#if they actually have reason to question you. there are procedures in place for them to do so. at which point you Get A Lawyer

[doomdoomofdoom]

While I do think it's the guy, the point remains

DO NOT EVER TALK TO COPS

ABOUT ANYTHING

WITHOUT A LAWYER PRESENT

I do not give a shit if you think you're smarter or really careful or if you think you're innocent or if you genuinely are innocent. I don't care if you're just giving a witness statement. I don't even care if you're reporting a crime.

If the cops talk to you and they think you're guilty. You will be.

You have the right to an attorney. Until you have one with you:

SHUT THE FUCK UP

I feel like now would be a good time to remind everyone that it is fully legal in America for the cops to lie to you and gaslight you in interrogation.

If they’ve decided you’re guilty and your lawyer hasn’t gotten there yet, they can and will say anything to make you confess and it won’t matter to them if the confession is true. Keep that in mind with any information that comes out in the next couple days. I’m not saying I don’t believe this is the guy. He very well could be. For now I’m neutral on the subject.

But I am saying it’s awfully convenient they found him with a butt load of evidence just on his person after a week of him evading them like a pro. And that the NYPD knows everyone thinks they’re chumps and they’re probably real desperate right now to look even halfway competent.

[latenightreadingpdf]

Knock on the Door - Spencer Reid

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: In the midst of an intense investigation, Spencer and Derek bring you into protective custody after a disturbing discovery links you to their case. As you navigate the unexpected situation, Spencer’s calm presence offers reassurance, sparking an unexpected connection amid the chaos.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The quiet street was a far cry from the usual high-stakes BAU scene, but the tension in the air made Spencer’s skin prickle with unease. He glanced at Derek, who was already preparing to knock on another door, exuding his usual calm confidence.

"This one could be a lead," Derek muttered, showing a slight glint of hope in his eyes as he raised his hand to knock. The case had been dragging on, and frustration was growing with each unanswered question.

When the door opened, Spencer noted the faint hint of confusion in your expression. Derek immediately flashed his badge, his tone respectful but firm. "Ma’am, I'm Agent Derek Morgan. This is my colleague, Dr. Spencer Reid. We’re with the FBI."

Your eyes darted between the two of them, registering the serious expressions they wore. "The FBI? What's going on?"

"Have you had any strangers come to your door recently trying to sell you something?"

A flicker of recognition passed over your face, and Spencer leaned in, catching the shift. "Actually, yes,” you said, brows furrowing. “A guy came by yesterday… He gave me his card.”

Spencer and Derek shared a look. "Do you still have that card?" Spencer asked, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice.

"Yeah, I think so. Let me grab it." You turned back into the house, leaving the door partially open, and returned a moment later with a card in hand. As Derek took it from you, he confirmed with a nod that it matched the cards left at the other crime scenes.

You looked between them, anxiety creeping into your voice. "What is going on? Who is this guy?"

Spencer’s voice softened, his gaze meeting yours directly. "We believe he's a dangerous criminal who may be responsible for several recent homicides. His method involves gaining entry to homes under false pretenses."

Your face paled as the weight of his words sank in. Derek placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "We need to take you back to the station to make sure you’re safe. There are some steps we’d like to take to ensure you’re protected while we gather more information."

"Safe? Is he going to try and kill me?"

Derek’s expression turned serious. "We have reason to believe he might try to come back, and it’s important we get ahead of him."

A sense of dread settled over you as you let their words sink in. You followed them to the car, feeling your stomach twist with a mix of fear and disbelief. As you settled into the backseat, Spencer turned to give you a reassuring nod.

“Just so you know,” he began, his tone gentle, “we’ll have officers posted near your home to ensure he doesn’t have the chance to get in. We’re taking every precaution.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… a lot.”

“Understandable,” Spencer said, glancing at you with a sympathetic look. “We’ll also have you meet with a sketch artist and undergo a cognitive interview. It’s standard procedure, and it might help us learn more about him.”

You looked out the window, processing the reality of the situation. The quiet chatter between Derek and Spencer drifted over you as they discussed possible motives, patterns, and theories. But for now, you were too lost in your own thoughts to make out their words.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

When you arrived at the station, Spencer took a moment to walk you through the cognitive interview process. "It’s designed to help you remember specific details," he explained, his voice calm and assuring. "It might feel intense, but I’ll be with you the whole time."

You nodded, glancing around the bustling police station, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and adrenaline. "Okay, so… I just answer questions, and you’ll be able to get a clearer picture of this guy?"

Spencer gave you a small smile. "Pretty much. Think of it as helping us paint a portrait. Every detail, no matter how small, could be useful."

The interview went smoothly; Spencer’s presence was patient and encouraging, never making you feel pressured to remember something you couldn’t. Afterward, he led you to a small break room, offering you a seat at a worn table with a coffee machine humming nearby.

A few minutes later, Spencer returned with two steaming cups, handing one to you. "Here," he said, "it's not gourmet, but it’ll keep us awake."

You took it gratefully, feeling a sense of normalcy settle in. "Thanks, Spencer." You sipped the coffee, savoring the warmth. "I didn’t expect to spend my afternoon in an FBI station, but… it’s definitely more interesting than my usual routine."

Spencer chuckled, seeming surprised by your laid-back attitude. "Most people aren’t as calm in situations like this."

You shrugged, feeling the weight of the situation but refusing to let it get the best of you. "I don’t know. I figure, if I’m in good hands, there’s no point in freaking out."

As you chatted, Spencer filled you in on some of the behavioral profiling techniques they used, giving you a peek into the mind of the BAU. His eyes lit up as he explained the ways they’d been analyzing the unsub’s behavior to find any possible patterns, and you found yourself genuinely interested, asking questions and absorbing his answers.

"Do you ever wonder why people do these things?" you asked thoughtfully, watching him as he considered your question.

"All the time," Spencer replied, his voice softening as he looked down at his coffee. "But there’s rarely a straightforward answer. The best we can do is study the behaviors and try to make sense of them. Hopefully, it helps us stop them."

A sense of respect grew in you as he spoke, and you found yourself admiring the dedication he had for his work. "That sounds exhausting. Important, but exhausting."

"It can be," he admitted, his gaze meeting yours. "But it’s worth it, especially when it means keeping someone safe. Like now."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his sincerity. "Well, I guess I’m lucky you guys were around."

The door to the break room opened, and Derek poked his head in, giving Spencer a grin. "You two doing all right in here?"

Spencer nodded, standing up to update Derek on the details you’d given during the interview. As they talked, you finished your coffee, feeling a strange sense of calm despite the unusual circumstances.

When Derek turned his attention to you, his gaze softened. "We’re going to have a team set up around your house tonight, keeping a close eye on things. We’ll catch this guy if he shows up."

You nodded, feeling reassured. "Thanks, Agent Morgan. I know you guys are handling it, so I’ll let you do your thing."

Spencer glanced back at you with a small smile. "If you need anything, or have more questions, just let me know."

As they walked you to the main desk, Spencer looked back, his gaze soft. "We'll keep you safe," he assured you once more, his sincerity unmistakable. "Until then, try not to worry. We’re on it."

A small smile tugged at your lips as you nodded. "I trust you," you replied, giving them one last grateful look before they escorted you to a waiting area. And as you waited, you felt a sense of calm, knowing you weren’t facing this alone.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[melodic-haze]

h-hey 👯‍♀️😕😜🎀

Since you said in your other post that you wanted to write for either Miko or Ei, I HAD AN IDEA!!

What if Miko and fellow kitsune!Reader who start their breeding months (in january obviously) and have Ei volunteering herself to them not knowing that they can’t obviously be sated in just one day 🙄 (r.i.p her cunny)

☆ — DEMO TRACK: switch!Miko x sub!Ei x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Reader and Miko can shift what they want (specifically their genitals 😄), knotting and breeding (not really)

☆ — NOTES: You. YOUUUUUU. Are such a genius ily anon ty for this 🙏🙏🙏

Ohhhh this bitch REALLY fucked around and found out LOL I almost feel bad.......almost

Have to hand it to Ei though, she DID try to research before proposing the idea in the first place. Especially since this is set in the first year since she got out the PoE........but studying it obv won't be the same as the real thing LOL

You and Miko have fared relatively okay on your own—the two of you have ABSOLUTELY mated before to ease each other's heat but it always felt like something was missing. You both made sure to take procedures to make sure neither of you ever concieved a child after the process with the excuse of the two of you being way too busy to care for one but like. The actual main reason was that if you were to have a child, you both wanted to have the third piece of the puzzle there with you

Now that the third member of your polycule's back, your heats are STRONGER THAN EVER bc wtf she's acc here??? Ughfhghfhh neeeeeed......like do you get me I hope you do

It wasn't as if it was a normal discussion to have out in public (you both always talked about it indoors until neither of you needed to really talk ab it anymore from all the time spent w each other) but it was a nice picnic between the three of you; Ei's head was on Miko's thighs as she ate up yet ANOTHER skewer of tricolour dango while you were leaning on the latter's side when she brought it up

Ei cleared her throat with a slight tinge of nervousness, "Could I perhaps, ah.. assist the both of you in your mating period?"

You choked on the dango that you were about to swallow as you see Miko startle the slightest bit, nearly dropping her novel in the process.

When you managed to regain your composure (or at least a modicum of it), you could only rush out a simple "'scuse me?" as Miko placed her book down to the side with a raised brow.

Miko combed her fingers through Ei's hair as she questioned, "What brought this on, dear?"

"Well..." The Archon licked her lips as she slowly got her words out, "I've.. left you two for over five hundred years. And while I'm glad that you both had each other for company whenever the season hits, I cannot deny that.. well, I feel bad, I suppose."

"You feel bad," the shrine priestess mocked, which.. really, wasn't all that undeserved, despite the fact that she was mocking the nation's leader.

"For a lack of a better word, yes." She sits up and turns to the both of you, putting the now-empty skewer aside, "Now that I have returned from my admittedly self-imposed isolation, it would be remiss of me to.. avoid my duties as your lover."

"I don't mean to be rude, Your Excellency," you teased, "but do you even know what you're saying? You've been in the Plane of Euthymia for so long; I worry for your safety."

You hear the pink fox envoy let out a quiet snort of amusement for your slight condescension (all in good faith, of course) as Ei sighed, "I think you forget that I am not a fragile mortal who needs to be coddled—I can withstand brutal wars and come out victorious."

"Besides," she adds, "I have done a fair amount of research to refresh my knowledge. I assure you both that I can take whatever it is you give me."

Miko mused, "I thought you knew better than to rely on textbook information rather than actual experiment, Ei."

"You're trying much too hard to dissuade me from my offer."

"We both deserve to rib into you for at least a couple hundred years."

"Especially considering how we've been left to fend for ourselves..."

"I.. suppose I do deserve that. And I want to make amends for it all, starting with this. So.. will you let me help? Please?" She looked at the both of you with such sincerity despite the subject matter.

...

The fact that Raiden Ei herself was begging the two of you though...

The both of you jumped her sides with sharing grins, your ears flicking in sync as you let out your own laughs.

"You should hope that you don't regret that, Ei.."

"..Because we are rather.. insatiable."

Then comes the actual thing and ohhhhh girlie was NOT prepared

When I said your heats get worse bc of how Ei's back, I fucking MEAN IT. It's the fact that that familiar sweet smell isn't just a not-quite-forgotten memory for you two anymore that it's just driving you both abslutely NUTS

When she gets to you two she gets POUNCED ON and there is. Basically no break for her at all and foreplay is basically foreGONE atp tbh

Eat her cunt like a bitch STARVED it's like both you and Miko are competing and assisting each other at the same time like who can eat her out better, who can make her squirt, etc etc

SO MANY BITE MARKS ON HER HOLY SHIT like okay yes on you and Miko as well but both of you want to mark Ei EXTREMELY for all the time you've lost with her. The both of you wanna show both Ei and perhaps the entirety of Inazuma that archon is YOURS at the end of the day......at least, if the loud noises didn't give them enough of a hint 🤷‍♀️

You're so right anon rip Ei's cunny indeed bc both you and Miko ABUSE the living HELL out of it❗️❗️❗️ You do often have to personally pry Miko off when she's overstaying in the spot you're supposed to share 🫶🫶🫶🫶 just tell her she's being a VERY bad girl rn and she'll fold. Usually she wouldn't but the haze (lol) in her mind is sooo fucking thick she can't think straight and she can't think of the witty remarks she would've otherwise made :((( poor baby the only thing she wants to do is breed and get bred :(((((((

I need to spitroast her with Miko so very badly I'm ngl to you I neeeed I NEEEEED I need to see Ei being impaled on both ends, both sides basically slobbering

It'd be very messy and would 100% take so long before you finish but when you do, it's with your fellow kitsune's own pussy practically filled to the brim and Leaking as she's laid out and finally passed out as your hips are locked in on your Archon's own; you cumming inside of you for like the nth time and stuffing her full w a mix of both your and Miko's cum and essentially plugging it with an inflamed bulb :3

Whether Ei has a system that allows her to get pregnant or not, gen who knows.......but one thing's def for sure. Or like three things acc: one, you two are VERY clearly excited that your shared lover is finally back; two, turns out she absolutely LOVES being used and bred by her two partners; and three?

It was an unusually hard thing to do, waking up. Despite having an artifical body and being an archon that has faced true horrors and extreme exhaustion, she found herself absolutely spent from the marathon.. copulation.

Ei had hoped that her exhaustion meant that the two of you were much more tired than she was, even despite your inhumanity, and yet...

Her eyes couldn't help but flutter open as a sudden gasp left her lips—she sees you push into her roughly with a lust-addled look on your face. You were already inside her when she fell asleep, considering the animalistic knot that held the both of you together, but even when it had shrunk to a more.. manageable level, you still hadn't taken it out.

Then Ei looks slightly to the right and there she sees her pink-haired familiar, heavily breathing as she grinded her wet, hot pussy onto her thighs with such loud, obscene moans.

(If the Archon listened close enough, which she did, she would've noticed the slight growl to the sounds she made—such a sound was at its most clearest when she ducked down to press another bite mark on porcelain skin.)

She couldn't even utter a word to remark that she had just woken up, didn't even have the room to do anything to stop you before you started pounding away at her like your life depended on it.

..And she could. Really, she could. She wasn't the feared Raiden Shogun for nothing.

She could stop you if she wanted to.

If she wanted to.

But when she feels the residual fluids within her gush out as you essentially resculpt her insides over and over and over, when she feels the desperate whines that Miko lets out as she cums and covers her thigh in slick, well.

She finds that she doesn't really want to.

(And really, not only was it her fault for volunteering, but this is her responsibility as your lover.)

(She knew that, and she wasn't going to start shirking her responsibilities again.)

(Even if it costs her her mobility for a while. But it's fine, she can just do a lot of maintenance after.)

[bimboficationblues]

I'm interested in your thesis that liberalism is related to desire for security. To me it seems completely counter-intuitive since conservativism is the primary political ideology that is characterised by desire for rules-based security, and liberalism with its eponymous focus on "freedom" is more of a counter-movement to that. We may have different definitions of liberalism (I'm in Europe) and I haven't read any of the authors you listed, so I dont quite understand where you're coming from. If you'd like to expand on that a bit - especially how you'd place conservativism in that analysis - I'd like to read it. :)

ty for the question it's a helpful one! hopefully I can actually spell out the broad strokes without just starting to write the book. (I'm not sure I can.) this is all preliminary tracings so I welcome comments, questions, criticisms.

let me cut it to the size of a paragraph: my view is that "security," construed broadly, is the implicit or explicit value underlying basically all of liberal political philosophy and statecraft; this claim is fundamentally linked with my reading of liberalism as a form of legalistic, technocratic aristocracy (literally: "rule of the best"), which wears the skin of democracy as long as its rule is not at risk.

okay, so, working definitions of terms.

What do you mean by liberalism? What about conservatism, isn't that a better example of what you've identified?

Liberalism is a bunch of different things falling under an umbrella term. I find the term "ideology" slippery, so I'm going to try and avoid it here.

When I use the term I am referring to a particular lineage within the history of political thought. That includes a lot of different political actors - philosophers and writers, workers and activists, domestic and international statesmen. Liberalism is not just a particular structure of belief or self-identification held by people or political parties. Rather, I see liberalism as the organizational principles of global capitalism, the mode of thought proper to capitalism's sustenance via the management of the modern state.

My view is that the two things you've highlighted are the broad, self-justifying narratives of these different modes of political thought. "Liberalism is about guarantees of equality, rights, and freedoms, and conservatism is about stability through the preservation of social tradition and culture." I will note that when spelled out in the abstract like this, these things are not actually in inherent contradiction with each other. When you break them down in practice or dig through the details of thought, you find a very different picture. Liberal political thought's values, on investigation, are only about freedom and equality and democracy insofar as those things secure property and the rule of capital. Instead, the substantive values of liberalism are revealed as security, private property, aristocracy (i.e. that "the best" should rule), expansionist empire, "the defense of civilization."

The distinction I would draw, if I wanted to distill the two down, is that conservatism demands obedience as an absolute condition of authority, that the possession of the authority is sufficient justification for obedience (the power wielded by earthly authorities, or perhaps capital itself, being a microcosm of the power wielded by a god). Liberalism demands obedience because it claims that existing in society entails a procedural buy-in; the justification for soliciting obedience is grounded in appeals to reason and practicality. (John Locke's notion of "tacit consent," JS Mill's claim that despotism is an acceptable form of governance for "barbarians," or John Rawls' claim that "outlaw states" can be disciplined by liberal democracies for their alleged cultural failings.)

What about security?

If we step back from the ways in which the concept is historically and morally loaded (and Neocleous makes a convincing case why we shouldn't), we can conceive of security as an affect of predictability. We might think about it as the ability to wake up each day and not be worried about how you're going to feed and reproduce yourself, or that you might be hurt or killed or get sick, or that whatever projects you're investing your time and attention and values in will be taken away from you. This sort of risk-calculation can be on an individual or collective level: thinking about the people you surround yourself with, or that live in a given place, or potentially the whole planet as one integrated system.

On one level you might say life is inherently insecure by virtue of our relatively equal vulnerability to harm or death. There's always the hypothetical possibility that you could get really sick or freak weather could ruin your surroundings or you could fall in a hole and die. However, if the place you live is surrounded by holes, that's a very different type of insecurity, and your risk-calculation and predictions are suddenly vastly different from random events; even more so if there is some kind of agent, will, or specific force that can be identified as the cause of the insecurity.

When I say security is the central liberal category, that's not to necessarily say that actually having "security" is bad. Experiencing emotional security might be good (though maybe not ideal if you are actually extremely insecure); likewise, feeling "insecure" does not necessarily imply the actual absence of security. What's relevant is how liberalism defines security and its absence.

~~~~

My position is that liberalism, and its antecedent political economy, has a fundamental worry - conscious or unconscious - that class society (or "civilization") is inherently insecure or unstable, and offers specific answers for resolving that tension.

What I mean by "inherently insecure" is that the struggle between classes consistently generates a mass of people that have little to nothing, and a minority of people that have everything. See J.S. Mill, bemoaning this as a problem in Considerations on Representative Government:

In all countries there is a majority of poor, a minority who, in contradistinction, may be called rich. Between these two classes, on many questions, there is complete opposition of apparent interest. We will suppose the majority sufficiently intelligent to be aware that it is not for their advantage to weaken the security of property, and that it would be weakened by any act of arbitrary spoliation. But is there not a considerable danger lest they should throw upon the possessors of what is called realised property, and upon the larger incomes, an unfair share, or even the whole, of the burden of taxation; and having done so, add to the amount without scruple, expending the proceeds in modes supposed to conduce to the profit and advantage of the labouring class?

See also Hegel, in Elements of the Philosophy of Right:

When a large mass of people sinks below the level of a certain standard of living - which automatically regulates itself at the level necessary for a member of the society in question - that feeling of right, integrity, and honour which comes from supporting oneself by one's own activity and work is lost. This leads to the creation of a rabble, which in turn makes it much easier for disproportionate wealth to be concentrated in a few hands. [...] Poverty in itself does not reduce people to a rabble; a rabble is created only by the disposition associated with poverty, by inward rebellion against the rich, against society, the government, etc. It also follows that those who are dependent on contingency become frivolous and lazy, like the lazzaroni of Naples, for example. This in turn gives rise to the evil that the rabble do not have sufficient honour to gain their livelihood through their own work, yet claim that they have a right to receive their livelihood. No one can assert a right against nature, but within the conditions of society hardship at once assumes the form of a wrong inflicted on this or that class. The important question of how poverty can be remedied is one which agitates and torments modern societies especially.

This is not a very tenable or secure long-term situation - it will lead to unpredictable confrontations between classes - unless the parties involved find some solution that makes it tenable.

In my view, liberalism offers a very adaptable solution: the modern state and legal system. Instead of the collection of scattered/inefficient/arbitrary systems that characterize pre-industrial power - heredity, honor, sumptuary codes, ritual, personal relationships, traditional obligations - we find (or rather, make) a geographically bounded, unified nation that operates on a set of general principles, a common language both literal and political.

Things like money, markets, a robust system of positive law and mechanisms to enforce it, and the potential for reform strike a balance between 1) formalized, impersonal, predictable outcomes that ensure the sanctity of property goes undisturbed and the "rule of the best" continues - contracts and elections follow the same basic principles, and evaluating harm can be boiled down to "amounts of money" or "years spent in prison" - and 2) allowing for enough adaptability to respond to new circumstances, new innovations, and new crises. For an example, see Adam Smith, in The Theory of Moral Sentiments:

Would you awaken the industry of the man who seems almost dead to ambition, it will often be to no purpose to describe to him the happiness of the rich and the great; to tell him that they are generally sheltered from the sun and the rain, that they are seldom hungry, that they are seldom cold, and that they are rarely exposed to weariness, or to want of any kind. The most eloquent exhortation of this kind will have little effect upon him. If you would hope to succeed, you must describe to him the conveniency and arrangement of the different apartments in their palaces; you must explain to him the propriety of their equipages, and point out to him the number, the order, and the different offices of all their attendants. If any thing is capable of making impression upon him, this will. Yet all these things tend only to keep off the sun and the rain, to save them from hunger and cold, from want and weariness.

In the same manner, if you would implant public virtue in the breast of him who seems heedless of the interest of his country, it will often be to no purpose to tell him, what superior advantages the subjects of a well-governed state enjoy; that they are better lodged, that they are better clothed, that they are better fed. These considerations will commonly make no great impression. You will be more likely to persuade, if you describe the great system of public police which procures these advantages, if you explain the connexions and dependencies of its several parts, their mutual subordination to one another, and their general subserviency to the happiness of the society; if you show how this system might be introduced into his own country, what it is that hinders it from taking place there at present, how those obstructions might be removed, and all the several wheels of the machine of government be made to move with more harmony and smoothness, without grating upon one another, or mutually retarding one another’s motions. It is scarce possible that a man should listen to a discourse of this kind, and not feel himself animated to some degree of public spirit. He will, at least for the moment, feel some desire to remove those obstructions, and to put into motion so beautiful and so orderly a machine.

In legal terms, liberalism entails a commitment to specific kinds of procedural guarantees (formal equality and formal liberty as guaranteed by law) that allow for different substantive content to fill in the gaps between those procedures. A philosophical way to look at it is that liberalism adopts agnosticism on what "the Good" is besides a floor-threshold of what is acceptable (rights), in order to allow for "the Good" to be worked out through time and practice.

This is something I regard as both the central strength and weakness of liberalism as a philosophy of governance: its procedural flexibility allows for the reuptake of hostile forces - anti-liberals are pushed to fight on liberal terrain or risk irrelevance - but also allows competing movements that are designed to undermine some aspect of the liberal project.

To be clear, the liberal answer is not the only possible one, it is just the one that most characterizes modernity. A different answer might be religion, or some form of arbitrary authority: your proper place is servile, but your reward will be eternal bliss in the hereafter, or the favor of your lord, or the emotional satisfaction of doing what you're meant to do. (This is what I would describe as "the traditional conservative answer.")

Another answer, that of the Hitlerites, synthesizes the liberal and the religious answer and ramps a few things up: all of existence is inherently insecure, and made even worse because we are besieged with enemies within and without. but we can secure a future for that nation, for your children, through expansion and purification. (This is the "reactionary" answer.)

A final answer says that there is no true solution that can make class society tenable: that we have reached a point in the history of class conflict where we, every day, reproduce and participate in a spiraling system that depreciates all the things it needs to function, that constantly absorbs more raw material into its maw, and while the ruling classes and the managers can shift crises around or find innovative ways of managing them, the crises themselves can never truly be resolved so long as the rule of capital is maintained. It can only end in revolutionary upheaval "or the common ruin of the contending classes."

To be clear, that's what I think the stakes are of the project: the capitalist security state is in the middle of a substantive upheaval in its priorities as climate change worsens and the hegemonic role of the USA begins to wane, manifesting in prominent battles over the family/reproductive labor and immigration. All of these are fundamentally about the modern state's sense of insecurity as a result of problems made by class struggle. The ruling classes are competing between the right-wing, who want to build extensive fortresses as a buffer against climate refugees while hyperexploiting a terrified, disciplined underclass of migrant, domestic, and third-world labor, and the "liberals," who want to figure out a techno-managerial fix like geoengineering the planet (and making decisions about who, and where, will receive the "benefits" of that "mitigation") while hyperexploiting a terrified, disciplined underclass of migrant, domestic, and third-world labor.

~~~~

to give a rough sense of those different authors, hopefully to clarify how they relate to the project:

Landa’s book The Apprentice’s Sorcerer examines the mechanics of fascist political thought and finds its direct antecedents in "economic liberalism," basically the strain of liberalism that felt its democratic/political twin had gone too far. Through the commitment to formal freedom and equality under the law, liberalism had given the masses the opportunity and language to articulate their interests, fight for those interests in government and civil society, and potentially win (in the process disrupting society and the balance of class power). In some places - particularly France, Haiti, and Russia - the masses went way, way too far for economic liberal comfort!

Fascism then enters the picture as an alternative way to direct the masses, neutralizing that insecurity produced by mass politics - to “save liberalism from itself.” While fascism would deploy the language of anti-capitalism and anti-liberalism (usually in the form of a structural anti-Semitism a la the Strasser brothers, as well as various workerisms or producerisms), in practice, it was and is all financed by the usual Junkers and industrialists as all nationalist projects, and commits to norms and goals that were and are entirely typical of liberal states. Oswald Spengler (the guy who thought Hitler didn't go far enough because he still made appeals to the public) is my favorite example: his "Prussian socialism" is literally just the doctrine that work in service of the nation's wealth makes life meaningful and that workers should be grateful to have it. In other words, what Spengler calls "socialism" is just English political economy with a Prussian nationalist twist.

Geoff Mann’s analysis of Keynes’ General Theory and Keynesianism more broadly treats Keynes as participating in an intellectual legacy (preceded by Hobbes, Robespierre, and Hegel) of immanent critique of liberalism, one that currently sets the terms for "left politics" as hesitancy and fear of a revolutionary scenario because of the insecurity it would bring. All liberalism wrestles with the fundamental insecurity of class society, but Keynes is the rare one that sees this insecurity as essentially irresolvable (though Mann admits that Keynes couldn't quite name it as such). Keynes further regards the fundamental task as saving civilization from itself while avoiding the revolutionary alternative. From In the Long Run We Are All Dead:

“If an immanent critique is one that accepts the basic principles of its object, Keynesianism is simultaneously an immanent critique of liberalism and of revolution. It is the liberalism of those who (however reluctantly) acknowledge the continued historical legitimacy of revolution but claim to render it unnecessary, to “revolutionize” without revolution. One certainly might say this is impossible, and perhaps, in the long run, that is true. But, as Keynes himself said—and his point was not metaphorical—“in the long run we are all dead.” In the endless “short run” moments of deferral between now and then, the problem of maintaining civilization itself is the most pressing task of all.”

Mark Neocleous writes extensively on the concept of security and its relationship with the state, building his work around a younger Marx's claim that "security is the supreme concept of bourgeois society." This has obvious connections to this project. However, a lot of his focus is specifically on the more overt forms of state power, specifically war and police powers - I want to take things a step further (through legal philosophy) and argue that this emphasis on security is embedded in the structure of law itself, and not merely military force or the police power.

[fuck-customers]

Kind of a fuck customers but also a satisfying story at the same time.

My role in the call center I work in involves taking specifically corporate calls, which means I spend all day talking to “business professionals” (and I use that term loosely) including CEOs. As you can imagine, over 90% of these CEOs are the scum of the earth and the most entitled assfaces on the planet.

A week or so ago, I took a call and went through my usual routine of greeting the cardholder and then began going over verification questions. Since we’re A.) a bank and B.) a bank that handles corporate and government credit cards, we take security seriously and require a caller to be able to verify 3 pieces of information based on what the person responsible for their credit cards put on the account. If they don’t pass, we refer them to their company to get the right details.

So as I’m doing this, the guy on the phone is getting increasingly irritated as he keeps getting the security questions wrong. I’m calm and professional the entire time but firm. Eventually I run out of things to verify with him and tell him that we won’t be able to assist and that he needs to contact his administrator. This is apparently where I went wrong.

“LADY I AM THE ADMINISTRATOR!!” He screeches. Ok, great. I look him up and that’s true but there’s a second admin listed, so I ask him to check in with him. He then yells “THERE IS NO OTHER ADMIN! I’M THE CEO OF THIS COMPANY FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!!”

I apologize and tell him while that may be true, he still got his security questions wrong and needs to reach out to his account coordinator then. This man then proceeds to scream at me for the next minute or so saying how we’re an awful bank, how he’s had problems with us for years, blah blah and how we have the worst customer service ever. Keep in mind, I’ve been nice and empathetic this entire time but also I’m not gonna lose my fucking job just because a guy in a suit doesn’t know his shit. I give him the email to his account coordinator and stress again that he needs to talk to them. Then this exchange happens:

Him: “So let me get this straight. You are saying you are REFUSING and UNWILLING to help me, right?

Me: “No, actually I’d love to help you, however we have these security procedures in place for yours and your company’s protection and cannot make exceptions for anyone.”

Him: “This is fucking UNBELIEVABLE! I’ve HAD IT with this bank!!”

Me: “Ok, I’m sorry to hear that. Anything else I can do for you before we disconnect?”

Him: “WHAT IS YOUR NAME? I NEED YOUR NAME. NOW.”

Me: *gives my first name and spells it for him even though it’s a very basic 4 letter name because I’m a bitch*

Him: YOUR LAST NAME.

Me: “We don’t give out anything but our first name for the safety of our employees.”

Him: *insert that condescending, pissed off chuckle middle aged men do when they’re mad here* “Well I’ll tell you what (My Name), when I close this account and pull my MILLIONS OF DOLLARS out of (bank name) and they ask me why, I’ll make sure to tell them that it’s (My Name)’s fault. And I will see to it that you won’t be able to get another job outside of the minimum wage fast food job or whatever you had before this. How does that sound?”

Me: “Sounds great. Now seeing as how this conversation is no longer productive or professional and threats are being made, I’ll be terminating the call, have a nice day.”

Him: “DO NOT HANG UP O-“

Me: *click*

And that’s how making rich, powerful men rage-cry became my new favorite hobby. Thankfully, I haven’t gotten any feedback on that call; not that I would, seeing as how I did my job exactly how I was supposed to. Anyways I hope I’m his 13th reason. ❤️

Posted by admin Rodney.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Leor Sapir

Published: Dec 5, 2024

An astonishing moment took place yesterday at the Supreme Court during oral arguments in U.S. v. Skrmetti, the case that challenges Tennessee’s ban on pediatric sex “change” procedures. Chase Strangio, the American Civil Liberties Union’s attorney, admitted to Justice Samuel Alito that the narrative around the risk of suicide in transgender-identified youth is false.

Before Alito and Strangio’s exchange, Justice Sonia Sotomayor had asked U.S. Solicitor General Elizabeth Prelogar about minors with gender dysphoria who “attempt suicide.” Prelogar responded that the “rates of suicide”—not “attempts,” but actual death by suicide—in that population “are striking.” Given the government’s support for puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones as treatments for gender dysphoric youth, the clear implication of Prelogar’s remarks was that such interventions are known to prevent these tragic and, in her view, common events.

JUSTICE SOTOMAYOR: Some—some children suffer incredibly with gender dysphoria, don’t they? GENERAL PRELOGAR: Yes. It’s a very serious medical condition. JUSTICE SOTOMAYOR: I think some attempt suicide? GENERAL PRELOGAR: Yes. The rates of suicide are—are striking—

This claim—that rates of suicide among gender-dysphoric young people are high—constitutes the trans suicide myth.

When it was Strangio’s turn, Justice Alito asked, “Do you maintain that the procedures and medications in question reduce the risk of suicide?” The transgender-identifying attorney responded:

MR. STRANGIO: I do, Justice Alito, maintain that the medications in question reduce the risk of depression, anxiety, and suicidality, which are all indicators of potential suicide.

Note that Alito asked about suicide, and Strangio answered about suicidality—the latter of which refers to thoughts of or intent to attempt suicide. Though suicide would be preceded by suicidality, research does not show that suicidality is a reliable predictor of suicide. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, in 2022, for every one person who committed suicide, 270 people “seriously thought about suicide” and 33 attempted it.

Strangio’s pivot to suicidality is a standard tactic of gender medicine activists in public debates. They exploit public ignorance about the difference between suicidality—thinking about suicide, attempting suicide, using gestures of self-harm as a cry for help or as a form of emotional manipulation—and actual death by suicide.

Unfortunately for Strangio, Justice Alito had done his homework. Citing the U.K.’s Cass Review, Alito observed that “there is no evidence that gender-affirmative treatments reduce suicide.”

Then came Strangio’s remarkable concession:

MR. STRANGIO: What I think that is referring to is there is no evidence in some—in the studies that this treatment reduces completed suicide. And the reason for that is completed suicide, thankfully and admittedly, is rare and we’re talking about a very small population of individuals with studies that don’t necessarily have completed suicides within them. However, there are multiple studies, long-term longitudinal studies that do show that there is a reduction in—in suicidality . . .

Here, the ACLU’s star attorney on trans issues seems to be at odds with Solicitor General Prelogar, who had said that the “rates” of “suicide” among gender-dysphoric youth were “striking.” Strangio admits, under oath, that suicide is actually “rare,” and that the research purporting to demonstrate benefits from hormones concerns suicidality, not suicide. Strangio’s use of “admittedly” is also striking, as it suggests the attorney is aware that claims about suicide prevention through sex “change” are false.

Strangio’s claim that the evidence shows these treatments reduce suicidality is also false. Some studies claim to find that, but existing systematic reviews of evidence have concluded that these claims are not credible due to methodological problems in the research. The Cass Review explicitly cites “major methodological problems” as a reason to be skeptical of studies claiming that “gender-affirming care” reduces “suicidality.” I suspect that Strangio knows this, as well.

None of this means that we shouldn’t take suicidal attempts or ideation seriously. Of course we should. But to equate these behaviors with completed suicide and to use that equivalence as a justification for harmful and experimental treatments on vulnerable adolescents is extremely irresponsible.

It’s hard to exaggerate the importance of Strangio’s concessions yesterday. Transgender activists and their media allies, gender clinicians, and Democrats have consistently and emphatically told the public that suicide is a serious risk for transgender-identified youth and that “gender-affirming care” is necessary to mitigate that risk.

Strangio’s ACLU itself has said this on many occasions, as I previously reported. The ACLU of Wisconsin, for instance, issued a press release in 2023, stating: “Research shows it [denying youth access to ‘gender-affirming care’] contributes to… suicide. On the contrary, transgender youth whose families support their gender identity have a 52% decrease in suicidal thoughts [and] a 48% decrease in suicide attempts.” The following year, the ACLU of South Carolina quoted a physician who said, “Gender-affirming care is life-saving suicide prevention care.”

More egregiously, clinicians have used the suicide threat to cajole parents into agreeing to irreversible medical interventions that can potentially leave their kids sterile, sexually dysfunctional, disfigured, and with lifelong impacts on bone and cardiovascular health. “Would you rather have a dead daughter or a live transgender son?” they ask the parents, sometimes in front of the child.

Crucially, the risk these activists invoke is suicide, not suicidality. Parents are asked to weigh the amputation of their daughters’ breasts or the sterilization of their sons against losing their kids to suicide—any parent’s worst nightmare. If the risk in question were suicidality, that would likely change their calculus.

Consider, as a representative example of activists’ claims, these remarks by Diane Ehrensaft, a San Francisco-based psychologist and pioneer of the “gender-affirming” approach in the United States, in her 2016 book, The Gender Creative Child:

Time and again I watch youth weigh keeping their fertility options open against postponing obtaining their true gender identity, and time and again I watch the decision to affirm their gender and forgo fertility win out. Can a thirteen-year-old truly know that? Yes, I think so, in the same way that a thirteen-year-old is capable of making a choice that will save their life even if it means losing a limb or living with one kidney. We could say, “Well, yes, but that’s a matter of life and death.” So is this for many gender creative youth—to affirm their gender or face crushing despair.

The existing research on the link between gender-related distress and suicide undermines this claim. It includes four findings: first, individuals who identify as transgender or experience distress associated with their sex are at higher risk of suicide than age-matched controls. Second, however, that risk, though elevated, is quite low, as Strangio now concedes. (For example, the suicide rate among youths referred to the U.K.’s Gender Identity Development Service between 2010 and 2020 was 0.03 percent.) Third, the elevated risk is best explained by psychiatric comorbidities, which are extremely common in this population and hypothesized to contribute to transgender identification in youth. Fourth, adults who undergo full “gender reassignment” remain at elevated risk for suicide relative to matched controls even years after their procedures.

Suicide, in other words, is a complex problem that requires nuance and understanding. Suicide-prevention experts have long argued that talking about suicide in the way that Strangio and the ACLU have done is irresponsible: suicide is a socially contagious behavior, and telling youth in distress that it is the expected response to their problems can encourage the very behavior these activists purportedly want to prevent.

In 2017, major LGBT rights organizations partnered with suicide prevention experts and groups to produce a guideline for how to discuss suicide in this population. Among their recommendations:

DON’T attribute a suicide death to a single factor (such as bullying or discrimination) or say that a specific anti-LGBT law or policy will “cause” suicide. Suicide deaths are almost always the result of multiple overlapping causes, including mental health issues that might not have been recognized or treated. Linking suicide directly to external factors like bullying, discrimination or anti-LGBT laws can normalize suicide by suggesting that it is a natural reaction to such experiences or laws. It can also increase suicide risk by leading at-risk individuals to identify with the experiences of those who have died by suicide.

I have since come to learn—through a source close to the movement with contacts at the ACLU—that suicide researchers supportive of LGBT rights are deeply concerned with how transgender activists like Strangio have bullied advocacy group leaders and manipulated the suicide issue to serve their own personal agendas. Strangio and other transgender activists are continuously undermining public trust in the ability of these groups to generate or endorse credible suicide prevention guidelines.

But the narrative is too politically useful for many of these activists to abandon. Shorn of any ability to persuade the public of their incoherent ideas about sex and gender, and unconcerned that their practices violate centuries of accumulated knowledge about healthy child development, transgender activists need the suicide narrative to be true—or at least believable.  How else can they get parents to submit their kids to the cult of the scalpel and syringe?

[asthmaticplushiedragon]

OC time!!!

Hope, Trust, Longing, Dread and Rage are characters in a webcomic I hope to one day write, called Letters of Sorrow.

The five of them are workers in a company called Spirit Express. It's a mail company like no other, that delivers emotions and feelings in the form of letters. They operate world wide, all day, every day, and in return receive special powers, such as invisibility, intangibility, and immortality. But seeing as the company is a secret, every worker has to give up the lives they once had and forget their past. It's a (mostly) painless procedure, and the rewards are worth it! But not just anyone can do it.

You're welcome to send questions to me or the characters, more information about each of them under the cut!

!The drawings below show blood, detailed injury and death! (Injuries include self harm, stabbing and gun wounds)

In Spirit Express, every worker represents a different emotion. The emotion has three "embodiments", each in a different department of the company. The worker called "Happiness" from Headquarters is right above the ones called Happiness from Research and Delivery. But while Research and Delivery meet in a daily basis, people from Headquarters almost never meet the other two departments. The line of work is HQ to R to HQ again and then to D. Headquarters give Research the name and basic information about the addressee, Research write down everything they can find about the person, and then Headquarters create the desired letter. Then Delivery makes sure the letter gets to it's place. Hope is the main character of the story. He's sixteen, and the sunshine of the group. He's a proud mailman, delivering letters of hope to their addressees. As the embodiment of hope in the company, he has a tendency to day dream of endless possibilities. Hope doesn't remember much from his life before he started working in Spirit Express, but that doesn't matter! He likes his job and his roommates, and he has everything he needs in life!

Longing is nineteen, and a mailwoman. She is considered the dreamer of the group, although when you get to know her you find she can be rather sassy and even harsh. She knows she was engaged or married before, because of the ring on her finger. But she figured that, if the girl she was before chose to give it up, it was probably not worth it. Still, sometimes she finds herself looking at roses and longing for a life she never knew.

Dread is twenty-two, a mailman, and a Jew. He knows that only because of the Kippah on his head, and he tries to learn about his culture. Just for scholar reasons, of course, nothing more. He's not really sure why he's the embodiment of dread, but he's sure Headquarters have their reasons. For now, though, he just tries to do his job best and make sure all letters of dread reach their addressees.

Trust is eighteen, and a workaholic. She works as a researcher. Trust is very thankful for only being responsible for the letters about her emotion, because even now she can hardly keep up and has to pull one all-nighter after another. She always says that she would trade her position with one of the mailmen in a moment, but actually enjoys her job. And she knows that, somewhere in the company's archive, there's probably an essay someone wrote about her old life.

Rage is kind of a mystery to his roommates. He's nine, and doesn't talk much at all. All they know is that he works in Headquarters, but since he leaves before they wake up and comes back after they're fast asleep, they don't meet him much. He makes them pancakes every weekend, tho.

Send questions!

[terrence-silver]

would you write something about reader who has baby fever but isn’t dating Terry, she works very closely with him, and he starts picking up how much she wants to have a baby

Fringe Benefits

Terry Silver x Reader

—

Each of his future employees got this questionnaire.

It was standard procedure, they said.

Basic inquiries, you supposed. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing you haven’t encountered before. Qualifications. Education level. Past recommendations. Experience level. Why you wanted to work here in particular. Why you considered yourself a reliable member of a team — specifically his team. Your devotion. Devotion, you thought. What did that even mean exactly? Your marital status. Family. Children. Whether you planned any. What you brought to Cobra Kai. To Cobra Kai’s table, that is. What you could offer. The memory of circling each response on the interview application still lingered in your mind like a hazy fog, more so when you sat opposite of him, separated by a black, sleek work desk, immaculately organized and entirely minimalist to a pristine level; something both disorienting and weirdly comforting about the basic aesthetic layout of the dojo gym grounds and the offices adjoined to it, all blue and red neons, creating a vaguely purple sense of womb-like dimness — Terry Silver’s eyes carefully assessing your application paper right before his gaze shot back up at you, speaking with immaculate distinction, yet with ease, like he wasn’t in a hurry whatsoever. You were merely after the job of a junior intern — a starting position; someone who handles basic paperwork, greets people at the registry, makes themselves useful wherever and however is required of them, still, everything felt like you were aiming after the most important position in the world. Perhaps due to the fact there was nobody here and the place felt liminal. Intense. Like you were given every bit of attention contained in the universe by a single person.

-"Most employers —"-

He begins.

 -"They’d consider the responses you circled a professional shortcoming."- 

He points his nose at the document next to his tidily clasped hands. You gulp.

-"Reason enough not to give you a job. Hire someone else instead."-

He explains maintaining near unblinking eye contact and part of you, that anxious bit coiling around in your belly was convinced this was a lost cause; he was about to gently tell you you’re not getting the job but that he nonetheless wishes you all the luck elsewhere. The deep sinking of your stomach interrupted only by the sudden tenderness in his features overcast by a crimson shadow of a halogen ceiling pipe above head; not an expression of pity, but one of possibility. His brows shoot up. This wasn’t standard procedure anymore, to your knowledge. The actual owner of a company conducting interviews so personally. One on one. Usually, it was a manager's manager. A secretary. Someone almost random in the hierarchy of things, giving off the basic impression that these job openings were merely formal and that the empty spots were long since filled and that everyone who came along to these interviews was going to be rejected anyway and they didn’t really care who does the rejecting so long the impression is given they’re actively searching for new staff. But, this guy? His personal investment in this almost daunted you. Was this some sort of marketing trick for his newly opening dojos? To make him seem relatable? Approachable? Humble enough to do this himself?

 -"But, me? Cobra Kai?"- 

Terry Silver’s stare flickers with delight.

-"I actually see it as a perk!"- 

He smiles with a weird innocence, momentarily distracting you from the fact you still had no clue what part of your application elicited such a positive surprise in him. You supposed you just had to go ahead and ask. Something about him instilled a sense of amicable disposition in you.

-"What do you mean, sir?"-

Before the question even passes over the threshold of your mouth, his index finger extends forward, landing precisely on the circled answer about whether or not you plan on getting pregnant any time soon. Your eyes meet. -"Kids."- He’s suddenly serious, chewing that word like it was a morsel intended to be juiced. -”You want them.”- He adds flatly and you weren’t certain if it was an accusation, praise, a mere statement or something he wanted you to further explain yourself on. His finger holds your circled answer hostage, refusing to move from the paper’s surface. Holding it there so long you had ample time to notice the sapphire pinkie ring finger on his hand. -"Says it right here."- He further assesses and once again, it was so hard to read him. His meaning. If he was pleased by this or not. You choose the best policy to appease him regardless of his mood; by being centrist and entirely politically correct. Trying to say everything and nothing. You really needed this job. You didn’t want to flunk it just because your circled an application answer that implied that maybe, perhaps, just maybe, you’d have kids. -"Well, one day, yes. Sure. Not right now, but I’m leaving my options open for anything. Everything."- You shrug, going for honesty of the most inoffensive kind. He actually flashes you a smile full of teeth. His whole face smiling with him in a net of wrinkles. It hits you then that in spite of his age, he was quite handsome. In fact, his age enhanced him. Made him seem warm. Paternal. Well lived. -"Good."- He coos at you, content. -"Because we’re all about devotion here. Dedication. Working with young people. Investing in the future."- There it was. That slightly baffling word again. Devotion. You say nothing. Choosing to listen instead. Avoid weakening your chances here. The fringe benefits were quite stellar from what you’ve discovered. Amazing healthcare, for one. -"And someone who sees a major plus in having kids of their own? That’s exactly the type of people we need. Means they’re built from the right kind of stuff."- A flash of determination overtakes his features and for a moment, you see him grit his teeth. -"I see."- You fill the gap between dialogues with a filler line and he chuckles, somewhat amused, catching you doing it. This place. Disorienting in spite of the AC unit nowhere to be seen, yet you could feel the cool air blowing in from somewhere from within this state-of-the-art, hypermodern setting where every utility seemed tactically hidden.

-"Don’t you wanna know what kind of stuff the right kind is?"- 

You catch a hint of teasing in his tone and you find yourself slightly embarrassed, nodding wordlessly.

Felt like a child examined in class.

-"The type who’s prepared to dedicate their life to something greater than themselves. A belief. A creed. A legacy."- 

He enlightens you.

You could guess what the dojo’s philosophy more or less was in vague terms — it was a dojo, after all and the man in front of you was a triple black belt Sensei in his own right and a Vietnam war vet from what you’ve heard, but you weren’t here to lay down life and limb to larp The Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon with anyone. You just wanted to do paperwork for a decent salary with your employer imbued with the knowledge, that hey, he might have to organize paid maternity leave for you and find a replacement for you in case that ever actually happens. Figuratively, of course. You maintain a serious composure, feeling something you weren’t supposed to feel; scared. Curious. Interested. The fervor with which he spoke? You cross your legs underneath the table and you could swear, for the briefest of moments, Terry Silver’s eyelids flutter down, towards your seat, catching you do it. -"I’m not that impassioned, Mr. Silver. I’m sorry. I just don’t mind the idea of having children one day, in the near or distant future, when all the puzzle pieces fall into their place, if all the puzzle pieces fall into their place, and I’m willing to be transparent enough about it within the context of a work place environment so no surprises happen, is all. I’m not raising the next Spartan army, though. Hope that isn’t a disappointing answer."- You find yourself shrugging once more, this time on instinct, keeping calm, wondering why on earth you were justifying yourself so badly anyway. Sure, you did a basic Google search on this place. And on him. Terry Silver didn’t have any children of his own in the first place. No marriages under his belt either. You almost expected bigwigs like him to have several of each. You weren’t judging, you just felt it was peculiar. He was more than good looking too. So, why was this such a huge topic, anyway? Was this even allowed? He kept the questions about your qualifications to a minimal and then — he laughs, apparently delighted by your response.

 -"Oh, not at all!"- 

He shakes his head, blue eyes practically shimmering.

This felt like one of those weird dreams people tended to have; the type that were almost entirely inexplicable.

-"Cobra Kai isn’t going to let you go or terminate your contract or penalize you if anything unexpected happens. Not my policy. We take care of our own."- 

The tension in your back drops hearing that, almost as if a certain weight was lifted from them.

For a man, Terry Silver was as understanding about maternity as a woman would be.

And then he cocks his head to the side.

-"Wouldn’t be very fair play and Spartan if we didn’t, would it?"-

Clearly, your comment entertained him enough for him to repeat it back to you, producing a new piece of document from a drawer and setting it down in front of you alongside a sleek, perfectly jet black pen. Everything here was black. His suit. His desk. His walls. His floors. His ceilings. You weren’t certain if there were any windows. Difficult to tell. Amidst all that neon lit darkness, the pristine white paper stands out, almost burning. A white block of ice. Matching his pale face and gray hair, briefly resembling a clay death mask. -"Just one last form to fill. Right here. Some final questions and you’re as good as set. Monday sound good?"- His finger points once again, down the dotted line, spilling out information so fast that it took you a second to register the fact he was effectively letting you know you got the job while you were too busy looking at what his finger was showing you on yet another questionnaire, your eyes falling on the first of many inquires. One in particular catching your notice, causing your breath to hitch.

- DO YOU TAKE BIRTH CONTROL?

—

You weren’t certain how you ended up in Terry Silver’s bed.3

All you knew is that you wanted to.

It was so easy.

Too easy.

It began with a deep yearning; observing a class for students between ages 3-5 five taking their first steps in Kata on the studio’s mat and Terry doing circles around the dojo, assessing their stances, their movements, how they held their tiny arms, their tiny bodies, the enthusiasm in their eyes. His voice was in your ear once he did a full spin throughout the length of his own domain, encompassing everything like a satellite, keen eyes missing nothing, finding himself next to you and your place at the counter, checking filled application forms and the schedule of classes, while fists punched through the air in unison. Exactly thirty two young students working like perfectly tuned clock work. Funny how kids that small could achieve such discipline. Your heart almost ached. -"Natural, raw talent. Gotta start when they’re young."- He chuckles from next to you, observing his handiwork from a relative distance, giving his small acolytes time to spread out. -"Don’t you just get emotional watching them train?"- His eyes dazzle your way, accompanied by a smile and something within your twists as you nod wordlessly, keeping your attention on your folders and files, suppressing the voice inside of you.

 Yeah, wish I had my own, it says.

The months that ensue get harder. It was always the opposite for everyone else, you supposed. The more time they spend at a place of employment, the more the novelty wore off and things tended to settle into their place, but you? You grow restless, leaving the toilet having recovered from an unbidden fit of tears during your lunch break, possibly the second such concealed outburst within just one work week alone, finding no particular reason as to why it happened. Why it kept happening. Nobody was unkind to you here. Quite the contrary. Everyone was like a newfound friend or family, but maybe that’s what made things so difficult; the fact that when you went home every evening, you’d find yourself all alone with nobody to care for. You didn’t even have time to tend to a pet. A cat. A dog. And this wouldn’t be the only occasion he’s cornered you on the topic either. Terry Silver had this uncanny ability to decipher you as upset regardless how craftily you sought to hide it and continue with your work. -"I know what bothers you and I can help."- He corners you in the empty foyer. One thing you learned about him with certainty that he had this habit of invading people's personal spaces. Invading your personal space. Standing too close. The most baffling thing, though --- how much you didn't mind, even as you kept your head bent, gaze averted. You didn't want him to see how obvious it was that you cried even though were certain he guessed.

In spite of that, you fail to recoil once his hand lands on your stomach.

He's done this before. You've let him.

-"Fill the gap right there."-

He whispers and it sends a shiver down your spine.

He came with a proposition a few weeks ago and suddenly, all those peculiar inquires on the job interview questionnaire started to make an awful lot of sense. Too much, in fact. He wasn't just being nosy and scoping out whether or not you'd get impromptu pregnant and leave your own spot vacant for God knows how long. No. It was infinitely more than that. He told you that if you had an itch, he was lending himself available to scratch it. You still haven't given him a yes or no answer on the topic, though and by the looks of it, the devil has come to collect his dues. -"I’m sorry, Mr. Silver, I —"- You stutter, going for avoidance, trying to wiggle out from the closeness of his proximity, but his arm comes up leaning against the wall, cutting your way off.   Already, in your mind, you could see tangled limbs, a spine bending forward and his fingers travelling up your back. Instead, you get a voice. His. You inhale sharply once his thumb came up, caressing the outline of your cheek, the slightest remnant of moisture dabbed again by his lingering touch. You weren't sure how to label your relationship with him. Terry had yet another uncanny gift. The ability to make himself disconcertingly close to someone with little to no effort. You've been fucking the man for three months now and god knows why. Why you craved it. Why it felt right. Confusing, but right. Letting your boss hit it raw? What do you even call that? Stupidity? Desire? Falling in love? Being manipulated? -"Ambition requires it’s sacrifices, doesn’t it? Even small, day-to-day ambitions. The ambitions of a Junior Intern. The sacrifice being family. The fact that I can tell there’s no place you’d rather be right now than at home with someone."- His touch touches your earlobe and you close your eyes.

You haven't been doing good lately.

He caught on.

Thing was, you weren't a girl anymore.

You were still young but you were entering that stage in life were every year mattered more and more. Your contract with Cobra Kai alone was one for two years and you imagined it expiring and you once again having nothing. Going home and finding your apartment empty. Would you have time to build something for yourself? Build anything at all? Instead, Terry Silver's arms were right there. Warm. Inviting. So hard to resist. Bearing the promise of everything you that seemed so close, yet so far out of reach.

-"You want me."-

He coos tenderly. You resist, shaking your head, refusing to open your eyes.

-"No."-

-"You want me."-

He repeats himself with more vigor. More conviction.

No. No. No!

-"This is crazy! I don’t wanna get knocked up at work by my boss who’s twenty years my senior!"-

Instinctively, your hands come up feebly, attempting to serve as a shield between your own body and his, only to get caught and trapped by his grip, fingers grabbing wrists, pulling you closer to him. His smile is shark-like. Sharp. -"Thirty."- He corrects with ease, seeming proud of himself. -"Thirty years your senior."- You didn't know what to say to that. Somehow, it made things worse. The guts inside of your belly tighten with ache. You feel it vibrate between your legs. It was hormones. All hormones, you tell yourself. Hormones had the habit of being senseless and dumb like that. Terry Silver was the one giving you your salary, he was old enough to be your grandfather and he was offering to get you pregnant. For your sake, as he claimed. For his own too. You wanted the same things, he explained. So, why not complete each other's long-standing yearnings? Wasn't that what loyalty was all about? What better foundation for an alliance? A relationship, he asked? Suddenly, he lifts his arm, freeing you. -"And why not? You can leave any time. You still haven't."- His eyes flare up with the light of challenge. You were being taunted and tested and you realized as much, finding your body growing stiff, legs refusing to move. So, why didn't you leave? This was technically sexual harassment at the workplace. Yet, you reveled in it. Consented to it. His offer was tantalizing, the way a cup of fresh spring water was to the someone dying of thirst. Your lips part. The thought of having someone completely your own. Cradling them in your arms. Was that so bad? Instead of your belly, the palm of his hand travels lower, cupping you between your legs. -"It would make you happy and you know it."- He murmurs and you didn't have the strength to fight it. You let him continue. He squeezes you ever so lightly, until you felt an internal pressure tickle you from the inside. The type that craved to be filled. -"And I told you the very first day you walked into my office. In Cobra Kai, we’re all about devotion. Taking care of of our own."- He reminds and you lean your head back, allowing yourself to enjoy the sensation, feeling the back of your neck comfortably hit the wall.

-"I didn’t think you’d be so literal!"-

You mutter, breathlessly, letting him do his special magic.

Rubbing you through the material of your trousers.

His cock in his other free hand, pulled out of the thick, black material of his Gi.

-"I’m always literal."-

He clarifies.

You knew as much now.

Knew well enough to take him seriously.

More seriously than anyone before.

You wanted him. Wanted him to knock you up. Crude, but truthful.

-"Let me help you."- He groans, unzipping your trousers, only to spread your legs, slither his hands behind you and grab you by your ass, lifting you up against the wall, fingers digging into tender flesh with bruising ardor. You moan and yelp. Maybe it was you being touch starved, starved for love, in need of sex, missing companionship, but the fact you were about to impale yourself on his cock in the middle of the corridor seemed of little consequence. It was a Friday evening. Past working hours. -"Let me fix everything. All you have to do is be willing to receive it. Receive me."- Terry speaks against your open mouth and you mumble into his, already seeing the future unfold. Feeling it on his breath. The warmth of his tongue. -"I'm willing."- You babble, eyes half-lidded, fumbling with the elastic lace trim of your undergarment, lowering it, giving him entry, feeling yourself wet. -"What was that?"- He teases, tone beaming seriousness, asking you repeat yourself. You do. Anything. You'd do anything. Funny how quickly a person could go from being level-headed and logical to throwing all caution to the wind, you thought. -"I'm willing to receive it."- You almost plead. He pulls back. Momentarily, the warm haze he emanated was lost and you find craving it. Craving it back like nothing you've ever craved before. You could see it so clearly now. His hand tracing the outline of your swollen belly, smiling down at you and unwittingly, your mouth moves with a will of its own. -"Sir."- Terry instructs, unblinking, his cock stroking itself against the lips of your cunt. -"Sir."- You eagerly mimic his words, ready to devour the very air you shared, the distance between you nonexistent. -"You know how some schmucks out there claim they know the exact moment of conception?"- Terry chuckles in between wet kisses, his tip finding it's way between your Labia guided by his hand. You're sloppy, loose and ready for him. -"Well, I always thought that's a load of crap."- He adds, grunting once he nestles himself inside of you, driving you further up the wall, your legs flying up, on either side of his shoulders, held by one free arm. It was astounding how he could expertly hold his balance and your own too and not falter.

He picks up his pace and for once, you smile.

Never in a million years would you think Cobra Kai's workplace contractual fringe benefits would involve this.

-"I just plan to fuck you until I see some tangible results."-

He seethes and now there was a plan you could agree with.

[cheerfullycatholic]

So I'm currently a pro-choice Christian, but I'm starting to lean towards pro-life recently? But I'm worried about the implication of banning abortions.

I'm worried about how abortions don't stop our even slow down when illegal, the same amount of them happen just dangerously.

I'm worried about miscarriages and how they're sometimes treated as a murder case in abortion illegal places.

I'm worried about doctors refusing to give life saving abortions to those who need it in face of persecution.

I'm worried about young children who can't give birth safely being forced to.

I'm split about the 1 baby vs 100 fertilized eggs question, where if the 100 fertilized eggs were really as sentient as a baby why would we save the baby every time instead of the 100 fertilized eggs.

I think it's best to give out birth control and sex education and make it easier to be a parent and I don't think abortion is what you should run to automatically, but idk. I got suggested your blog to help, what do you think?

Hi! I think your concerns are important and I'd love to talk about them (I'll number them all so nothing gets jumbled up) (my answers are below the cut because they're long)

1. Firstly, it's been reported many times that abortion rates do fall when made illegal or hard to get, while birth rates rise. Illegal abortions are much more dangerous, but I do not believe that is a good enough reason to allow abortion, because no matter what someone dies, which isn't good in any situation. More help for pregnant women and their babies is essential no matter the circumstances, but especially after abortion is made illegal so that women don't have to feel like they have no other choice but to have a dangerous back alley procedure. And to me at least, it doesn't feel right to say "abortions will happen anyway so we might as well keep them legal so they'll happen safely" because what else could that apply to? Murder? Driving drunk? Doing drugs? They'll happen anyway, after all

2 and 3. In America at least (where I'm from), there is no law that has made miscarriage illegal. One that caused a lot of ruckus was the Texas Heartbeat Law. People claimed that the law would criminalize miscarriage care and would lead to a bunch of investigations, but they rarely happen, and if they do, it's usually either because the police have reason to believe illegal activities were involved in the death of the baby (like illicit drug use or the baby being left to die or killed after being born alive) or because authorities don't actually know their own laws. There was one case where authorities got their own laws wrong in Texas, but the case was dismissed quickly. And just from everything that I've read so far, it seems to me that any legal action taken against someone for procuring an abortion would be taken against the abortion providers themselves, not the women getting the abortions

And this is what the heartbeat law states this, which mentions "life saving" abortions (emphasis added);

“Abortion” means the act of using or prescribing an instrument, a drug, a medicine, or any other substance, device, or means with the intent to cause the death of an unborn child of a woman known to be pregnant. The term does not include birth control devices or oral contraceptives. An act is not an abortion if the act is done with the intent to: (A) save the life or preserve the health of an unborn child; (B) remove a dead, unborn child whose death was caused by spontaneous abortion; or (C) remove an ectopic pregnancy.

"Spontaneous abortion" being a miscarriage. So at least in Texas and the other states with similar heartbeat laws, any doctor who refuses to treat women for fear of being prosecuted is wrong and should lose their jobs for medical malpractice

4. For any high risk pregnancy but especially for cases which involve young girls, there are steps in place to keep them safe which include increased monitoring, bed rest, certain medications, and early delivery. Young girls in the past have been able to give birth prematurely safely and without ending the lives of their children, but sometimes delivering their babies before viability is necessary and their babies die, but this is different than abortion and is not illegal. Again, if a doctor refuses to do an early delivery in order to try and save their patients, they are guilty of medical malpractice

5. I hate that thought experiment because the goal of everyone who asks it is to try and get you to say a born baby is more valuable than embryos and it's dumb. Whoever you choose to save in this made up scenario does not determine who is more valuable. All human life is valuable, choosing to save a born baby over a preborn baby doesn't diminish the value of the preborn baby, it just means you made a choice to save the born one. Which arguably (inarguably?) saving the born baby makes more sense because what are we supposed to do with the 100 frozen embryos after we get them out? They'll start to thaw and die pretty quickly if they haven't already from the fire in the ivf building

All around we can definitely do better in making sure women don't feel like their only choice is abortion like so many do (Silent No More has a ton of stories from women who felt like they had no choice or were forced into getting an abortion if you want to read them). I think our focus should be on addressing why women get abortions and doing our best to remedy their problems instead of killing their children. That's why I really like Let Them Live, an organization that raises money through community supported fundraisers for women who ask for their help. They have so many cool stories of women who accepted their help and are so glad that they chose life. If we really came together as a community that offered life affirming love and care, no one would have to be killed, and I think that's something that God would like, too. He did say after all that He hates the shedding of innocent blood (Proverbs 6:16-19). I can't think of anyone more innocent that little babies

(The first two links lead to Secular Pro Life, who have a lot of good resources and studies)

I really hope I was able to address your worries well enough (I'm still a bit sick so apologies if I didn't make much sense). If I forgot or missed anything or if you have questions please let me know, and if anyone has anything else they'd like to add (kindly, leaving your stinkiness at the door. Refer to my blog's title quote if you're confused), please feel free to!

[little-pondhead]

For the supervillain danny au with dani now physically her real age are they telling people she's danny's sister or daughter? Like the jl know dani is a clone but whats they story they tell people? Or do they purposefully dodge the question and watch the jl fall further and further into confusion (and theories)

Yknow I’m not actually sure the JL knows she’s an actual clone. The theory so far is that she’s a test tube baby, which can be played off as something completely different. A clone is a copy of something, and is a little more straightforward to do. A test tube baby suggests that Fenton took DNA from all three of them and then mimicked the pregnancy process in a lab, which is way more complicated. The embryo was just never transferred to a surrogate and instead just kept growing in the lab. (Like those people who fertilize chicken eggs and literally just grow a chick from start to finish.) Adoption never occurs to them, for some reason.

And I’m an absolute sucker for Dani being Danny’s daughter. This is a safe place where she can play around without worrying about the life-threatening consequences that might come with. She has no issue calling Fenton, Manson, and Foley her parents, Nightingale her auntie, and Dan her weird cousin/brother/uncle. She’s their baby and she’s proud of it!

The JL, however, are not aware of this specific family dynamic they have, and so rarely get anything right. Pretty much the only thing that’s been confirmed is that Dani is their daughter, fuck you very much. But despite their best efforts, the family refuses to give a single straight answer about anything else.

(It’s revealed at some point that Dani is the one responsible for the mix-ups. She wanted to watch the heroes freak out internally whenever she came to play and said concerning stuff out of the blue. Fenton was totally willing to talk their ears off about his lab procedures until his little girl asked so politely to keep it all a secret and see how far it went.)

[rainbowsandwhumperflies]

The Winged Servant - 12

content warnings: discussions surrounding medically induced amnesia, royal/servant whump, angel whumpee, discussions surrounding corporal punishment (torturing onyx lol), let me know if I missed anything!

prev chapter | masterlist

The guard took me down three staircases and through too many hallways to remember before opening a metal door. “They’ll be waiting for you right in here. There aren’t guards in there, but those two are plenty capable and I will be waiting out here regardless, so no funny business.” I didn’t miss the click of the lock sliding into place as the door closed.

There was a table in the middle of the room. It had a white tablecloth on it, but it looked like it was metal and sterile under that.

Kieran was waiting at the table. Kieran and… someone else. The someone else would clearly rather I didn’t know. They were wearing a mask, blue and gray and big enough to cover every inch of their face. They had loose enough clothes to hide the curves of their body and their hair was pulled back into a bun that hid the texture and length of it—even the color outside of how dark it was.

“Hi, Onyx,” Kieran said softly. “How’s your arm?”

“Good, sir,” I whispered, bowing my head slightly. “Thank you for the concern. And, um, the medical help.”

“Of course. How about you come sit down, yeah? My friend here is going to stay anonymous, but you can call them Blue. We just wanted to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay?”

He was speaking so gently. As if I wouldn’t understand him if he was blunt with me. I wondered if I should tell him that I knew how to be a good servant, or if that was too irrelevant to the conversation. “Of course, sir.”

“What’s your full name?” Blue asked. They did not sound upset with me, but it was a far cry from Kieran’s soft tone.

“Onyx, Mx.”

“And… your last name?”

I glanced away, focusing my eyes on the tablecloth, tracing the gold embroidery with my eyes. “My apologies, Mx, but you would have to ask the royal family for that kind of information. I don’t know it anymore.”

“No? Why not?”

“I gave it to them, Mx, when I was seventeen. I don’t remember anything from before being a servant. It’s better this way. I'm more productive.”

Kieran and Blue stared at each other for a long moment before looking back at me. “They erased your memory?” Kieran asked slowly.

“Yes, but- but I agreed, sir. I offered to let them do it, because I wanted to become the best servant I could.”

“Okay, but your offer was before they actually did the procedure, right? So the only reason you know that you offered is because they told you.”

“Yes, sir,” I agreed. “I’m very grateful to them for telling me, since they don't usually tell me about before. As is their right, of course.”

“Jesus Christ,” Kieran whispered. “You’ve been with them this whole time, haven’t you? What did you do when they were overthrown?”

“... What?”

“When they were overthrown. Since they’re no longer royal. Did they just take you with them when they left the castle?”

This was similar to what Dr. Charlotte had said—she hasn’t ruled a country for the better part of the last decade—but it couldn’t be true. “The Rao family has ruled Sathenn for sixteen generations, sir. And I don’t- I don’t think I’d ever seen the castle before last night.”

“So you didn't work for them as an employee, or at least not after the memory thing.” Blue tilted their head. “How do you know that the Raos didn’t just grab you off the street and wipe your memory?”

I frowned. “His Highness Prince Ryan told me that I volunteered.”

“And you took his word for it. Right.” They wrote something down on their clipboard. “Did you try to leave?”

“Of course not, not on purpose,” I breathed, staring at them in shock. “I’m- I know how to be a good servant, I can be, I swear.”

“And you didn’t ever want to, or you were just too scared to? Do you understand the difference in the question I am asking?”

“I don’t… think I understand, Mx. I don’t leave because that’s what’s required of me as a servant, and I can be a good servant. It’s not about what I want or how scared I am, I just don't leave.”

“... Right.” I could not see their expression, but I didn’t think they looked convinced. “And what would happen if you did try to leave? Would you… get in trouble in some way?”

“Of course, Mx. But I know my place, I swear I do, I wouldn’t run.”

“Okay. But if you did.”

“I wouldn’t, Mx,” I insisted. “I swear. I can be good, I wouldn’t run.”

They paused for a moment, but nodded eventually. “Okay. Sure. You wouldn’t run. But do you get in trouble for other things, then? Other, smaller mistakes, maybe? Can you describe… I don’t know. Can you describe the most recent incident?”

The most recent one was… last night, despite the fact that last night felt much further away than it was. “Each morning, I bring breakfast to Her Majesty,” I explained. “Yesterday, I was late, Mx. I was punished for that.”

“What kind of punishment?”

“I usually wear a shock collar, Mx, and His Highness Prince Ryan shocked me three times. One for each minute I was late. A fair punishment.”

Blue had been scribbling on their paper, but froze as I spoke. “So you- when you say punishment, you mean corporal punishment.”

“Of course, Mx. Punishment is required for me to become the best servant I can be. How else am I supposed to learn to be better? I make much fewer mistakes than when I was new.”

Kieran was frowning at the wall, and I flinched when he turned his gaze toward me. “Tell Blue what you told me about your wing.”

“My wing wasn’t broken as a punishment, sir,” I explained again, not understanding the relevance. I hadn’t understood the relevance of any of these questions, but it didn’t matter, because the prince had said to do what I was told. “It was only to keep me from flying. But it’s- it’s okay, now, it barely hurts, it’s been years. His Highness Prince Cardan broke it before I gave the royal family my memories, so I don’t remember it happening.”

“That’s convenient,” Blue muttered. “Fine. Okay. Last couple questions, because I can’t stomach this for much longer. What do you know about what you were doing in the castle last night?”

I hesitated. “One of the guards said that we were breaking in.”

“Mhm. Were you aware of that before you came here?”

“... The royal family can’t break in anywhere, Mx. They’re entitled to any building they like.”

“Allow me to rephrase, Onyx. Were you or were you not aware, last night, that you came here as part of a group on a mission to kill people?”

“That’s not-” I hesitated. “They weren’t here for that. They were here for… for Kieran, they said. Anyone that they hurt was someone in the way of their rule—it’s not that they wanted to hurt people.”

“Didn’t they? I’ve seen the camera footage. You were an accessory to murder before you even got into the door. That didn’t make you hesitate at all? It didn’t surprise you enough to ask any of the Raos what you were doing here?”

Right. The guard with the purple hair. Outside, guarding the castle. Guarding Kieran. Dead, after someone had killed her, someone that had arrived in a car with me.

“No, Mx,” I said. “I didn’t- I didn’t ask. I’m not supposed to ask questions. It would be a waste of time. I’m just supposed to do what I’m told.”

Blue took a slow, measured breath. “Okay. I have good news and bad news for you, Onyx. The good news is that I think putting you on trial wouldn’t get us very far because you somehow managed not to realize that the Raos were killing people. Even after watching them kill people. The bad news is that you are ridiculously loyal to people that have been lying to you for longer than you remember existing. These people are dangerous to everything this country stands for. That makes you dangerous by proxy, regardless of your intentions or information, and we can’t exactly let you free either.”

You are ridiculously loyal to people that have been lying to you.

These people are dangerous.

“That doesn’t- it doesn’t matter if they lie,” I managed. “It doesn’t matter if they’re dangerous. It’s not the same for them, Mx. They tell me what they want me to know so that I can be the best servant possible. Sometimes that doesn’t include the full picture.”

“Why do you need to be such a good servant?” Blue asked. “Why does their comfort matter so much more than yours? They might have the best servant in the world, Onyx, but what is the point of serving them so much if they give you nothing in return?”

This was something I had asked too, once. It was years ago, when I was new and I had phrased it differently, but I remembered it. Why is my happiness less important than yours, Your Highness?

Prince Cardan had laughed and asked me how happy I thought he was. And he’d said that happiness- “Happiness serves no purpose, Mx. It doesn’t protect me or keep me safe or provide me with food. The royal family does that for me, if I do my best to be a good servant.”

“They’re not going to be the royal family ever again, you know. They’re-”

“When was the last time you ate something, Onyx?” Kieran interrupted.

Blue glared at him.

“... Last night, sir,” I answered quietly. “At dinner.”

“I think that the conversation Blue is trying to have with you would be better managed over a meal. How about we get you some breakfast?”

Blue was still glaring, and Kieran didn’t look happy. …But someone had asked me a question, and I was supposed to answer it. “Yes. sir.”

“Okay. Blue—paperwork. Try to start questioning Lucia if you have any extra time. Onyx—how do you feel about crepes?”

~

taglist (btw i appreciate you so so much): @kaleidoscope-of-thoughts @toyybox @rainydaywhump @risk606

[statementends]

So who do we think is listening?

Last time of course it seemed like the tape recorders were beholding aligned, but turned out to be the Web using the Beholding's need to archive against it.

We're in a new universe now and a new story with new motives behind the recordings. They're just as sinister as the old ones, but now with internet access in a world where everything has internet.

The spying on the employees of the OIAR certainly aligns with Eye Powers, but it might be a redherring. What if the spying is done by humans this time?

Like, oh spooky the technology is listening into them oooo~~~~ but that sort of technology has been around for a long time. The tape recorders were 'analogue.' They turned themselves on and off, but the computers and phones, and things attached to the internet? That happens in real life right now. Someone can hack your computer and gain access to your web cam. We're in sketchy government department of literal horror. Let's tap everyone's phones!

To what end? Probably something that started as 'for the greater good' and has become a monster of its own.

Time for some conspiracy theories!

So. Here's another question. Was the Magnus Archives listened to by someone in the TMAGP universe? Is that why the OIAR was made? Because they heard the tapes and what happened and have used Jon, Martin, and Jonah(?)'s voices to, with a mixture of horror magic and technology, be able to find incidences.

I'm assuming the Voices in the computer are reading out the real statements. Maybe The Archivist's Voice is doing it automatically. It Knows everything all the time but that's useless if you can't see or search for the information. Whoever built the program needed a way to use the Knowing. So it puts in the data and the Archvist sorts it. Archive gotta archive.

My theory is the Archvist's voice is being used as a tool rather than having any agency or mind.

The OIAR needs to find and document horrors. You have three beholding alligned entities trapped in magnetic tape. You put them in a computer program and boom. You have things that can start monitoring the data you're already stealing from citizens and weed out the real horror from the fake ones.

I wonder if this time corporations and governments will be more overtly trying to use and control the dread powers. Like rather than cults and worship it will be people trying to bend the dread powers toward their own end.

Because the biggest question is, if the Voices are sorting real statements, and someone is listening in part for that reason, then what do they do when real ones are found?

Guess we'll see!

Oh and one more thing. It's called the Magnus Protocol

A protocol is the official procedure or system of rules governing affairs of state.

So when something happens, the protocol gets put into place.

So what is the Magnus Protocol? Is it to do with finding the TMA tapes? Or does it have to do with what the Magnus Insitute of this universe was doing with children (see the ARG).

So like Jon was actually the Magnus Archives, is Sam going to be a part of the Magnus Protocol?

Only time will tell.

[lambilegs]

hi!! idk if your requests are still open, but i just had a thought about lee after the ending of the movie. i was thinking that she possibly would adopt a dog to feel safer at her cabin (since poor baby couldn't even have peace there when kobble walked in </3), but what's your opinion on my thought? maybe you have a specific dog race in mind as well? :3

lee with a dog headcanons 🐶

note to anon: hehe they are open!! (also to anyone wondering you can always check my pinned to see if they are mwah <3) and omg, yeah, I could definitely see her feeling incredibly on edge and haunted by everything that happens in the movie. so, to preface, this post is super long and very detailed LOLLL basically, my gf, who absolutely loves dog, and I got super invested in this idea and finding a good breed for lee and figuring out how her life would be w it, so yeah hehe (also these headcanons are super disorganized and messy just to warn 😭) thank you sm for such a sweet and interesting req, I loved writing it hehe

and credits to: my amazing gf, who helped so so soooo much with this!! he literally made an entire notion page with info on how to train a kangal, like, he was DEDICATED to this fic

header by: @fairytopea

okay so I feel like her main requirements for a dog would be: low-maintenance (due to her long hours at work), protective (one of her main reasons for getting one would be for her own sense of ease after one too many anxious nights deprived of sleep), relaxed personality-wise (she would one hundred percent not be able to handle an extremely energetic dog) and physically active (so she can jog w it)

I have consulted w a dog expert (aka my gf) about which dog would fit all these requirements, and his answer was a kangal, so let's go with that

when lee's first introduced to this dog at the shelter, she is... slightly terrified KDJDKDJ listen, she can barely handle a child, so seeing the first kangal, a huge, intimidating dog, is enough to have her blinking hard at the photograph, gulping LMAO

but, it is, however, the only dog that really fits all of her desires, so she's introduced to three of them, which really just consists of her standing awkwardly next to each. she doesn't know what qualifies for the "clicking" the staff keeps swearing by, and just watches each dog she's introduced to from a tentative distance, observing it carefully. the friendlier one moves to approach her, which leads to her stepping away, lips pursing in embarrassment when the staff member laughs

eventually, she's introduced to a rescue named jasper, who was recently given up. like the other two that came before him, his size is formidable and has her slightly shifting at first sight. but, he doesn't make any move to come closer. he keeps his distance, watching her just as carefully as she does him

after the guy standing by her whips his head, back and forth, between them, he says, "okay, this might be a match"

and that's how, after way more paperwork, screening and procedure than she anticipated, lee winds up up with a dog

totally underestimates how much of a commitment it is on her end. she's calling the trainer whose number was given to her nearly everyday, asking a string of confused questions as to how to handle this or that LMAOOOO

as selfish as it sounds, she had only really desired the dog for protection purposes -- she didn't expect that she'd actually need to put so much work into bonding w him DJSKDJSK

because jasper is already trained by his last owner, she essentially has to re-establish those already existing skills by going on walks with him and trying out commands in different places. in addition to this, she needs to play games with him. in all honestly, she's not really thrilled at the idea at first. sure, an animal might be easier to socialize with, but that doesn't make the task of it any less draining on her, someone who'd infinitely prefer to just keep to herself

ensue the next few weeks, where lee gets up an hour early every morning to walk with jasper through the mass of trees surrounding her forest. in her pocket, she carries treats, and a note scrawled with directions she had written during her phone call, with things such as: for "look at me" command, hold treat in front of face, then try different places, then different situations, then do it holding finger between eyes

she seriously wonders if this is what it's like to raise a kid LMFAOOOO. she feels a tad silly guiding jasper, never having been one who particularly enjoyed teaching -- when she has, it's been for intellectual reasons, rather than the position of power, so having nothing to teacher jasper but such basic commands is a bit out of her league. expect her to be extremely particular about everything, repeating the trainer's words in her mind as she helps jasper sit by moving her hand w the treat and marking on her calendar when she should start trying to slowly remove the treat from the equation and use the commands in different settings

and that's when the first bolt of something, tenderness, shoots through her. the first time she doesn't give jasper the treat, her stomach tightens in acute sadness at the sight of him expecting it. when he manages to successfully follow her directions, she tries to be a bit more enthusiastic in her "good boy" and head pat, which are usually done in her typical flat tone and light, barely there touches

combine this w boundary training, and she feels like a full time mom LMFAO

when she slowly stops actively training with him, sleeping in instead of spending the daily hour with him, she's surprised at just how... off her day feels without it

I think the first few weeks he spends guarding her house, she's wracked with anxiety for him. what if someone harms him? she knows kobble is gone, but apparently intensive therapy hasn't been enough. not only is she still afraid for herself, but now she feels accountable for anything that happens to the dog. with time, she's able to manage the anxiety better, forcing herself to stay in bed and do breathing exercises rather than repeatedly wander onto her porch and worriedly look for jasper's large form (yes it takes many days for her to not immediately jump at the side of his large form emerging from the trees)

it takes her a while to see their bond as anything beyond... professional (her coworkers laugh right at her face when she uses this phrasing LMAO). the walks, the playing catch, it's really just for the sake of getting him accustomed to her commands. aside from that, she doesn't really... interact w him unless it's necessary, like when she feeds him or when she pats him solely for the sake of helping him with commands

but, every now and then, she feels this care and worry for him. when the weather starts getting colder, it makes her uncomfortable to see him asleep on the cold, hard ground. she knows he's built for it, and probably barely senses it with how large he is. but, still...

cue two weeks later, she's waking early again to build jasper a dog house (yes I'm convinced lee is good w woodwork and yes I'm projecting)

when he first goes into it and curls up, she can't help but feel warm satisfaction roll through her, happy to know she contributed to his comfort the way he does for her

it all gets more heightened when one night, a car drives too close to her house, and the flashing lights and lingering driver has her breaths shortening, stomach seized so tightly with panic that she drops her gun to the floorboards of her porch, watching the lights slowly disappear into the trees with tear-filled eyes

she flinches when jasper gets close to her, her breathing still heavy and shaky, stomach curled with nausea. he keeps his space, watching her with levelled eyes. when the intentional breathing isn't enough to anchor her, she raises a trembling palm up, tears slipping out when he raises his head to it and nuzzles softly. feeling the softness of his head, the heavy presence of him next to her, helps her ground herself

seeing him be so in tune to her feelings, and so willing to help her, cracks the professionalism in her, and she finds herself vulnerable with him for the rest of the night, tossing on her winter jacket and smoking on the porch while he sits next to her on the steps. when her tears subside, she remains there for another hour. for months, she had feared coming out onto her porch at night, but now, it feels a bit easier

the next day, when she returns early from work, she watches him for a few seconds from her car, sound asleep in his doghouse. he's still intimidating, still larger than life, but something in her softens at the sight

lee starts spending several evenings a week w him, sitting out on her porch and looking through case files, listening to her walkman or just smoking (she finds out that smoking next to a dog is not good, so she now keeps jasper at a distance when she does)

it's nice. he's calm, levelled, a lot like her, so it doesn't feel overwhelming to be in his company. and it's just nice to have some company at all. she's always liked the solitary nature of her home, but since kobble, more and more moments have occurred where the isolation of her home feels like a threat. and jasper, in his own way, helps, a lot

and it turns out he can be pretty... fun company, honestly. the more she bonds with him, and the closer they get, she finds herself loosening up with him. it's been years, probably a decade, since she's actually played in the most literal sense of the word. with the obligation of training out of the way, and her own comfort having bloomed with him, it becomes easier to eventually forgo the embarrassment of running around the trees and playing frisbee with jasper.

she feels like a kid again, and she surprises herself one day by actually laughing when jasper misses catching a frisbee

and when she trips, he immediately runs to her, ducking down to check on her, and it's almost laughable how embarrassed she is to have tripped in front of a dog LMFAOOOO

weeks later, and the two of them are going on her morning jogs together, racing each other through the snowy trees, and at least for a few moments, lee can forget her troubles

she realizes just how attached she is when it's raining hard one night, and, pierced with sympathy, she calls him in and spends the evening with him sitting at her feet while she sits at her desk and does work

she also totally lets him sleep in her bed that night, and though his formidable size is really awkward to adjust to at first, she winds up spending the entire night immensely comforted by his presence, waking with her arm tossed over him while he watches her over

she leaps back at the sight of him LMFAO but trust me, in a matter of months, her and jasper have several little sleepovers hehe

[saltyr3mix]

ONE MORE FOR THE ROAD: Winnie HCs?

BITES YOU BITES YOU BITES YOU

Ok- so ok- I'm excited I'm gona go off prompt a bit because he's my second favorite character in the show and it's wonderful.

One thing I'd like to state for the record, in most of my aus he's actually a good guy. Or a good man in a bad situation. There are a few exceptions. Yluid Winnie is definitely not a protagonist and he's probably committed a lot of violence in the hero au- and you know what!

Because my Winnie head cannons change depending on the au I'm just going to talk about all my different versions of him!

To learn from the tragedies: what? He's in that au!? Yes<3. Not until book two but he comes into play. Sara basically has to build this like full out summoning circle and bam! They have Carlos back on their side. But not fully. I haven't decided where he lies in terms of memories yet but I know he's going to be a pain to everyone no matter who's side he's on.

Shattered dreams: SD LORE IN 2024!??! yes. Sd!Winnie is so special to me guys he commits unethical sciences, he falls from the celling, he tears out peoples worst insecurities, he hates him self, he has the largest ego, he's just a guy, he's the biggest threat these guys have ever faced, he'll try to be nice to one set of kids but the second they get out of hand give up trying. He's so- just imperfect. If I were to have finished the fic he would have eventually been swayed over, likely for a silly and dumb reason but ends being a super valuable ally in the final battle and what not.

Swap au: NOT the shuffle au, the skating in silence one. It's never mentioned but in that au Carlos takes the place of alison. I find this to be the funny thing known to man. Imagine, your savior, your light as your dying,the one who's guarding and protecting souls with an incomprehensible power. AND ITS CARLOS NICHOLSON. even funnier if wiatts the main protagonist and nearly died only to have his grandfather next to him like "get up kid! We still have work to do! I didn't raise you to die you idiot! Are you going to save your Twink or not?!!" Idk I find it just- harious I'm sorry -

I will make them create my world: he's uh- he's the Brights royal advisor of War. (Did I do this just so I could make Owen a general......no- shut up- don't look at my other hyper fixation)

Buried masks: ohhhh this one's fun. Uhm. You'll see him around. He's a doctor in this au. Really good friends with Litho, they like go golfing together. Knows the main cast pretty well. Buddies with Eric, teases founder trio and wiatt, gives the kids 15 dollar gift cards on their birthdays and has the best Halloween candy, he always gets full sized candy bars. Uhmmm yep. And he doesn't do anything morally wrong or questionable at all ever. Nope why would you say that about him. Accusing him of horrifically preforming inhumane procedures on kids in order to save his grandson?!? Pfff- what- ha! Never...... Don't ask where the supplies keeps going.

Superhero au: haven't fully developed him yet, he's a retired villain. Rich and has beef with Damien. (Everyone has beef with Damien in this au.) Probably the owner of whatever company Wiatt works for and is sort of in the background that people go to for funding or just to reference past villains. i think his powers had something to do with cameras. haven't entirely decided because it hasn't come up yet.

Steven Universe au: Hesssssssssss participating in evil experiments again. Hes Saras pearl but also just, actually enjoys the messed-up sciences and doing the test and experiments. he likes being her assistant. he likes the power that comes with it. he just helps her with the smaller finer details on her works and so, Acrimony's and Damien have a lot of trauma form in. He probably played a role in some of the triplet's issues as well just from being mean. but overall he's just sort of a threat to get around.

Super-Secret Oc Au/ Mine and Dangers au: So consider chat, Carlos Nicholson and Carly Gale forming a toxic, slightly dependent relationship after a lot of stuff goes down. Did Winnie kill her loved ones and then....not tell the truth about it? yes. Did he also by accident end up providing her comfort and helped her grieve though it? yes. he tried to help her. she just.....kept asking questions in the wrong direction and now their both upset because Winnie was finally able to have someone not hates him and understand that his hand is being forced here. Anyway, Carly stole his house and now lives in the abandoned arcade building and uses Winnie to help get information on how to handle the dreamworld situation. (The only reason Carly isn't Dead is because Vivian is instead) Winnies relationship with Norman in this au is also fantastic and deserves a shout out, i nearly wrote out a one-shot scene from this au about Norman and Morris and angst between them but it ended up spiraling into Norman and Winnie Nonsense and then i didn't want to write the original idea anymore because they were too silly. AND HIM AND DOT. OH BOY I DONT KNOW IF I WANT TO GET INTO THAT RIGHT NOW BECUASE THATS ITS WHOLE THING AND YEAH. I'll let Theater explain that one if you're curious. You'll live until i die, and other canon typical one shots: i try to follow canon for these but i think i make him ever so slightly meaner, but not in a...like evil way? more in a game host or like a dramatic way. he uses more insults than actions. but is also just not able to be taken seriously at points. One of my favorite times ive ever written him is a scene in YLUID between just him and ben and he has one single piece of information he needs, but physically cannot help himself from being as cryptic and threating as possible to the point it nearly completely backfires and the thing hes trying not reveal gets revealed. the best way i can describe this interaction is Winnie rolling three nat ones in a row while trying to have a conversation and its hilarious. Also in that au he does actually get defeated and beat up! he is so pathetic <3

Anyway, i think that's Winnie. that's my guy! i have a key chain of him and a friend....Void, who was the asker of this wonderful comment. Painted him for me that i have hung up in my room because i think he is one of the funniest failures of all time and he has a special place in my heart for that.

[olderthannetfic]

re people regretting transition or detransitioning.

My little cousin experimented with gender for a bit in her late teens before deciding that she was a cis girl after all. The experiment involved clothes shopping, a haircut, and asking her friends to call her by different pronouns, and lasted for maybe two months tops.

Some of my our family members are generally supportive of that, and view it quite reasonably as a young person exploring various options before finding herself. The dumber and meaner ones, on the other hand, say she detransitioned and is proof that trans people are just playing around and that anyone teen who transitions will come to regret it.

And then they turn around and say they're happy for me and proud of my transition. Because I didn't get anything figured out until I was well into my twenties, and I didn't get to start HRT until I was past 30. These family members are actually dumb enough to think it's an age thing, and that my having to suffer for decades was somehow a good thing.

If the "worst" that happens as a side effect of trans acceptance is a bunch of teenagers getting dumb haircuts and wasting a few hundred bucks on clothes they won't wear again, I don't see how that's a negative side effect at all. That's just what teenagers do.

--

Grrr. Fucking assholes.

A lot of the "Oh noes, what if you regret it?" stuff comes with a huge side of "What if your WOMB is no longer able to make BABIES after you POISON yourself?" nonsense too. I see plenty of transphobia of all sorts in all directions, but the specific fretting over transition is so, so, so often about how every uterus should be used as a baby factory. People say this shit with a straight face who would never support that idea if you forced them to face the subtext of what they're saying.

There are, genuinely, rare people who do regret it, but it's way more common that someone either experiments with entirely reversible things or takes hormones for a while and then decides to stop taking hormones without actually characterizing it as "regret" themselves.

It's usually other people imposing that narrative from the outside, aside from rare cases where there was some level of coercion to do medical procedures the person was never that into in the first place (e.g. transitioning in order to be legally allowed to change pronouns on ID or getting a boob job at a partner's behest—a thing that afflicts cis women too).

I remember a friend from school years ago going "What if I'm wrong?" and even at the time, I was like "But what if you're right and then spend 20 years waiting to be sure while being miserable?"

In this, as in most other big life decisions, I think you should take your best shot, not second guess yourself, and if you change your mind years later, you can deal with that then. But yes, so many people think there's some sort of virtue in decades of misery as you either can't figure out what's wrong or know what's wrong and are denied access to medical care.

I questioned my gender in my teens back in the 90s. I just didn't do anything that made other people particularly aware of it at the time and ended up deciding that gender is a big lie and who cares. This is probably more common than people think.

The main upshot was that I ended up reading an incredibly dense book of journal articles on third gender roles that was a bit of a headache for a 14-year-old.

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: dhr_advent (part 5)

dhr_advent 2023:

Teach Me How To Fall by sodamnrad - M, one-shot - raco forces offers to teach Hermione how to play Quidditch for the Ministry's holiday game.

Keep It Like a Secret by PacificRimbaud - M, one-shot - He regards her with interest, cool as the ice in his G&T. “What do you want?” On close inspection, he's a bit deadly. It's the combined power of self-regard, an open ear, and a cunningly tailored suit. Hermione wants— “An expiration date would be nice.” She suctions up the watery dregs and signals for more. “Let’s say I want . . . a year. Exactly one year of monogamy without the possibility of further commitment."

In Want of a Wife by ambpersand - E, one-shot - Through a few forced breaths, Hermione manages to settle her nausea well enough to slide out of bed, squinting at the bright morning light. The braid of ribbons follows her left hand as she pulls the curtains closed, a giant knot of silver and gold that won’t shake free. While she works on unwinding them from her hand and arm, she checks the papers, finding the signatures she hoped they would be too drunk to remember to complete. Unfortunately not. There they sit, sloppy and side by side. Her’s a little cramped and rushed, his a little too large and loopy. Her lungs squeeze tight. They actually did it. At some point between the first glass of nettle wine and the last bottle of Dragon Barrel brandy, it must have stopped being a joke. She’s still wearing her dress from the night before, which fits the messy carnage that surrounds her. It’s wrinkled and a bit twisted around her waist, but at least it’s not tossed on the floor with the rest of her marriage licence. The only thing missing is her apparent husband.

sweet dreams of holly and ribbon by LovesBitca8 - E, one-shot - The war against the Dark Lord continues on, but Hermione is stuck at Grimmauld Place with the world's most annoying house guest.

From the Journal of Hermione Granger by Catmint and Thyme (Languish_Locked_in_L) - M, one-shot - Only one bed, rainforest edition. In which Hermione Granger goes on an expedition to Costa Rica in search of a magical (probably mythical) poinsettia with her insufferable colleague, Draco Malfoy, who she can't stop drawing. (It's not creepy, he just has good bone structure.)

Not What It Looks Like by eveningstruggle - M, one-shot - A hot, panicky hurt begins to throb inside her chest. This doesn’t make sense. Is it some type of horribly misguided practical joke? Revenge for shutting him down a few months ago? Or—is it a parting gift? A “so long and thanks for the memories, now I’m off to fuck someone else?” ”What—” Her voice croaks. She clears her throat and tries again. “What the fuck is this, Malfoy?” Confusion creases his forehead. “They’re photos of you.” She’s five seconds from bolting back through the Floo. “I can see that. Why have you given me two dozen terrible photos of myself for Christmas?” Or: Draco gives Hermione a Christmas gift.

Sounds Worth It by RoseHarperMaxwell - T, one-shot - The first time Draco seeks her out at the hospital is a crisp October day, which happens to be the six-month anniversary of her divorce. “Hello,” says Hermione, glancing up from her paperwork. “Draco. Can I…help you?” He’s well put together, dropping gracefully into the chair across from her desk without invitation. “Yes. I’m in need of medical attention.” “I see.” Hermione does not, in fact, see. This is quite unorthodox. There’s a triage procedure and rarely does it result in patients coming to her office. “Tell me more.” Five times Draco fakes an ailment as an excuse to visit Hermione, and one time he doesn't. D/Hr Advent 2023 🎄

Penguins, Pebbles, and Other Reasons to Pursue Unemployment by mightbewriting - T, one-shot - “Is that…shit? On my desk?” Granger doesn’t so much as look up from her mountain of teetering parchments at Draco’s question. Her hair: frazzled. Her frown: ominous. The energy in their shared office: frantic. “Penguin shit,” she says. “Specifically, it’s penguin shit.” [In which a penguin-themed mishap at the Ministry nearly costs Draco his sanity.]

O' Little Town Of Balsam Grove by inadaze22 - M, one-shot - Chaos comes to the town of Balsam Grove and wrecks Draco's plans for the perfect proposal.

Most Sincerely Yours by morriganmercy - T, one-shot - Harry has been certain for months that Malfoy is up to something. When Hermione finds a seemingly out-of-character Christmas card, she can’t help but agree.

Chaperone Chaos, Mistletoe Madness: A Yule Ball Tale by scullymurphy - M, one-shot - Professors Malfoy and Granger hate each other. They're also chaperoning the Yule Ball, where Erotogenic Mistletoe makes a timely appearance.

The Path Carefully Tread by HeyJude19 - T, one-shot - The nature of families could shift; shaped by time, trauma, arguments, and reconciliations. She saw how Draco warred with that now, how he battled his instinctual, youthful desire to please his father with his resolve to sever ties with someone who had hurt him gravely.

A Gentleman's Guide to Courtship and Caregiving by ChaosAndCrumpets - T, one-shot - An accident involving a quidditch bat has Draco Malfoy wishing tragic and irreversible misfortune on Blaise Zabini. But he'll leave St Mungo's with far more than just a healed nose; a newly acquired Godmother, an affinity for mince pies, and an inconvenient attraction to a certain Healer, to name just three.

Seasons of Liberation by Misdemeanor1331 - E, one-shot - Unmoored after the murder of his parents, Draco seeks stability in the Muggle world. The woman he pays to anchor him has an agenda all her own.

dhr_advent 2024:

if you ever want to be in love by Wanderingfair - E, one-shot - “How did you two meet?” Rolf Scamander is nice, companionable. She likes him for Luna. She doesn’t correct the implication as Draco slips his hand around her waist. She wants to say, we’re partners. We’re friends. We’ve saved each other in a million tiny, life-altering ways. “Oh, we’ve met in every universe.” A love story told through the vignettes of healing over many Decembers.

In Pursuit of a Marshmallow by Zeebee3 - E, one-shot - The room bursts into catcalls and whoops, but Hermione just blinks down at it. Charcoal? It doesn’t immediately compute. “You don’t seem surprised,” Malfoy drawls. “Have you been naughty this year, Granger?” Oh. Those bastards. --- Or, where a new Weasley's Wizard Wheezes product is featured at a holiday party.

There's an Art to Pining by charingfae - E, one-shot - Hermione yearns. For love, for success, for contentment. Above all, she yearns for something—or someone—she'll never have. — Malfoy is everywhere. He’s in the way she takes her tea—black with a splash of honey, like he does. Etches and echoes of sweeping tendrils of silver-blond strands falling across his forehead, shadowing his cheekbones beneath the harsh afternoon sun. Long fingers that drum against his thighs when he’s bored. His sharp wit comes out on pub nights, and it’s a delight to see it turned on other people. To laugh with him. He looks at her sometimes, in those moments, and the secret smile he gives her is nothing short of earth-shattering. 

Wrapped in Ribbon by morriganmercy - E, one-shot - Unity is the theme for Hogwarts’ first-ever Eighth Year, including a reprise of the highly-acclaimed Yule Ball. Draco gladly makes himself a shining example of the effort, though, to be fair, he’s mostly only interested in uniting with his co-Head, Hermione Granger.

Sojourn by inadaze22 - M, one-shot - On a cliffside in Iceland, Hermione finds what her subconscious has been searching for all along.

Prince Draco Underground by PacificRimbaud - G, one-shot - Of her lover’s many faults and arguable virtues, he's never late. So when 8 o’clock runs into 10, 12 ticks into 2, and Hermione's third note of rationally tempered concern flies unanswered back to sender, she panics. “He's probably sick,” says Harry. “You both work in a hospital. The place where diseases live.” “When has he ever,” says Hermione, “failed to advertise a twinge?” Outside the Malfoy Manor gates, the grass is green. Inside the fence— “Go home,” says Harry gravely. “Go to hell,” Hermione replies. And because that is that, they plod up the drive and strain open the door to a landscape of ominous white.

A Warm Drink by Catmint and Thyme (Languish_Locked_in_L) - E, one-shot - Hermione long ago learned that the only way to take care of a problem is to deal with it herself. That's why she's determined to hunt down the vampire assaulting students at Hogwarts. Or, what's 8th year without a bit of blood drinking for Christmas? A Vampire Draco AU

Earmuffs and Other Unusual Delinquencies by ChaosAndCrumpets - T, one-shot - A Factual and Unexaggerated Account of the Numerous and Undignified Crimes of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. As told (in part) by Theodore Nott.

icebreaker by ninepiecesofcrait - E, one-shot - On his way out of the office for Christmas break, Malfoy accidentally grabs the horrible present Ginny gave Hermione instead of his own, unraveling Hermione’s plans for a quiet, relaxing holiday in a single, vibrating moment.

Christmas (Cracker) Chemistry by ambpersand - E, one-shot - “Christmas Crackers?” Malfoy asks, holding one up, then looks at her with a surprisingly warm expression. “Cute.” Hermione fights a blush. They’re no ordinary Christmas Crackers. She had George and the staff at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes whip up a special surprise for the Ministry—except she explicitly requested they be red and green, not gold and silver. It’s not that big of a deal. She’ll get over it. Tomorrow. Malfoy busies himself by helping to distribute several tubes on each table without request. It’s easy, working with him in a silent tandem. They’ve done it a few times on shared projects, holing up in her office or his, and quickly fall into an easy rhythm. Every time she sneaks a glance, he’s conveniently looking elsewhere. At the final table, he shakes one close to his ear. “So what’s inside? They’re light.” She hurries over to him. There’s few enough people around that the surprise won't be ruined if she gives him a peek, and the prototypes were perfect. “We’ll have to be quick.” A sly smile pulls at his lips, and he holds one end towards her. “On three?”

Smaller Acts by Molivier - M, one-shot - “You know,” she says, her voice a little too tender, a little too honest, “I’ll allow you to be rude to me. Just once. Tell me how you really feel.” He hesitates, his gaze dropping to her lips and then back to her eyes. “I don’t think you’d like it.” “Try me.”

In the Air There's a Feeling by eveningstruggle - T, one-shot - “Still using caffeine to bribe the local business owners into liking you?” “Doing my best.” He held up his copy of the card. “Has any person ever looked less happy about Christmas than this man? His idea of nice decorations is probably a fake tree and some dusty plastic garland.” “I opened Crooks’ Book Nook four years ago, and in all that time the DABA hasn’t done anything except collect annual dues and turn down permit applications for new benches. I almost don’t want to participate, just on principle, but that’s a lot of money.” “If you ask nicely, I’ll share some of it when I win,” said Malfoy as he turned to leave. Hermione shot two fingers at his back. or: Hermione and Draco decorate competitively.

Shag Lists, Wish Lists and Other Miracles by greenflowerpot - not rated, one-shot - Hermione Granger joins the Ministry after a year abroad. Draco Malfoy becomes her friend, then she learns something about him that makes her not want to be his friend, then she plans an office Christmas party. - OR: Draco Malfoy, reformed rake simp, holiday edition.

Eves and Ends by HeyJude19 - E, one-shot - Draco does not care how he landed in this situation. Whether curse or coma or hallucination, he has no desire to know what has trapped him in his present circumstance. There’s nothing at all stopping him from reliving Christmas Eve with Granger for the rest of time.

This fest is ongoing.