#it's not from my own brain either. i learned this from another workplace

[nothorses]

the quietest I have ever seen a group of kids is when I took a large group of chaotic, high-energy 7th graders who were previously running screaming around a dark parking lot hucking glow sticks at each other and gathered them around a campfire for another teacher to read a picture book to them, and explained that the story, the storyteller, and the story-listeners were all a part of the storytelling.

usually I hear (and have tried!) questions like "how can we be respectful of the storyteller?" or "how can we be a good audience?", which usually get the same responses: sit down & shut up. can't imagine why that's not super compelling to a kid!

but taking a moment to frame it as if the story is kind of alive, and the storyteller is bringing it in, and they, as listeners, are helping in that process... suddenly they got it.

it wasn't just "sit down and shut up", it was about how they can engage with the story while it's told: thinking about questions they can ask, connections to their own lives, how they feel about different parts, how the story is changing them, and what they're thinking about or imagining as they hear it.

and it was about how that's part of the story itself! it's important work, receiving a story. it's crucial, and it's active.

I just think about that a lot.

[andaboop]

Hello I humbly request more information about your versions of Bing and Google if that's cool

Where to begin with those two! Firstly with each other, Google doesn't see Bing as anything but a workplace acquaintance, even as a rival in some circumstances. Bing cares about him even if he does get treated like he's lesser than his companion. Bing was human before he became an almost full android and doesn't recall much of his previous life while Google was built to serve as an assistant in anomaly laboratories before he has a run in with Dark and is employed by him from there. Google would hold the fact that Bing was human against him in order to avoid any kind of connection with him. Bing would still try in spite of Google's reservations about him, getting him to open up in rare occasions or if he ever witnesses him having intense psychological or physical malfunctions, those being the rarest. That's the gist of what they have. Google is more of a solitary figure or tries to make himself out to be that way. Deep down he does want connection but due to his lack of "humanity", it's much more difficult for him to understand the complexities of emotional connection. He is taken advantage of by Dark because of this, knowing he can pull him in with the promise of loyalty and Google knows it but is helpless to do anything about it. He wasn't ever human and has no one else he can rely on. Bing on the other hand is a sweet guy. He had a grim beginning but was given another chance with the wonders of biomedical engineering aka becoming an almost full android. Bing would come to learn about Google (and in turn Dark) through the same anomaly laboratories Google worked in and was fascinated by him. He saw Google as a potential friend that also shared being androids but had no valid reason to be around him until he was given the opportunity to work for Dark. It's not a pleasant job but being around Google and getting to know the others made up for it. While Bing has a job secure with Dark, acting like a backup in case Google is out of commission, he travels often and is less of a recluse than Google is. When he's away, Google gets a lot more flack from Dark, even for the smallest things that usually wouldn't be a problem. Bing would usually be there to soften the blow or defend Google but when he's not there, it's another story. Dark holds Google to an almost impossible standard and while he is able to maintain that incredibly well, he is unfortunately not a perfect being. Dark isn't a perfect guy either but one thing he is, a cruel bastard. He'll have his own deep dive one day. That's all I have for now, hope it was clear enough. It also helps whenever I wanna explore the dynamic to have it written out. These asks are great btw keeps my brain going :D

[nicohverse]

Little Lion, Baby Bea...

(Art by @kiwifie !)

Who's curious about this sweetheart? This cute lion has been the topic of lots of discussion lately- For somebody with so little going on in her head, she sure is mysterious! And what little she does have going on in her head is wonderful- It's not a pejorative, the girl's genuinely been lobotomized. Luckily, it's not quite as bad as it sounds- She was pretty airheaded to begin with. The part of her brain she lost made it so she can't do magic to hide her animal features, and gave her a lot of cognitive difficulties.

"It's like... There's these things I know I knew how to do. And I don't know it at all anymore. I can't get it back. Even if I try to learn it again. It's scary... Like being trapped in a box, but the box has windows."

A girl who's new to adulthood and trying hard to assert her ability to be one in the face of her struggles, Bea might be cute and small, but she certainly won't tolerate being infantilized. She's living with a great caretaker who never underestimates or overestimates her ability- She's accommodated without being condescended to, and wants to reclaim sweetness and enthusiasm for herself while asserting her autonomy!

Some of Bea's struggles are pretty personal to me- About a year ago, I was still recovering from a lot. I'd only left an unsafe-for-me work environment a few months prior, hadn't yet hit a full year since 'recovering' from a covid infection that added to the workplace's exacerbation of my health conditions... I spent quite a while in an incredibly difficult cognitive space, actively fighting against brainfog...

Some stuff I haven't really talked about to anybody before- I could hardly make my brain remember anything I'd learned in college that hadn't been applied on the job since then. It was frightening and embarrassing to be without the information I spent so much time and money on. A lot of things I 'knew how to do' became muscle memory only- I could do them when I was doing them, but couldn't conceptualize how to do them if I sat down and thought about it. I'd find thoughts about things like solving a math problem would get stuck in my brain on loop without either progressing to the next step or going away. It was so difficult to deal with that I just about gave up on ever getting another job that utilized my mental skills without associating gross-motor movements.

But now, I'm better enough that I'm looking into getting more applicable credentials in my field, applying to data entry and medical record jobs again after recently losing my position as an art studio assistant. (Though worry not- All funds given to EF2 will be used for EF2) And better enough to be processing those feelings through Bea- A character who's incredibly precious to me. She's never going to 'get better' the same way I have- Instead, she's going to be a conduit for the idea that even if I hadn't recovered, I still would have found some kind of success. One of the many things Entropic Float is and always will be about is autonomy for the disabled community, to every possible degree that I have time in my life to portray.

If you want to help me portray that, and avoid reaching into my own recently-unemployed pockets to make Entropic Float 2 the best game it can be, the best property for Bea to find her joy in, consider supporting our stretch goals.

[fuck-you-too-world]

You know what went through my head?

They use that money for all of their collage and made their own workshop/workplace/to help get to profession they want so they could maintain the hidden protection squad from government and society while also doing normal yet absolutely-not-normal-at-all shit. But also? Danny is in the middle the heart of the class, so while GIW got taken over by the students and only had the mode science and open-minded old members around. They base most things on Danny, especially on what is normal and not because lets be honest.

Danny : *doing random stuff that no human should be able to do or even know about and just go against not only fate but everything. Also become baby ancient and adopted by several ancients then kinda reform the previous king by accident, total accident*

I think I got another power? Cool! *not knowing the changes he went through and proceeds to continue his day like normal*

Amityville : *absolutely no idea they're all liminal enough to be counted as no longer human but still think they're human*

oh yeah, that checks.

But with their records?

Attacked by Ancients that are basically Gods

Time travel few times and cause world mysteries

Got their town taken to another dimension

Have a portable portal slash their beloved teen hero

Also have a working portal that on the town's ghost Hunter's basement

Daily ghost attack

Fighting government organization

And some more with each other their own special story with different ghosts

They're all so densetized (is that the correct word? I dunno, correct me if I'm wrong) it just flew through their normal human scale and just...

.

.

.

Paulina working as Lawyer : well, since you not only get away with the crime that did to the living but also the dead

*flick her hand and some papers appear*

You will be charged and put on trial in Infinite Realm because your victims are suing you and I'm their lawyer

Criminal : Wh- YOU CAN'T DO THAT! THEY'RE DEAD, THEY HAVE NO RIGHT-

Paulina "no one can win against me in an argument because I'm always right, except for the baby (Danny)" Sanchez :

Watch Me :)

An echo of scream was heard yet it sounds too much like that audio hallucinations you get on occasion that people ignore it.

.

.

.

Wes working as either a journalist or a reporter or even a detective : *Have boards and notebooks full of informations and blackmails and personal informations with pictures from stalking that'll put even Tim Drake-Wayne to shame (this could be either a crossover or DC being a comic but let's be honest, they'll enter the portal to find DC Universe because of a bet or to see who's right and who's wrong about whether or not Tim Drake was dating Bart/Kon or Both)*

Amityville : Ah, normal Wes behavior

Danny : Please don't start screaming people's secret, Wes :(

Wes : *feeling a bit offended but knows how bad he was* I know now that not all secrets need to be screamed at the top of my lungs or be told or shown as long as I know them and the bad ones got putted and served justice, I mature and learn! Also I said I was sorry, stop bringing those black records up!

Danny : Never >:3

Normal people/work colleagues : *seen a glimpse of Wes Book of Secrets/his 'conspiracy' board*

Mom, I'm scared... Please pick me up 😰

.

.

.

Kwan being a Football Coach : *has become a second coming of 'Kool aid man' that could rival Jack just with Brain and more common sense and social awareness*

Alright kids! Our training would be done on a camp at a place my friend (Sam being Brucie Wayne that done lots of charity just no persona, she has absolutely no fuck to give to people and sass people here and there just less angry and more refined in pissing people off in high society) owned because she's also our team sponsor.

*The plane they're boarding got hijacked by Sam haters/Opposing fanatics against her opinion or view*

Kwan : *barreling through people like a bowling bowl hitting its target and save the day without injury even though they have guns* Don't worry kids! I'll handle this, you guys just sit tight and enjoy the flight!

Students : *too stunned, awed and confused on what just happen but also had a new found fear, respect and admiration towards their coach*

Kwan : *mumbling to himself* I should probably be able to convert my team to believe in Phantom in this training camp, they'll be a good addition to the big family... With consent of course, conset is everything. *nod to himself*

Ugh, what am I doing? Why did I write this?? What is going on??? I was planning to just gave my opinion which I write in one paragraph only???? Why did it get to this????

Oh ancients, it's almost 5 and I have class at 9.30!!! I felt like I just snapped out from a trance, anyway I'mma go so hope whatever babbling I write made sense. Chaos~

Protective AU

Where Danny is protective over Amity Park and Amity Parkers are protective over Phantom, their only local hero. (GIW are now also protective over him after the identity reveal)

So whenever a foreigner visits Amity Park, everyone has a system to grab any info of who those people might be and what they wanted.

Phantom had no clue in this, even when his own family were a part of this system.

So when Jason Todd arrived at such a place cuz he found a similar energy to a Lazarus pit. He became curious and investigated and for some odd reason, Damien came with him and due to that, Dick also was with them.

When they arrived, the Parkers were all smiles and cheers. Welcoming the trio.

Parkers wanted to know their personalities.

And with the system, the Parkers found out that they were children of Wayne. And a hero too (Skulker is a good hunter, he's bound to know weaknesses and secrets).

The Parkers felt at ease since they were heroes too so they let them go but when a villain arrived from Gotham, [pick ur choice], and the batkids recognized such villain. They became defensive since from what they have gathered, Amity Park is way behind and out of touch from the outside world.

Batkids were worried so for a few days at night, they would follow the said villain and while they did, they noticed that there would at least one or two people walking around at night just far enough from the villain.

Then it happened, the villain was in the school. Recording live from his camera then make demands from the people who were watching. Not knowing that every kids at school are armed with weapons created by the Fentons and the GIW.

Safe to say that the kids were alright and Phantom had also helped out while the Batkids was still in place from their tracks as they saw the recording.

The kids were equally capable of fighting and synchronized well together like they had been doing this for years already.

[diamond-coral]

A Game

Summary: Tony suggests a game that you, the unfortunate intern, get dragged right into the center of: who can make a woman cum the fastest?

Pairings: all dark!: Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader, Thor x Reader, Sam Wilson x Reader, Tony x Reader, implied natasha x reader

Warnings: DUB-CON/NON-CON (oral: f-receiving, fingering, tiny smidge of analplay) VOYEURISM/EXHIBITIONISM, BLACKMAILING, OVERSTIMULATION. The characters in this story are NOT good people. After reading the warnings, your media consumption is your own responsibility!

As Stark’s party mellowed down and all the guests left, you, the unfortunate intern, were called over to the small group of five Avengers seated in a section of couches.

“Y/n, come!” Thor’s voice boomed.

“Y/n, come!” Sam mimicked, deepening his voice to make fun of Thor’s.

You approached them as the men snickered at Sam’s joke. 

“What can I do for you?” you ask, a fake smile plastered on your face.

Stark cleared his throat and raised a brow at you; a silent command. 

“What can I do for you, sir?” 

“A round of drinks please, and add this to Sir Barnes, Sir Rogers, and I’s drinks.” Thor handed you the flask of his Asgardian liquor and you accepted it, hiding the slight nervous tremble of your hands.

“Of course, sir.”

“Someone’s been learning their manners,” Steve taunted, and it took all your restraint to not snarl at him.

“Easy there, Rogers,” Stark interjected, noticing how your fingers clenched Thor’s flask tighter. “Pretty sure Barnes fucked the brat outta her couple days ago when he came back from that shitshow of mission in Bosnia. Got a lot of pent up rage there, Buck?”

“Mission just put me in a bad mood,” Bucky shrugged. “Either way, I don’t think I fucked all the brat outta her. Got anything left for me, doll?”

“I have nothing for you, you self-righteous, ignorant prick,” you spat venomously.

“There she is. I always love a challenge.” Bucky smirked at how your knuckles were turning white around the flask. “Now didn’t Thor ask you to go fetch us some drinks?”

You huffed, opting to bite your tongue rather than lashing out, and spun on your heel toward the minibar.

Three-months ago, you would never have imagined your internship interview at S.H.I.E.L.D to bring you here. Your interview had been conducted by Captain America himself, and just as things began to look promising, it was interrupted by a sharp knock from Tony Stark. Tony had brought Steve into the hall, leaving the door to the conference room open, and you could only sneak glances through the window of the room, hearing Steve whisper about how it was “a question of morality” while they both kept looking back at you.

You got the position, and the next day, Tony sat you down and gave you an offer.

The Avengers needed to be ‘taken care of’, as he put it, and you being a ‘stress-reliever’ would boost morale around the team. Most of the them never had time for the outside world (apparently saving the world was a big commitment?) and were rarely ever able to make lasting relationships. You could accept the position, be compensated monthy, and get to live in the compound, or you could decline, and walk away with your mouth sealed by the confidentiality contract you signed before the interview.  Something about S.H.I.E.L.D. work being linked to a lot of top secret information, meaning you weren’t allowed to speak any details of the job to outside parties unless you wanted to get sued for every penny you were worth.

You had been on the cusp of taking the second option before Tony mentioned your sister’s job as S.H.I.E.L.D. as an agent. She was half the reason you’d interviewed for an internship. A couple words from Tony about her possibly falling into a fatal accident on a mission, and you took the position offer in a heartbeat.

You almost overfilled the glass while getting lost in your train of thought. Setting down the bottle of expensive whiskey, you placed the last glass next to the others on the silver tray, and picked it up, gracefully yet begrudgingly making your way back to the small gathering.

“Y/n, finally. We were just talking about who here can make a woman cum the fastest.”

The complete utter bluntness of Tony’s words caught you entirely off guard, and you tripped over your own feet, stumbling in your high heels to keep the tray of drinks from falling before Sam reached an arm out to catch the tray and another arm to hold your hip and steady you.

You ripped yourself from Sam’s touch without acknowledging or thanking him, to disturbed by Tony’s previous words to do so. You began passing out the glasses of dark liquid. “And you’re telling me this why?” Your voice was flat in hopes of showing Tony you were completely disinterested in any plans he might have.

“Why, we need your aid, Lady Y/n,” Thor answered a little too cheerfully for your taste.

“I won’t be partaking in your little immature competition of toxic masculinity.” You crossed your arms and continued. “It makes it seem that women are nothing but prizes. Games to be played by boys as they fight over the highscore. Toys.”

“Aren’t they?” Steve cocked his head, eyes glimmering with amusement while a smirk painted his face. The rest of the men chuckled at his reply.

“I think HR would be shocked to hear that Captain America is being a sexist dick to a woman in the workplace,” you bit back, but your threat was weak and they all knew it.

“I think HR would be to busy writing a condolence letter to your sisters family if, let’s say, on her mission with Sam tomorrow in Russia, a stray bullet hit her,” Steve replied. A quick reminder at the stakes. 

Sam clicked his tongue and shook his head in mock sympathy. “Those darn Russians and their careless aim.”  

He abruptly pushed himself off the couch and clapped his hands together. “I wanna go first,” he declared.

“Just remember, you can’t use your dick,” Tony added. “Some of us don’t have super soldier serum enhanced fuckwands.”

“Please never, ever say fuckwand again,” Bucky said, scrunching up his nose. “Besides, the hydra serum didn’t do anything down there.” He waggled his eyebrows while elbowing his enhanced counterpart. “Don’t think I could say the same for this punk here though.”

Steve muttered a ‘shut up’ while the group snickered.

All while they compared sizes like a bunch of teenagers, Sam manhandled you onto the coffee table in the center of the couches. You let out a grunt as you were shoved onto your front, stomach pressed into the tabletop while your pelvis was slammed into the edge.

Sam kneeled behind you and brought up two fingers to your mouth.

“Get ‘em nice and wet for me, baby.”

The men around you went quiet, entranced as you reluctantly took Sam’s fingers into your mouth, sucking on them and swirling your tongue around them.

When Sam finally pulled them out, he looked back at Tony.

“You ready?” Sam asked.

Sam hiked the flowy skirt of your dress up your legs causing you to squirm and pathetically thrash; a desperate attempt at putting an abrupt stop to this stupid game.

“You’re on the clock.”

At Tony’s words, Sam immediately stopped your desperate attempt at worming away from him by catching you by the back of your neck and slamming you back down hard on the coffee table. Much to your disdain, the rough treatment made you wet, and that was the last thing you wanted them to see.

But when Sam pulled your lacy panties down, you could tell it was the first thing he noticed.

“Fuck babygirl, I didn’t need you lubing up my fingers, you’re already drenched,” he noted.

You let out a soft moan as Sam worked two calloused fingers into your pussy. Although they’re thick and long, they were nowhere near the size of his dick and you silently thanked whatever was out there that he wasn’t splitting you in half with it at the moment. Sam released the grip on your neck, moving to settle the hand on your ass before giving it a light squeeze and a slap that elicited another moan from you. While Sam slowly began moving his fingers- twisting, curling, and pumping them- he leaned over you, caging your body under his broad chest, to speak dirty words into your ear.

“Baby, you’re so wet right now, I think you like having them watch you.” Your cheeks burned in shame while he picked up the pace. “You want them to see how well-behaved you are for me? Want them to see how you come on my hand like a good little slut?” he cooed.

Slow pumps now turned to quick thrusts from his skilled fingers and Sam groaned as you fluttered around him.

“That’s it. You’re taking me perfectly.”

Twisting his wrist so his thumb could also strum your clit, Sam was moving so fast you’d easily mistake him for a superhuman.

“Yes, Sam, please,” you cried out, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“Uh-uh, babygirl. Wrong word,” he scolded, although his pace never slowed as his fingers brutally fucked into you.

“Daddy!” you screamed. “I’m cumming!”

You chanted those words, cunt clamping down on his merciless fingers. He gave you no reprieve, mercilessly thrusting into you, until you squirted, your release coating his hand and dripping down his forearm. Only when you were almost crying, did he finally remove his hand from your abused cunt.

“Now that-,” Sam stated, grinning while he stood. “-is how you make a girl come.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever Birdbrain.” You don’t have any strength to look at Tony as he speaks. “Give her a couple minutes before whoever’s next.”

Whatever the conversation was between them (you couldn’t hear it over the buzzing in your brain), it was much too short to your liking. The few minutes Tony gave you only felt like a few seconds before Bucky was getting up.

“Guess I’ll take a crack at it,” he announced, rolling his head from side to side.

“No one says “take a crack at it” anymore, old man.”

“Keep talking when your in last place, Sam,” Bucky quipped, however, his tone was still light.

You felt a metal hand on your hip before you were rolled over onto your back, now facing Bucky while your eyes pleaded with him.

“Please dont,” you croaked.

Bucky just scoffed, kneeling down between your legs and wrapping both arms around your thighs as he pulled you closer.

“Tony?” His hot breath fanned your pussy as he spoke and you inhaled sharply at the feeling.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Stark said.

Bucky wasted no time the moment the words left Tony’s mouth. He started by licking up from your hole to clit over and over, the lazy stripes already driving you wild. Letting go of one of your thighs to bring his flesh hand to your pussy, he pulled the hood of your clit back, pausing his licking to blow on your engorged bud.

“Such a pretty pussy, doll,” he murmured before turning his head around and speaking louder. “You guys seeing this?” 

He moved his head out of the way to showcase your glistening folds. A couple groans from the men on the couches had you trying to close your legs, but Bucky’s grip was like steel (especially considering his hand was metal).

“Wasting time Buck,” Steve commented and Bucky just rolled his eyes.

“I’m pretty sure I can still beat Sam and have time left over,” he scoffed.

Bucky directed his attention back to your folds, this time, diving in right away. He still had the hood of your clit pulled back as he encased the bud with his lips causing you to writhe at the intense sensation. And yet, you were held down with practically no effort as he methodically played with you. Each time he groaned against you, you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, and by the time he started sucking on your clit, you were wrecked. Your hand found home in his brown locks of hair while he quickly moved his tongue back and forward on your sensitive nub that was trapped in the vacuum of his mouth. The coil inside you wound tighter and tighter, and suddenly, while Bucky began shaking his head from side to side, it snapped. Your clit pulsed rapidly while encased in his hot mouth, and you screamed, legs locking around his head while your hand held his head in place. He worked you while you rode out your orgasm on his face until you could barely move.

Bucky got up from his knees, grinning down at you, so weak, you couldn’t muster it in you to glare back.

“Now I think I really fucked the brat out of you,” he said. “What was that?” He cupped his ear. “Did I hear a thank you sir?”

“Thank you, sir,” you whimpered weakly.

You were so fucked out, all the next events were but a blur.

Thor had feasted between your thighs the same as Bucky but was more sloppy, although, your body seemed to love ‘sloppy’. His tongue was constantly lashing and worming around your clit, the wet muscle accompanied by lewd slurping sounds, and in record time, Thor’s suckling and licking had you tensing and building up so much that your orgasm felt like a waterfall crashing over your body.

Steve was just as methodical and precise as Bucky, also pumping his fingers slowly in and out of your pussy. He was sweetly slow, dragging out your pleasure to the point where you were begging him to come. His warm tongue dragged across your sensitive cunt, while another hand reached up to grab a breast and pinch a nipple. You felt like your body was on fire. It wasn’t until Steve had inserted a thumb into your ass that he finally allowed your body sweet sweet release.

Your head span as finally collapsing on Tony’s floor, listening to the muffled voices above you.

You didn’t even register Stark’s words as he announced Thor had won and Steve had come in last. You barely even heard Steve’s defense that he was just enjoying himself too much in the moment.

Although ten-minutes later you had a somewhat sense of clarity, after hearing their conversation, you wished you were just unconscious. Even better, dead.

“I’m tellin’ you man, I made her squirt. She definitely came the hardest with me.” Sam’s voice rang.

“Dude- she was literally grinding against my face and holding me in a headlock with her legs,” Bucky argued.

“I literally made the brat beg to cum,” Steve inserted.

“I’d say that by bringing her to release the fastest, it was most intense with me,” Thor declared, victoriously.

You were on the brink of tears as they talked about you. Until another voice cut into the room. A female voice.

“What do you boys think you’re doing?”

It was Natasha. Your head jolted up as you felt a glimmer of hope surge through you.

That glimmer of hope was quickly extinguished at her next words.

“Not inviting me to the boy’s party?” she scolded. “You think a girl might beat you by a landslide?”

Nat squatted down next to you, running a soft hand on your cheek.

“Well you’re right. I’ll beat Thor’s record and cut it in half.”

She began unbuttoning her pants.

“And I’ll do it while riding her face.”

[merakiui]

I was reading through your tags and you mentioned at some point the kazuscara roommates finding your onlyfans and I think I completely combusted—thus i present to you my brain rot of late: you attend the same school as them but you’re not actually friends, all you know about kazuha is that he’s the friendly regular at the cafe you work at, who makes polite conversation every now and then but otherwise is nothing of note. In reality he’s been stalking you for weeks ever since your first encounter, and is dead set on the idea that you’re this innocent, weak thing that needs to be protected (maybe he stepped in when you had a bad customer and your meek reply helped fester his delusions?). Scara, on the other hand, is only aware of your presence since you’re his favourite cam model that he recently found. (Since he’s a harbinger he’s probs loaded) Weeks of funnelling money towards you cause him to feel this unwarranted possessiveness, believing that since he’s been providing so much in your “relationship” that it’s time you reward him in turn. However, despite the unbridled interest they have toward you neither are aware of each other’s feelings for you— that is, until you happen to run into the both of them heading to your class. While both are known for maintaining their stoic masks, they’re friends for a reason— and instantly can tell the attraction their roommates have towards their own “lover”. After kazuha finds your onlyfans he’s certain that you’ve been coerced and wants to save you, while scara thinks it’s time that he’s stopped letting other plebeians look at his possession—so, despite their initial reservations, come together to form the ideal plan. When you find yourself waking up groggy in a room you don’t recognize, all they can do is look on with glee whilst planning their next course of action with their new belonging. They’re friends after all, and good friends share though, don’t they?

This is v long srry lol you can ignore this ofc!!

AAAH, ANON!! YES!!! <3 I couldn’t resist writing more on this concept. orz They make for such a terrifying pair when they work together!

(cw: yandere, stalking, nsfw, implied kidnapping/drugging, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, delusional thoughts, savior complex, implied violence)

What if Kazuha and Scara were just acquainted with one another and actually became closer through their mutual obsession with you? Yes, they’re roommates and ought to get along because they’re living together but they haven’t exactly clicked yet. They talk every now and then and know little things about each other. Nothing too special. They don’t really hang out outside of their dorm either, what with their class schedules being vastly different. And Kazuha’s always out of the dorm doing who-knows-what. Most of his time is spent at a café, where he’ll write and read and stare at you while you work. On the other hand, Scara prefers to stay inside if he doesn’t have a good reason to go out. He likes his alone time. Although he has enjoyed going to the library every now and then to study.

So maybe they need to find some common ground. Maybe they need a push in the right direction before they get closer.

Kazuha likes to stare. Talking to you is great, but he worries he’ll say too much and then he’ll be a nuisance, or you might not want to talk to him at all since you’re working. But you always regard him with a warm smile, happy to scribble his name on the plastic cup because you remember him. Because you recognize his familiar face and soft, gentle eyes. He’s the one who saved you from that rude customer, after all, and he’s a polite regular. Why wouldn’t you know him? You might look like you can handle those types of situations, but what Kazuha saw that day was something entirely different. You were nervous—so soft-spoken and scared. He absolutely has to protect you from those kinds of people now, doesn’t he?

And he does exactly that. He’s your second pair of eyes—your valiant knight in shining armor—who sees and hears all. Sometimes he goes to the café with the intention to simply watch over you and make sure no one’s bothering you. He can recall one time when a customer was speaking rudely about you because her drink hadn’t been prepared in a ‘timely manner.’ In reality it’s impossible to make a drink within a few seconds, especially when you’re already preoccupied with making another customer’s drink. She must’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed, or maybe she’s just a hateful person in general. You didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of such fiery insults, though.

Her eyes just can’t see your perfection and therefore she does not deserve to see out of them.

Kazuha’s willing to wrestle with all of this darkness if it means you’ll stay safe, oblivious, and pure. You’re like a defenseless kitten, unable to protect yourself from the scary world. He writes about you a lot in his journal; you’re his muse—someone who constantly shows up in poems and short paragraphs where he tries to describe what your dream date might be or what type of wedding you’d prefer. Things get darker the deeper you delve into his writings, where you’ll find entries in great detail. Kazuha writes a lot and he doesn’t even mean to. He just has to get all of his thoughts on paper before they abandon him and he’s left with emptiness.

Everything you do is pure; you’re almost an equivalent to a holy being. Your smell is pure. Your body is pure. Your actions are pure. Your smile is pure. Even when you’re on the verge of crying from harsh customers or when you’re turning down a confession, you’re still pure. And Kazuha likes that about you because it’s special. There aren’t many people in his life who are completely pure. He’s been through a lot of rough things and has seen firsthand how impure people can be. It’s only fair that he gets a chance to protect purity itself.

He might have some impurities, but that doesn’t deter him from watching over you. As gentle and unassuming as he is, there are times when even he loses his composure. Not many are privy to these dark emotions of his. His smiles are sharp and venomous and his eyes fill with a gloom so dark it can swallow you whole. You’ll never see this side of him; he won’t allow it. Instead you’re treated to his sweet, calm side, where he feigns perfection in hopes of catching your interest.

As for Scara… He doesn’t really care about Kazuha in the beginning. He’s just someone he has to live with. It’s not a big deal and as long as he doesn’t try to make lots of pointless conversation everything will be okay. He prefers the peace and quiet, considering he’s acquainted with people who are far from peaceful and quiet. Scara’s relieved that Kazuha leaves the dorm so often because it gives him an opportunity to watch his favorite cam star’s most recent video. He’s your most loyal follower—someone who’s paid lots of money just to have access to the highest tier of rewards and such. He even got a private video where you addressed him and moaned out his name with lustful thoughts of him. Having lots of money comes in handy.

When he finds out that you go to the same school as him, he’s a little shocked. He didn’t expect you to be so close. You’re practically within touching distance. If only he knew your schedule. If only you were in one of his classes. It’s really annoying that he only knows your online presence and not who you might be in your personal life. The last thing he’s going to do is consult Childe, that popular athlete who knows literally everyone in the school for whatever reason. Surely he knows you. But he’ll die before he ever asks Childe for a favor.

Scara loves you out of every other cam model because you’re different. You’re not just trying to get fast cash. You’re genuine. You listen to your subscribers and their feedback. You do your best to improve and do even better streams than the previous ones. All of your hard work is overlooked by the other fools who watch your streams, but it isn’t overlooked by him. Scara appreciates your attention to detail and the way you’re able to hook him with your breathless voice alone. You’re very skilled at what you do, so it’s only fair you get paid for it.

But buying your services isn’t enough. It’s not a real relationship, but it certainly feels like it when he buys preferential treatment. Private shows, special requests, odd favors—you do it all because he pays for it. But this relationship isn’t going to be one-sided forever. You’ll have to pay him back in full eventually. Scara likes to think he has patience and that waiting is fine. It gives him more time to plan his next move—to figure out what he should do to finally have you all to himself. So that those private shows he watches through a screen can finally be real.

Scara finds the journal sitting innocently on Kazuha’s bed, its maroon cover and maple leaves pulling at his curiosity. He might not know everything about Kazuha, but he’d recognize this journal anywhere. His roommate almost always has it on his person. Scara wouldn’t be surprised if he slept with it. To say he’s curious would be absolutely correct. He can only wonder what Kazuha writes in that thing. Perhaps it’s just notes for a class. That’s what anyone would think, right?

Scara opens it and flips through the first few pages. They’re normal for the most part. Just a bunch of haikus and other useless scribbles. When he skips over some pages, he starts to find things that are far more interesting than poetry and doodles of cats. He finds the majority of the journal is comprised of information. More specifically, there are facts and other knowledge about you—the cam model he’s been obsessed with ever since he stumbled upon your onlyfans. He reads through as much of the journal as he can and instantly learns so much: your address, your roommate, your workplace, your friends’ names, names of any potential exes. The list goes on and on.

Scara doesn’t have anything against Kazuha. His first impression of him wasn’t anything groundbreaking. He thought he was a pushover at first. But now that he knows what this journal holds… Well, it sheds an entirely new light on his roommate.

Just days before Scara took a peek inside his journal, Kazuha discovers your secret online life. He snoops through Scara’s laptop when he steps out, having left it open and unlocked. He’s just trying to find what could have caught Scara’s interest, as he’s almost always glued to his laptop on specific days at specific times, with his headphones on and his gaze unyielding. He doesn’t intend to find the file of one of your private videos—something that was meant only for Scara’s eyes.

He clicks on the video out of interest. He’s not sure what he was expecting to see, but it definitely wasn’t this. Kazuha sits there and stares at the sight before him. You’re dressed in skimpy lingerie and you’re muttering the dirtiest things while coating your fingers in lube. And your hands are stroking a thick toy and you’re addressing Scara and you’re lining it up to your hole and— He shuts the laptop before it can get even more explicit than it already is. He’s so conflicted, fraught with a betrayal so strong it weighs his heart down.

Why would he have this sort of video on his laptop? Did you give it to him? Did he make you do this? Are you in danger? Are you still pure?

Kazuha can’t kill on campus. It’s way too risky and he’d be one of the first suspects if Scara’s body is found. Besides, it’s not like he has the full story. He doesn’t know whether or not Scara’s done something that’s worthy of death. You could just be in a tight spot. He knows how easily you give in when you’re under pressure. Maybe you’re just doing this because you feel like it’s the only thing you can do. Not to worry; Kazuha will save you before Scara can ruin your purity with his twisted fantasies.

They confront each other when the time feels right. Kazuha struggles to keep a smile plastered to his face for the sake of politeness, while Scara holds in his raging temper so that he can bear some semblance of cooperation. Neither of them is happy to hear that the other went through their stuff, but they force themselves to make up because a more pressing issue is at hand: their connection to you.

Kazuha says he’s your secret admirer. Scara says he’s in a relationship with you. There’s no way you’d ever date someone like Scara—Kazuha knows this for a fact. Yet he falters at the confidence in Scara’s tone. That can’t be the truth, right? Despite this, Kazuha still strikes up an offer: If they work together to get what they both want, they’ll be unstoppable. With Scara’s riches and his influence and Kazuha’s charisma and clever thinking, they can easily get their hands on you. Of course this means they’ll have to share, but it’s not a big deal when they’re already in so deep. They both know the other’s secret; now they’re swearing to keep it in the pursuit of having you all to themselves. And luckily Scara agrees to the deal, but that doesn’t give Kazuha a reason to lower his guard.

However despite how well they work together when it comes to planning the kidnapping and actually executing it, they both have their own reasons for wanting you. Scara wishes to make his relationship with you a reality—to toss aside the screen that once held him back and finally do all of the things he could only do in his dreams. Kazuha seeks to protect your fragile heart, lest you crumble under Scara’s intense way of doing things and cling to him for salvation. You can’t do those sorts of things with Scara; he won’t allow it. Your purity is meant for him and no one else.

But sharing is caring and some have to learn that the hard way. It definitely brings Kazuha and Scara closer together, even if neither of them will admit it. If they look past their desires, they can be friends. And soon enough they’ll have to accept this new friendship if they want to avoid any unnecessary complications.

However there are times when they’ll cooperate in order to do things with you. They’re a packaged deal you can’t get rid of.

[soukouku]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐓 ――  ​

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒 ――

full name.  osamu dazai nicknames / aliases.  suicide maniac, twin dark, honestly people call him a lot (usually insults) evidence being this size. 5′11 age. 22+ but verse dependent zodiac.  gemini spoken languages.  japanese, english, russian, conversational korean, he’s constantly learning new ones, he picks them up fairly easily !

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 ――

hair color.  dark brown eye color.   brown skin tone.  fair body type. slim and lanky, was previously borderline malnourished voice.  filled with exuberance, constantly fluctuating tone and pitch dominant hand.   ambidextrous, prefers right posture.   fluctuates, usually proper and perfectly straight, slouches when lazy scars. his body is more scars than untouched skin. some of the bigger markings are the long scars on both of his wrists, and the scar running across his neck - both from suicide attempts. he has a long scar that runs diagonally across his abdomen from an altercation when he was fifteen with arthur rimbaud, and various others cover his arms and legs. tattoos. none birthmarks. none most noticeable features. the bandages he is never seen without

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃 ――

place of birth. yokohama, japan hometown. yokohama, japan siblings. n/a. parents. [redacted] and [redacted] haha

𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 ――

occupation. detective, previously mafia executive current residence(s).  yokohama, japan / verse dependent close friends.  verse dependent but oda sakunosuke (deceased), ango sakaguchi, all agency members relationship status. single, verse dependent financial status. while in the mafia - extremely wealthy. now, middle class. sometimes paycheck to paycheck driver’s license. HAHA NOPE this man cannot drive for his life but he sure likes to try criminal record. officially - 138 counts of conspiracy to murder, 312 counts of extortion, and 625 counts of assorted fraud, among other crimes. unofficially - those numbers are much higher, especially homicides vices.  drinking

𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ――

sexual orientation. bisexual preferred sexual role. dominant switch turn-ons. marking, battle for dominance, choking, control/loss of control, restraining/being restrained turn-offs. being degraded or humiliated, asking personal questions while doing the deed he’s just trying to get some love language. physical touch + quality time relationship tendencies. random surprises and gifts - showing up at partner’s workplace or planning special dinners, very loud about his relationship/proud of who his partner is. that being said it is EXTREMELY rare for dazai to enter a relationship as it takes a lot for him to feel such strong emotions for another

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒 ――

character’s theme song. asleep - the smiths :) hobbies to pass time. he reads sometimes, drinks, meets new people, has hookups, when alone with his thoughts they consume him - often making it so he really isn’t doing much at all except for disassociating mental illnesses.  there’s a lot to unpack here - it deserves its own post, he shows symptoms of either sociopathic or psychopathic tendencies implying he could be somewhere on the aspd spectrum, major depressive disorder, unspecified trauma-related disorder. i would like to do a whole psychological evaluation on him so these are subject to change left or right brained. LEFT. phobias.  the mortifying ordeal of living none self-confidence level.  too confident, like seriously someone please knock down his ego and confidence levels it is too high

tagged by: @kyberborne forever ago, libby i give u the biggest kiss tagging: @celestiel ( finny my man ), @feralspent, @parieha ( any !), @iarets, @vampdoctored, @bookmcde, @sigmadolos, and you !!

[spencerspecifics]

Okay yes hi hello this is me gracing y’all with my writing Bc I’ve had this idea forever!! This is going to be multiple chapters, here is chapter two. Enjoy :)

~

Technical Analyst (ch.1)

~

Short description: Spencer works as a technical analyst alongside Garcia and Kevin, though he hasn’t ever really worked directly with the BAU team, he works more in filing and researching. But when Garcia goes on vacation leave, and Kevin is busy with his own work, Spencer steps up to help- and that’s when he meets Derek Morgan.

———————————————————————

Spencer hated technology. He hated computers, tablets, cell phones, he hated it all. He hated everything and anything that isn’t on printed onto paper. So how the fuck did he end up as a technical analyst- whose entire job was based around proficient use of technology? In very short, budget cuts.

He originally worked in domestic terrorism, though he never fit in well there. He was a good worker, fast and able to do a lot. But his coworkers never let him feel included. He would hear them make plans without him, ignore him in conversations, only reaching out to him for his great memory to help solve a case. It was dehumanizing. He was just a brain for them, nothing more.

Then, the budget cuts came. And he got removed from the team, as he had the least amount of hours in the field- which wasn’t his fault. The rest of his team always forced him into the research position, so while they were off chasing the bad guys, he was stuck researching with a computer he doesn’t trust.

So yeah, he wasn’t an asset to them. But the bureau knew a mind like his in general was an asset, a fountain they’d like to keep a tap on. So they made work for him. It was mostly menial. He would assist with intense cases when necessary, but even then it was just research. No one knew what he would be like in the field, because they never gave him the chance.

Spencer tried not to think about how unfair this was, how stupid and purely tedious it was. He would rather be working as a T.A. at this point- which wouldn’t even be that bad. At least he gets heard and seen then.

~

Spencer’s normal day consists of going from his apartment to the bureau building, to directly into his cramped little office that was about the size of a jumbo walk in closet. A nice size to store clothes, but not so nice when you have to have a person, a desk, a chair, three computer monitors, two filing cabinents, a trash can, a fax machine, and a printer all crammed in there.

Yeah, his workplace was entirely too small. Thankfully it didn’t impact his ability to work, though, most the time Spencer finished his work quickly; and would end up reading. Spencer didn’t venture out from his office that much at all, (he always brought his own coffee so he didn’t have to worry about bugging the field agents.) the exception to leaving his office was to go across the hall to Penelope Garcia, his only sort of friend that he had at work. She was always so bubbly, it was a breath of relief for him to go see her- she reminded him of all the positive things, he definitely couldn’t do the job without her.

Not to mention, she had to train him from starting point zero. Spencer hated technology, after all. So he never made an effort to learn coding, hacking, how to re-route and track things. He knew nothing like that, hell, he struggles with his cellphone turning on sometimes.

Thankfully, she was able to get some sense into him, and he was pretty good at what he could do. Though he was still working out python coding, he was enjoying the learning process of using technology.

That being said- he still despises technology, and he hopes that once he leaves the job, he can throw away his very unnecessary but work mandated laptop.

~

Spencer made his way into the bureau building, messenger bag slung over his shoulder awkwardly as a thermos of coffee was held tightly in his right hand, while the left one reached for the door handle to enter. He got in no problem, security didn’t stop him anymore, thankfully. Though in the beginning, they did check him constantly, verifying that he belonged there. After all, he looked young, and he definitely didn’t belong in the bureau building. But then again, Garcia didn’t look like she belonged there either.

Security just made presumptions about people, he shrugged that thought off as he made his way to the elevator. Thankfully no one else was in there, he pressed the button for floor six, and the elevator doors shut.

The elevator whirred to life, taking him up to the sixth floor slowly. Thankfully today was a slow day, there wasn’t really any important case he had to work on. (Not like he ever really got given cases to work on, anyways.) So Spencer was hoping he would be able to finish his work quickly, as he had some books he brought with him that he wanted to read and re-read before the day was finished.

The elevator dinged, a signal it had reached its necessary location, before the doors finally slid back. He stepped out, taking his usual left down the hallway immediately. Forward through the glass doors was the bullpen with the agents who worked in the BAU. And god, what he wouldn’t give to be a field agent, working as a profiler. That’s why he wanted to join the bureau, and yet he was so close- his office only down the hall. But he was simultaneously so far, not being trusted by all the bureaucratic bosses, who didn’t know if he would be a good agent to warrant being put out into the field.

He hated it, but he tried not to think about it as he reached his office, Garcia’s door was shut, she was on vacation, or so he had heard. Spencer pulled on his office door, entering with ease as he moved into the cramped workspace.

Spencer sat his messenger bag down onto his desk, sitting himself down in his office chair and taking a minute to breathe in and out before continuing. Spencer hated this job. It was mind numbingly boring, he was so close to quitting. He knew the bureau would fight tooth and nail to keep him, however, but if that was the case, why not give him a better job- he didn’t want a nicer office, he wanted to help people.

He sighed, today was just one of those days where he was extra mad about not being treated right, he tried to ignore this thought process as he got ready to work; setting his coffee down by his computer mouse to his right, setting his messenger bag onto the floor next to him, pulling off the scarf that was wrapped loosely around his neck and hanging it over the back of his chair. Now he was ready for the day.

~

Penelope didn’t mean to forget to tell the team that she was going to be gone- she assumed they knew. At least Hotch did, all the rest of them knew was that she was going to take a week off to relax, they just didn’t know when (she had too many vacation days saved up, so she had to use them or lose them. She chose the former.) It was just a total brain fart moment on her part, so while she decided to hit up her favorite stores, spas, and websites; the team had no idea, they assumed she was holed up in her office, hacking away at whatever she normally does.

This would only show itself when Derek needed her, calling her office number and it going to voicemail “Hi, this is Penelope Garcia with the FBI and I’m too awesome to come to the phone right now, if it’s an urgent matter please call Aaron Hotchner-“ yeah, Derek hung up his phone by then, deciding to call her personal cell.

“Hi, hot chocolate!” She answered cheerfully, the sounds of people talking and laughing could be heard in the background, which Derek took note of. “Babygirl- your work phone sent me to voicemail, where are you?” Garcia was quiet for a second, before practically blowing Morgan’s eardrums out; “Oh- damnit! I knew I was forgetting something!” “Care to fill me in?” He asked her curiously, “Yes-“ Garcia sighed before continuing on, “Sorry. I’m taking those vacation days Hotch told me I had to use or else I’d lose.”

“So you’re not at the office.” He stated, “That I am not, I’m sorry I forgot to tell you! But my pal Spencer Reid should be covering for me.” “Spencer Reid?” Derek asked, unfamiliar with that person, “Why not kevin?” “Ugh, I don’t know- he’s doing that thing where he’s actually busy with other work for once. But Spencer is good, I taught him everything he knows- and I’m pretty sure he’s got three PhDs, so yeah, you replaced one genius with another- so don’t worry!” “Okay, well...” Derek took a second, “You sure I can ask Spencer about everything I’d ask you?” He meant work related, within being able to hack and get everything that Garcia would be able to get. Because Morgan knew that her talents were very special, and having someone else replicate them seemed near impossible, so he was a bit hesitant to trust someone new.

“Oh yeah- he’ll find everything easy peasy lemon squeezy. Don’t worry yourself, sugar.” “Okay, thank you mama. Have a good week of rest.” “I will! I have an appointment for a spa, and oh my god Derek- they do a seaweed wrap thing, isn’t that crazy?” “So you’re gonna get rolled up like sushi?” “No! Ew! Don’t compare me to raw fish!”

The phone call continued for a bit after that, as Derek wasn’t in an urgent matter. It was just a filing day at the office, before he hung up he asked where Spencer was, though; “Oh, he’s in the office next to mine, across the hall!” Garcia told him happily. Derek had thought that was a storage closet, but he didn’t tell her- instead thanking her and hanging up.

Now to pay this mystery computer whiz a visit.

~

Spencer was in the middle of re-routing a bunch of information that Garcia needed to send to her boss, Aaron Hotchner. Spencer didn’t share the same boss, since he was technically working in a more basic division of the bureau, he instead answered to Strauss- which was a royal pain in the ass, but he always turned his work in on time, came in when needed, he had never had to face her wrath yet, thankfully.

Spencer typed away, trying to get all the data to get to Hotchner as quickly as possible so he didn’t have to wait, though it wasn’t crucial the work did get completed right now. Spencer just liked to get things done.

A knock sounded Spencer out of his methodical typing, it wasn’t Garcia, obviously. And he knew Kevin was in a meeting right now with some IT people over his keyboard acting funky (Kevin could fix it by himself, but office administration forced him into talking to IT.)

“Yes?” Spencer asked curiously, turning around in his office chair, because he had no clue who it was that could be interrupting his work. The door pushed open, revealing a tall, classically handsome, muscular man carrying some files in his hands. Fuck, that would be Spencer’s luck. An attractive guy swooping in and making his IQ of one hundred and eighty seven go down to sixty in two second flat

“Hi- you Spencer?” The man asked, stepping forward into the cramped office. Spencer stood up instinctively, “Yes, I am. How can I help you?” The man handed the files over awkwardly, “I’m sorry, I usually ask Penelope Garcia for this but she’s on vacation and she referred me to you- I just need these put through VICAP, I’m not too familiar with the system as a whole, ‘cause Garcia usually handles it.”

Spencer nodded, taking the files and looking through them briefly, there were nine of them. “I’m sorry, I know that’s a lot of work to do... I’m sure I can figure it out myself-“ Derek started, doing his best to apologize. Little did he know Spencer could get this done within an hour or so.

“Oh no- not a problem at all, this should only take me about an hour, two at most, but that’s a generous estimate.” Derek raised his eyebrows, “An hour or two? Garcia usually finishes up this many files within three or four. How are you able to get this done faster than her?”

“I have an eidetic memory, which helps me recall anything that I read. I can read these files once and put all the information into VICAP knowing it’s accuracy is one hundred percent without having to double check, that cuts down my speed by half per case file.”

Derek looked confused and shocked. Yeah, Spencer could understand why. “Sorry, um. That’s a weird explanation, but it shouldn’t take me as long. I’m assuming you’re out in the bullpen?” Spencer asked him, putting the files down atop his keyboard.

“Yeah, I’m Derek Morgan with the BAU.” Derek finally introduced himself, reaching his hand out. Shit, this was Derek Morgan? Garcia has mentioned him a few times to Spencer, saying he’d love him “oh he’s so handsome, but so sweet and loving, like the hottest man on earth- I’d marry him in a heartbeat, but we don’t roll like that, Y’know?” That’s how she described him once, and of course Spencer remembered that word for word. Spencer felt like it was just his luck, that his only work colleague was best friends with a man so attractive that his mind isn’t working fully.

Not to mention he was in the BAU, Spencer guessed he was, since Garcia was their technical analyst. But still, it would be just his luck to know this insanely attractive man was part of the team he wanted to belong to so bad. Spencer wasn’t sure how to respond as he kept his composure. After all, yeah, Derek was attractive. But they probably wouldn’t speak again after this exchange. It wasn’t worth Spencer thinking about him, or how Garcia described him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t shake. But it’s nice to meet you, I’ll find you once I’m done. If you need anymore help, feel free to let me know.” Spencer told him, looking back at the files on his desk as a distraction away from this hot guy that was just standing so calmly in his office, as if Spencer ever had any visitors into the cramped space besides Garcia and Kevin.

By the time spencer looked back up, Derek’s arm was back down by his side. “Okay, thank you.”

~

Derek was surprised by their exchange, to say the least. How did he not know about this genius before? How was he not more well known, a memory thing, three PhD’s- that would be a useful asset? How come he was hidden away in a closet sized office? He had to know more. Even if it was nosy and stupid.

Normally, he’d call Garcia and ask her if it was about an employee. But in this case, he couldn’t. And he couldn’t go to Spencer, that would be weird.

So, he did the next best thing. He asked Hotch.

~

He knocked slowly on Hotchner’s door, hoping he wasn’t going to tell him to mind his business and not ask about employee facts when they definitely were irrelevant.

Derek was smart though, he figured out a foolproof way to play this. So when Hotch said, “Yes?” He came in, starting his plan into motion.

“Hotch, where’s Garcia?” He asked him, as if Derek hadn’t immediately checked up on his babygirl when he couldn’t find her. “Oh,” Hotch started, setting a file down that he had been looking over, “She took some vacation time.”

“So, who am I supposed to go to for computer help?” Derek asked, “Well,” Hotchner started, matter of factly, while he reached for a thin, unopened file on his desk. “We have a new guy helping us. Kevin’s busy with helping the child abduction unit reset their computers, as well as he’s in an IT meeting right now, so we have..” Hotch stopped, looking down to read the name off the file; “Doctor Spencer Reid. I’m sure he’ll be just as good.”

“Hotch. No ones as good as Garcia.” Derek pointed out, Hotch shrugged. “Maybe not. But this guy has a glowing personal history- and Garcia told me she taught him everything he knows.”

“What’s his personal history?” Derek asked curiously, stepping a bit closer but still trying to play nonchalance. “You know I’m not able to disclose that. You can go ask him for yourself.” Derek sighed. Of course Hotch wasn’t gonna tell him shit. He should’ve expected this. But sue him, call him hopeful. He was hoping he could’ve gotten some information on this mysterious doctor.

~

Derek made his defeated way back to his desk in the bullpen. And Emily, whose desk was directly across from his, immediately noticed his slight annoyance at Hotch. So she asked in a hushed voice as soon as he sat down;

“Did you get yelled at by Hotch?” Because in her mind, that was the most logical explanation that made the most sense. Derek just shook his head as a response, “No,” he clarified, “I was asking about our Garcia fill-in, and Hotch wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“Garcia fill-in? She’s gone?” Emily asked confusedly looking back to the hallway that led to Penelope’s office, as if she’d magically appear. “Yeah, but just for the week.” Derek explained, “She’s using those vacation days she had saved up. And Kevin isn’t our standby, ‘cause he’s busy. Instead it’s some new guy.”

“Who?” Prentiss asked, this time she was curious. And as if on cue, Dr. Spencer Reid came through the glass doors, and into the bullpen, carrying Morgan’s stack of files.

“Him.” Morgan pointed back simply as a response as he waved Spencer over.

~

To say Spencer felt out of his element by being in the BAU bullpen was an understatement, he felt like a fish out of water. Like he was suffocating and everything around him was too much.

He purposely avoided the bullpen, first reason being because he didn’t have any work with the BAU. But the second reason was he knew if he stepped in, he’d be more upset that he couldn’t be on the team. And the last thing he wanted to do was make his job worse for himself.

But, this experience was an outlier. And though Spencer can remember almost anything and everything, he planned on doing his best to purposely forget all of this. Every last detail.

He wasn’t going to let himself remember how there were field agents with real life guns holstered at their sides, how they were all sitting casually, looking over cases and drinking coffee, how they had the title of SSA (he only had SA, which he still was bitter about.), and then how at a moments notice they could fly away in a jet. How astonishing their work is, how jealous he is.

But Spencer entered through the glass doors nonetheless, looking around quickly before seeing Derek wave him over. Derek was sat at his desk, talking to a woman whose head was turned away from Spencer, all he could see was that she was his desk mate, and that she had black hair.

Spencer made his way over at a brisk pace, he just needed to get in and out. If he stayed for too long, he’d let himself remember to much.

“Hey, I- I got these into VICAP no problem,“ Spencer started as he handed Derek the case files, “But I noticed some errors on the date stamping on when you found the unsub so I corrected it myself, I hope you don’t mind.”

Derek shook his head casually, “Not a problem at all, I have a habit of messing that up. Thanks doc.” Fuck, ‘doc’? Spencer hadn’t been called ‘doctor’ in months, let alone ‘doc’. This was turning into a tailspin moment for him as he smiled awkwardly, feeling a blush rising to his face, he wasn’t sure what else to do. But he wanted to get out of there.

Thankfully, the woman with black hair introduced herself, as once he had rounded the corner to see Derek, he also saw her face. She was pretty, and had bangs. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Emily Prentiss.” She reached her hand over to shake Reid’s expectantly, “Oh I-“ Reid started, hands down at his sides, he wasn’t going to move them.

“He doesn’t shake, Prentiss.” Derek explained casually, “Oh,” Emily said, dropping her hand down, “Sorry! It’s still good to meet you, though. So I hear you’re covering for Garcia?” She asked Spencer, who nodded as he pushed a piece of hair back behind his ear.

“Yeah she’s taking vacation time, and Kevin is currently busy with helping the child abduction unit. So I’ll be you technical analyst for the next week or so.”

“I’m sorry, but how long have you been with the bureau? You look really young. I don’t mean to be rude I’m just-“ “You’re really asking him the rudest possible question, though, huh?” Derek joked to her, and she just smacked him on the arm lightly before turning her attention back to Spencer.

“No you’re fine to ask I- um, I’ve been with the bureau a year and a half, but originally I was on the domestic terrorism field unit.” He explained shortly, he didn’t wanna go into how he got on the bureau to begin with, or how he left the domestic terrorism unit. All he wanted to do was have this conversation end, or else it would just be that much harder to forget.

“Domestic terrorism? So how do you end up doing technical analyst work?” Derek butted in curiously, up until now it has been Prentiss asking all the questions.

Spencer stayed quiet for a moment, before finally responding, “If you need anything else, my office is next to Garcia’s. It’s been nice meeting you, Emily.” All he gave to Derek was a curt nod before walking out at the brisk pace he had entered with.

~

“Wow, well you fucked that up.” Prentiss spoke to Derek once she saw Spencer exiting through the glass doors, and turning down the hallway.

He sighed and rolled his eyes at her, “I’m just curious about him, can you blame me?” Emily just chuckled softly in return, shaking her head as she turned her chair around to face him more head on.

“Are you curious about him because he’s cute, or because he’s replacing Garcia for the week?” Derek blinked at her in surprise; “I never said he was cute.” He protested, more confused than anything else.

“You didn’t say it, but your body language did. You think he’s cute. You called him ‘doc’ and he almost blushed, and I have a feeling you’re gonna try and call him ‘doc’ again to see that same result- and you watched him the entire time, even if I was talking.”

“You think random bureau agents are cute all the time, what’s it matter?” Derek rebutted, trying to deflect and ignore, because Prentiss wasn’t making sense. Derek wasn’t attracted to Spencer, he didn’t think he was cute. Spencer’s level of attractiveness had nothing to do with his curiosity.

Derek did have a right to be curious for other reasons, anyways. This guy was replacing Garcia for a bit. It made sense Derek would wanna know more about the guy, even if he was or wasn’t attractive.

“Yeah, I find agents cute. But I don’t go asking Hotch about them.” Prentiss said with a smirk, Derek just shot her a glare. “I asked Hotch because he’s replacing Garcia. And I’ve not heard of the guy before.”

“Whatever you say, man.” Was all Emily replied with as she turned back to her work, Derek just rolled his eyes at her again before turning to his own computer.

Okay, so he knew Spencer was in domestic terrorism. It couldn’t hurt to just search it up, right? It wasn’t anything classified, he’d be able to see it, Derek hoped. He wasn’t meaning to be nosy, but he was just so curious and confused. He just had to know more.

———————————————————————

[bao3bei4]

kpop music videos that gave their fans sexual brainworms

OR accidental fetish pop and its fringe fanbase: meditations on gendered desire 

large warning here: i am someone who has been into kpop for the past 10 years. however, i have always been an extremely casual fan. i do write fic, but not rpf. if any of that makes you not want to hear me talk about kpop rpf (or you don’t want to hear about it in general), please keep moving.

anyway, obviously pop is corporate, soulless, and manufactured. but sometimes some truly bizarre shit gets past the committees and destroys a generation. these are their stories.

the video that started this is all is got7’s just right, released july 10th, 2015.

yes that’s all 7 members of got7 (one is out of frame) shrunken down for your viewing pleasure. they live in your room and tell you you’re just right. 

this sheer fetish power of this video is nerfed only by how utterly sexless it is.

they’re styled like and dance like this. it’s a totally unironic sendup of the seminal work that preceded it by four years, “what makes you beautiful” by the white kpop group “one direction.” the chaste energy of the whole thing makes you legitimately wonder if the good people at jyp have just never heard of microphilia. (during a dramatic reading of this piece, here a friend interjected seriously, “i think it’s korean culture not to talk about things like this, fetishes in the workplace.”)

it’s for the best, honestly, though because the actress in the music video is lee ja in, who was 11 when the video was shot. considering that the members themselves ranged in age from 18-23 at the time, i think it’s actually very impressive that we only have to cancel one. 

you receive absolutely no prizes for guessing that it’s jackson wang we’re sending to social justice prison. why’d he do this? no one asked. 

at any rate, got7 fans, or “gans” (they actually call themselves igot7s which is too twee for me), have much to think about here: all 7 very small members of got7 sneaking into their room, possibly weird age play, and jackson wang eating a very large cake.

let’s see what they actually did. 

twitter was actually very tame. the most charged thing i found was (unsurprisingly) from a bts fan (“ban”). i don’t actually know what it means, but i think it means something.

so, of course, i turned to the internet’s last bastion of free speech, where you can say whatever the fuck you want and receive cheers, or as the kids say, “kudos.” that is, i read fanfiction. 

for those of you who don’t know your herstory, i started my journey at Asianfanfics.com, where, at the time of writing, there were 12,067 got7 stories. i want to start this by saying that i think feminism won, because someone was paying real human dollars to advertise their irene/wendy fanfiction on a banner ad, which is quite possibly a win for women for everywhere. 

anyway, Asianfanfics.com’s search engine sucks ass (i kept on finding stories about different combinations of bts members worrying about their weight and being reassured by another member that were entitled “just right”), so i decided to look through all got7 stories written between july 2015 and december 2015. 

but, alas, not a single got7 microphilia fic to be found. 

also, some genre commentary while i’m here: i think the stories i respect the most are the “[y/n] is a ordinary girl who’s assigned to be got7’s manager! can she make them into superstars? as sparks begin to fly, can she keep it professional?” like fuck yeah that sounds like a kickass dating sim. it almost definitely already is one. i salute all the teens around the world for buying into the fantasy of dating a boy band member that they themselves sell you. 

however, i don’t think i respect the “[member a] and [member b] are mafia/jocks and nerds/college students/high schoolers” concepts. in my opinion, the whole fantasy of boy band member is their personas, their hidden real personalities, their celebrity, and the show business setting. find a different intellectual property if you wanna write about school. i even respect the “yugyeom drank girl juice [not estrogen] and turned into a sexy girl” story more, because at least it knows exactly what it wants, and also because they’re all still boy band members. well, band members. shout out to yugyeom. 

so, anyway, i looked elsewhere. at the time of writing, archive of our own only had 11,645 got7 stories, but it does have a better search, so it effectively has more. as an aside, i think it’s so funny, and mildly disorienting at first, that archive of our own separates the “music & bands” section from the “celebrities & real people” section. boy band members aren’t real people. 

the first problem i encountered is that only 20 or so stories were written within a year of just right’s release. absolute cringe gans. don’t you care about your boys? there were zero stories tagged “vore” or “microphilia” either. stories containing the word “tiny” that were rated either “explicit” or “mature” were all normal (“normal”) size fetishization rather than, you know, just right. 

however, i learned my lesson from twitter. i realized that what had happened was that watching this video had created sleeper agents, just waiting for their activation phrase. that activation phrase? bangtan boys. and yeah, lo and behold, there was one! unfortunately (fortunately?) it had nothing to do with got7, let alone just right, so i’m not going to talk about it.  

basically what i learned is that this video may have actually been very normal, and my brain has just been destroyed by being too online at a young age. 

however, there are plenty more videos in this genre. i present to you exo wolf, a banger from may 30th, 2013. i say banger, because in a comedic inversion, it’s actually fucking terrible. 

this video is pretty self-explanatory in terms of why it might induce certain responses. 

let’s get the formalities out of the way. this video, the member who’s getting cancelled is kai. he has braids in this video :/

also skating on thin ice: xiumin and chen. guys what was up with the whole exo-m thing? like, we’re gonna have a cpop subgroup, but it’s going to be part chinese members and part korean members that we’ll give a chinese name? unsurprisingly, the three exo members who have departed from the group are all chinese. they weren’t able to stand the microaggressions probably. but xiumin and chen remain uncancelled as an official chinese apology for five thousand of years of on-and-off invasions of korea. sorry guys that was kinda fucked up. our bad! 

anyway, there are basically three avenues for exo fans to take: 1) humans with wolfish characters (usually wolf pack dynamics, which even wolves themselves don’t fucking use so i think all of you should shut up. the real omega here is your brain), 2) werewolves (duh), and 3) wolves with human characteristics (i.e. standard furry fare). 

exo themselves let all these possibilities exist at the same time, superimposing them over each other, which is very woke and egalitarian of them. let’s see what the people decided. awoo.

Asianfanfics dot com had many stories in this vein. i feel very validated that this time i was able to correctly predict a fetish. that said, briefly returning to my earlier comment regarding alternate universes: it’s intense psychic whiplash reading about these vampires and werewolves, and going okay okay luhan is a vampire this that whatever, and then seeing the actual real performance photos the author attaches at the bottom of each chapter. bro i forgot these were actual people.... it breaks immersion so bad... i’m sorry, i just can’t believe that any of these dancing boys are having weird vampire sex with wings or whatever. 

archive of our own also had many stories in this vein. and i think there are some important difference between the two sites worth talking about. 

first of all, i think the higher engagement rate of archive of our own really enables some of the authors to get super bold. it makes Asianfanfics.com seem a little quaint, actually. like the wordcounts are waaay longer, for one. it’s uncommon for a story hosted on Asianfanfics.com to be more than a few thousand words long (most of them could easily be published in the new yorker), whereas some of these archive of our own people have written full length novels about if the members of exo were werewolves. i guess it’s just intensely demoralizing for the aff.com crew to get, like, three comments per story. 

the second big difference is that i’m noticing more common themes between the ao3 crew’s writing. like stan intertextuality, or plagiarism, or whatever, but they seem to be implicitly engaging with each other’s characterizations, storylines, and tropes. i think it is because they probably all follow each other on twitter. (i have been active on twitter for three weeks now so i am an expert on fanfiction twitter.) 

anyway, like not that i am a particularly big gan (cannot even list all the members), but these people seem to have reached a very specific consensus on how jackson wang, for instance, would react in a variety of situations that really surprises me? if i were to sit down and write a got7 story, i think the fuckboitude, the douchebaggery is a big part of his charm. not to be nationalist or anything, but for god’s sake, he’s from hong kong. but these people have him as very sensitive, lots of protective instincts. not that i understood what anyone on aff.com was doing with his character either, but they did all seem to be doing different things. “kudos” to that, i guess.

but: exo. wolf. i searched the “wolves” tag. this filtered the list down from 33459 stories to 52 stories. and the “wolves” tag was very different from the aff.com “wolf” tag. for the most part, aff.com liked stories where a member was a wolf (usually shapeshifting), feral boy, lots of y/n, lots of y/n dating a feral boy who is secretly a wolf. 

ao3 really, really, really likes alpha/beta/omega stories. sorting by the most popular stories, only five on the first page weren’t a/b/o. and one of them was a cis f!baekhyun story, so i think the intended effect was communicated. anyway, let’s talk about some of the themes. 

first of all, i’m disappointed. today’s bonus cancellation is of ao3 “wolves” writers. why the fuck are you drawing so heavily from european wolves?? there are wolves in asia!! you don’t need to keep giving their packs and ranks weird latin names. i will kill you. i hate italy. korea literally has a native wolf. i hate all of you!!! if you want to write caucasian wolves go watch that dumbass cw show!!!! my god. 

the second theme (the first one was white supremacy) is that no one wants to be a wolf who fucks. i think that we need a sex positivity movement, or something, for omega rights. like, are all of you doing okay? you’re queering misogyny by inventing new genders to oppress. another level to “no one wants to be a wolf...” is the “who fucks” part. there are so many consent issues. and not even in like, a sexy intentional way? in a “i genuinely do not think this author understands how their writing comes off” way. unfortunately i am sensitive to untagged sexual coercion, and there was a lot of that.

at any rate, the aff.com wolves were at peace with being wolves, very self-actualized. the ao3 wolves know that every minute they spend alive on this bitch of an earth is suffering, and also sex.

the third theme is the evolution of y/n. y/n, who, in a startlingly woke move for aff.com, is almost always korean, is a girl main character stumbling into love, boy bands, and wolves (i think it’s because aff.com is oldschool kpop fandom, so therefore heavily asian itself in userbase). but y/n is not the main character in ao3 stories. she is the straight best friend. in what i think is a hilarious move, ao3 authors invert the gay best friend paradigm to give the gay main character a straight girl as best friend. she usually calls him “a gay,” she has lots of thoughts on boys, and she knows his sexuality better than he does and before he does. (sidebar: if all the men are gay, and all the women are straight...)

there’s a really fun twist to this, though, because the main character is always a self-insert in fanfiction. but where older fanfiction like aff.com was at peace with this and literalize it via y/n shenanigans, modern fic writers who haven’t finished distangling their complicated relationship with wanting to be a man who loves other men instead simply imbue their main character with their essence. a little voodoo doll sehun, with a lock of y/n hair. 

this creates a deeply ambivalent relationship with gender in these stories. the main character is usually an omega, but one who resents being an omega. their body and its parts is usually described, if at all, as ostensibly intersex (except more offensively), but in practice, these discourses inscribe a trans body. (nb: i think cis writers approach this in a really fucked up fetishizing way, but i hope by this point we know that that goes without saying) it’s incredibly straightforward to read this, and see the underlying desires and fears in a heady cocktail of unfiltered writing that’s deeply confessional. you know when freud had people say whatever the fuck they wanted and figured they’d eventually free associate into releasing their subconscious into reality? yeah. 

okay, and while we’re on the topic, let’s talk f(x) nu abo, released on may 4th, 2010. 

this is a blitzy, maximalist, amped up dance hit that even has its own applause and cheers built in. it’s so fucking annoying, and i love it. 

this song is on here because the second most popular kpop a/b/o story on ao3 is called “nu abo” except it’s about bts. that’s offensive enough in its own right. write something about f(x) (702 works). when will women win the right to have their own self-lubricating holes.

anyway, even though f(x) is probably innocent in all of this, i’m still cancelling amber liu. 

for queerbaiting. who told her to look like ruby rose but hot? and for what? i’m also cancelling her for racism, but that wasn’t in this video. 

moving on to a double feature: vixx voodoo doll and vixx chained up, released november 19, 2013 and november 9, 2015 respectively. this is because while voodoo doll is more formative, i think the fans who write fanfiction today got into kpop more recently, so we are casting a wide net.

anyway, voodoo doll is jam packed with weird pseudo-medical imagery, blood, vivisection, bondage, puppet shit, femdom, sharps, piercings, asphyxiation, dollification, stabbing/penetration metaphors, and a really sick and catchy dance. god that looks like the list of tags on the a/b/o wolf stories. 

for this song, we’re cancelling you, for being way too into this song when you were 13.

vixx voodoo doll made me goth i guess! insert that pic of the your music saved me sign, except it saved me from getting into emo or pop punk probably. 

chained up, comparatively, is much more tame. the only thing of note about it is that there are around 10 completely different chokers and choker looks the members wear in this music video. also they’re singing about being chained up, but that seemed a bit obvious. 

we could argue that voodoo doll is gay while chained up is gay (derogatory); that voodoo doll is queer while chained up is gay; that chained up is a sensitive masterpiece of omega4omega sexuality. but we’re not going to. 

we’re going to talk about what voodoo doll fanfiction was and was not. first, Aff.com had plenty of it. however, i was extremely disappointed to see that much of it did not hew to the spirit of vixx voodoo doll. my god, the voodoo doll becoming the one preying upon you disgusts me. the fantasy of the voodoo doll is that of absolute power. the idea that the doll itself has agency? instantly breaks the fantasy. i’m even not into voodoo dolls and i’m offended. 

i also don’t think it’s part of the voodoo doll fantasy to release the doll. the only story on there that involved Y/N kidnapping vixx members like in the music video was unavailable because the author deactivated their account. come back qxeen what did you see. 

i think this got off track, actually, in that i was mostly wondering why these people imprinted differently onto vixx voodoo doll than i did. like i don’t think you’re supposed to actually like straightforwardly absorb the morals and aesthetics of music videos like it’s propaganda. however, it’s more entertaining if you do. i hope ao3 doesn’t let me down. 

out of the then 5932 works in the vixx fandom (the least out of every group so far, excluding f(x) because they’re women), 59 of them included the word “voodoo” somewhere. that’s 1%. i legitimately can’t tell if that’s high or not. 

after some more cursory reading through the first page of popular results, my big takeaway is that people watched that video and wanted to be tortured and enslaved? but not, like, in a sexy way where the torturing is the point, the way where the point is to suffer bravely and beautifully, to endure the world’s harms like jesus on the cross, and then to fall into the arms of a beautiful boy who may or may not be the one hurting you in the first place. 

there’s a certain predictability to these fantasies. like it’s not even masochism, which would be fun at least, it’s literally just like the desire to be beautiful, even as you suffer. and i do find that a little boring. (but, i mean, you can’t help being a woman!)

sidebar: on chained up. what’s interesting about chained up, is that most of the then 38 “chained up” works (likely because the video has no storyline) are about the members fucking during chained up promotions. no one’s ever actually chained up, but whatever. it’s fine. it’s fine! 

anyway, here, more than ever, the nature of desire is stripped bare. i’ve written before [elsewhere in the unreleased tshirt cinematic universe] on how kpop boys are, through fandom, re-formed as white, or more strongly, i guess, blank slates. it’s really interesting to me how so much of this dynamic of projection is enabled by the fact that they’re asian men. they’re infantilized, feminized vessels; they’re seductive, but childlike, oblivious to their own charms, so nonthreatening; they have uncontrollable desires for sex, they’re scared of sex. and above all else, white women submit themselves to them, insert themselves into them. basically kpop fans tend to rework old school yellow peril and emasculation fantasies to reenact their own desires, often white, often cishet on them. 

what i am saying is that there’s another thesis about forced feminization and its racialized subtext in here. obviously gender is a racialized construct to begin with, but like it’s fascinating to argue that when white women remake asian men according to their own desires, that is, into themselves, they (hopefully) unintentionally echo these old fears about the sexual order.

it illuminates, it seems, the underlying dynamic in the denigration of asian men, which is of course the fear of miscegenation. now, my breathtaking ability to make everything about me aside, miscegenation is interesting because it presents a racial synthesis, beginning to collapse and trouble the artificial designations of purity. so we make asian men into white women, and end up with an unsettling hybrid. i’m sure this has deep implications for me personally.

but i think we already knew that quite a few of these people had yellow fever, so let’s talk about the gender dialectic at play. basically, the above dynamic, of making men into women (whether literally, in body; or subjectively, in mind; or even relationally, as they are objectified into passive vessels for your desire) coexists with the ostensibly converse dynamic, in which the straight women desires to be a gay man. these aren’t necessarily in conflict: it could easily be that these are different writers writing different stories, that both are ways of expressing discontent with existing in a raced, gendered body, or even that the end product of both is the same.

it’s been a while without a picture. all of you now have the legal right to hunt and kill me for making a d&g joke.

anyway, what i want to talk about is how these two fantasies can coexist. that by making a man into yourself, you can speak on your own desire in a passive way. my normal interest is analyzing forced masc fantasies (albeit in chinese opera lol), and they bear little to no resemblance to this kind of fantasy. this kind offers plausible deniability, of course, because wanting things is embarrassing. but also the fantasy isn’t about wanting to be a man, it’s about having no choice but to be a failed one. the gender pessimism running through these stories is palpable. basically andrea long chu wants what wolf fanfiction writers know: everyone is an omega, and everyone hates it.

at any rate, this racialized dynamic is one that i wasn’t sure how to bring up throughout this piece, mainly because there is no definitive way for me to tell the race of any individual writer, beyond just like the clear and present vibes that i receive. but i think it structures a lot of the fantasies contained in this essay. (i felt more comfortable bringing up the gendered dynamic, because it was fairly trivial to find out the current gender of the person writing each story i was reading.) 

obviously we should return to the specter haunting this conversation: the very much alive david eng. i think this sort of argument is familiar to readers of racial castration, especially his chapter on m. butterfly. btw sorry for mentioning that play 2 out of 3 posts on this blog. i have problems.

let’s talk about the parallel imagery between the depiction of gallimard’s final speech and the fanfiction i’ve described above. in it, gallimard makes himself into his own dream woman, dressing in yellowface and robes, the costume of puccini’s original madame butterfly. and he laments his lost love:

there is a vision of the orient that i have. of slender women in chong sams and kimonos who die for the love of unworthy foreign devils. who are born and raised to be the perfect women. who take whatever punishment we give them, and bounce back, strengthened by love, unconditionally.

in that, i see the self insert, and i see the sufferer of vixx voodoo fic. the fantasy that gallimard has about asian women is repeated, this time about asian men and a helpless identification with them. and on some level, gallimard’s women do have something very compelling to identify with: they suggest that there’s a way to endure white male violence without sacrifice, and even more potently, to enjoy it on some level.

but onward to the titular racial castration. eng argues that gallimard’s wilful ignorance of song’s true gender is a psychic castration -- song’s masculinity is diminished so that his own can be enhanced within their relationship. this, eng believes, acts out “richard fung’s contention that in western imaginary ‘asian and anus are conflated.’” this process stabilizes the relationship between the asian man and the white woman: they occupy the same place within the sexual dyad. 

this is, i think, why some people are addicted to writing from the bottom’s perspective. again -- not implying that irl bottoms don’t exist or that bottoms are psychically castrated lol -- but rather that you can fantasize about this ideal asian man that you can come to embody. in kpop rpf, rather than it being between a white man and an asian man (unless someone’s started writing chad future fic), it’s between two asian men. so this transformation is performed. whiteness is always intruding and so i think eng is helpful here to making it visible again. 

this essay isn’t a callout or actual cancellation or anything like that, i do wanna be clear. i guess i just like talking about fantasies, even the embarrassing ones, and where they come from. i think oftentimes in fandom spaces, we write a lot of stories off as idfic, and i think virtually every single one of the stories i referenced to write this fairly uncontroversially fall into that category. but i think calling something an “id” something or the other naturalizes the satisfaction it gives as purely instinctual and unconscious, when i do think there are deeper narratives at play. while i didn’t ever actually reference the base here (sorry), i do think it’s worth talking about how real world power shapes & maintains the superstructure, and thereby our fantasies. 

anyway in conclusion, maybe i was the one with sexual brainworms the whole time.

[fallenhero-rebirth]

Brain update

First, let me say that this isn't about what anybody has done. My reactions are not in proportion to anything that has happened, and might be considered odd, weird and sensitive to people involved.

So let me explain.

I'm an Aspie (what we call ourselves in Sweden), on the autism spectrum. Yeah, might have guessed that from the story I'm writing, Sidestep is not the only one trying to figure out how people work.

Over the years I have built up an arsenal of knowledge and analysis to be able to pretend to be neurotypical, something that I can manage alright most days, but which breaks down once you get to know me better. I'm open with this at my current job, and luckily both my bosses seem to be okay dealing with open communication and just telling me what I need to do.

It was not always like this, and that is one of the reasons why I had a breakdown and needed to get off discord/tumblr.

Back in the late nineties, I had finally got my dream job. I was a product developer in the food industry, part of a rather small department of middle-class academics. I was the new hire, everyone else had worked there for years, and things were going well. Or so I assumed. I got cool projects, got along well with one of the sales people, and well, my boss was weird but bosses always are.

Three years later. Our parent company wanted to sell us off, everyone was starting to get worried about their job. We tried to expand into things were weren't equipped to do (you don't bring spices into a fruit jam line, will be hell to clean) and while I did the projects, I also raised an (in retrospect) too big stink about the fact that we were wasting time developing things we couldn't produce without expanding. My boss (who I had learned was a devout christian) started to get really weird, I got called in and he wondered if I was a member of a cult (I was often wearing a headscarf at the time because pressure on my head is good for stress relief). I also got told off for wearing army boots to work (we had lab shoes in the lab), because (I kid you not) if we had danish visitors to the lab (we didn't have visitors) they could be offended since they had once been occupied by Nazis. Yes, at the time I was an Antifa metalhead/satanist, it was a very volatile time in sweden and nazis were everywhere. Now they're a political party, go figure.

It all came to a head when I was confronted with a folder one of the secretaries of the department had where she had written down every odd and strange thing that I did, and there were a lot of accusations of things I quite frankly blocked out. Around this time I was suffering from bad burnout, had memory loss, my hair was falling out and I lost two bikes because I forgot where I parked them. All because of workplace hostility.

So for the first time ever, I went to the company doctor, who immediately sent me on a one month sick leave, and gave a reference to a therapist. When I went and told my boss, his reaction was "It can't be anything at work," in a dismissive tone. I wrote my resignation right then and there, left the building, snuck back a Saturday to clean out my stuff so I didn't have to meet anyone. Luckily I was backed up by my union, so I got unemployment despite quitting, and the therapist helped me get back on my feet and hook me up with some antidepressants.

Still, I was a wreck for years.

At the time, I had NO idea I was an Aspie. It weren't talked about, the only thing I knew about Autism, was from the various portrayals in movies, and well, in the nineties you can guess. Rainman pretty much was it.

What destroyed me the most was not that people disliked me, I didn't like them either, we didn't have anything in common, and middle-class people always scared me. No, what broke me was the fact that my system failed.

See, I had built up myself over ten years into someone I wanted to be. Smart. Capable. Metalhead. Researcher. Activist. I thought I knew the rules. How to interact.

It turned out I knew nothing. People had been talking behind my back for years, and I didn't know. Getting annoyed by my ticks, and I had no idea. Nobody ever brought anything up to my face until it exploded one day out of the blue. This is why I have ranted about anons on this tumblr. This is why I have been so openly against passive aggressive posts and bullying, especially the anonymous kind, because it destroys people and I don't think the people who does it knows the impact they can have. I hope they don't.

I have never gone back to the lab. I can't. I'm having heart palpitations just thinking about it when I'm writing this. I retrained. Became a machinist. Back to the working class I came from. Eventually started writing.

And this is exactly what these last months have felt like.

I thought I understood things. I was pretty open with being old, an Aspie, not understanding memes, or humor, or tik tok, or certain aspects of people's behavior like jealousy, but the problem with joking about this is that it's so easy to take as just a joke. That I'm just making fun of myself (oh it's that too). I got advice from some of you, which I ignored, because I thought that I could be different. That there was no danger in getting close. That I could be just another voice in the crowd. An occasionally evil avocado. That this couldn't blow up in my face, that everything was cool.

And then it did. And I was wrong. And the talking started, and things were coming out that I had no idea that was going on. That I was being held responsible for. Opinions that were spoken in my name. Events I was supposed to have been aware of and supported. All of a sudden I was omniscient, aware of the true passive aggressive meaning of every reblog, aware of every post in every room in the discord I wasn't even running. Wasn't even a mod on. All of a sudden I had power, and I had used it to hurt people. The people I cared about. Everything I wrote was taken in the worst possible way, twisted into things I never meant, and the more I tried to talk to people, the worse it went.

Look. I know this was at heart a war between people that just doesn't like each other and the things they do/the ways they behave. I'm still not entirely sure who's been involved, and I'm not interested in finding out. I tried to build a supportive space, reblog everyone's art and fics, encourage people to make their own things, get a kofi, get some money, make some friends.

And herein lies my problem.

I thought I understood how to be, and now I don't. I have no idea who hates my guts and who doesn't (well, except some who has very vocally let me know). I can't trust anything. I can't trust anyone. And it sucks. Someone I trusted stabbed be in the back because they were convinced I stabbed them in the back and that sucks more than I can describe. Every time I make a comment on AO3 or twitter it's after psyching myself up for half an hour, and I'm usually a wreck afterwards, because my brain doesn't know if they hate me too, and if I am imposing on them and making their day bad.

So yeah. I need to figure out how to be. How not to have a nausea attack every time I accidentally click open tumblr from pure reflex, looking away from the screen just not to see how may messages I have.

I never wanted to be the aloof author, but maybe I have to be. The question is if I can. I have been told I can't comment on pics or fics, because then I have favorites. And that makes people jealous. And it makes people think I take sides. I have been told I can't be on the discord, because then I will be held responsible for what the mods do there, and everything that's said even when I'm not around. I should apparently have someone manage the tumblr, it's not something that I, an author should do.

I now understand the authors who just stay away and remain distant, because people give themselves the power to write the narrative for you.

Part of me wants to tell people what I've told my current bosses, don't assume, just talk to me. I don't pick up/do passive aggression, I don't understand hints, I have trouble with nuance, I don't listen to gossip, I don't interact enough to know anything that's going on. Just ask before assuming.

Except that right now I can't. I can't talk about any of this. It's too close. It sets me off. It's getting better, sure, I'm on medication again, but the smallest thing still can ruin my entire day. I have no idea how long it will take me to recover and come back to some semblance of normality. I'm not posting this myself (my partner does). Writing is going well, because it lets me not be myself. I need those walls again. The therapy of writing about pain.

I'll rebuild them. I'm not entirely sure who I'll be on the other end of it. We'll see.

I have consciously not spoken about any details because those could be misunderstood, this is not a passive aggressive callout to anybody. I have no hard feelings towards anyone, I am not angry or upset, just confused and sad. I am truly so very, very, very sorry that I've hurt people, both by action and inaction. It was never my intention. I will do my best to do better in the future.

Still working on how to do that.

[sarahlevys]

One Person's Guide to Coping with AD(H)D in the Workplace

Howdy! This is a non-exhaustive overview of a few things that I have learned to put into practice to cope with my ADD in the workplace.

For some background context, I have ADD but do not currently manage the condition via medications due to some side effects that negatively affect my quality of life. Currently, I hold an executive leadership position at the company I work for, and manage individuals with ADHD. I use ADD to describe myself because that is the name that was given to me when I was diagnosed.

I don't intend to speak as a sole authority on this subject; I've just been asked to provide ideas and thoughts on this by friends. The coping mechanisms in this post are by no means not intended to be the only coping mechanisms that exist.

Your Mind is Different

I've learned to accept the fact that I will easily get side-tracked, distracted, and have days in which I simply cannot focus on things during the time in which I either want to focus, or have been told (by supervisors, bosses, my own internal guilt mechanism, etc.) that I should be focusing on.

All of this is okay! My mind rarely, if ever, works on command when it's time to do something that I'm not intrinsically motivated to do, like work. And sometimes, even when I *want* to do the thing – like a hobby or something I genuinely enjoy – I can't focus. All of that is still okay.

Be gentle to yourself. A coping mechanism that works one day may not work another day – or even later, that same day. It's okay to multi-task, to lose focus, or to get hyper-focused on something you should or shouldn't.

Allow yourself the grace to not always use a planner, a habit tracker, or similar.

Some Things to Try

You'll note a common theme in all of these: these don't always work for me all the time. Trial and error is totally okay!

Focus:

If you find yourself itching to do something else at the same time as something you're working on – e.g., check your text messages – go ahead and do it. Sometimes, if I don't let myself give in to those impulses, they build up in my mind until my focus on what I'm 'supposed' to be focusing on gets shot to all hell.

That said, on those moments where I settle into 'the zone' or 'flow,' I am sometimes I'm able to go ahead and shut off whatever might pull my focus. Roll with it and do whatever's right for you in the moment!

In meetings, depending on the stakes of it, I might play a bit of sudoku or doodle; doing something that's low pressure, even for a few seconds, can often help me feel like I've 'multi-tasked' or 'slipped into something else' long enough to refocus on the meeting at hand.

Taking notes during a meeting, especially by hand, also can feel like multi-tasking, even if I'm not.

Standing up during a task or call often helps me focus. (Sometimes it doesn't!) Either way, even if it's just for a little bit, I still am usually happier for being able to physically fidget or stretch more than I would in a seated position.

Listening to music while I work helps me feel like I'm multi-tasking, even if I'm not – but I know this doesn't work for everyone! And like everything else, some days it works for me, some days it doesn't. I personally prefer music with lyrics, but I know others who don't.

Give Yourself Breaks:

Sometimes, when I'm moving really quickly – e.g., if I'm going through a lot of tasks, going from meeting to meeting, or trying to think and do a lot – I feel myself getting short of breath/tense. Breaks are really helpful to me!

Focusing is hard work! Try to give yourself at least one 10-15 minute break in both halves of your work shift.

Allow yourself the space to also zone out for a few minutes here and there, too.

Sometimes, even just walking around my home is enough to refresh my brain.

You might have success with the Pomodoro Technique: https://pomofocus.io/ This involves trying to work for 25 minutes, then taking a 5 minute break regardless. Repeat this for as long as desired – typically it'll be done 4 times (for 2 hours), followed by a 15 minute break.

Thinking Through Things Before Sending Them Loose:

My biggest struggle! I'm a big blurter, both out loud and via text/typing.

My first plan of attack is to, once I've typed through something, to pause before hitting send. I'm a fast typist with +100WPM, and I have to literally (sometimes out loud!) tell myself to not hit send right away so I can slow down and read through what I'm saying before I do hit that send button.

When communication is handled verbally, I physically try to weigh each word as I speak it, and focus on hearing each word before going onto the next.

I have learned to accept the fact that I will often trail off and lose my train of thought, and I will admit that out loud to whoever I'm speaking to – even if they're a client or someone important – so I can buy myself a little more time to sort things out. Being open about this takes pressure off of me.

Resist the Urge to Speed Through Work:

My other big struggle!

If you feel comfortable, speak to your manager about fail-safes and review processes that currently exist in your work environment. At my job, we've created internal processes that always involve someone else reviewing your work (no matter who is executing the task) so we have built-in failsafes.

If you do take a task quickly, for whatever reason – e.g., if it's something comfortable to you, or you're running out of time – speak to whoever you're doing the work for in order to make sure your work is reviewed, or to buy yourself more time to review your work before you hand it in.

Talk to Your Supervisor:

Ideally, you have the kind of relationship with your supervisor where you can explain that: 1) multi-tasking doesn't always mean that you aren't paying attention, whether you're actually multi-tasking or chasing something that'll give you the feeling of multi-tasking; 2) single-focus is hard. Even if they don't necessarily change anything about your operations processes, having that awareness goes a long way.

You may even consider talking to your other team members about this; I sometimes can come off as impatient or rushing when i don't need to be, and I've also talked about how I often go off-topic or off-track and people know that about me.

If you get a lot of same-day tasks that can pull focus from what you've planned to do today, you may want to talk to your supervisor about requesting a minimum of one day's notice for your work or to request communication when a same-day task is being sent your way.

Create Control For Yourself:

A big part of my instance of ADD is needing to control everything so that I know exactly what's happening at all times and nothing's going to distract me more than i already innately am. I've learned to (somewhat) let go of the control thing, but of course being able to do that means being aware of when it's popping up.

With this in mind, I try to be mindful of when I'm feeling tense or out of control – a bit trigger for me is when a bunch of unexpected meetings or communications crop up, for example – and to pay attention to how I'm feeling and what I can do to solve it, or to roll with the punches.

I've found that taking the time to think about the next day and set up my planner for the following day in the afternoon before signing off, or after work has closed, and then reviewing that again in the morning of, really helps. Of course, I don't always remember to do it. But when I do, it really help!

Organize Your Work & Find Low-Pressure Accountability:

The way that I organize my tasks for each day differs based off of the day or my mood. Sometimes I organize them by priority, sometimes by the amount of time that I think it'll take me to do something, sometimes by client, etc. Be flexible!

At my work, we do a daily check-in with the whole team where we say what we plan to do that day, and I've found that group accountability to be really helpful. That might be something your manager might be interested in providing to you (e.g., a quick message in the morning to let them know what you plan to do).

That said, accountability can sometimes feel like too much pressure if you don't always do everything on your list. Ideally, you can talk with your supervisor or even a trusted co-worker to set up an environment in which it's okay for things to roll over or for priorities to shift depending on how a day is going.

Find a Flexible Way to Organize Yourself:

Paper journals/planners and I don't mix; when I forget to use it, the empty pages give me guilt, and the permanence of pen also makes me anxious since things in my mind are so fluid.

With this in mind, I prefer digital means since I can rearrange and move things around. I personally use an iPad Pro and a Pencil to take notes in digital note-keeping software, but this can be cost-prohibitive. If you struggle with paper methods of organization, consider using note-taking software or even Google Docs to create a plain-text bullet journal so you can move things around.

That's all I've got! Please let me know if you found this guide helpful, and what other coping mechanism or ideas I should add to this (with credit to you!)

[hero-boy]

You've been visited by the random OC question fairy! :D ~☆

What traits does your character value most in the people around them? What traits do they hate in other people? What traits do they value/dislike most in themselves?

she’s my cod bocw oc aha  and i had actually written the answer for this but peanut brain me deleted the ask now im salty i lost my good answers

never i ever done these kind of questions before but here goes nothing 👁

the oc i’d be using for this would most likely be Nadya Mikhailova. i don’t quite have a post pertaining her details yet but consider this a teaser i suppose.

 questions and answers below the cut!

it depends on the proximity she has with the said people, it splits to two categories; loyalty and emotional dependence.

What traits does your character value most in the people around them?

it would be a reverse of the answer above. she despises disloyalty; loathes betraying cowards who would turn sides just to save their own lives. loyalty and faith has always been two of the core beliefs she grew up with and she sticks by that firmly. it lays waste on the previous bond of trust.

for loyalty, it is more for colleagues, fellow comrades. more for her work, where there is less emotional attachment. it’s really the loyalty that ensures there would be no backstabbing, especially in their line of work where switching sides was an imminent and prominent option. she likes the comfort this bond brings between the two parties, this comfort which ensures both sides will compromise, if necessary, to work together. she has immense respect for those who can stick around despite difficulties and it has always been one of her core beliefs as well.

for emotional dependence, it’s more for her loved ones, be it her family or friends or significant other. she is a stoic person who is rather closed off about her emotions due to the nature of her workplace, and her rather broken family which only consisted of her and her mother since she was 21 adds onto this. as a person who is finds difficulties in expressing her emotions and identifying, to be able to tell another person her true thoughts and to confide with them how she felt would only happened when she absolutely trust the person and feels an intimate connection with them. examples would be her mother and Vladimir Lebedev (oc), a brother-figure and childhood friend. In dear Volodya’s case, he ticks both boxes for loyalty and emotional dependence.

What traits do they hate in other people?

emotional dependence wise, it would be more of being untrustworthy, breaking her trust, using her, taking her for granted, etc. if she had been emotionally dependent on the other person (and vice versa), her trust and loyalty of them would be groundless. to break this as an illusion would break her; the prospect of learning that the trust was misplaced and to face hurt from the person she respected.

What traits do they value/dislike most in themselves?

she doesn’t quite have a trait she values in her, for she is mostly neutral about such, but she does dislike the stoic side of herself. for it distances her from other people and intimidates in some cases. Nadya struggles and finds difficulties in identifying emotions and displaying them. sure this is rather necessary and useful at work, where she has to prove her place there, but it hinders her ability to have casual or small talk to people/civilians. when asked, she would most likely be slightly flustered from the startle of being asked and give a curt answer, giving many the impression that she is either anti-social or disinterested, which is really not the case. she tries to solve this, by attempting to initiate small pockets of conversations to neighbours, her friends, loved ones, etc.

[zelkam]

hey so you did like biomedicine at uni right? would you mind like talking about what you did and like what it was like/what you enjoyed because im having 2nd thoughts about what I'm doing at the moment and I was thinking about doing something similar

Hi there!! Sorry about replying late, some things got in the way – but here we go now. 

As I mentioned, I got excited that I get to talk about this stuff here, because honestly I loved every moment of my studies, so this is gonna get long. But I also want to include everything that I would want somebody to tell me if I were in your place. 

So the rest is going under the cut so as not to bore everyone else!

First of all - I think it's awesome that you're considering it - STEM is life.

Though I should probably start off with saying that a lot of what I got to do was heavily influenced by the format that my university handles its Biomedical Sciences course. Here biomed is kind of an experimental project - it opened a year before I started and the idea was to recruit only 30 people each year and hard-focus on them, instead of mass-producing students. All lecturers pretty much knew me as me and not as yet another student no. 44838 and because of that I was able to get a lot out of it. We were all included in actual research work very early on - usually from the 2nd year up everyone was doing something in some lab after lectures. I don't know how the university that you might be interested in handles the course design and if the labs are willing to include students in their regular work aside from teaching, so the approach and opportunities might be different. 

But I think the general plan of what the regular courses cover is probably similar anyways.

Also, that being said, honestly I’ve learned the most by doing the extra work - at some point during my Master's the lectures were actually getting in the way. I got most of my experience when I joined an actual research team - at first I was obviously supervised with everything, but with time I gained the trust and could enter the lab anytime and just plan and do my work as if I was a staff member. So I kind of got to do way more than most other students were doing - but like, it’s possible if you’re determined enough. 

Okay but enough with disclaimers - about the actual biomedicine course:

The general idea is to make a scientist out of you - you have medical knowledge, practical skills, and a kind of “scientific” mindset by the time you have a degree in your hand. 

There are several paths that you can take after, with the main three being: staying in academia, going into biotech industry or going into clinical trials. Each path has its pros and cons - academia is fun and creative, but also an emotional rollercoaster and you usually switch workplace every 4-5 years, meanwhile clinical trials are more stable and paperwork-based and the money is great, but it’s pretty much office work. It depends on what are your career priorities. Personally I love research (and tormenting myself) so I’m staying in academia to do a PhD (actually I’m looking for the right lab literally right now, which is really A Trip)

So there are several types of courses that you would take:

First you get a foundation of medical knowledge, so you have courses pretty much the same as med students - anatomy, physiology, pathology, pharmacology, microbiology, oncology etc. but with more focus on the molecular/genetic/developmental side of things. A lot of molecular and developmental biology, stem cells and so on. While med students focus on how to treat a patient that is already in the hospital, biomed people focus more of the underlying basis of diseases - what went wrong in the first place and how to fix it - was it a novel mutation, some signaling pathway gone wrong etc.

You also have  a lot of labs – in biochemistry, [non-]organic chemistry, immunology, molecular biology, embryology etc where you get to become familiar with all the techniques used in science. They’re always super fun because you get to do something with your hands.

You also have courses that are focused on conducting research. So you learn about clinical and pre-clinical trials: how they are designed, conducted, controlled etc. 

You might also get official training and get certified to work in clinical trials, because there are papers that you'd need for that – depends on the uni. 

Then you also learn how to analyze and write research papers, how to present your work at conferences (after 5 years you basically get rid of your fear of public speaking lmao) and so on. 

Also a lot of stuff focuses on animal research - a lot of universities include animal studies training as part of the biomed course and you might be getting certified in this - at least that’s what I had. And I've been working with animal models since - mice and zebrafish, and a little bit with chicken embryos, with my main being the fish because that's what my supervisor works with.

What I actually love here is that once you go through everything, you can choose what is the most interesting to you and focus on that – so you do what you like and it starts to feel less like studying/working and more like a hobby. There are so many branches of research and at some point something catches your interest more. For example, I love molecular and developmental biology, meanwhile my friend is all about the brain stuff – and we would suffer if we had to switch. Something different for everyone!

You’d get to choose your first direction as part of your Bachelor project – basically you pick a lab that does something that interests you, do a small project there and write your thesis on it. It’s a nice opportunity to check if this is something that you’d like doing in the future for real. Then you’d do pretty much the same on your Master’s, but on a more advanced level. 

But it’s also not definite – I personally jumped between like 3 different labs until I found the right one for me.

You also get opportunities to go international – there are a lot of exchange programs that would send you for a few months abroad, either to study or to work in a lab. I don’t know where you’re from so I don’t know what is possible for you, but for example last summer I ended up in Belgium to work as an intern in a research lab. Science is very internationalized in general – you work with people all over the world and you get to travel a lot between different labs!

From what I did personally:

When I first started off I went into Immunology and Hematooncology – so immune stuff and blood cancers. I did my Bachelor’s on that, in which I got DNA samples from patients and checked if they have a mutation of a certain gene and if that somehow influenced their blood morphology parameters.

Then I switched to Molecular Biology because this is the most interesting to me – specifically the molecular side of skeletal development. I joined my current research team and worked there for a few years alongside PhD students, working on several projects – with a part of it being my Master’s. My stuff focused mostly on the regulatory elements responsible for activating genes involved in the formation of joints. For example, if you’d get a mutation of a gene that I was working with, your arm would be just one long bone instead of having 3 segments. I was mostly using molecular cloning, cell cultures and zebrafish in my research, which are all hella cool. Here you have my little fish dudes:

Cute, right? 💚 

Pros:

Flexibility – you get to try out everything and pick what you like the most. Biomed doesn’t really give you a specific profession, you can use your degree in a lot of different career paths. 

It’s extremely cool – this is the stuff that you’d end up reading about for fun, so studying is actually pleasant in a lot of cases

A lot of practical classes and opportunities, in which you get to do experiments on your own!

Cons:

It’s not an easy-breezy degree - there is A Lot of studying! Medicine is very complex, although I would say that it’s not as memory-based as medical students have -  you usually don’t have to remember drug dosages etc, it’s more about remembering “this molecule goes wrong so these tissues are affected by this so this organ fails so this disease happens” – the chain reaction stuff and connecting a lot of dots.

For some people the “flexibility” part is actually a con, because it doesn’t give you a clear career path – it’s all about what you make out of it, and it can sometimes be daunting 😅

But if you asked me in a tl;dr way – I recommend it with all my heart!! If I could do those 5 years again - I definitely would! If you have some specific questions - let me know!

[donnerpartyofone]

I shouldn't even get into this, but unfortunately I saw it, and now I'm thinking about it! There's this weird argument that floats around here about whether or not minors and adults should be allowed to interact. Or even more strangely, whether they should be ENCOURAGED to. On the "against" side, you have the concern about grownups crafting coercive relationships with impressionable children, and all the stuff that such a power imbalance can lead to. On the "for" side is...this bizarre idea that young people need to form relationships with older people while they're still young, or else they'll never learn HOW to relate to older people. Which is like...I actually don't understand what that's describing. This conversation usually arises around the topic of whether tumblr users under 18 can form safe relationships with users who are in their 20s and 30s. The idea that kids SHOULD actively seek out bonds with people who might be twice their age, because otherwise they're missing out on important developmental experiences and might wind up maladjusted, is just funny to me. It seems to me that you learn how to relate to other people in basically the same way no matter how old you are; you take an interest in others, and you express that by being friendly and compassionate. That stands true even if you never knew the joys of robust intergenerational friendships while your young brain was still developing; you're not going to wake up one day at 19 with NO IDEA how to deal with the 30 or 60 year olds at your first internship because you failed to explore relationships with people that age when you were in junior high. If you and another person are basically from the same culture and share the same language and general social standards, you don't need like special lessons in how to talk to that person on account of their being 10 or 20+ years older. This argument would eventually eat itself: "How will a teenager ever learn how to talk to a 30 year old? How will a child ever learn to talk to a teenager? How will a baby ever etc..." I'm also not sure what social ills are supposedly perpetuated by minors NOT experimenting with how to form healthy relationships (as this is often stated) with adults. Part of the implication is usually that if minors develop active, wholesome relationships with older people, then they will be able to spot out the predators by comparison--but the bad news about that is, you learn to identify predators by witnessing the bad stuff that they do. It's not a matter of saying "Y = not X"; abuse survivors aren't just people who never had enough good relationships to make a useful artificial prediction about bad relationships. The only way to avoid predators, besides the protection of the people responsible for you when you're still young and defenseless, is through having such strong self-esteem and/or intuition and/or street smarts that you know when you can and should say no to something that feels wrong to you...or, if that sounds like a tall order for a kid, you'd have to learn by experience: something bad happens to you, and you figure out how to avoid letting it happen again. Believe me, you would prefer not to go that route as a child if at all possible, and you don't arrive at a state of healthy development by somehow magically making the correct relationship choices the first time all the way through the tenth time and the hundredth time, all by yourself. That's not how life works, and when you're still a kid, you shouldn't have to always know what to do with adults; a little preventative medicine is in order. Nobody who cares about a young person wants to have to say, "Aw, so it turned out that 35 year old tumblr brony who's always complimenting you on how cool and 'mature' you are, was saying those same things to a lot of OTHER 14 year olds to see who would give out their number or send him the most 'mature' pictures the fastest? Well, that's life. I'm really glad you're totally left to your own devices with strange adults, because there is no other way you would ever learn to figure out

who the good ones are." Knowing how to relate to adults develops AS you become an adult; there's no reason it has to be sooner. It is NOT best developed through children becoming so intimate with the thoughts and behavior of adults that they evolve a prematurely advanced perception of which adults are abusive narcissists or pedophiles. I would use as evidence the millions of people in history who generally avoided abuse, and ultimately developed normal relationships with people their own age and beyond, without any kind of systematic schooling in how a 14 year old can connect with a 35 year old. I recently stumbled upon a looooong thread about this social theory, with people adding things like "My grandparents' friends come over every Sunday and I love them!" and "I have a great relationship with the older ladies at my summer job!" and "I visited my older siblings at college and all their friends were super nice to me!" And it's like, nobody is saying that you should be locked in the attic when meemaw's friends come over for bridge. Nobody is saying that you should stubbornly ignore your middle-aged boss. Actually, a lot of those situations seemed to involve either a relative who looks out for the young person, or protective barriers like appropriate workplace behavior; nobody seemed to want to admit that the real concern is older adults cultivating intimate, unobserved, one-on-one rapports with people who are too young/inexperienced/easily intimidated to see what's coming. It's important to note that strong relationships usually form between people who share some version of the same life experiences--who relate to each other, because the other person "gets" them, has "been there". You don't want to have to explain yourself all the time to someone for whom your greatest pains and joys are still pretty abstract, because they haven't had time to get to them yet. Like if you haven't made it through college yet, and somebody who has been through all that and more is pretending to deeply identify with you, well, you COULD have found an exceptional connection, sure, it's not absolutely impossible; but there's a much better chance that something could be seriously wrong.

[new-endings]

you wear white and i'll wear out the words ‘i love you’

or

( in which crowley struggles to find the right time and place to propose)

He’d known Aziraphale’s ring size since Rome, though the need for this knowledge wouldn’t arise until millennia later. Far better than tossing apples at him centuries prior, which Crowley was sure wouldn’t have been well-received by the angel.

He had the ring itself since the tradition was popularized and changed the stone, the metal, and the inscriptions at least twice every decade. He’d known Aziraphale’s favorite flavor of cake, the very swoons and swells of romantic melodies that made his angel’s heart sing with joy and float with love. He’d known that Aziraphale had long wanted to travel East since before its industrialization, though London remained his home and heart, and, not long after the entire mess of the Armageddon’t—

Crowley knew, with absolute certainty, that Aziraphale loved him, loved earth, and loved their life together.

And Crowley, with absolute certainty, wanted a life together with Aziraphale.

The thought had been lurking in the darkest crevices of his heart, ashen and burnt, where most secrets seeped in its cracks. Of course he’d known he loved Aziraphale—he’d known his own heart since Rome. But the very possibility of having that love actualized—much less returned—had been such a preposterous, laughable, impossible thought that…

To even wonder, to even wish, would have wrought him nothing but pain.

But that was something that Crowley couldn’t help. When the wretched emotion had made itself known, had seeded and rooted itself deeply within Crowley’s heart, there was no going back. And now, many millennia later, it was no longer just the torturous squeeze of thorns driving deep into Crowley’s chest at the thought of a life with Aziraphale—

It was waking to the sight of his angel (yes, his) in his ridiculous nightgown and equally ridiculous little glasses perched on his adorable nose as he flipped through the pages of a love-worn novel in Crowley’s bed; it was meeting for lunch without his angel ducking at the sight of every American in a gray, luxurious business suit; it was being able to hold his angel’s hand as they strolled through St. James park to feed the ducks, recycling old banters and trying new, honest conversations (“I thought you looked rather ravishing in that fancy little petticoat of yours. Still not a good idea to wear it during a revolution, though.” “Oh, thank you dear. I rather thought you—you—good lord, your hair back then reminded me of two somersaulting weasels.” “You really are a bastard, aren’t you?” “I’ve learned from the very best, I’ll have you know.”); it was kissing him good morning, hello, be right back, and goodnight.

It was a possibility. A very, very real possibility.

Now…now all Crowley had to do was ask.

---

Crowley prided himself in his brilliance. It wasn’t just the Pride either—he knew he had more creativity that likely all the forces of Hell combined—

(still didn’t hold a candle to Aziraphale’s wit when his angel set his mind on something, but that’s a discussion for another time.)

Which was why he had every bit of confidence that when he enacted his master plan, it would surely sweep his angel off his feet.

…Granted, if he had a master plan to begin with.

Because lo and behold, Crowley, who had been squirreling his angel’s preferences and tastes, ring size, suit size, shoe size—never actually thought he’d be able to use this information in the most important way possible. And thus—

He was scrambling.

He threw idea after idea out—We could go to Rome; take him out on our first date again—wait, did he even know that was our first date?, forged bloody mood boards from digital inspiration on social media—Ugh, this all looks terribly tasteless. This looks nice, but I know for a fact that Aziraphale hasn’t gone swimming since the 1800s for some incident or other—and nearly broke down and ran to the bookshop to propose right then and there just to get it over with.

But no.

His angel deserved better than that.

“We could have a picnic…dinner at the Ritz,” Crowley mocked, turning over in despair. “Go—Sata—SOMEONE-DAMNIT. Why didn’t I propose then…It would have been perfect.” He let out another groan. “Right, right, great thinking there, Crowley—just drop the proposal to your best friend after he was cut off and nearly killed by his abusive family and workplace, real romantic.”

He sighed, peeling himself off the ceiling where he’d somehow ended up. It was getting late and damnit, he promised to take Aziraphale to that play tonight, didn’t he?

Crowley, once upright, glared hard at the ring on his desk. It had been taunting him for the past month and he knew the niggling thoughts at the back of his mind, the compulsion to open it up, scrutinize it, to once again deem it worthy enough for his angel, wouldn’t let up until he saw it where it belonged: on his angel’s marriage hand.

Crowley snatched the box and, with some difficulty, pocketed it.

(He was actually surprised these pants came with pockets.)

Fine. If inspiration won’t come to him, then he’ll come to inspiration. Humans always went on and on about knowing when the time was right or what have you. Sure, it might be more…spontaneous than he’d like…

(Crowley liked plans. Plans kept him and his angel alive since the dawn of their arrangement, even when they didn’t always pan out the way he wanted them to)

But, as his angel showed him back at the airbase, sometimes a little spontaneity was just what he needed to get the job done.

-

He could have proposed at the theater. Hamlet had been Aziraphale’s favorite because Crowley made it into a smashing success just for him. It would have been romantic— a reminder that there wasn’t anything Crowley wouldn’t do to make him happy. But instead, he just watched on with half-amusement, half-embarrassment as his angel cheered and encouraged the actors, rather loudly, from their seats.

(“Angel, darling, love of my life, you’re going to get us kicked out if you keep that up.” “I-I’m the love of your life?” “Obviously, but also, not the point.”)

He could have proposed at their bench at St. James Park: right where they used to meet in secret and business and thinly veiled ventures to simply be in each other’s company—a reminder of how far they’ve come and a promise for what’s to come. But instead, they just fed the ducks, Crowley listening on with not-so-silent affection as Aziraphale berated himself for feeding them bread for years when it turned out it had been bad for them all along.

(“I brought peas this time!” “Angel, I’m sure the ducks would have appreciated any old thing.” “Yes, well, I still want it to be good for them, Crowley.” “All right, fair enough.”)

He could have proposed at the Ritz, gotten them a nice hotel room to ah…freshen up (after making a mess out of each other), enjoyed their meal and basked in the romantic atmosphere— a reminder of the first day of the rest of their lives after freeing one another and paving a road ahead where they could be together, belong together at last. He could have even put the ring in his angel’s dessert—if the ring made it out intact.  But instead, Crowley dined and wined with the most perfect being (for him) created in all this universe, and basked in that lovely, perfect moment, all worries, anxieties—and the ring—forgotten.

(“I love you, Crowley.” “I…I…oh—fuck—” “It’s all right, Crowley…” “I just…sometimes…” “It’s okay, love…” “I’ve wanted to hear you for so long—” “You’ll hear me every day, Crowley.” “Angel, I love you, I’ve been in love with you for—forever, it feels like.” “I know, Crowley. I know…and I’m ready to hear it now.”)

He could have proposed in so many different places, so many different times, and in so many different ways—all romantic, all with grand, sweeping gestures, and all matter of symbolism and meaning behind each instance.

And yet, the primordial, primitive, snake-brain of his—decided that now would be the time.

“Ah—ah—angel, angel,” Crowley gasped, writhing against the delicious friction as Aziraphale maddeningly teased his Effort from within the constricting confines of his trousers.

“Yes, dearest?” he smiled, looking quite at home on his knees on the Persian rug of the bookshop’s backroom.

“You right bastard—ah!” Crowley choked off a scream as Aziraphale mouthed his clothed cock, warm, wet heat so close yet so far from where he needed it most. He fruitlessly attempted to shimmy out of his jeans, buck into that lovely, inviting mouth, and give his angel a taste of what happens when you press a demon’s buttons in all the right ways.

“I know virtues aren’t your specialty, Crowley, but you really should have some patience,” his angel tsk’d, eyes gleaming with mischief and Crowley fell impossibly deeper in love with this incorrigible, chaotic ethereal being.  

And that. That was exactly what his snake-brain was waiting for. “Oh, fuck angel—marry me—”

Then that heat was gone. It took maybe a second or two for the words that had just tumbled straight out of his mouth to register, but before Crowley could internally agonize in horror at his abso-fucking-lutely shite timing—

“I—I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

And what was Crowley supposed to do? Back out? Deny he said anything? Nope, not this time, not on his life.

Not anymore.

“Marry me,” he wheezed out, the embarrassment not quite catching up to him as he miracled the box to his hand (and thusly relieving some of that extra pressure in his trousers), and presented it to Aziraphale with all the grace of a boneless octopus.

(wait, octopodes don’t have bones do they?)

Best case scenario, Aziraphale disregarded the fact that Crowley just popped the question right before a well-anticipated blowjob. Worst-case scenario, he would have berated the demon for the abso-fucking-lutely shite timing. But instead, he was met with: "So," Aziraphale started, brows furrowed with confusion from between Crowley's legs. "That bulge in your pants doesn't just mean you're happy to see me?"

“Angel,” Crowley sighed, valiantly attempting to keep calm despite the gnawing anxiety at his chest; great, the gears were still turning in his angel’s pretty little head from the shock. “You know I’m always happy to see you on your knees for me, but I believe I asked you a question.” He waved the box in front of him and then it all clicked into place.

Crowley could tell by the bright sparkle in those sea-storm eyes and the sweet, bashful smile on his lips. “Then shouldn’t you be the one on your knees? Or—one, rather, I think is the human way of doing it now.”

“Oh, right,” Crowley muttered, wobbling as he stood from his favorite couch in all of Aziraphale’s shop. As tradition dictated, Crowley got down on one knee, opened his mouth to say, “Aziraphale, will you—”

And was immediately met with, “Yes!”

Crowley tumbled backwards onto the couch, and armful and lapful of his ecstatic angel, and finally engaged.

-

“Oh…it’s so lovely, Crowley,” Aziraphale cooed, holding up the ring to the light.

Crowley hummed, lacing their fingers together, and— yes he was right all along, he should have never doubted his tastes to begin with.

The ring was perfect on his angel.

“I love you, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured, pressing soft kisses to his cheeks, dimples, and chin, and if the rest of their lives could be even just a fraction of how perfect this moment was, Crowley, for the first time in a long time, was looking forward to eternity.

“Even if you did propose right before I was to initiate fellatio,” Aziraphale giggled.

Crowley sighed, feigning annoyance despite the way his heart (not quite-so-ashen, and not-quite-so burnt) thudded painfully with love. “You could not have said that any worse.” He pulled Aziraphale close, smothering the giggles at his expense with a tender, loving kiss. He drew back, smirking at the lovestruck look on his angel’s face, plain as day, unguarded and open for Crowley to see. “Besides, could you have done any better?”

“Well, I certainly could,” he teased.

Crowley raised a brow, a challenging smile on his lips. “Oh really, now? C’mon then, let’s hear it.”

“All right, then!” His angel cleared his throat. “I would have, for one, proposed on October 21st—”

“Day the Earth was created, not bad,” Crowley admitted.

“And on that day, asked you to come away with me to a little trip—”

“Ooh, going on a little trip, are we?” The demon chuckled. “Where to? Tadfield? France? Rome?—”

“The Garden.”

Crowley felt his breath catch in his throat. Aziraphale gave him a small, triumphant smile, and continued. “Of course I still have access to it, dear. I was one of its guardians after all.” His angel admired the ring once more, voice soft as he continued, “I would have brought a picnic of course, and suggested, if you hadn’t already—”

“To have it on the wall,” Crowley whispered. “Where we first met.”

“Where our journey began,” Aziraphale added. “And I would have—I would have let you know that never in my wildest dreams would I have thought, back then, up there on that wall, that I would have found…the person that my heart belongs to.” He looked back at Crowley, eyes wet and smile wobbling on his sweet mouth and Crowley wanted to just take this lovely, lovely being in his arms and never let go. “And that through this long, long journey since Earth began, I’m ever-grateful that all my roads lead back to you.”  

“Angel…”

“And then, I would get down on one knee and ask you,” he turned to face Crowley, a tear or two slipping down his cheeks, “Oh? My what’s that in your ear?”

Crowley furrowed his brow. “Wha—oh, no, angel, not one of your—”

“Ooooh, what’s this?” But before Crowley could swap his hand out of his way, something bright, gleaming, and poorly concealed in his angel’s hand caught his eye.

Any and all teasing of his fiancé’s failed sleight of hand fled Crowley’s mouth at the sight of the gold band between his fingers. He must have looked quite the sight, gaping mouth and nothing coming out, but Aziraphale only chuckled.

“You always did go faster than me, Crowley,” he murmured, placing the band right on his demon’s marriage finger, smiling at the perfect fit it made. “But that’s all right.” He pressed a soft, gentle kiss to his fiancé’s lips. “All my roads lead to you, after all.”

[justaghostingon]

Warmth of the Heart

Mona has a few very unexpected guests in the form of her ‘dear nephew who she’s totally met before’ Hugo, and his new friends.

Set in the same universe as “Cogs in a Steal Heart”

To read on ao3, click the link, https://archiveofourown.org/works/25256038 

or read below the cut.

Living in the west district meant Mona had her fair share of interesting encounters. After all, the west district was the “weird” district in the eyes of every other person in the city. Certain cobblestone streets burned as hot as fire beneath her feet even in the coldest winters. Voices whispered in the darkened entrance to the open sewers, where everyone knew better than to investigate. Mysterious Alchemists bought and sold strange magic to local mafia, minor nobles, or anyone who came to their shop with enough money to pay. In a place like this, it would be weirder if she hadn’t had a few strange experiences in her life.

So when four children appeared in front of her door in strange, bright clothes that were covered in oil stains and grime, she was not nearly as surprised as she probably should have been. Children were no strangers to her door. In the absence of any children of their own, she and Cyrus tried their best to provide a safe place for all the neighborhood children to come and eat a cookie or two. It was only a matter of time before that knowledge spread among the street rats of all the districts, and really she was more surprised it had taken this long.

But there was something undeniably bizarre about these children, something that tickled in the back of her brain. For one thing, they were considerably older than most of the children who came to their door, being either near adulthood or having just begun it. Not that age made them stop being children, Cyrus had a thousand stories of Hugo to prove that fact, but it was still odd to see them here.

Then there was their clothing. Even under all the grime, she could see the bright colors and light, floating fabric that only nobles or foreigners would dare to wear. They didn’t even have any spikes or hooks or anything sensible to tell people to leave them alone! The closest they had were the strange balls in that weird staff, which looked far too fragile to be used as a weapon. Honestly, she wasn’t certain how they’d made it to her doorway in one piece.

The only one who didn’t look like they were a walking trouble magnet was the tall blond in the front. He was dressed in sensible muted green, and had spikes on his wrists and goggles. The goggles tickled the back of Mona’s mind, but she couldn’t place why. His eyes darted back and forth, clearly aware of exactly how strange his friends were. He was most likely a local, and there was something oddly familiar about the way he held himself that reminded Mona of Cyrus.

Their eyes met, and he gave her a charming smile, but there was something strained in its corners. “Auntie Mona?” he asked, voice loud enough to carry into the street while the shadow in his eyes begged her to play along.

Calling her Mona, now that was definitely odd. She narrowed her eyes as she looked him over once again. Most children called her Auntie and never bothered to learn the rest of her name. She searched his face. Blond hair up in a ponytail but clearly well taken care of, glasses well polished and pushing up on his nose to mock people, A charming but insincere smile, and a scar on his eyebrow. Mona bit her lip. She knew how he’d gotten that scar, Cyrus had sobbed it out in her arms. It was a face she had never seen with her own eyes, but whose description she’d learned so well through her husband’s rants.

“Hugo??” She exclaimed, pulling the startled young man forward. “What happened to you?” And where was Cyrus? He’d said they’d stopped traveling together, but there was no way Hugo would be coming to her if something hadn’t happened right?

His eyes snapped wide, as she pulled him inside, muscles tense under her grip as she pulled his face down to examine it for damage.  “I-I,” he stuttered, before taking a deep breath and stepping slightly back, pulling gently away from her grip. “I’m so glad to see you again, Auntie,” he flashed her a smile that was clearly meant to seem familiar but came off as nervous. “But could we all be inside for the introductions?”

“Of course, of course!” Mona waved them all inside, closing the door firmly to keep out any watching eyes and locking it. She was well liked in the neighborhood, but one could never be too careful. She turned to her new guests, who stood awkwardly in the living room. “What happened?” she asked, fear clawing in her throat as she leaned heavily against the door. Where is Cyrus? she hoped Hugo understood her unasked question.

“We were attacked as we tried to complete an alchemic trial,” Hugo waved his hand dramatically, but his eyes sent her a warning look. “By a rival alchemist and a thug for hire. But never fear, we escaped without any conflict.”

“And thug?” Mona’s hand tightened around her heart.

“He and the alchemist are regrettably still out there,” Hugo bowed his head as if in shame, but he shot her a look that clearly said, ‘he’s fine.’ Mona closed her eyes with relief.

“We’re sorry to bring trouble to you,” her eyes snapped open to see the boy with the staff had stepped forward. “If you don’t think it's safe harboring us, we can leave and look for shelter somewhere else.” He smiled, but there were dark shadows under his eyes. Mona felt her heart go out to him.

“No, no,” she shook her head. “My husband has quite the reputation in the community, so you’ve nothing to fear here.” Hugo shot her a look and she quickly snapped her mouth shut, realizing that mentioning the man who probably helped attack them was not a good move. “I’m Mona,” she gestured to herself, hoping the change in topics would provide a distraction. “You can call me Auntie.”

“Varian,” the boy in front said, extending a hand to shake. Mona took it and found his grip was strong for someone who looked so skinny.

“I’m Yong!” the shortest said, pushing himself forward to pump her hand up and down enthusiastically. “It’s nice to meet you!” he beamed up at her with a smile brighter than the sun.

“Nuru,” the young woman dropped a curtsy. Mona stumbled into a rough copy of her movements, feeling suddenly horribly underdressed in her work clothes and stained apron. The girl before her moved like a princess.

Princess? Why did that word remind her of Cyrus’s letters? She cast another searching look over the three companions, noting the goggles on Varian’s head and the dynamite strapped to Yong’s leg. Something in her mind clicked. “You’re Princess,” she pointed at Nuru, whose eyes went wide as saucers. “And you’re Goggles, and Firecracker,” she pointed at Varian and Yong in turn.

“How did you...?” Nuru opened his mouth and then closed it with a shake of her head. Yong and Varian both tensed minsiculy and Hugo shot her a panicked look.

“Letters!” Mona clapping her hands together. All three children’s attention snapped to her. “He sends me letters!”

“I do?” Hugo mouths at Mona as the three children’s attention snaps to him. “I do!” he says loudly as he runs his fingers through his hair, flashing his friends with his trademarked smile.

The smile that never worked on people who knew him well, if she remembers Cyrus’s words correctly.

“You send your Aunt letters?” Varian says as he raised an eyebrow at Hugo. “That’s surprisingly sweet of you.” Hugo blushed bright red and sputtered. Which is not in character at all with the boy Cyrus had described. Now wasn’t that interesting?

“What did he tell you about me?” Yong bounced on his feet. Oh no. Mona felt her hands twitch as he fixed her with a wide, eager smile.

“How about I make you some cookies?” she offered as she linked her hands together to stop their movement.

----------------

Being in the kitchen calmed Mona. Her hands moved with practiced ease, almost entirely of their own free will. There was very little need to think as she beat the eggs and mixed in the dough. But alas, there comes a part of baking were the food must go inside the oven, leaving Mona to pace and stew as she waited.

She wished Cyrus were here. He was more comfortable in silence that she was, and he knew Hugo well enough to easily pass for a relative when the questions began to inevitably began. He’d even gotten a fairly good read on his friends if his letters were anything to go by. Meanwhile she’d never even seen Hugo’s face before today. How was she possibly going to be able to keep this up?

A small part of her wanted to throw her hands in the air and admit the whole thing. To tell them that she was the wife of the man who they had fought, and that she wasn’t really a relative of Hugo’s at all.

But...but Hugo had come to her house for aid. Hugo, who trusted no one, who bragged about his ability to go it alone and complained heavily on having to rely on anyone else had come to her and Cyrus’s house when he was in trouble. That meant something. That was important.

She’d suspected as the years had passed that Hugo had grown somewhat attached to her husband, as much as he could attach himself to anyone. And now here he came knocking on her door with three other children for whom he’d willingly turned on Donella, the closest thing he had to a family, asking for Mona’s help. Hugo must be fully aware of how if Mona wanted, she could very easily send a neighbor up to her husband’s workplace and bring Cyrus and Donella down on Hugo’s head. But he’d still come here, not because of anything she had done, but because he trusted Cyrus enough to risk trusting in her.

She didn’t know what had happened on that journey he and Cyrus had gone on together to change Hugo so drastically. Perhaps it was his new friends, perhaps it was living away from Donella’s toxic influence, perhaps something else. But whatever the cause, Hugo had taken a leap of faith coming here, and Mona was loath to let him down.

Biting her lip, Mona tried to make a mental list of everything that Cyrus had told her about Hugo, and everything about her new house guests that had filtered through his letters. She had a war to wage, and she was going to do it right.

-------------------

Mona marched back into the living room like a soldier going to battle, wearing a smile like a shield and holding a plate of cookies like a weapon. “I brought cookies!” she practically sang as she placed them directly in front of Yong, whose eyes lit up as he reached automatically for one. Nuru batted his hand away, and directed his attention back to Mona as she slipped into her seat at the end of the table. Both children stared up at Mona, hunger written in their faces.

Mona gave a laugh as she waved her hand. “You can eat them, that’s what I made them for.” That was apparently all it took, because both Nuru and Yong instantly reached for the cookies, devouring them with a gusto that made Mona feel slightly proud and very concerned for their stomachs. Varian joined in as well, and even Hugo took a cookie, although he only nibbled on it, shooting her nervous looks from his place to her left as he did so.

Mona gave him a wink, confident her cookies would buy them some time before the questions began, but she underestimated her opponents. No sooner had he bitten into his second cookie than Varian said, “So Auntie, what has Hugo told you about us?”

The question sounded casual, but there was a glint in his eye that was sharp as steel. Hugo stiffened and for a brief second Mona panicked, afraid that their cover had already been blown. But no, Varian was leaning far to much into Hugo’s space, and the tilt of his smile was lopsided and teasing. She’d been married for many years, she knew that look.

“You’re a little shorter in person,” she said, watching Varian reel back in shock, teasing smile melting into surprise and slight hurt. Hugo spun towards Varian, hand half raised to reassure him as Mona delivered the final line, “But just as handsome!”

“H-handsome?” Varian’s cheeks turned red as cherries. She hadn’t seen anyone get that red since Cyrus’s blush when she’d loudly proclaimed to the guild leader that Cyrus gave the best hugs in the world in front of all the other guild members. She hadn’t actually meant for anyone else to hear and had been quite embarrassed, but Cyrus had pulled her into his lap for the rest of the evening, so it was worth it.

“MONA!” Hugo screeched, and that’s right, she was in the present, dealing with love struck kids and not back in the past with Cyrus. She had to focus here or they’d be caught.

She flashed Hugo her best apologetic smile. “I’m sorry dear, was I not supposed to mention that?”

“Those letters were written in confidence,” Hugo grit his teeth as he struggled to come up with a believable reason to stop her from talking. “Shouldn’t they be kept confidential?”

“Oh no!” Varian leaned forward, head in his hands and a goofy grin on his lips. “I want to hear all about how handsome you told your aunt I was.” From across the table, Nuru rolls her eyes.

Mona gave the boy an indulgent smile. “Now, now. If Hugo says the letters were in confidence, then I will of course keep quiet.” And not give away just how little she actually knows about them. She glanced at Hugo, wondering if he planned that, but his head was ducked as he nibbled on his cookie, ears flame red.

Yong piped up, asking about the cookie recipe, and table filled with quiet chatter. Mona kept herself alert, trying to steer the conversation to baking and other neutral subjects while Hugo did the same. She almost felt herself relaxing when Yong raised the innocent sounding question, “What was Hugo like when he was a kid?”

Mona’s face froze in a smile, and Hugo shifted slightly in his seat to hid his discomfort. Oh no, what would be the least suspicious answer? “A handful,” she said at the same time Hugo says:

“She doesn’t know.”

Mona started, glancing over at Hugo to meet his wide green eyes. Mona flicked her eyebrows towards the others to signal, “what now?”

Hugo cleared his throat. “What I mean is, when I met Auntie Mona, I was already in my teens.” He shot her a look that clearly said, ‘follow my lead.’ It looked very much like the one Cyrus used, and she had a feeling he would be proud.

“Thirteen is still a child,” Mona added, because really, it is. Hugo frowned and she continued, “I’m the auntie to all the children in our neighborhood.” This is the truth, and Mona has always felt that when lying, its best to stick to the truth, so there’d be less to remember.

“So Hugo grew up here?” Nuru asked with a curious tilt of her head.

Mona opened her mouth, but Hugo cut her off. “No,” he says, shooting a look at Varian. “I grew up in a different part.” Varian’s eyes fill with sympathy, and Mona wondered what parts of Hugo’s actual childhood he has told the boy. Clearly nothing to do with Donella.

“My husband found him,” she decided to explain, hoping Hugo would understand what she was referring to. “Chased off some thugs who were messing with him.”

Hugo grimaced, clearly not happy at her choice of backstory. “I would have been fine,” he grumbled with a half pout, then clearly remembering he needs to keep his friends curiosity sated he added. “They were more interested in hurting Olivia Cheese.”

“Yes.” Mona blinked for a second, trying frantically to remember who in the world Olivia Cheese was. A little mechanical mouse caught her eye, waving its paws frantically from the side of the room. She didn’t even question how it got on the table, so relived to recognize it from Cyrus’s story. “Yes what happened to her was horrible,” she gave Hugo a mock frown. “But I do remember having to clean human blood out of my carpet.” This was again true, although the blood was not Hugo’s.

Hugo’s shoulders hunched. “I was okay in the end though,” he said, sounding for all the world like a petulant kid upset over an embarrassing memory. Mona was impressed with his acting skills.

“You did brighten up after we got some food in you,” she conceded, and this is a lie, but it wasn’t too much of a stretch given most children’s reactions to her cooking.

“That’s true,” Hugo leaned back in his chair. “And I’ve been coming to visit ever since.”

“I’m glad you had someone one your side,” Varian’s smile is warm, but his eyes are far, far too old. “Having one person can make all the difference.” There’s a history there, Mona can tell, some time in his life when he’s had no one. But he seemed genuinely happy for Hugo, and it broke her heart for the child Hugo really was.

“Oh my, look at the time!” she hastily jumped to her feet. “I have to get the stew started for supper!” Hugo shot her a look, but she ignored him, tilting her head so he couldn’t see the sadness on her face. She only stopped when she reached the doorway to the kitchen, half turning back with a fixed smile, “Any allergies I need to know?”

There was a course of ‘No’s” and she hurried out of the room, hoping no one noticed the tears welling up.

-----------------

Ok, so she’d gotten a little emotional at the end, Mona thought as she absently chopped the potatoes and pushed them into the waiting pot. But it was nothing a few deep breaths couldn’t solve in the sanctity of her kitchen. She could already feel the tension leaving her shoulders as she watched the boiling pot.

Today’s meal was her famous stew, and as Cyrus frequently reminded her, it was a dish that not even the pickiest child could refuse. It was simple, easy, and best of all, it could be expanded to feed the many unexpected guests that had a habit of wandering through her house. It was perfect.

Cyrus would be sad he missed it though. A slight frown graced her lips as she got to slicing the carrots. She would need to save him a bowl, for whenever it was he came home.

And wasn’t that going to provide its own set of problems? She’d have to meet him at the doorway, or have Hugo to get there first. Someone had to warn him of what was going on. Had Hugo’s friends seen Cyrus’s face? Hugo mentioned they had run into Cyrus and Donella, would any of the remember him? Best not to risk it. But what could she do to prevent that? She glanced up around the sparse kitchen, looking for anything that could hide his face. Her eyes landed on the doorway and she froze.

Varian leaned against the door frame, a sheepish smile on his lips. “Do you need any help?” he offered as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“That’s very kind of you,” she gave him her warmest smile, “but I’ve got it under control.”

“Are you sure?” Varian pressed. “I know they’re a lot of us to drop by unexpectedly, and I’m very good at chopping vegetables.”

Mona opens to her mouth to turn him down, but stopped. There was something about the way he stood, a practiced relaxation hiding a strong desire to move that showed itself in the twitch of his hands. The barely hidden eagerness in his eyes to be useful, to make her like him.

It was a pattern of movement she was far too familiar with, from her own experiences trying to make a good impression to Cyrus’s family and friends. And from other, much darker parts of her past. But she didn’t dwell on those.

She moved slightly over to reveal the half chopped carrots behind her, as well as the rest of the vegetables. “If you could get these chopped for me, that would be a big help,” she said.

Varian didn’t need telling twice, quickly crossing the tiny kitchen and picking up the knife. He was very good, Mona noted, in fact he might be better at slicing than she was. A man who could cook was always a plus, she thought to herself, Hugo certainly had good taste.

And on the subject of Hugo... She spun the stew carefully. “How did you meet Hugo?” she asked, trying to keep her curiosity hidden.

Varian gave a start, clearly not expecting the question. Interesting. “Its a bit of a funny story,” Varian gave a half laugh, turning his eyes down to the carrot underneath his fingers. “He kinda...stole the totem from us?”

“Did he now?” Mona mused. That certainly sounded like Hugo. Varian gaped at her lack of reaction, and she realized she must have made a misstep somewhere. Perhaps thievery was a less common method of survival in his kingdom? “Hugo has his own path,” she said as she gave the stew another stir. “I’m not in a position to tell him which of his limited options he should take.” Varian still looked a little disgruntled, really, what kingdom was he from? so she added. “That being said, I am glad to see him putting his energies into questing with you and your friends.”

“Yeah,” Varian nodded, appeased. “Yeah, I’m glad he’s with us too.” He smiled down at the vegetable below his hands, this time a turnip. For a few minutes there was silence, before his shook himself out of whatever daydream he had entered. “But you want to know how he joined us right?” he gave her a sheepish grin.

“If you please,” Mona nodded, hoping to move the conversation away from any questions on her rather lackluster response to finding out her supposed nephew was a criminal.

“He gave it back,” Varian said, a slight smile playing on his lips. “The totem I mean, told us we were absolutely useless on the road and would need his help. It did not make a good impression.” Varian shook his head as he reached for another turnip. “But he was right. I-we did need him.” He bows his head, bangs brushing over his eyes, as if he thought that could cover the bright red blush on his cheeks.

“I’m sure he needed to go with you too,” Mona offers as she gave the stew another stir. “He’s a lot happier now. With all of you.” In more ways than you could possibly imagine, she didn’t add. Varian peeked up at her through his bangs, a pleased twinkle in his eyes.

“Varian where are...oh,” Mona looked up to see Hugo in the doorway, eyes darting between Varian and Mona. “What’s going on in here?” He asked, a note of panic giving away his inner turmoil that his otherwise relaxed demeanor did not.

“Just getting to know each other,” Mona giggled and Hugo’s eyes widened in alarm. “Your friend here is quite the cook!”

“What can I say?” Varian leaned against the counter with a smug grin. “I’m gifted in many areas.”

Hugo raised an eyebrow, “I don’t think chopping counts as cooking by any means.” Varian sputtered in protest, and Mona threw her head back and laughed.

-------------------

Dinner was an all around success. The children loved the stew, and all of them went back for seconds. Mona was glad she’d saved a bowl for Cyrus, sitting innocently off to the side.

The conversation was also far easier to navigate, as its seemed the more personal questions has all been used up over cookies, allowing Mona and Hugo to direct the conversation to safer topics, like where they were all from. It was here she learned that Nuru was an actual princess, and not just called that because of her proper manners. Varian was from Corona, which explained his aversion to crime, if even half the rumors of King Frederick were to be believed. Yong had a passion for fireworks and gunpowder that would have served him very well if he’d grown up in their kingdom, and Mona was privately glad he reserved it for much happier things.

But as the evening began to wear down, Mona began to grow quieter, eyes on the front door. Cyrus was out awfully late. Hugo had said that they had fought him. She knew Hugo thought Cyrus had been uninjured, but perhaps there had been an injury he hadn’t seen?

Hugo bumped her foot slightly under the table, and she turned to see him give her a reassuring smile. “She’s probably just keeping him late, like she always does when she loses,” he whispered to her. Mona gave him a weak smile in return, and tried to look at the door less. Hugo must be feeling really guilty if he was trying to reassure her, and the last thing she wanted was to make him worry more.

The sharp scratch of old keys in the door echoed through the room, and both Mona and Hugo jumped to their feet. “That’s my husband!” Mona cried as she pushed forward, “I’ll go greet him!” Hugo,” she waved her hand behind herself, “take care of the guests.”

“Oh hell no.” Hugo said as he hurried after her, leaving their three guests confused at the table. “They can take care of themselves.”

As the key made the final turn, Mona quickly pulled the door open a smidge and pushed herself outside, making sure that Hugo was directly behind her to keep the three curious kids from seeing him. Cyrus’s mouth opened in shock as he got a glimpse of Hugo’s face behind her, before she was tugging him down the street as the door closed behind them.

“What’s going on?” Cyrus gasped as Mona pulled him into a hug.

“Hugo’s brought his friends to visit,” she hissed in his ear. “Put this on and don’t talk.” She pulled a brown paper bag from the pocket of her apron, and pushed it into his hands.

Cyrus placed it over his head without question, and oh, Mona loved this man. But she restrained herself. She couldn’t kiss him with a paper mask on after all, so she settled for linking their hands as she pulled him back inside.

Hugo shot them a look that made it very clear how very stupid he thought the paper mask was, but he couldn’t exactly object as Cyrus’s large form came into his companion’s view.

“Everyone, meet my husband! You can call him Uncle!” she smiled as brightly as she could. Cyrus squeezed her hand in reassurance.

All of Hugo’s friends stared at Cyrus’s mask as if they’d never seen anything so strange in their entire lives, which Mona did not think was fair considering the adventures they’d been telling her about. “What is on your head?” Yong piped up with the question that no one was voicing.

“I can explain,” Hugo stepped forward between his friends and Cyrus. “You see, he suffers from horrific facial scaring, which he is quite embarrassed about.” All three children had the decency to look a bit ashamed of staring after that response, and Mona felt privately grateful for his silver tongue.

“That’s horrible!” Nuru said, expression morphing into one of sympathy. “May I ask what type of scaring?”

Cyrus let go of her hand to make a fist. With his other hand, he wagged his fingers around it to mimic fire.”

“Third degree?” Nuru gasped, raising a hand to her mouth. Beside her Varian and even Yong looked upset.

“He means fire,” Hugo rolled his eyes. “He got in an explosion.”

“Then why was he holding up three fingers?” Yong frowned.

“Those were the flames,” Mona offered, and Cyrus gave a thumbs up.

“We’re very please to meet you sir,” Varian said, clearly trying to take control of the conversation, but halfway through a yawn punctuated his sentence.

“Oh dear,” Mona raised a hand to her lips. “It’s gotten very late. Perhaps you kids should go off to bed.”

“We’re fine,” Varian suppressed another yawn, which set off Nuru and Yong. “We wouldn’t want to be rude.”

“Yeah, they can handle a bit of rudeness, trust me,” Hugo moved forward to tug Varian out of his seat. Cyrus made a shooing motion with his hand to agree.

“We really don’t mind,” Mona added, hoping that they would give in and just go to sleep so Cyrus could take off the paper bag she’d stuffed him in. It couldn’t be fun to wear. “The guest room is the second door on the left. Go on.” Varian looked like he might protest, but another tug from Hugo was all he needed to stumble off, Yong and Nuru trailing behind him.

As Hugo pushed the door closed on the others, muttering some excuse about needing to talk to his relatives for a moment, Cyrus turned to Mona and tugged off the paper bag. “Anyone going to fill me in on what’s going on?” he whispered.

Hugo and Mona exchanged a look. This was going to take a while.

------------------

“You know the one thing I don’t get?” Cyrus murmured as they cuddled together on their bed, voices low so as not to disturb the sleeping children in the next room. “Why’d he bring them here?”

Mona raised her head from his chest to him in the eye. “I thought something happened on the trip, something to make him trust you more?”

Cyrus shook his head. “I listened to him give his reports, but he was totally willing to lie to me to keep me away from them. Him coming here after that, it doesn’t make sense.”

“I see,” Mona frowned. Thinking back on Hugo’s words as he’d explained himself to her and Cyrus. “Maybe then he did it for the reason he said, ‘because it’s the last place Donella would look?’”

“No way,” Cyrus ran an absent hand through her loose hair. “He’s got a hundred better hiding holes than this one, and a lot of shady places and favors that even Donella doesn’t know about. I just didn’t mention them so he wouldn’t get defensive.”

“Well,” Mona bit her lip, trying to come up with the words to express what she was thinking. “That wouldn’t be very welcoming would it?” Cyrus cocked his head to the side, and she knew she had his full attention as she pressed on. “They’d be safer, but they'd be cold and miserable. Coming to us, its a lot warmer, you see?”

Cyrus gave a nod, and pulled her close. “We do run a very warm household,” he agreed.

“The best in all the kingdom,” she murmured as she snuggled back into his chest.

Tomorrow they would have to wake up super early to sneak Cyrus out of the house without their guests taking to much notice. Tomorrow she��d have to brew them all a very large pot of porridge to feed them properly before their big journey. Tomorrow Hugo would leave with his friends, after dramatizing his sadness at leaving his “dear aunt and uncle.” But tomorrow could wait a few more hours.