his eyes briefly and I could already tell he thought that he was winning. If there’s one thing I learned from Nat, it’s to always step on their moment. I hooked my leg around his knee and used all my force to flip us over. I had him pinned down now, my hair falling around my face. We were both breathing heavily.

“Told you,” I taunted. I was mentally preparing him to punch back but he didn’t. He snapped his arms out from under me and shoved me off him, hard. I fell back against the mat. He rose to his feet, brushing his hands off on his pants. “What the hell?” I exclaimed. I jumped to my feet while his back was turned to me and gave him a taste of his own medicine. He stumbled a few steps after I pushed him. Slowly, he stretched back up to reach his full height.

“You’re right,” he turned to face me and extended a hand. “Shake on the truce?” I took his hand, accepting his surrender. Only, he was not really surrendering. The moment my hand touched his, he yanked me towards him. I tripped over my feet and fell into him. My chest crashed onto his. The world was a blur as he grabbed me with force and spun us around, so he could push me up against the ropes of the ring.

“Stop, Peter get off me you bitch!” I fought back. I flailed my whole body around, trying to break loose. One hand reached up to grab the back of my head, pulling my hair and forcing my head back. I froze. His face was dangerously close to my exposed neck. His shift let my opposite arm break free. I took a breathe and reeled it back, ready to smack him in the across the face. He caught my wrist in time without taking his eyes off mine.

He lowered his head to whisper in my ear, “I win.” His breathe trickled down my neck. He had won, but he wasn’t moving. One hand was still in my hair, the other was pinning me against the ropes. His chest breathed heavily against my own. His grip on my head loosened slightly and I was able to look him straight on. He had that same smug look pasted across his face. His eyes moved from mine, trailing down my face, my neck, my body, before they settled on my lips. I momentarily lost the ability to breathe.

He kissed me hard. I tensed up slightly before giving into him completely. It tasted like blood and sweat and I felt like I was losing my mind. He pulled me closer, if that was even possible and claimed my mouth with his until my knees gave out. A newfound wave of warm washed through me. The hand in my hair gave a slight tug and my lips parted while that same hand moved to cup my jaw. For all I knew, the entire compound was wide awake and watching but I did not care. I brought my fingers to his hair, tugging at the ends. I smiled cunningly when he groaned into my mouth. He kissed me greedily and fully. Like he hated me. And I hated him.

We broke apart, limbs numb and chests heaving. The moment had passed, and our actions sunk in. What. The. Fuck. He lifted the ropes for me, and I climbed out of the ring. My head was still spinning from that kiss and my lip stung. Consequences I suppose, for kissing someone with a busted lip. I silently pulled my socks back on and Peter handed me a towel. Neither of us said another word. I left the room and didn’t look back. I could hear him behind me, but I was in no rush to have to look him in the eye ever again. What just happened?

 I woke the next morning to A.P.R.I.L. alerting me that “Father Dearest” was outside my door. He came in and sat on the edge of the bed. We both stayed quiet for a while.

I spoke first. “Where were you last night? You didn’t come by after…” I let my words trail off.

“I was going to, I swear. But then something came up with Peter and I had to go take care of that,” Dad answered.

I frowned. “Typical. Peter over your own flesh and blood, right?”

Dad inhaled sharply like he was going to bite back, but changed his mind. “That’s not true and you know it. Peter is…he’s going through something and I knew how to help him. Not everything is about you, you narcissist,” He said, joking at the end.

I had to push down my own smile. “Yeah well where do you think I got it from?” I sat up and leaned into my father. He brushed a hand down my back. “So, what’s wrong with Peter then?”

“I really shouldn’t tell you, it’s personal.” I looked up at him with my doe eyes. He rolled his eyes and sighed, nodding a silent defeat. I felt like I was nine again and he was gossiping with me about the latest secretary. Like every fight had been forgotten in this moment. “He’s been having some nightmares ever since DC. You remember the ones we used to get after Loki?” I nodded. “Now you, you always amazed me at how you handled those. But for me and Peter, we needed a different outlet. So, I let him come over in the middle of the night. I didn’t think anyone would notice.” I hummed in response, not sure what to make of that information. I mean, I kind of felt bad for the guy. He was still a bitch, but those dreams suck. No one should have to deal with them. “He really isn’t as bad as you think, you know.”

“Yeah,” I hummed. “I think you’re right.”

tag list:

@runawayolives @ creation-magician @ eridanuswave @ markhyucksmells @ beep-beep-losersclub