#learning management system for small companies

[wisecura]

Sheets

megumi fushiguro x fem-reader

p.1

p.3  ( ⸝⸝꩜ ᯅ ꩜⸝⸝;) p.5

p.4

AN: Thank you for reading! Please reblog and like if you enjoy this series!

warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, mommy kinks, mommy issues, arranged marriages, forced marriages, angst, eventual smut, clan politics, age gap (5 years from meg, and a little over 10 with toji), toji aint the best dad, mentions of child abuse, slowww build.

birthdays and interrogations

Megumi’s foresight was right on the money.

His father hadn’t returned home after their spat—not for several days.

You couldn’t help but wonder how often things unraveled like that between them, the tension simmering beneath the surface until it inevitably boiled over.

The next few months with Megumi fell into a steady routine. 

Megumi had started joining you for breakfast regularly, his quiet presence at the table becoming a comforting part of your mornings.

Though he didn’t say much, the steady rhythm of shared meals filled the space with a sense of easiness, one that felt unexpectedly grounding. More than you could expect from the unexpected blend. You were on somewhat friendly terms with him now.

After school, he would return home, spending his evenings—occasionally— in your company, whether it was in the living room while you tidied or in the kitchen as you cooked.

He still carried his signature scowl more often than not, but it had softened over time, losing its sharpness. He was warming up to you, slowly but surely. Feisty, yes—but no longer as…distant.

You'd learned soon that Megumi wasn’t much of a talker, yet the conversations you did share held weight. There was a quiet vulnerability in the way he’d let his guard down in small, careful increments. It wasn’t much, just glimpses here and there of the boy beneath the tough exterior. You felt for him. You really did.

He’d ask questions about your day, mention things about school, or make begrudging comments about Toji’s latest absence or fight. These moments, fleeting and subtle. You asked him about his day and the things he enjoyed. He was always a little more reserved, but you were still able to worm some information from him. You truly wanted to get to know the boy you called your stepson.

When Megumi's birthday rolled around, you wanted to throw him a party—something simple, but enough to show him you cared. When you mentioned the idea, he brushed it off, his scowl deepening as he muttered something about birthdays being no big deal.

You could tell by the way his eyes lingered, a mix of disbelief and hesitation, that no one had ever gone out of their way for his birthday before. His embarrassment was almost endearing, and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of surprising him. How would the kitty puff up this time?

Toji, unsurprisingly, was nowhere to be found on the day. You hadn’t expected him to show up, but that didn’t matter. You were determined to make Megumi’s day special.

You decorated the kitchen with a few streamers and a handwritten “Happy Birthday” sign. It wasn’t much, but you hoped it would make him happy. You’d even baked a small cake—a recipe you’d found in an old cookbook—and the scent of frosting and sugar lingered in the air even after you finished baking.

The biggest challenge had been deciding on a gift. Your clan had given you a small stipend—a rare concession you’d managed to secure during one of your carefully planned visits. You’d met with them once or twice, offering just enough feedback to maintain their interest without revealing anything significant. It was a fine line to walk, but it granted you the luxury of a little extra money.

Megumi wasn’t exactly forthcoming about his interests, but he’d mentioned a thing or two. It didn’t hurt that you just so happened to notice the gaming system in his room. It hadn’t taken much effort to discreetly check the brand and do a little research on popular titles that might suit him. You triple checked his current collection, making sure you didn't buy him a copy. You wrapped the games neatly, setting them on the table alongside his cake.

When he walked in and saw the setup, his reaction was everything you’d hoped for, even if he tried to downplay it. His scowl deepened, and his cheeks turned faintly pink as he mumbled, “You didn’t have to do all this.” But you caught the way his eyes softened, the way his lips quirked up ever so slightly, despite his efforts to hide it.

“You’re allowed to celebrate, you know,” you teased gently, pushing the wrapped gift toward him. “Come on, open it.”

He hesitated for a moment before finally reaching for the package. As he unwrapped the games, his expression betrayed a flicker of surprise, followed by something you might’ve called gratitude. “How’d you even know?” he asked, holding up one of the titles.

You shrugged with a small smile. “I have my ways,” you said, keeping your answer vague. No need to admit you’d snooped a little.

The two of you spent the evening together, enjoying the quiet celebration. You’d cooked one of his favorite meals—something he’d mentioned in passing weeks ago—and lit candles on the cake, insisting he make a wish before blowing them out. For all his protests and attempts to act unbothered, you could see it meant something to him.

As the evening wound down, Megumi sat at the table, fiddling with one of the new game cases. He didn’t say much, but the faint smile on his face spoke volumes. It wasn’t a big celebration, but it was something. For the first time in a long time, Megumi felt that someone cared.

Toji, meanwhile, continued his sporadic visits to the apartment. His presence was like a weather shift—unpredictable. Sometimes, his arrivals brought an icy chill, marked by curt exchanges and a tension you could almost taste. Other times, his visits erupted into heated arguments with Megumi, their voices echoing through the walls.

You’d learned when to stay silent, carefully observing the dynamic between them until you felt absolutely needed. When you did speak, your words were short, clipped, and almost always in Megumi’s defense.

You couldn’t help it. The boy had a way of stirring up your protective instincts, and you hated seeing the rift between father and son grow deeper with every spat.

And Toji was never around long enough to deal with the aftermath of these arguments. Megumi would sulk in his room for the rest of the day, shutting himself away in a silence that filled the house. You couldn’t help but associate Toji’s sporadic presence with Megumi’s absence, and it made you feel…lonely.

You’d grown so attached to the boy—his quiet company, his rare smiles. And it was becoming harder not to resent the man you’d married. But you told yourself it could always be worse.

Your interactions with Toji weren’t all bad. He had moments of surprising thoughtfulness—checking in on you, asking if you needed anything. It was a nice gesture, though you weren’t sure how much sincerity lay behind it. Seemingly trying to play the role of “husband”. Thankfully he hadn’t tried to sleep with you. He’s was gone more times than not. And when he was home, he never stayed long enough to share a bed.

He was tolerant. Leaving you somewhat restless. What did he want from you. From your marriage?

One evening, as you tidied up after dinner, Toji leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed, his sharp eyes watching you with an unreadable expression. This night was more tense, Megumi left almost immediately after dinner, the two of you bathed in silence. Another session of you ending their ‘conversation’ short.

“You seem awfully protective of the kid,” he said, his voice low but pointed. “Almost makes me wonder if you’re planning something.”

You froze for a moment, his words catching you off guard. Placing the dishcloth down deliberately, you met his gaze evenly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, his smirk half-formed, but his eyes remained serious. “Means I’m not blind. I see how you hover around him—how careful you are with your words. Makes me wonder if you’re working an angle.”

You bristled at his insinuation, your tone firm as you replied. You’d never show Toji much softness that was for sure. But Megumi. Megumi was different. “Megumi has nothing to do with this. I wouldn’t drag him into… whatever games my clan is trying to play. He doesn’t deserve that.”

Toji’s expression shifted slightly, something thoughtful flickering behind his sharp features. “So, you are reporting to them?” he asked, his voice quieter but no less piercing. He'd already assumed, but you were being so open with him. Your clan had some ulterior motives not that that was surprising. What clan didn’t? But to tell him so forwardly…especially knowing he could send you away.

“Yes,” you admitted, though your voice softened with a hint of frustration. “But…I’m not telling them much. Just enough to keep them off my back. I’m not here to be their little spy, and I won’t let them use Megumi for their bullshit.” Perhaps you were hoping to gain some sympathy with your situation. You were being honest. Could you appeal to the better nature in the wild card standing before you?

For a moment, Toji said nothing, his sharp eyes studying you with a weight that made the air feel heavier. He hadn’t expected your sudden outburst, the emotion laced in your voice cutting through the practiced composure you always seemed to carry.

Around him, you’d been nothing but polite, your speech prim and proper—even when you occasionally butted into the heated arguments he had with Megumi. You’d been a quiet presence, never revealing too much, always staying just on the edges of their fractured household dynamic.

Hell, this conversation had only started because he’d noticed Megumi’s growing attachment and acceptance towards you—something that had caught him off guard.

He couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. The kid was prickly and aloof with just about everyone, but with you? He was… different. More open, even if it was subtle. Toji hadn’t decided if he liked it yet, or if it made you a bigger threat. He wasn’t entirely sure if he could trust you—or if he even should.

His gaze boring into you as if trying to peel back your layers. Deciding that you likely weren’t lying, he continued.

Unexpectedly, he chuckled, though there was no humor in it. “You’re pretty sharp for someone so young. Playing your clan like that… takes guts. Or recklessness.”

“I’m not reckless,” you said firmly, your voice tinged with defensiveness. “I just know how they operate." You mumble more to yourself. "And I know how to survive.”

His smirk returned, but it lacked its usual edge. “Yeah, I can see that. But you’re still a kid. You shouldn’t have to play those kinds of games.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the faint trace of concern in his voice. “I’m not a kid,” you replied softly, the words echoing with a tone of defiance that felt uncomfortably similar to Megumi’s.

“You’re eighteen,” he countered, his tone gruff. “That’s young. Too young for this kind of shit. You’re not wrong about the clan. Hell,” he added, his voice tinged with a dark sort of humor, “they’ll probably have someone else lined up for you by the end of the week.”

Your chest tightened at the reminder, though you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. “Why did you agree to the marriage then?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

Toji’s gaze darkened, his smirk fading entirely. “Figured it was better than leaving you to someone worse,” he said, his tone evasive. “Doesn’t mean I like the clan bullshit. Never did. But I get it. You didn’t have much of a choice.”

There was an uncomfortable silence before he added, almost begrudgingly, “You need protection, too.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. His words didn’t entirely align with the aloof, dismissive man you’d been learning to navigate. “So, can I trust you?” you asked, half-teasing but with an edge of sincerity.

He snorted, his smirk returning faintly. “Trust is a stretch. But for now, yeah, you’re safe here.”

The unspoken sentiment hung in the air, heavier than the words he’d spoken. You couldn’t tell if it was a warning or a promise—or maybe both. Still, there was a flicker of something protective in his demeanor that gave you pause. Toji might not be easy to read, but for now, it seemed he wasn’t your enemy.

Your clan hadn’t let up during that first year. The snippets of information you’d provided weren’t enough—they needed more, demanded more, than you were willing to give. Representatives began knocking on your door with frustrating regularity, their polished smiles hiding their growing impatience.

The landline rang incessantly, as though they were hoping to catch you off guard and glean some tidbit you hadn’t shared during your carefully measured visits.

You’d done your best to subtly turn them away, declining their offers with polite firmness and brushing off their pointed reminders of your “obligations.” But their persistence only grew.

Sometimes, they even came during your shared dinners with Megumi, the unwelcome interruptions souring the brief moments of peace you’d managed to build. It was enough to leave a bitter taste in your mouth, leaving you somewhat salty. 

You hadn’t wanted him to get involved, but the way his sharp eyes followed you each time you returned from the front door told you he was paying attention.

He wasn’t oblivious to the frequent visits, even if he didn’t say anything. Megumi had been kept out of clan affairs for most of his life, and you wanted to help keep it that way. Yet, every time you came back from one of those interactions, he seemed quieter, more withdrawn.

It was as if a silent itch gnawed at the edges of his mind, questions he wasn’t ready to voice aloud. He never asked you about it directly, but his watchful gaze and the tension in his shoulders said enough.

The questions they’d been asking lingered in your mind: Was Megumi truly as promising a sorcerer as they claimed? Would he eventually be adopted back into the Zenin clan and rise to take over as its head? If Toji Fushiguro doing anything suspicious?

And you—were you doing your part? Building trust, forming a bond with the two, setting the foundation for future alliances? Should you be left at that house? Are you being useful?

The implications were clear.

You weren’t there because you were wanted as a person; you were there as a tool. The reasoning behind their persistence loomed like a shadow over every waking moment.

But you had Megumi now.

And Toji

Even if he seemed to doubt you. He had every right to. But as long as Toji backed you, this was your home. This was where you belonged. For the first time in your life, you felt like you had something real—a family. A place that felt safe.

Megumi noticed the tension in your shoulders, the tightness in your jaw, every time you returned from one of those exchanges. Though you tried to hide it, you never quite managed to mask your emotions fully—not from him.

He’d developed the habit early on of reading you, attuned to the subtleties in your demeanor. Without even realizing it, he’d become quietly vigilant, watching over you in those moments. Then again it was hard not to memorize something so radiant and warm.

In the short time you’d been there, Megumi felt like he’d come to understand you better than he expected. He’d learned so much about you—your kindness, your charisma, your warmth, and the way you had a knack for smoothing over the jagged edges in his life.

It baffled him that you’d stuck around for as long as you had, but it also stirred something in him that he couldn’t quite define. Relief? Gratitude? Maybe even a flicker of hope. You wouldn't be leaving...right?

At first, he’d been hesitant to let himself get used to you. Because...people left—that was the one constant he’d come to understand.

No matter how much you wanted them to stay, they always found a way to slip through your fingers. And good people—people like you—seemed to bear the brunt of the world’s cruelty.

Whether it was bullying at school or tragic accidents that seemed to plague life around him, he’d learned that the world punished goodness more often than it rewarded it.

And then there were the visitors—those constant knocks at the door, pulling you into conversations you clearly didn’t want to have. You'd always laugh and wave it off, but he could tell you weren't exactly comfortable with it.

Each time, his unease grew, an itch at the back of his mind he couldn’t scratch. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something—or someone—would pull you away. Test your place in his life. Because that’s how it always went. Something always happened. It always did.

After a full year of hesitation and wondering. Something happened.

And everything…shifted.

p.5?

AN: Thank you for reading! Please reblog and like if you enjoy this series!

[learningmanagementsystems]

Scalability in the Best Learning Management Systems

Scalability is a crucial factor to consider when selecting a Learning Management System (LMS) for your organization. As your business grows, so do your training and educational needs. A scalable LMS ensures that your platform can adapt to these changes without compromising on performance or functionality. In this blog, we'll explore the importance of scalability in the best Learning Management Systems and how it impacts organizations of all sizes, from small companies to large enterprises. We’ll also discuss how learning management system SaaS solutions, enterprise learning management software, and employee training tracking software contribute to a scalable LMS experience.

Understanding Scalability in LMS

Scalability refers to the ability of a system to handle increased loads—whether that's more users, courses, or features—without a decrease in performance. For an LMS, scalability is about ensuring that the platform can grow alongside your organization, accommodating more learners, expanding content libraries, and integrating with additional tools as needed. The best Learning Management Systems are designed with scalability in mind, offering flexible solutions that cater to both current and future needs.

Why Scalability Matters

1. Adapting to Business Growth

As your company grows, so will your workforce and, subsequently, your training requirements. A scalable LMS allows you to add new users, departments, and even regions without requiring a complete overhaul of your existing system. This is particularly important for small companies that may start with a modest number of employees but anticipate rapid growth. A learning management system for small companies should be capable of evolving into a more comprehensive platform as the organization expands.

2. Handling Increased Content

The volume and complexity of training content can increase significantly over time. Whether you’re adding more courses, incorporating multimedia elements, or developing more advanced training modules, your LMS should be able to handle the load. Enterprise learning management software typically offers advanced content management features that support a growing and diverse content library, ensuring that your training materials remain organized and accessible.

3. Supporting More Integrations

As businesses grow, they often adopt additional software tools and platforms to streamline operations. A scalable LMS should easily integrate with other systems, such as HR software, CRM tools, and collaboration platforms. This ensures a seamless flow of data across your organization, enhancing the overall efficiency of your training programs. Learning management system SaaS solutions are particularly effective in this regard, as they are designed to integrate with a wide range of third-party applications.

4. Maintaining Performance with Increased Users

One of the key challenges in scaling an LMS is maintaining optimal performance as the number of users increases. The best Learning Management System are built on robust infrastructure that can support thousands of concurrent users without slowing down. This is especially critical for enterprise learning management software, which must accommodate large, geographically dispersed teams accessing the system simultaneously.

5. Tracking Employee Progress at Scale

As your organization grows, so does the need to monitor and track employee progress across various training programs. Employee training tracking software is a vital component of a scalable LMS, providing detailed insights into learner performance, course completion rates, and skill development. This data is essential for making informed decisions about training strategies and ensuring that your workforce remains competitive.

6. The Role of SaaS in LMS Scalability

Learning management system SaaS (Software as a Service) solutions are inherently scalable, making them an ideal choice for organizations looking to future-proof their training programs. SaaS-based LMS platforms offer several advantages:

Flexibility: SaaS solutions can easily adjust to accommodate more users, content, and features without requiring significant hardware investments.

Cost-Effectiveness: With SaaS, you only pay for what you use, making it a budget-friendly option for both small companies and large enterprises.

Automatic Updates: SaaS platforms are regularly updated by the provider, ensuring that you always have access to the latest features and security enhancements.

Conclusion

Scalability is a critical factor when choosing the best Learning Management System for your organization. Whether you’re a small company just starting out or a large enterprise with complex training needs, a scalable LMS will ensure that your platform can grow alongside your business. By focusing on adaptability, content management, integration capabilities, performance, and employee training tracking, you can select an LMS that meets your current requirements while also preparing you for future expansion.

For organizations seeking a flexible and scalable solution, learning management system SaaS platforms offer the perfect balance of performance, cost-effectiveness, and ease of use. Investing in a scalable LMS is not just about meeting today's needs—it's about positioning your organization for long-term success in an ever-evolving business landscape.

[theygender]

Apparently my job incorrectly changed my state on my W4 without my knowledge or consent last year and now I owe a LOT of money in unpaid state taxes since they weren't withholding them from my paycheck like they were supposed to 😭

[foldingfittedsheets]

I worked retail for a long time and people really do treat you like shit sometimes. But between selling sex toys, mattresses, and jewelry I can say definitively I got treated worst selling mattresses.

All three of my jobs were in sales but selling sex toys we were allowed to put people in their place, and in jewelry people didn’t want to misbehave in a fancy setting. But people at the mattress store had no problem yelling at me, hitting on me, or insulting me to my face.

For a while I was managing my own store for the company. I ran a small location and had struggling employees placed with me for rehabilitation. If their numbers improved they could go back to bigger stores. If not, they got fired.

So this meant I was the manager of problem employees. At one point both of my people had a foot out the door. The company was going downhill and changed computer systems and they were fed up. Consequently, they made a ton of mistakes, because they just didn’t care about the job or learning the new systems.

I strolled into work on what was essentially my Monday to a shit show. Deliveries scheduled without product, wrong things on orders, poor expectations of the process, you name it. I spent the entire morning getting yelled at for mistakes that weren’t mine.

The final straw came when a man called furious that his moms bed for her nursing home had a delivery window he couldn’t accommodate. This wasn’t a huge disaster since we still had time to deliver it before she moved. I ran him through the options and he just kept screaming at me. Not for a solution but because I was there and he was frustrated.

My heart filled with malice and a cold fury. A calculating part of my brain had a realization in that moment that I could stay a punching bag or I could strike back.

I quavered my voice delicately, taking in a shaky, warbling breath like I was trying not to cry. “Sir,” I quivered through fake tears, “I don’t know what you want from me! I told you what I can do, I didn’t make this mistake I’m just trying to fix it!” My voice broke pitifully on the last syllables, sounding in all ways like a sweet innocent person being yelled at who’s just trying her best, really!

It was like I’d doused him with cold water. My emotional act was the realization that he was screaming at someone who was just doing their damn job, and he was being an asshole. He hastily made an excuse and hung up.

I had a third employee covering with me from another store that day who heard everything. When I hung up, I looked over to see them watching me with an awed expression. “Did… did you just pretend to cry?”

“I absolutely fucking did,” I said with feeling, “and I’d do it a thousand more times. If that’s what it takes for someone to realize they’re behaving like a fucking prick, they deserve it.” The employee looked at me like I was their hero.

The man called back, apologizing profusely, having magically arranged his schedule to accommodate delivery. He came in later that week with an apology Starbucks gift card. I was gracious in my acceptance.

I pulled it a few more times before leaving the company. I felt no shame in the ruse. If someone behaves so poorly that it’s plausible their behavior would drive someone to tears they deserve to feel absolutely wretched about it.

[reasonsforhope]

"The Netherlands is pulling even further ahead of its peers in the shift to a recycling-driven circular economy, new data shows.

According to the European Commission’s statistics office, 27.5% of the material resources used in the country come from recycled waste.

For context, Belgium is a distant second, with a “circularity rate” of 22.2%, while the EU average is 11.5% – a mere 0.8 percentage point increase from 2010.

“We are a frontrunner, but we have a very long way to go still, and we’re fully aware of that,” Martijn Tak, a policy advisor in the Dutch ministry of infrastructure and water management, tells The Progress Playbook. 

The Netherlands aims to halve the use of primary abiotic raw materials by 2030 and run the economy entirely on recycled materials by 2050. Amsterdam, a pioneer of the “doughnut economics” concept, is behind much of the progress.

Why it matters

The world produces some 2 billion tonnes of municipal solid waste each year, and this could rise to 3.4 billion tonnes annually by 2050, according to the World Bank.

Landfills are already a major contributor to planet-heating greenhouse gases, and discarded trash takes a heavy toll on both biodiversity and human health.

“A circular economy is not the goal itself,” Tak says. “It’s a solution for societal issues like climate change, biodiversity loss, environmental pollution, and resource-security for the country.”

A fresh approach

While the Netherlands initially focused primarily on waste management, “we realised years ago that’s not good enough for a circular economy.”

In 2017, the state signed a “raw materials agreement” with municipalities, manufacturers, trade unions and environmental organisations to collaborate more closely on circular economy projects.

It followed that up with a national implementation programme, and in early 2023, published a roadmap to 2030, which includes specific targets for product groups like furniture and textiles. An English version was produced so that policymakers in other markets could learn from the Netherlands’ experiences, Tak says.

The programme is focused on reducing the volume of materials used throughout the economy partly by enhancing efficiencies, substituting raw materials for bio-based and recycled ones, extending the lifetimes of products wherever possible, and recycling.

It also aims to factor environmental damage into product prices, require a certain percentage of second-hand materials in the manufacturing process, and promote design methods that extend the lifetimes of products by making them easier to repair.

There’s also an element of subsidisation, including funding for “circular craft centres and repair cafés”.

This idea is already in play. In Amsterdam, a repair centre run by refugees, and backed by the city and outdoor clothing brand Patagonia, is helping big brands breathe new life into old clothes.

Meanwhile, government ministries aim to aid progress by prioritising the procurement of recycled or recyclable electrical equipment and construction materials, for instance.

State support is critical to levelling the playing field, analysts say...

Long Road Ahead

The government also wants manufacturers – including clothing and beverages companies – to take full responsibility for products discarded by consumers.

“Producer responsibility for textiles is already in place, but it’s work in progress to fully implement it,” Tak says.

And the household waste collection process remains a challenge considering that small city apartments aren’t conducive to having multiple bins, and sparsely populated rural areas are tougher to service.

“Getting the collection system right is a challenge, but again, it’s work in progress.”

...Nevertheless, Tak says wealthy countries should be leading the way towards a fully circular economy as they’re historically the biggest consumers of natural resources."

-via The Progress Playbook, December 13, 2023

[shiftchii]

U.A. High in my DR !

Basics

Students are separated randomly into specific departments and classes sectioned by the letters A-K.

These departments are:

Department of Heroics (A - B): Students in this department learn everything they need to know in order to become excellent heroes in service to the community. They are trained in battle, first aid, rescue, support, and all manners of heroic-related lessons.

Department of General Education C - E): Students who don’t make it to the hero course are included here. This department supports students aiming for college and other pursuits. It’s also possible for students with good grades and exceptional strength and quirk skills to be transferred into the hero course (And either the support or business course mind you). Basically regular HS but they get to say that they went to UA on their resume.

Department of Support (F - H): Students here focus on developing support equipment that helps heroes out on the battlefield. With a workspace stock to the brim with all sorts of special tools and their own studio to build things, this department provides an unmatched creative environment.

Department of General Management (I - K): This department focuses on all aspects of heroic business, from the founding and managing of hero agencies to the promotion of public opinion regarding heroes. They even do hands-on lessons in venture capitalism. They have a lot of free time.

Each class is usually comprised of 21 students. That means that the total student population at UA would be 693.

We stay in the same class with the same teacher for all 3 years.

Since UA is a highly prestigious school, we get a lot of funding and benefits for the dorms and when we go on trips and whatnot. (Food we buy for the dorms is paid for, we get free snacks/concessions in the sports festival, free hero costume updates and renewals)

The school curriculum is way less loaded than here. The school system is much better.

The Hero Teachers are actually good at teaching.

Since U.A. is famous, it has many sponsors with support and hero merch companies, so some hero course students (usually 3rd years) have their own hero merch already. Students are sometimes sponsored and do photoshoots and are invited to red carpet events. (Following the School Festival, Class 1-A gets loads of sponsors and stuff!)

The teachers and students are encouraged to decorate their classes and most of them do so.

U.A. has a popular school website.

Staff and students are recommended to have Twitter to update the public events, the majority of the students obviously don't take this seriously, there's always someone who has beef and makes it public (Monoma) and it always ends up like those MHA Tweets, it’s the funniest thing ever.

Schedule

School is Monday - Friday and starts at 8:25 and finishes at 15:10. Regular classes take place during the first half of school, then the afternoon (for the Dept. of Heroics) you will have hero training. Only Dept. of Heroics students have an additional 7th period.

The teachers move between classes while the students stay in 1 class (besides electives).

Wednesdays are half days and only consist of hero training (so no typical school work), though sometimes it's replaced by FHS. You also don't have to wear your uniform on Wednesdays.

We will always have some kind of free time for school despite our somewhat busy schedules.

Not all school days are the same (emergency drills, other schools coming to train with us, etc.).

Classes

Core Subjects for Dept. of Heroics

Homeroom: Taught by Aizawa. Acts as a study hall. The class reps will often give a small meeting with the class about important events during this period.

Japanese: Taught by Cementoss. Focuses on reading, writing, and literature.

Mathematics: Taught by Ectoplasm. Covers algebra, geometry, and calculus.

English: Taught by Present Mic. Emphasizes reading, writing, and conversation skills.

Home Economics: Taught by Midnight. Cooking and other aspects of household management.

Foundational Hero Studies (FHS): Taught by All Might, Aizawa or Midnight. Hero related studying: hero laws, safety precautions, first aid, jsl, media training, dividing hero and civilian identity etc.

Hero Training: Taught by various teachers, usually Aizawa or All Might, it changes every week and we are informed about the activities during homeroom. For example: Quirkless Combat, Rescue Training, Combat, Quirk Training etc.

Elective Subjects

Thought by various teachers. This is the only class where students move instead of teachers, these are shared, so you could end up with classmates from other classes. Students get to completely choose what electives they have. If they don’t choose, they are placed in extra training or study hall.

Options:

Foreign Languages (e.g., Chinese, Korean)

Journalism

Art Foundations

Photography

Ceramics

Psychology

Choir

Band

Orchestra

Woodshop

Metalshop

Chemistry

Poetry

Cooking

Baking

Biology

Physics

Film Analysis

Computer Programming

Animal Work

Volunteer Work

Theatre

Student Council

Literature Analysis

Forensics

Study Hall

Class 1-A Timetable

Around UA campus

The updated UA security system is really good. The sensors are so good, you don't even need to have your ID out. They can scan it anywhere on your person. If you lost or misplaced your ID, the gates also have facial recognition software, so it's fine. If you're not a student or staff, you NEED a visitor pass or the school will go into lockdown on you.

We can use our school IDs to get snacks and drinks from vending machines around the school hallways. It’s free and they are replenished daily.

UA has a courtyard where we can eat outside. Most of the 2nd and 3rd years get food from places outside of the school campus and eat outside in the courtyard. Because of this, the cafeteria isn't as crowded and when we eat lunch we can sit and enjoy our food comfortably. The cafeteria is also luxurious and looks like a fancy mall café.

The library is huge and has many resources with much to explore. There are many different levels with varying types of quiet floors and study halls. It's also open 24/7 so students who are fighting to finish a project can pull all-nighters.

There’s a little shop that has U.A. and hero merch and school supplies including books for courses. You can also buy the merch on the online website.

UA has extracurricular groups and clubs for those who aren't in the hero course such as other sports and things like cheerleaders, debate, theater, music, cooking, ballet, and much more. I mean, hero course students CAN do those things but they WILL have a hard time doing so all while dealing with said hero responsibilities. As mentioned before, business course students have a lot of free time and general ED students are basically regular HS students who just so happen to be going to UA and for support course students, it really depends on how much work you choose to take on for yourself.

There is a study center where students who need extra help can go. Students with failing grades must go here for a set amount of hours to get the help they need. It’s strictly work, and talking about anything other than school is basically prohibited. It’s usually run by Ectoplasm and his clones or Hound Dog.

Work studies & Internships

All first years do an internship, it’s required. This is usually after the sports festival when students have had a chance to show off their skills.

Work studies are basically experience-oriented off-study programs that allow students in the hero course who have Provisional Licenses to work with pros at their agencies. Students will be able to use their quirks under the guidance of a pro, and can even be dispatched to fight villains and help out in disaster areas. If you do well, you can be scouted to become the hero’s sidekick.

Work studies are a more serious version of internships. They entail helping pro heroes on the streets and with investigations. They are usually reserved for 2nd and 3rd-year students, who usually have their licenses. 1st years didn't do them in the past. However, with the rise of villain activity, the school decided to open up work studies to 1st years as well, albeit a very small and select few of them. If they didn't find a good agency with a proven track record they wouldn't do it at all.

Events

U.A. has seasonal dances and a lot of events, like Halloween, Hero Day and other festivals.

Uniforms

Color palette

The uniforms the students receive consist of 4 sets of each clothing (besides the coat and varsity jacket):

Shirts

Long sleeve

Short sleeved

Sleeveless

Blazer

Long sleeves

Sleeveless

Cardigans

Sleeveless (two color variations)

Long sleeved (two color variations)

Sweaters

Sleeveless (two color variations)

Long sleeved (two color variations)

Pants

Shorts

Below The Knee

Classic

Skirts

Mini

Below The Knee

Maxi

Ties

Necktie

Bow Tie

Socks

Quarter

Crew

Knee High

Thigh High

Tights

Shoes

Coat

Varsity Jacket

Gym Clothing

Tank top

Loose Zip-up Sweatshirt (long sleeves, short sleeves, sleeveless)

Cropped Zip-up Sweatshirt (long sleeves, short sleeves, sleeveless)

Shorts

Below Knee Shorts

Sweatpants

Swimwear

Sleeveless, Short sleeved and Long sleeved

Lanyards

Uniforms aren’t required on Wednesdays

Students are allowed to accessorize their uniforms however they want and wear their own jackets

Piercings, colored hair, nails, makeup etc. are allowed

The uniforms aren’t gendered - all students receive all versions and are allowed to wear whichever one they prefer

For students with mutant type Quirks, custom made uniforms are made

Button and sleeve/lapel stripe differences between the department uniforms [1-General education, 2-Hero, 3-Support, 4-Management].

School Bag

Along with the Uniforms the school hands out bags. You can return them and use your own if you’d like.

A standard deep blue nylon matching the uniforms. The U.A. logo sits at the right bottom corner.

Class

If you’re standing at the front of the classroom looking out at the desks, the seating arrangement starts at the leftmost side of the room (“A” names), going front to back and then going to the next row to the right, and so on.  keep in mind that the alphabetical order here is based on the Japanese alphabet. My number is 10.

Here's how I laid out the desks for 21 students:

Since we stay in the same classrooms for most of the days we can leave out stuff at our desks. They have shelves underneath with 2 outlets and lots of space.

Class 1-A Friend Groups

Everyone is actually really close, but those are what groups spend the most time together. Of course we hang out in different groups or all together too.

We have frequent movie and game nights, 1-A has a group chat and it’s always active, there’s always someone wanting to do something. Sometimes we invite people from other classes.

DekuSquad

Izuku

Ochako

Tenya

Tsuyu

Shouto

Haruka

Hitoshi (after he joins our class)

BakuSquad

Katsuki

Eijirou

Mina

Denki

Minoru

Hanta

TokoSquad

Fumikage

Mashirao

Mezou

Tooru

MomoSquad

Momo

Kyoka

Yuga

Kouji

Rikido

I hope this was helpful! <3

© credits: seating arrangement • basics @/Priicklleshifts on TikTok • uniforms • dividers

[iridessence]

I would like to take a moment to acknowledge myself and say that I am elated and proud to have manifested some of my major goals since 2018-2019. Basically before then, 2014-16 I struggled with depression and suicidal ideation quite frequently due to not having steady income, as jobs in retail seemed the only available and “safe” options, but long shifts standing at a registers or posts were damagingly hard on my body. In 2017 I got a desk job that set me on the path of financial stability and reduced physical load, which did absolute wonders for my mental health but it was an absolute blight to my existence over time due to terrible management and the usual corporate garbage. I knew that staying there was fine for a time but not sustainable in the long run, so change must come eventually.

also around then, I continued to explore self portraiture and personal style but I really wanted to perform/create Burlesque acts and book them, and invest in and actually have choreography/technique and beautiful costume pieces that looked like the visions refining themselves in my head through research. I was also perpetually struggling in the dating sphere with the deficit of romantic fulfillment that I deeply wanted. and while they weren’t hostile, things were definitely weird with my family (dysfunctional, literal small town energy, upset that I didn’t want to be around them more in the suburbs but lots of interpersonal toxicity and lack of emotional growth).

I knew that in the coming years I wanted to…

quit my soul sucking job and set out to be a full-time or at least professional level burlesque performer, creating the qualitative and classic show girl acts I dream to see on stage

work on the floor at a boutique or mom-and-pop type shop that sells goods or services that are interesting to me, especially aesthetically, such as an antique shop or a jewelry boutique etc., but a place where I could sit intermittently as needed for my physical disability. Also, ideally it would be a position where I could express myself through style at my choosing and it would be received well, and also my hours would not be very early or very late.

find a loving and supporting partner who I could lavish equal amounts of love and support on to, live with and hopefully marry

Achieve/maintain financial stability enough that I have a reduced risk for homelessness and sometimes treat myself to things that I enjoy.

Figure out why the relationship with my family was such a struggle and do things within my power and desire to fix it.

In a world that isn’t a corporate machine devoid of empathy, none of that seems like a tall order to ask… but I live in America so… It took some time, but I’m starting to see the fruits and returns. Honestly sometimes things feel like a blur and I’m not exactly sure I could say there was a huge system to what I did overtime to make it work, but I know the work was there.

As of today, September 9, 2023:

I am a respected professional burlesque performer with costumes I figuratively gag over and acts that come closer and closer to hitting the aesthetic nail on the head for what I want to embody. (I quit that shitty desk job at the beginning of 2019 and haven’t looked back since. Sent a whole ass company wide message with a long and detailed “fuck you” too.😂🙈)

i’ve managed through burlesque, social media work, donations and savings, and —since the global pandemic—,odd jobs and grants/minimal loans, to continuously pay rent and ward off homelessness 

I live with the love of my life, to whom I am engaged and actively planning our wedding (we looked at a venue yesterday!)

I’ve helped my mom on the growth of her emotional intelligence and commitment to learning more about values under the race, gender, and sexuality umbrella, as well pushed her to examine the enabling and entitlement dynamics with her adult children that take advantage of her. While my relationship with my brother and sister is not great, my relationship with my mom has been steadily getting better since the pandemic. we had a breakthrough at the beginning of this year where she acknowledged and apologized for guilt tripping me for not being around the family more, when I was (she quoted) “actually protecting myself like she should have been.”

and litcherally within the past week I was offered the job at a local boutique I interviewed with a year ago and didn’t get, and I signed an offer letter to begin work within the month. 

To say I’m happy with the way things look right now is an understatement. The world still terrifies me, but I have no choice but to carve out a sliver of its beautiful experiences for myself, and I am doing just that. It may not be perfection, but it’s pretty damn good and I’m going to do everything in my power to keep it that way and make it even better. I am living my ancestors' wildest dreams!!

for anyone reading who might be struggling right now to make things work, I hope you hold on to hope that it can get better. A beautiful life is possible even on this hell scape, even for the marginalized.

[b1rds3ye]

Task Force 141 but it's Battlefield's Bad Company - a unit of disgraced soldiers who are valued no higher than cannon fodder but who are also too skilled to simply get the boot. Despite being thrown at the most devastating threats, they are low on resources and lack respect from the rest of the military. No one bothers learning their names, they're not expected to last more than a week. But a small unit of them always manage to pull through.

Captain John Price says he only took up Bad Company because he was given an offer of early retirement if he survived leading the dredges of the military. In truth, he's gone off the books one too many times, his last mission had him temporarily A.W.O.L. as he pursued what he believed was right. If the military can't silence him with retirement, they'll silence him with Bad Company where they'll throw every mission under the sun at him until he inevitably falls. He doesn't comment on how his last official mission went, but if you ever bring up General Shepherd he says he has a special bullet reserved for that bastard.

No one knows exactly why Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley got into Bad Company, he doesn't say. In fact, no one knows shit about him. All anyone knows is that he's a damn good soldier, the longest lasting in Bad Company - he transferred even earlier than Price. Simon says he willingly transferred here because he thrives with the freedom and informality compared to the standard military and no one dares comment on how utterly unhinged that sounds. Still, his personality seems to fit the story; he's not afraid to go off the beaten path to reach the mission objective which seems to have taken out everyone but him.

Sergeant Johnny "Soap" MacTavish is just a menace, but a crafty one which is a problem for the military. He enjoys being demolitions expert and one day got too bored and a little too curious. Destroying physical objects would be too obvious but he may or may not have infected the military system with a virus to see what sort of information he could extract. He learnt the hard and very expensive way that he has a knack for hacking. Perhaps that's why they transferred him to Bad Company, with trash-quality guns, outdated tech and precisely negative ammo, there's not much destruction he can wreak. Well, that was likely the thought process but Johnny's always loved a challenge.

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick was framed - he presumes. He excels in all the drills, his performance is promising, he follows all the orders, and yet he's here. What he doesn't know is that he doesn't have the personality superiors desire. He questions too much, he's far too open minded, he can't be molded like other soldiers. He's stubborn - they transferred him because he filed one too many complaints of inefficient directives that could be boiled down into polite military speak of "screw you and your orders, I have a better way (P.S. may your tea always be lukewarm)". He's annoyed the big bad men at the round-table and now he's paying the price. Fortunately, those are the traits that thrive in Bad Company and the exact traits that prompted Price to take him under his wing.

And that just leaves you, the newest member on the brink of promotion to sergeant until you were transferred into Bad Company. You're jittery, you've heard of the nightmare that is Bad Company, how it contains the worst of the worst (and yes you are aware that it apparently includes you now). When you step off the helicopter, you repeat your simple goal - to survive this one mission with Bad Company so that you can go back to your squadron and get your damn promotion.

But as the mission progresses you find yourself getting closer to all the members of Bad Company. You look back fondly at the memory of Price forcing the rest of you to run back into gunfire to retrieve his stupid bucket hat, the same hat he plops on your head if you're ever too on edge. You can only feel thankful for Ghost's unconventional medical advice - you have to give it to him, this discount Bear Grylls has saved your life more times than you can count. You look forward to the new creative ways Soap will blow up an enemy cache, or watch as Gaz hilariously tries to mimic your direct superiors with an overly high-pitched voice as Price begrudgingly talks to them over comms.

And that's when you realise that there will be a day where the mission is inevitably over. And instead of looking forward to your transfer back, you find yourself wanting to risk your life every day with your beloved bunch of military misfits, the group of you against the rest of the world, than whatever stuffy perks come with being sergeant.

Call of Duty Masterlist

[chaotic-orphan]

Hey! Excitedly waiting for the next intoxicating fear update, no rush tho take your time:)

Intoxicating Fear (XV)

A foreboding calm

Part one // Masterpost // continued from here

If you noticed Kit’s face-claim change, ahahah… no you didn’t ;)

~*~*~*~*~*~

Ambrose didn’t come back for days. Kit didn’t have any of the strange headaches, there was nothing. No shred of contact. No stupid texts, no phone calls, nothing.

It was eerie. Strange.

Kit had to re-learn how to be a person again. How to exist without the constant threat of violence or pain, or Ambrose. The further they got away from Friday, the greater Kit’s anxiety grew that Ambrose would come back.

It was a quiet Saturday, too quiet. Kit woke and checked his phone to see if Ambrose text but nothing. It was… unsettling. As if there were tiny ants crawling through his veins and scurrying along his nerves pulsing to see if they could sense Ambrose’s presence lurking.

Every electric pulse of stranger’s nerves sending signals their brains prickled Kit’s fight or flight just in case it could be Ambrose. He couldn’t escape it in the shops, walking down streets, on the metro, in his apartment block because he could feel someone walk up the steps to his floor… and walk right past it.

He couldn’t seem to relax, to find any sort of peace on his own. Music didn’t help not even when he blared it on max volume in his ears. Tv shows barely served as a distraction and by the time Sunday rolled around Kit decided he needed to go back to work, just to be somewhere he knew Ambrose couldn’t ambush him.

That’s what found him staring at the Hero Tower as he emerged from the sea of commuters. He took the overground train on the raised train tracks that ran through the city. The Hero tower loomed above them all in the old-town, inner district at least. Maybe if they built it in the business district there would be some competition. Maybe it wouldn’t look as impressive.

It still managed to make Kit’s thoughts turn static, almost mute, as if he was staring out at the sea, bare feet on the sand and listening to the waves come in and out.

Even with all the cars and honking noises of the city’s traffic. Kit disentangled himself from the bustle and took the revolving door into the lobby of the Hero Tower, and for the first time in days? Weeks? months, he felt safe. The familiar smell greeted him with a sudden burst and he almost sighed at the scent. It smelled refreshing, clean, but not to the sickening degree of a clinical, hospital smell. It was more personal, more like a showroom in a beautiful house on the outskirts of the city— that was definitely outside his budget— would smell of.

A small voice in his head said that it smelled like how Mentor’s house smelled when he was a teenager, but Kit ignored it and continued to the lift. It was directly opposite the lobby entrance and had a keypad in front of it. Kit lifted his hand to key in the passcode when tanned, lithe fingers beat him to it.

Kit’s alarm system had alerted him to the individual approaching him, but it was the smell of the pungent cologne that identified them.

“Well, well, well Mallory. Risen from the dead. Poor Superhero was worried sick,” a voice dripping with mock concern slithered from his left. Kit tilted his head up to watch the numbers on the lift drop, ignoring the idiot.

24, 23, 22—

“Are you sure you’re able to come back to work? We were coping just fine without you, Hero of Heroes.”

“I figured you’d miss me if I stayed away too long, Sawyer. God knows what other poor soul you’d make suffer your company.”

The doors opened and Kit stepped towards them, but it was Sawyer who got in first. Seeing Sawyer’s weasel-like face put a dampener on Kit’s mood. Sawyer had a long face, with a pointed nose and long thin lips that were always a little bit unsettling. Not to mention his mocking jade eyes that judged your every move.

Though, to Sawyer’s credit, he wasn’t Ambrose, and Kit joined him in the lift with that reassurance, pressing the button for his floor.

“Just the atmosphere when you were gone was so refreshing, Mallory. It was as good as the academy days after you left. Everyone was happy, not having to look at the moping orphan and listen to his poor excuse at humour.”

Kit leaned back against the corner of the lift, as far as he could get away from Sawyer and let out a small scoff of a laugh.

“I’m sure they got plenty of laughs out of seeing your ugly mug everyday.”

“Wow, playground insults,” Sawyer deadpanned, swiveling his head to Kit. Kit smiled. “What’re you? Five?”

“Outta five.”

Sawyer scoffed and looked back to the numbers go up in the lift.

To be fair to Sawyer, he wasn’t a bad looking guy. He had a sort of elegant charm working for him, with his slicked back hair and strange features. It was mostly his personality that was hideous, cold and distant like his powers. His shadows always kinda creeped Kit out, even in their academy days. That fear seemed laughable now; compared to Ambrose… Sawyer was a saint. Not to mention the fact that Sawyer was actually a competent Hero, unlike Kit.

“The class prodigy. The crème de la crème,” Sawyer said. “The poor orphan graces us with his presence. How marvellous a day. Aren’t we all blessed?”

“I’m not feeling very blessed to have to stand this close to you, pal,” Kit retorted, smiling sweetly at Sawyer. “Especially in such a confined space.”

Sawyer scoffed. “You’re so full of shit, Sparky.”

Kit shrugged. “I eat a lot of fibre.”

Kit barely had time to enjoy the retort before a giant, shadowed hand slammed against his chest and pinned him to the metal wall behind him. His head bounced off the metal on impact, but Kit didn’t make a sound or struggle. He just stayed still as Sawyer closed the distance between them and slammed a hand beside Kit’s head, leaning in even closer.

Sawyer’s smile was lopsided as he stared down at Kit, but his eyes burned like two coals. “You don’t even know what it’s like for the rest of us normal, mere mortals, do you?”

Anger flared hot in Kit’s chest and he was about to retort when Ambrose flashed into his mind and he faltered.

“Us heroes and villains, we’re all where we are today because we didn’t fit into the normal life…” his silver tongued voice repeated in Kit’s mind. “A normal person would be dead if they had that much electricity coursing through their body.”

“God,” Sawyer said with an exasperated sigh, pulling Kit back into the moment where he was. In the lift, with Sawyer, at the Hero tower not basement where Ambrose kept him chained. “You’re not even paying attention are you? What? Too good to respond to me now? Hey!”

Sawyer slammed his hand on the wall again and Kit flinched. Wide eyes shot to Sawyer’s black and it was as if all oxygen had left the lift and Kit was horribly aware of the confusion that was painted clearly across Sawyer’s features.

The shadowed hand dissolved from Kit’s chest but he didn’t move. He stood frozen. Sawyer the headlights, Kit the deer.

Kit never flinched.

Never.

Not even when they were in the academy.

Not when Nemesis beat the shit out of him and told him run back to whatever whore he crawled out of.

Not when he was assigned his first mission as a hero in training under Mentor.

Sawyer’s eyebrows drew down over his eyes. His voice softening as he asked: “why—”

The ding of the lift snapped them both out of a trance and Sawyer jumped back to the other side of the lift, hands behind his back and staring at the doors as they slid open. Kit did his best to appear normal too, though the heaviness in the elevator was suffocating.

Kit’s eyes flicked up to the floor number, 19, then went to the doors that were to reveal Tides. Kit’s heart stopped seeing her. She smiled at the two of them as she stepped into the lift.

“Hello boys,” she said in her bright happy way.

Kit swallowed, trying to force moisture back into his mouth while the doors closed again and Sawyer asked Tides what floor she was getting off on. His tongue was heavy and felt like sawdust, and practically scrapped his already chapped lips instead of soothing them, because Tides was the Hero who was with Kit on the docks that day.

She would have to remember Ambrose, right? Unless he made her forget, but did he even have time to do that? A million thoughts zoomed through Kit’s mind, some too fast to even catch because what if she remembered? Could she help him? Could he tell her about Ambrose, describe him even if she didn’t? Probably not with the fucking conditions of Kit’s freedom cemented into his brain and… Kit’s glanced at Sawyer from the corner of his eyes, whatever that was.

The lift stopped again at floor 27 and Sawyer walked out, saying bye to Tides, and it was just Kit and Tides left. Tides worked out of the same floor as Kit so they could ride the lift up together. This was his chance. He had to say something.

It was Tides who spoke first. “I’m happy to see you’re feeling good, Kit,” she said, and Kit looked at her. “Superhero said you had a bad flu.”

“Yeah,” Kit began, then cleared his throat. “Yeah. It’s good to see you actually, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that night on the docks.”

Tides turned her body to face him, resting her back against the opposite wall. “Of course. You saved my life.”

“Do you…” Kit began, but trailed off. How was he going to word this? “Do you remember the Villain we were fighting?”

“Of course. It was Omen.” The words hit Kit’s chest like a freight train. She remembered! She knew! That would make explaining his current predicament so much easier. “He’s…” Tides began, but shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself, a distant glaze coating her eyes. “I still have nightmares about that night.”

Kit’s heart lurched in his chest because he knew exactly how she felt. He knew exactly what being Ambrose’s puppet felt like. As if she was covered in a layer of dirt that she couldn’t shake, like a film of grease around her entire body and inside of her, violated. A small voice wondered if she flinched at the thought of Ambrose too.

“Can you explain the feeling?” Kit asked, voice gentle. Tides’ bright green eyes found his, almost pleading.

“Kit…” she said instead, reaching forward and wrapping her hand around his forearm. “I know you must be thinking about Mentor and how he felt, but you can’t let vengeance consume you. Omen is a monster, you can’t torture yourself with this. We’ll catch him.”

“It’s not—” Kit began but the words caught in his throat and he wanted to curse. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and let out a sigh. He let out a huff of a breath and lifted his gaze to meet Tides’s green eyes, “it’s not about Mentor. It’s about you. About… why he was there that night, on the docks. When there was a co-ordinated attack on the city.”

Tides hummed thoughtfully. “You think Omen recruited a group of Villains to attack me on the docks?”

Kit shrugged. “Maybe not Omen,” he said as the lift doors opened again onto their floor and the pair stepped out. It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing Ambrose would do, he didn’t exactly seem like a team player. “Maybe some other Villain is pulling the strings.”

“Have you told Superhero this?” Tides asked, flicking her dyed pink hair over her shoulder.

“It’s just an idea that’s been bouncing around my head,” Kit told her honestly. There was something about that night that he felt like he was missing. Some part of the puzzle that didn’t quite fit. It almost seemed like Ambrose was waiting for him, but then again… his reaction to Kit the other day was strange, so maybe not Kit? Maybe he was waiting for someone else.

Tides pulled him out of his thoughts as they rounded the corner to Tides’s desk. “I think you should clue Superhero in on your theory. Maybe he can help you paint a fuller picture.”

“Yeah,” Kit said with a nod, moving to leave. “I think I will. Thanks Tides.”

Tides hand shot out, wrapping around Kit’s forearm stopping him in his tracks. Her smile was reassuring, as she said: “and Kit, seriously, don’t beat yourself up about that night. You saved me. Remember that.”

Kit swallowed a scoff.

Oh he would remember if he could, if Ambrose hadn’t taken that memory from him. He just smiled in reply and squeezed her hand on his arm before stepping back. Maybe Tides was right, he thought, walking straight to Superhero’s office, he could use a second opinion on all of this.

He couldn’t talk about Ambrose or Omen, or what he did to Kit personally, but he could talk about it in a roundabout way. He was sure he’d find a way. Ambrose wasn’t always flawless in his commands, Kit proved that when he was able to stay in his childhood home, he’d find a path through if he was careful.

Superhero’s office was half a flight of steps above all the other desks that the normal heroes worked out of. It’s walls were made of a tinted glass which meant that he could see out but you couldn’t see in. A good security measure for the boss, Kit remembers Superhero telling them with a self-depreciating laugh when the architect was installing the new glass.

Kit remembers humming in response, watching as Mentor’s normal two-way glass was removed and couldn’t help but feel the difference in authority immediately after Superhero took over.

Now, Kit didn’t really care what kind of wall Superhero’s office had as he climbed the short flight and walked into the office without knocking.

Superhero wasn’t alone, and Kit felt a conversation die as he entered the room. “Oh, sorry,” Kit said, standing in the doorway. “I didn’t realise you had company.”

Kit met Superhero’s bright eyes over his guest’s head and he made an effort to smooth out his pinched up features. He offered Kit a smile, “not at all, Kit.”

The grey suit Superhero was deep in discussion with turned his body and smiled when he saw Kit. Kit offered a grin back, letting the door close behind him. He would recognise those warm silver eyes anywhere.

“Kit,” Mr Silver said, taking Kit’s outstretched hand and clapping his other hand to Kit’s elbow, squeezing it reassuringly. “How have you been?”

Kit shrugged, patting Mr Silver’s shoulder in return as they let go of each other’s hand. “Good, good. It’s good to see you, it’s been a while.”

“Indeed it has,” Mr Silver replied with his smooth voice. “You’ve already made your mark on the city.”

“Wouldn’t be able to if people like you didn’t keep it running,” Kit shot back. Mr Silver wasn’t a hero, but he was a gifted individual. His power lay more in his mind than a physical, typical Hero power. He had a gift for patterns, facts and numbers, all very cerebral he told Kit when they had first met. Mentor had taken Mr Silver on as a liaison between the Hero agency and the government, but he was more like a family friend than business associate.

Kit looked between Silver and a disgruntled Superhero, who was trying very hard to hide his expression below a pleasant façade. “What’re you doing here today?”

Silver straightened his posture, inclining his head a little and Kit’s eyes went to Superhero and back again. “I’m sure Superhero will fill you in on the details,” Silver said, fixing his suit jacket. “I think that’s my cue to leave, Superhero.”

Superhero smiled with thin lips as he nodded politely to Mr Silver. “Of course, Mr Silver. Always a pleasure.”

Silver raised his eyebrows as he passed Kit, and Kit frowned, following the man with his eyes. Silver opened the door and paused just before he stepped out, glancing back to Kit, his features conflicted. “Give Mentor my best when you see him again, Kit.”

“I will, Silver,” Kit told him earnestly. Silver smiled before he left the office and closed the door behind him. Kit’s head snapped to Superhero who had his back to Kit, hands on his face, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“What was that all about?” Kit asked, watching as Silver walked through the office towards the lift and press the call button.

“Bureaucratic bullshit as usual,” Superhero said with a huff behind him. Kit turned to face Superhero once the elevator doors opened, fixing his gaze to Superhero instead. “I need a cigarette.”

“You’re a hero, Superhero,” Kit told him lightly. “You can’t save the world if you’re out of breath rescuing kittens.”

“Mmm, a drink then,” Superhero said, walking around his desk and settling heavy into his chair with another sigh. He opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels and two glasses. He raised his eyebrows to Kit who shook his head in reply. Superhero shrugged and poured two fingers of whiskey, almost slamming the bottle onto the table.

“Why was Silver here?” Kit asked, taking the seat in front of Superhero’s desk, reclining into it.

Superhero shook his head, as if it was too serious a subject to remember. Kit stared at Superhero expectantly while he gulped down the whiskey in one shot.

“Jesus, Superhero, are you okay?”

Superhero shook his head, going to grab the bottle again. “What did you need?”

Kit watched as Superhero poured out three fingers of whiskey and screw the cap back on the bottle before reclining into his seat.

“Uh, yeah, I was just talking to Tides on the way up about a theory I have about the villains uniting.”

Superhero paused, eyebrows furrowing, casting deep shadows over his already deep set eyes. “Thank god I’m already drinking,” he said, tone anything but humourous. “Continue.”

Kit leaned forward in his seat and began, careful to avoid saying anything about Ambrose. “I don’t think the day Tides was attacked on the docks was a coincidence. That the attack just happened to coincide with the attack in first and in the business district.”

An unreadable expression flashed across Superhero’s face, more like how it was when Kit walked in on him and Silver. Kit almost winced at it, and said after: “listen, I don’t want to pile shit on your plate—“”

“No, no,” Superhero said with a sigh, leaning forward too and setting his glass down on the desk. He rubbed his eyes with his palms and let out another long frustrated huff. Then he looked up at Kit almost sheepishly. “How did Mentor do this for so long?”

Kit’s face broke into a sad smile. “I honestly don’t know.”

“He made it all look so easy, even the government visits.”

Kit licked his lips, the question written all over his face. Superhero scoffed and shook his head before standing and walking to the window that overlooked the office. He stood there, looking onto the floor like a disappointed parent. His hands on his hips, shoulders slumped, head dipped slightly.

“Silver’s not really the government, though, Superhero,” Kit said standing too. He didn’t join Superhero by the window, instead he turned and sat back against the edge of the table, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s part of the regulatory—”

“Regulatory Office of Powered individuals,” Superhero said over Kit, cutting him off. “Yes thank you, Kit. I know.”

“So what was the problem?”

Superhero sighed again. He was sighing too much. Too despondent. Did Silver say something bad? Has he noticed something that the world was skimming over? Something substantial?

“He said the same thing you’re alluding to, something I don’t want to know about.”

Kit straightened, his stomach bottoming out. “What?”

“There’s something big coming, apparently. Some new villain in town that has been, as you hypothesised, recruiting villains to a common cause.”

Kit’s mind raced at the information, his mind too slow to process it. Was he right? Was it Ambrose? Omen? Was he organising a group of Villains for god knows what?

“Do you know—”

“No, nothing,” Superhero said gravely. A soft slightly hysterical laugh burst from his lips. “We’re barely managing now, Kit. I don’t think the Hero agency will survive this! It’s ridiculous. Nobody wants to become a Hero after what happened to Mentor and most people have either resigned like cowards or decided they want to keep their powers to themselves.”

Kit frowned. “What do you mean? When I left the Hero academy it was—”

“Full? Yeah.”

Kit bristled as Superhero turned to face him again, expression grave. Superhero walked over to the two armchairs at the far side of the office, settling heavy into one of them.

“You were one of the last classes to graduate. Well,” Superhero paused, eyes flickering almost sardonically to Kit’s, “not you obviously, what with Mentor taking you in.”

Kit ignored the silent accusation in Superhero’s voice as he said that, but it must have been written plainly on his face.

“No, no, I don’t mean— in a bad way, Kit. You were the best in your class, obviously Mentor would take an interest in you. You’re a good kid. A good hero. A good guy. Everyone likes you, I just…” Superhero continued with a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

Kit swallowed, sensing the tension that was weighing Superhero down. He walked over to the armchair opposite Superhero and sat down.

“What is it?”

“Some parents pulled their kids from the academy after Mentor was attacked.”

Kit stared at Superhero. He hadn’t heard this. Surely Sawyer would’ve told him, or someone would have messaged him to tell him.

Sawyer’s words replayed in his head: “Just the atmosphere when you were gone was so refreshing, Mallory. It was as good as the academy days after you left. Everyone was happy, not having to look at the moping orphan."

Maybe he misread his friendships at the Academy. Maybe they all just secretly hated him but Sawyer was the only one with any guts to tell him to his face. Or maybe someone did reach out and tell him but he couldn’t remember because of Ambrose’s stupid compulsion.

“But… what?” Kit blurted out, bewildered. “Why? I don’t understand.”

“Mentor was a symbol more than a man, Kit. He was hope. It wasn’t just a dark day for you when he was attacked. The city mourned with you.”

Kit swallowed the lump in his throat. This wasn’t at all how he expected this conversation to go. That’s what was wrong with Superhero, he had lost hope, but Kit didn’t— well, he didn’t know the current situation was so bleak.

You didn’t know because Ambrose didn’t want you to know.

“But you’re Mentor now, Superhero,” Kit said, his voice insistent. Superhero lifted his head, eyes wide like a boys. “You’re the new symbol of hope. We can stop this new villain like we’ve stopped every villain before them. Together.”

Superhero let out a breath of startled laughter, running his hand back through his hair.

“Who’s supposed to be who’s support again?”

Kit stood from the chair, shrugging with a charming smile and said: “I’m the Hero for Heroes, remember? That includes you.”

Superhero laughed, shaking his head.

“One good press release and you’ve already let it go to your head.”

“What can I say? The people love me. The masses love me. The heroes—” hate me “love me. It’s so hard to be everything for everyone all at once.”

“Uh huh. How about you do some work instead of talking me to death?”

Kit paused once he opened the door to the office. “If you need another psychiatrist session you can always come to me.”

“Get out before I kick you out," Superhero said and Kit laughed as he left, closing the door behind him. He descended the steps with the smile on his lips until he got to his desk and sat down, facing the small partition. Only then did he let his concern morph his features, safe from anyone else's scrutiny.

Superhero's worry was more than just the standard concern for the city. The very Hero profession could be at stake if they didn't find and stop this new villain on the scene, and Mentor had worked far too hard to let it all be for nothing.

He needed to talk to Ambrose, find out what the bastard knew. Only then could Kit plan properly… but after Ambrose stormed out of Kit’s apartment he had been quiet as a mouse. Kit could only hope that he would drop by again.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @blood-enthusiast @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @andtheysaidspeaknoww @dutifullykrispyland @mononeigbour @tippytappytyping @stefaniesblogs @shinokoro

[charlottesbookclub]

like real people do (alistair x reader) 💜💜

Summary: honestly there's no real plot, just pure fluff. Alistair tries to adjust to having a human mate, and he's trying really hard 🥹

Warnings/Tags: gn!reader, mention of skipping a meal (not intentionally), mentions of eating, Alistair being awkward and a bit rude lol, basically just pure tooth-rotting fluff, but as always, let me know if I've missed anything!

Words: 1,634

Author’s Note: me, writing a twilight fanfic in the year of our lord 2024? it's more likely than you think. uhhh yeah I have no real explanation for this except that I have stumbled back into my Alistair obsession and I just wanted to write a cute little something for him. I don't think this is my best work, but at least it made me smile, so that's something. honestly I have no idea if there's anyone else out here reading fanfic for an incredibly minor twilight character, but if there is, I hope you enjoy whatever this is! I was thinking of making this a little series of Alistair trying his damndest to figure out human stuff, so do let me know if you have any interest in that. but okay I'll stop rambling now - enjoy! 💖

            A message pinged through on your computer, and you looked away from your work for a moment, pulling up the chatbox. It was Lucy from the front desk: 

hey – someone’s here to see you

who?

hard to describe – and i’m having a hard time getting his name

You chuckled softly to yourself, having a sneaking suspicion you knew exactly who it was. Odd that he would willingly put himself in a situation that forced him to speak with other people though. Your laughter turned into a small frown as you considered the fact that something might be wrong. You and Alistair hadn’t been together long, but you knew about his aversion to others well enough to wonder what could bring him into proximity of the possibility of needing to engage in small talk.

be right there

You pushed back from your desk and hurried down to the lobby. Lucy was obviously waiting for you to arrive, and she met you with a mildly panicked look, gesturing with her head toward the tall man standing awkwardly in the corner of the lobby. Thanks to his heightened senses, he had noticed your arrival long before Lucy, and was already striding across the floor toward you at a pace that was just barely slow enough to be considered human. You made a mental note to ask Carlisle to gently review normal human behaviors with him. You just managed to give Lucy a quick thumbs-up to indicate that you knew the tousled man before he bustled the two of you back toward your office.

“Alistair, what the hell?” you asked as he ushered you inside and closed the door behind him.

“What a truly awful system,” he muttered to himself, clearly continuing a rant he was already halfway through rather than answering your question. “I mean really, how many idiots should I have to go through to see my partner?” You just crossed your arms and leaned back against the edge of your desk, a bemused smile starting to fight its way onto your face. You knew it was no use interrupting him until he had gotten everything out. “’Would you like something do drink?’” He parroted Lucy’s question mockingly. “No I bloody well would not – unless you’ve got a few bags of blood stored away back there,” he retorted to this fictional Lucy sarcastically. “Zounds, how hard is it to just point me in the right direction and leave me in peace?” His words faded into muttering and soft curses in a version of English that hadn’t been spoken for hundreds of years.

“Alistair,” you said quietly, breaking him out of his monologue. His talking to himself had seemed strange at first, but the more you learned about his life before meeting you, the more it made sense. He had been his only company for so long and was only now slowly adjusting to speaking with other people again. You, however, found it incredibly endearing and hoped he didn’t break himself of the habit completely. 

His focus snapped to you instantly when he heard your voice, and he started murmuring apologies that you quickly brushed off.

“Alistair, it’s fine,” you assured him, sending him a warm smile and softly placing your hand on his forearm. Touch was another thing that was coming back to him only slowly. You had learned to proceed cautiously, gently, making sure he knew that you were about to touch him before making contact. The words stilled on his lips as his eyes focused in on the place where your warm palm met his cold skin.

“Alistair,” you said quietly after a moment of letting him adjust to the contact. His eyes traveled back up to your face at the sound of his name on your lips. “Is something wrong?”

“I—no,” the words tumbled out awkwardly, and you could almost see him trying to say three different sentences at the same time. If he still had blood under his skin, you were certain he would be blushing. Knowing that eye contact made conversation even more difficult for him, you flicked your eyes down toward your hand still on his arm, gently pulling it from where it hung limply at his side. You cradled his large hand in both of yours and began tracing mindless patterns on his skin, hoping this would give him enough of a reprieve to gather his thoughts. He took a deep breath and tried again. 

“Nothing is seriously wrong, but I— well I… worried about you.” This instantly caught your attention, and you looked up again almost without thinking, only to find his ruby eyes gazing back down at you with a softness you were just beginning to recognize.

“Alistair, I promise, I’m just fine,” you assure him.

“But… well… I noticed you didn’t eat breakfast this morning.” You tilted your head, wondering why that was such a cause for concern that he would willingly subject himself to the horror of checking in at your work.

“I was just running a little late and didn’t have time to make myself anything,” you explained, hoping that would ease his mind, “there’s always snacks in the break room, so I figured I’d have something when I got here.”

“I understand, but humans in your age group are supposed to eat three balanced meals per day, with the addition of one to three snacks. Lack of nutrients can result in many deficiencies, which in turn can lead to side effects like headache, dizziness, and trouble concentrating.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that was growing on your face as you listened to him recite this knowledge as though he had memorized it straight from a Wikipedia article. However, you seriously doubted Alistair’s ability to navigate the internet, since Carlisle had only recently convinced him to try using a flip phone.

“Where did you hear about this?” you asked, trying to remain serious and stifling the giggles that were rising in your throat.

“I’ve been reading Carlisle’s medical texts,” he responded with a furrowed brow, “I want to make sure I understand all the risks and ensure that I am prepared for every eventuality.”

If you hadn’t been completely in love with him yet, this would have undoubtably sealed the deal. He may be awkward and eccentric and even difficult at times, but he was trying so so hard to care for you in the best way he knew how. Although the whole situation was still incredibly amusing, you simply couldn’t bring yourself to laugh at him, even if it was all in affection. Instead, you raised yourself slowly to your tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you for thinking of me,” you said as you lowered yourself back onto your heels. Your chaste kiss seemed to have frozen him for a moment, as he stood there completely still, his soft squeeze of your hand the only indicator that he was still present in the room. You let him recalibrate, and as he came back himself, he made a soft exclamation as though he had just remembered something. Reluctantly releasing your hand, he swung a small backpack off his shoulder. 

“I brought you some breakfast,” he explained as he pulled a jumble of containers out of the bag and placed them on your desk, “I tried to make sure I balanced all the proper nutrients to ensure you wouldn’t suffer any adverse effects from not having eaten this morning.”

You busied yourself with looking at all the containers of food to hide the tears that were welling in your eyes. You had never had someone care for you so completely like this before. Unfortunately, your plan didn’t work, since the awkwardly yet earnestly prepared food only brought more tears to your eyes. You had never expected that strangely cut fruit, mangled pancakes, and soggy cereal sitting in its own milk would make you cry with joy, but the amount of thought and care that had clearly gone into each piece of the meal was about to reduce you to ugly sobs.

You could feel Alistair watching you intently as you opened each of the containers, seemingly trying to gauge your response. When he couldn’t bear it any longer, he finally broke the silence. 

“If you don’t like it, I—I’m happy to go out and buy you something. I haven’t had human food in so long and even—even then I didn’t actually prepare it so I tried reading some of Carlisle’s recipe books but I think I still didn’t get it right—” 

“Alistair,” you didn’t normally like to cut him off, but you refused to let his anxious rambling sew any seeds of doubt in his mind. “It’s absolutely perfect – I can’t wait to taste it all!”

Alistair beamed at you then, a rare sight, but a welcome one.

“I just have one question though,” you said, and he looked at you quizzically, waiting for your inquiry. “Can I give you a hug?”

Confusion turned to elation on his face, and he spread his arms in assent and anticipation. You threw yourself on him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you wiped away a few escaped tears. His arms closed around your back hesitantly, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them, but his uncertainty seemed to fade as you melted into his grasp, and he wrapped you even more tightly in his embrace. 

Both of you were smiling when you finally pulled away. You settled into your desk chair and motioned to Alistair to pull up another. He sat just close enough that your knees could touch as you surveyed the feast before you. 

“What do you think I should start with?” you asked him.

“Maybe the pancakes? I’m rather proud of those.”

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine the beast pirates learning you are a criminal mastermind

Kaido: *going over a cargo manifest* we will sell these in Port Chugal, prepare them for shipment.

King: Port Chugal won't buy pirate goods anymore, the world government found out they've been trading with us, so they replaced the king there.

Kaido: That's the third distribution market I've had to change in the last month. First the Bourgeois Kingdom, then Ballywood, and now Port Chugal. How are they finding my warehouses?

Queen: we don't know at the moment, but we're working on it

You: *King's assistant* I would like to point out something that all three have in common.

King: Silence.

Kaido: let em talk, I want to hear what they have to say.

You: they were all common stops on Captain Rondow's transport route, who was captured almost three months ago by the world government.

Kaido: You think the poor bastard broke under torture?

You: It appears so, and from the other reports we're getting I'm guessing they have figured out how you conduct your exportation operation. *Hands King the reports*

King: *Skims them* we spent years building this system.

You: which means building another will be faster this time. I'm guessing how they're locating our goods is by the fact that while it's labeled under a company that doesn't have any paperwork officially filed in countries we claim it's from.

Kaido: what are we supposed to do, get a business permit?

You: yes, but actually no. Now any new businesses from any nations in your territory will come under scrutiny by the world government. So I think we should find any failing, but long-established companies, and bail them out in exchange for slipping our illicit cargo into their product distribution.

King: that... might actually work, but there's no way we can guarantee their loyalty.

You: that's why you give them a small percentage of the profits and gather blackmail material. Most rich people are sick fucks will have skeletons in their closet, you just have to look for it.

Kaido: I'll entrust the task to you, and in the meantime we'll have Yamato fill in for you with King.

King: what! No! Your son is... not great at paperwork.

Kaido: Sorry bud, but I'd like to see what they can do on their own, so I'm setting them loose.

Returns from setting up the new network seven months later

Kaido: I just got the finance report for the last quarter

You: *literally just got off the boat* Sir?

King: Your network is more efficient than what we had set up.

Kaido: you're getting promoted, so you can manage it from here.

You: But I was really looking forward to working with King again.

Kaido: then you'll work under him not me.

You: I'm keeping my desk in your office.

King: For someone who ruthlessly castrated a man to get him to do what they wanted, you are very clingy and sentimental.

You: I was well within my rights to revoke that man's dick privilege, you had no idea how man people he's assaulted. I did that town a fucking favor by pickling that man's junk

Kaido: you pickled it!

You: Yes I did, how else, so you think I got an entire town to look the other way about our ships coming into the harbor?

Kaido: I never would have thought of that... You know when I met you I never would have guessed you'd be an asset to my operations. You seemed too soft and naive, too kind.

You: *shrugs* Well thank you for thinking I'm kind, but I just so happen to hate you less than the world government, and you have more money than the revolutionary army. And Lin Lin and her family freaks me out.

King: don't forget Akagami and Whitebeard won't hire you since you've worked with us.

You: *clicks your tongue* and I regret it every day.

Coming Soon

[plasticfangtastic]

A Garden Without Impurity

A Homelander x GN Reader fic one-shot

A/N: Should be working on my other fics but i needed to get this out me system, inspired by a conversation I had in this site and watching the apothecary diaries, not an expert on chinese harem systems but i based this sort of on the Qin Dynasty system bcuz it was like the simpliest, like those emperors got around a lot… this is more drabble than fic-fic but i hope y’all enjoy.

Tags: light smut, 3-some, bilander, dark topics, not proofread I die here, non-canon complaint/canon-divergent, takes place in who knows, traditional polygamy, no dialogue here btw, Homelander being himself, light gore.

Word Count: 5K 

Synopsis: You’re a member of Homelander harem, this is but a documentation of that.

Homelander was always a lonely man perpetually hunting after love, for anybody who could give him attention, who would want him. He clung easily to lovers, too young at first to notice how easily he could be tricked into becoming nothing but a trophy fuck, too inmature to notice how his behaviour frightened them in the long run, and the more and more he was hurt the worse he became, all he’d learned was how to hide his anguish– turning him dangerously bitter.

Lovers came easy but just as easily they left– either scared straight by an army of lawyers, handsomely compensated or increasingly more often in pine boxes… crisis management meetings became so commonplace they began to be run on emails. 

 He was a man desperate for love– so much love to give but nobody could ever give him an ounce of what he needed, an ounce of what he gave, he was hungry for intimate devotion and adoration, the public could only give him bites sizes but it was fading and quick, and his mind steadily warping from this unfulfilled primal need.

Lovers couldn’t handle how pushy he became, how possessive and controlling he could become, how he wished to monopolize everything– so it was a problem, his sickly nature only wisthand by those contractually obligated to tolerate him, Maeve who had been so perfect until the downstairs neighbors logged less and less noise complaints as their passion cool and soured and Madelyn whose allure came in how untouchable she was, how forbidden she was, how much of a special occasion she had to be, and well rumors circulated involving Mr. Edgar but nobody ever dared to discuss it much.

Porn seem to alleviate some issues but the poor team in-charge of monitoring his online usage had filed formal complaint about having to be subjected to so much ‘stepmom porn’ and increasingly bizarre fetishes, whether he watched them to get off or not was unknown but once he switched the porn to browsing  r/watchpeopledie– a meeting had to be made and this time it was in person.

It was hard to pin-point the exact moment a suit suggested this solution– it was merely a joke but no matter how thick these walls were it would never be missed by Homelander, who indulge them.

And the project began to take place, with the end goal to provide him with company, and a controlled environment for Vought overseeing… a facility where the damage would be limited to seven floors and 30 large and luxurious condos.

Legally this building was just one of the many owned by Vought– like many other megacorps it was no surprise Vought dab in real estate, owning a couple buildings around the city to provide employee accommodation much like their Silicon Valley competition. After selecting the small building that once simply served as their own service apartments to accommodate shareholders, the project began to take place.

Homelander found it amusing, interested as to what things were going… surprised about how much he was looking forward to this, much to his chagrin– Homelander was very much a man and at the thought of being supplied with sex on tap he was quite happy to play along giving it a fair-go for a few weeks then forget about it after the novelty faded.

The first iteration was an utter failure, simply nothing but a duped “Playboy” Mansion, women who were paid to seduce him and become available whenever he desired– they were boring,  they weren’t there for him, they were there for the paycheck and presents, for the free rent and the possibility of becoming his favorite perhaps.

It was dull.

Painfully dull, nothing different from what he was doing, only it was kept behind closely guarded doors and managed by the company that micromanaged everything else in his life.

Dull Lovers who barely pretended to care, who rolled their eyes when he wanted to talk about his interest, who looked at their phones during the good scenes of his favorite films, who signed when he wished to be held, who gave no enthusiastic response at anything but Versace and Jimmy Choo’s.

He felt the ever growing emptiness spread further like a cancerous mass. 

As he sat alone sinking on his couch flipping channels in the dark and his eyes finally grew heavy for the night– his fingers stopped in some show about a man trying to balance having four wives, the scenario intrigued him… a man married to several women who seemed enamored with him despite all the drama in the background… These women on his screen weren’t like the ones provided… they weren’t his… They didn’t love him nor wanted to devote themselves to him, they were just high paid prostitutes– even the women at the Playboy Mansion he had met seemed to have a better relationship to the old creep than his own had to him– he wasn’t special or interesting to them.

 It was transactional and the affection unconvincing, unlike this man’s wives who seemed to care about him, who didn’t look forward to meeting other men or keep in touch with old John’s and sold their feet pics online to just any guy.

Vought or the public would never allow him to have a dozen wives, he wasn’t even a Mormon, officially he was an Evangelical just in name not in practice so he couldn’t simply adopt the church's views nor was he interested in even more rigid rules… I mean he did enjoy a cup of coffee every once in a blue moon and he certainly had a spicy tongue.

It took a lot of trial and error and plenty of lawyers too.

But a single joke turned into this…

You had been there for quite a long time, you seen plenty of pretty faces come and go, most left because they disliked the system in place– had they simply bothered to glance the wikipedia article on Chinese harem practices before signing the dotted line their grievances would have been lessened… altho calling yourself a polygamist might not even been an applicable label– after all his rules made it difficult to do so.

 You had simply been a low-level intern when Homelander first laid eyes on you all those years ago.

He watched you for a long time and you watched him with the same intensity, he was a pretty thing, he had a quirky laugh that veer into cackle territory, his hands were as soft as the rest of him and above all you could tell pretty early on that there was a hunger inside him unmatched by anything else.

No lover before had ever made you feel so wanted, he made you feel as if he was born for you, no lover ever devoured you with a single look… it was desperate.

When have you ever felt this desire before? You asked yourself the more intense this became.

You never experience the titillation and the fear that his hunger inspired in you, the way he touched and explored every inch of your skin inside that broom closet made you fear for your life, as if he would feast on you and gnaw at your bones like a dog with a fresh treat, that one spicy rendezvous after office hours quickly became a regular occurrence and he never had enough.

Neither did you.

His gentleness hid praise worthy self-control, he molded his performance after what made you feel best but you would soon learn it was performance– you were puddy in his hands as he trapped you with this pleasure.

To be yearned for was different, he wanted all your free time to be for him, to ignore all the pretty faces and nameless ass that crossed your sight and devote yourself to him, he was honest about wanting you, about wanting you to love him just as much as he could love you.

Made worse by the fact that you had no qualms with the worst of his personality your fights and arguments as unhealthy as anybody else but always over petty things, never about the nights he soaked the carpet with some miscreant chunky remains, after all you had to be a bit loopy and unhinge to look at him as if he was the only source of light in the cave that was your life.

It was a long courtship before he told you about ‘The Gardens’. At first you simply thought it was another luxury building stuck in Manhattan but behind the doorman and reception clerk was a building only inhabited by lovers.

It wasn’t easy to digest– but floor to ceiling windows, private drivers and Hermes boxes demonstrate to your ego that you might have a price… The 6 figure allowance certainly made your stomach drop as you accepted new found facts about yourself… this was not counting any extra presents– after all your job would be to stay pretty and interesting for him.

You certainly had your suspicions but you had been quite enamored with the Supe, unable to look away from those cornflower blues and the sad expression painting his face as he began to suspect your rejection, the palpable anguish he was trying so hard to contain. Accepting simply to do a few excessive sessions of retail therapy on his dime to recover from the shock, coming in thinking he will grow bored of you soon enough and you could commence the healing process afterwards.

But you never left ‘The Gardens’, the people who ran the building would refer to you as the Noble Consort with the Empress or Imperial Noble Consort reserved for whoever Homelander was dating for the papers (altho you would have given the title of Stillwell for the longest time), to your disbelief you found enjoyment in this arrangement, your were free to pursue whatever you wanted for money was now not a problem– all those hobbies you had abandoned, halted and wished to explore were now back on the table, a new career change or education now a possibility, even pursuing a lifelong passion or dream was available, as long as you kept pretty and keep his favor.

There were other rules of course… Nobody besides Homelander could be in your life. Sex-work was out of the question once somebody took residency in one of the handful of luxury condos. Not involving oneself romantically with any of the other concubines or anybody was also a major rule. He demanded a vow of secrecy as well obviously–  telling anybody about the arrangement specially online or the media, and you would have a head on your front door… you would have prefered a finger, a tooth or a kidney like the others on your floor but he left the brainless severed head on yours.

You were certain that Vought kept a dystopian level of watch over your digital footprint while you no longer worked with Vought and did your thing… you heard the rumor of a shadow department whose whole job was to watch this place– it wasn’t really out of the realm of possibility after all Homelander was worth billions to them… and if not Homelander was there watching somehow.

Which is how you end up with having to call somebody to pick up and puzzle the old concubine back together.

He was The Emperor and thus you had to act like a noble, anybody caught breaking his rules would be in more than a little trouble– Homelander was quite cruel once a lover lost his fancy.

 But not as cruel as the other residents when they sensed somebody trying to plant the seeds of discourse, threats to the system were ever present whenever he brought a new concubine, those who survived the longer kept the peace. 

A mixture of jealousy and self-preservation feed the cruelty… after all these years you liked your comfortable life and so did the others– those with more expensive taste to your own, those whose families were partially supported by Homelander (if he was aware or not was not yours or his problem) those who loved him and didn’t wish to part, and those who needed his support to make sure even if he grew bored with them they had a back-up to their back-up, none who would risk losing it all just because some new lover wanted him all for himself– they had no grace about it and would soon realize that tribalistic nature of humans… unless somebody whispered sweetly in John’s ear and prevented the carnage.

Unsure as to why anybody would want to monopolize him as if this entire building wasn’t a red flag about how pointless that was, you discussed with the others.

He was more than an armful, he was too much even for you who obsessed so easily with him, who demanded his attention and affection but ultimately unable to match just how much he needed in return, you stopped disliking this new life because Homelander would never be satiated, because he would wear you down to a stub, because he would scare you away if you didn’t find a way to get breathing room, more for his sake than your own. You loved him, you wanted to hold tight but if he kept going you would let go of his hand mid-flight and the thought of hating him or falling out of love with him filled you with dread.

You needed him on a cellular level, you joked in the past as you talked to a neighbor, who understood you as he laughed.

It stung for a long time to live this way– You just made it look easy.

But you made it, and it earned you some perks.

You checked your agenda to make sure that time had come around, you weren’t called the Noble Consort for nothing– he would reserve you even outside your birthday week.

8.3 million people in this city and he could make sure you felt like the only one in this town.

Perpetually charming you thought as he landed inthe balcony with your favorite chocolate and flowers.

 If Homelander had to explain why he kept you the longest it was how you talked to him earnestly, you treated him as if he was not just a celeb but a husband, how happy you always were too see him, how you always clung to his shoulders even before his boots touched the ground and how quickly you always dragged him inside worried he would get sick from the cold winds, even if he went weeks without seeing you in person you never let him see it, it was as if no matter how long it had pass you couldn’t care less, only the now you experienced together mattered.

He wondered if this was how sailors felt when they came back home after a lengthy tour, if it was warm like this.

No matter how long this had been going on for– your love was genuine, he even thought of you as a weekend masochist for putting up with his whims, but you took him as he was and that was something special… something worth keeping… worth protecting.

He could snuggle in your chest all he wanted, he knew your fingers would scratch his scalp without command, he would find your warmth either gifted by your words or your core.

A perfect spouse to him, he would whisper to himself when you slept or when he missed you, in this intimacy he knew he would stay with you, the only one who understood what this place was all about, who was this emperor’s favorite.

Now when it came to sex–the life of his concubine wasn’t sexless… you doubted the man actually lived in his actual penthouse all the way up in Vought Tower, he might use it to change suits or pick up his mail, for he would share somebody else’s bed every night, if he didn’t you would find out at the lobby, perks of knowing everybody in the building was that rumors traveled quickly and plans of actions would be organized in elevators… so your bed was not infrequent and during your weeks he would always sleep there.

You keep a spare pair of his boots and gloves that didn’t came with the apartment, which said a lot about how infrequently did he slept at his legal address and your longevity in this palace– what did came was a toothbrush, comb, some of his skincare products and extra-creamy milk restocked frequently more so these days.

These private weeks were both sugary and bitter, date nights and cuddling lazily on the couch as he spoke of his day and listened to yours, you spoke a lot catching up with lost time while he washed your back and you washed his hair, knowing he would leave soon enough and return to some girl back in the tower or go downstairs.

And as your week ended he would treat you to something adventurous.

You kissed him in the upper courtyard by the warm dim lights surrounded by whistling shrubs, the night was starting to grow cold, draping his cape around you for your comfort, he moaned as your lips suckled on his neck savoring the feel of your tongue as you drew lines on chin, slowly melting on your sweltering heat, your hand taking his thigh with a firm squeeze teasing him as they came close to his member, kissing until lips bruised and blood inked his tongue, you kissed until his jaw started to numb and his cock leaked with anticipation, being uphere where somebody might see always excited him, he had already baptized every bench in this courtyard but it didn’t lose his splendor just yet.

His hips buckle as your hand finally gave him much needed affection, hearing your muscles push as hard as they could against him, mewling as you chuckled with delight at his reactions, his eyes so hazy.

Trembling as your hand left him, you pulled at his belt watching him blush as he remembered that the one thing you lacked was super strength, you leaned back as he swiftly began to lower his tights, throwing his belt to the ground so the cold steel wouldn’t make you shudder.

His cock was hard, crying rivers into the cold wind until your lips kissed it better.

He made no attempt to conceal his moaning, growling as your teeth grazed the sensitive head, he was unapologetically loud, this was the one place where he forgo all his acting lessons, nor did you want him to be quiet it made you excited to hear him moan, he just sounded so needy– cute too… and tonite he was obscenely loud, animalistic even, grunting and growling as your drooled unto your chin and made his thigh slippery, as you took his cock down to the base, licking down his taint, he lifted his legs adjusting his position to follow your tongue, whining and panting as you pleasured him, aggressively pumping at his cock as you suck gently on his balls.

You look up from half-lid eyes drowning on your own pleasure, he came with ease coating your throat with his thick salty cum but just as quickly as he came he would come back up and just as hard as a minute ago– you made it into a game to see how many times you could make him cum before he begged you to let him do it inside you for that was the only way to kill his battery. Pumping his shaft with short and quick pump focusing on the mid-length as to deprive his crying tip taking sadistic delight in knowing that he wanted you to touch the tip immediately but being too far gone to asks for it clearly as he mumbled incoherently behind his breathy wanton, his hips following the rhythm of your hands and tongue.

A shaky smile crossed his lips as the consort took pity on him, you chuckled knowing you won an unspoken bet with your downstairs neighbor, pulling their hair out of the way as their head went up and down and lips grazed your fingers.

You climbed up letting your fellow concubine enjoy themselves in this debauchery.

Biting on his ears as you whispered what you wished to do with him, calling him by his name with a sweetness that tingled something scary inside him.

Homelander laughed weakly against you, his hand pulling on the other’s hair gently, he spouts his orders, throwing the cushions unto the ground you both give each other giddy looks as the man pulls you down with him with the last bit of composure he had before burying his face with your crotch, one hand kept your hips in place and the other held his other concubine hand, gasping against you as the other took him, you saw red– it was not a competition but you did not want him to only focus on the warm enveloping his cock.

All that filled the air were your choir of moans above his muffled coos and whines as you fucked his mouth, his tongue doing his best to keep up, eyes rolling back as you took fistfuls of his hair pulling harshly distracting him so much that he had begun to run of breath, as he ate everything and swallowed desperately, trying to concentrate on the feeling developing his tongue and lips and the sweet musky scent drowing him, fading with a twsited smile as you fucked him earnestly and harshly, he loved it when he was made into a bitch, he would never say it outloud of course– like many things in this building it went unspoken, but you could tell that all the old residents shared a certain quality to them.

Men and women who provided something everybody was afraid of giving to him before.

You’d seen him cling to men and women who wished to mark him, who told him that he was as much their property as they were his.

That proved their love was not superficial… It was genuine.

Or genuine enough for him.

He moaned and bucked his hips pathetically, yearning to reach the furthest parts of you, filling you, to feel his own cum foaming within you as he fucked you.

Moving you quickly, glad that this time he had thought ahead with these cushions for your knees would be bleeding and burning otherwise– it was all hazy at this point, all you knew was his name, the cold wind hardening your nipples, and the sound of his hips slapping into you as he whimpered with a mixture of desperation and pleasure, he finger fucked your companion, hands fucking his lover just as fast and hard to have the concubine running out of breath begging Homelander to not dare stop, making a mess of themselves on his fingers, coating them as their hole squelched and sucked him right back in, as the man grew pleased with the sight, your hands interlocked squeezing hard as they rode their orgasm to a happy end.

You caught a ruby glimpse reflecting in a metal bench nearby, you gulped knowing you had to think quickly.

Turning your face and arching your back as you begged him to hold you.

Coming loudly letting your knees and elbows give up, letting him push you down with his weight, always surprised how heavy those silly golden eagles are, you couldn’t believe his shoulders weren’t stiff 24/7, with a satisfied chuckle he waits for you both to snuggle with him.

The other urges him to take it into their apartment for it was getting cold and they sure didn’t want to catch a cold.

He half-begrudgingly agreed, wishing deep down to go a few more rounds outside but as he felt your goosebumps he took you both inside urgently.

Your hands never touched after that, Homelander ever so vigilant of both your movements, all you could do was hope the concubine would learn just how stringent and absurd John could be, fearful that anybody would dare hold affections to anybody but him.

You kissed his neck, nuzzling against him as he watched the sleeping concubine coldly, arguing with himself if they had meant to break the rules.

Whispering his name as he squeezed your stomach, soothing his unspoken anxiety he let go of those thoughts.

He returned your affections, easing into him as you fed off his warmth.

You whispered quietly, enjoying each other, easing his worries.

This was a peculiar life but in these quiet moments it was like any other.

In these moments it all felt perfectly normal, the world might never get it entirely and you yourself struggled with it at times but when you woke up to his kisses on your chest as he found a way to turn into the little spoon while the other sneaked to the toilet, you certainly didn’t want to change things.

Not one bit.

[anothercrisis]

could we possibly get some more civilians au hcs? i read through all of them and now i’m invested

Wake up! I’m alive and still brainrotting about the civvie au!

What I would like to talk about today is the way I managed to include the callsigns and ranks :)

-

During their childhood in the foster care system, Johnny and Kyle didn’t have many constants, apart from each other. Every situation was different, every home had a different set of rules. In some, they weren’t allowed to watch television, which was one of the rules they hated to discover the most. Stories were oftentimes the only times they got a break from the reality they lived in. And their abilities to read were still developing at this time, so turning to books didn’t always work.

Johnny learned to read before Gaz, who struggled then explained to Johnny that the words never stayed in the right order when he was trying to read them, so Johnny took to reading out-loud so his brother could enjoy the stories too.

They often read the same book, one that Johnny lifted from a particularly horrible man who’d had custody of them for a grand total of six hours (which was six hours too long in Johnny’s opinion, which is why he quickly evacuated Kyle and himself from the property) and that he’s kept with him ever since. It was a collection of military stories that told of brave men fighting hard battles and overcoming difficult situations. The book had been in the children’s room Johnny and Kyle had been locked in, on the small shelf stocked with similar books for the foster children to read. Johnny had impulsively shoved it into his bag before climbing out the window simply because of the way the cover made him feel brave.

Those stories allowed Johnny and Kyle to adopt the mindsets of soldiers, helped them cope and make sense of their difficult situation.

“Kyle is a soldier and I’m his Captain. ‘Tis ma job to look after ‘im and I can’t do that when this fucked system keeps separatin’ us.”

By this time, Johnny was building himself quite the reputation. The social workers started to refer to him as “Soap” because of how efficient he was at slipping himself out and then in to homes whenever he was separated from Kyle and how he never left a trail behind him to follow if he didn’t want to. Johnny accepted the nickname with pride. From then on, whenever a social worker said, with a deep sigh, that Soap was back into their hands after another failed placement, he would grin and say, “Tha’s Captain Soap to ye.”.

Shortly after, Johnny decided Kyle needed to have a nickname too; he wanted them to sound like the package deal they were and the nicknames would further connect them. So Kyle decided on “Gaz”. He didn’t want anything elaborate or goofy like “Soap”. And Johnny doesn’t know it, but Gaz is what Kyle’s little brother had called him before the accident. And then, since Johnny was the one looking after Kyle and therefore the one of higher rank, they decided Kyle was to be Sergeant Gaz.

Maybe it’s silly and stupid, maybe they don’t outgrow it as soon as they ought, but it quickly became the best and most effective way they have ever found to cope. It becomes something like a mantra, a prayer: we are soldiers, we are brave, and we will handle whatever is thrown at us with strength and courage.

A few years later, Johnny meets Simon. Simon, the boy who walks so lightly that his footsteps can’t be heard even by Johnny who long ago trained his ears to hear footsteps. Simon, the boy who starts to show up on Johnny’s doorstep unannounced, pale, and quiet, simply looking for better company. Simon, who becomes “Ghost” when Johnny accidentally points this behavior out to him.

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout, Si. I happen to like the Ghost too. He’s a good listener, and ya know how I run ma mouth.”

In further attempts to comfort, Johnny decides Simon might also need the absurd bit of comfort that comes with pretending to be a soldier. Because if you can pretend you’re brave for long enough, maybe it will come true. So Soap decides Simon will be Lieutenant Ghost. (When Kyle asks why Simon has a higher rank than him, the answer is because Simon is older, has fought harder battles for longer, and because Johnny will need his skills to keep them all safe.)

Once Johnny and Kyle’s coping method has been brought to the attention of the group, they all insist on getting callsigns and ranks too. Johnny, as the captain and therefore the man in charge, comes up with both for their other two friends. Alex Keller, their next door neighbor, and Gary Sanderson, Alex’s school friend who lives a few minutes away by bicycle that immediately got adopted into the group, are both dubbed sergeants too. Johnny had secretly filed away nickname options for both boys because he was hoping for an opportunity like this. They come to the decision that Gary will be “Roach”, for the way he can be relied upon to be in the kitchen cooking or snacking and for the way he likes to sit on the tops of surfaces, and that Alex will be “Echo”, for the way he is always repeating Gary’s sentences for him because he speaks so softly that Alex, who has years of training, is usually the only one who hears him enough to decipher the words.

They take to using the nicknames pretty quickly, enjoying the bond it represents between them all. But the ranks are understood to be more of a joke until the anniversary of Kyle’s brother’s death comes around and he shuts himself up in his room. Johnny simply explains to their friends that “Sergeant Gaz is on leave for the time being,” and they easily understand that to mean Kyle is battling something and isn’t ready to share it with them. No more further explanation is needed, easy as that. So, from then on, whenever one of them is struggling with something, simple phrases like that alert the others without the pressure of having to explain if they don’t want to or aren’t sure how. It’s a code among them, a slow developing language that allows them to express themselves and their struggles to each other when they aren’t capable of using plain language.

And maybe others would think it juvenile, this coping method and way of communicating, but that doesn’t matter to them. Life has tossed them around in ways no one should have to be tossed around and these boys create a safe space for themselves in the ways they find work best for them. It just so happens that their biggest comfort comes in the shape of their military personas and one another.

[tjbanni]

Emil has got to go.

Recently the news came out that Emil Pagliarulo was responding to criticism of the new Starfield expansion pack by coping and arguing with people who have legitimate concerns about what the hell is going on at Bethesda. Since day one people have wondered why big empty worlds are supposed to be appealing, why the writing is as lackluster as it is, and now: why the Shattered Space DLC feels like it’s just an underwhelming part of the base game that was ripped out and sold separately a year later.

To briefly go over Emil’s history: he’s been working at BGS since the days of Oblivion and has been credited with writing the Dark Brotherhood questline of Oblivion, the main quest of Skyrim, the main quests of Fallout 3 and 4, and is now the design director of Fallout 76 and Starfield. And I swear the only reason he got as far as he is now is because of people praising the Oblivion DB quest (which I’ll get into, don’t worry).

These days Emil likes to talk about how Starfield is the best game that Bethesda has ever made and that the DLC may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but that’s okay, because the small fanbase of Starfield is growing, I guess.

Starfield is the best game we’ve ever made

How’s that, again? What’s it best at?

Biggest world Bethesda has made? Debatably; there’s still Daggerfall.

Is it the best because of the combat? Sure, but the combat system for Fallout 4 was 10 years out of date on arrival.

The facial animation? Sometimes breaks and looks like Bioshock Infinite when it actually does work.

The characters? Safe and inoffensive when you’ve made literal psychopaths likeable in the past.

The save file management system? Doesn’t even bother to save a screenshot of where you were in the game when you saved.

If this is the best Bethesda game, it didn’t have anything to do with Emil Pagliarulo.

When it comes to the new DLC: a lot of people (myself included) thought this would be like the Far Harbor DLC of Fallout 4, where it featured some great content that made up for the lacking core content. That was our cope for the last few months.

Now the DLC is out and not only does it somehow perform horrendously, but people are talking about how Andreja — a character who should have some interesting things to say about the setting of this DLC — is barely utilized, how the DLC contains about five hours of worthwhile hand-crafted content surrounded by procedurally-crafted slop. Who was in charge of the design of the DLC? It wasn’t Will Shen; it was Emil Pagliarulo.

And why was Emil Pagliarulo put in a position to handle such big projects? Honestly, I don’t know, because he never proved that he could handle something like this.

Starfield doesn’t have any intelligent alien life, political conflict, hard-hitting questions, or NPCs you can kill unless the script says you can. It’s a game about being a nobody who happens upon a rock that unlocks superpowers and the secret of inter-universal travel — and the reason why is because Bethesda unironically believes people want to live in their games.

Fallout 4 is about a parent who wakes up in the post-apocalypse and tries to weave their way through contrivances and side quests to find that their son is now in charge of a robot-making company.

Skyrim is about a person of prophecy who has superpowers for some reason because a dragon wants to eat the world for some reason and also you must either kill the only good dragon in the world or leave the person telling you to kill him stuck in a cave for eight years — or at least that’s what I did.

Fallout 3 is about a kid trying to find their dad — an inversion of Fallout 4. Originally this game ended with that kid dying, which led Bethesda to learn the wrong lesson about how to make people keep playing their games beyond the main story when they added DLC that spared this kid character’s life. This game also introduced a morality system because ERR MEH GERD SHOULD I BLOW UP THESE INNOCENT TOWN PEOPLE OR NO??

And then there is Oblivion. Emil didn’t write the contrived main quest for that, but he was in charge of the Dark Brotherhood questline: a questline that starts if you murder an NPC for no reason. This quest was highly praised, but I’m starting to think people are only praising this quest in hindsight because of how lackluster the Skyrim version of it was. This quest introduced the classic Emil Pagliarulo twist: where, in this game’s case, you find out you’ve been a pawn in the game of an edgy Hot Topic customer who lives with rotting animal carcasses — someone who orders you to get all the stupid quirky two-dimensional people in the DB hideout out of his way.

Everyone loves this questline because a lot of people think a narrative twist is a substitute for good writing. Sorry to tell you this, but: no.

I’m speaking as someone who liked all the games I criticized here when I say once more: Emil Pagliarulo has got to go.

[mangthemango]

Withdrawals

A Genshin Impact SAGAU Brainrot

Pairing/s: Albedo x Creator!Reader (platonic)

Warnings: Imposter!AU, cult behaviour, medication withdrawal symptoms, you take anti-depressants, Albedo is possibly OOC just because I don't know too much about him (because mf refused to come home >:()

Author's Notes: It's currently eight in the morning and I decided to write this entirely on a whim. Friendly reminder to take your medication when you need to! Otherwise, Genshin will make sure your fave doesn't come home lol.

Fic under the cut! I hope you enjoy!

Waking up in Teyvat was fun at first. After emerging from unconsciousness in Windrise and getting over the initial thoughts of 'how the hell is this possible', you were actually having a good time. The sun wasn't too hot on your skin, the breeze was nice and cool, even the hilichurls were more than welcoming to your arrival. Being able to try sunsettias for the first time and feeling the gentle tingling of an Electro slime under your fingertips were core memories you hoped you'd never forget.

Well, it was fun. It was until you started getting chased around Mondstadt.

The Knights of Favonius had it in for you because of your appearance, weirdly enough. While you did share some similarities to some released characters, you couldn't think of a single character who looked identical to you as your hunters claimed. Maybe it was an unreleased character or an NPC they were talking about.

You couldn't care less, though. All you knew was that this mystery stranger was held in such high regard that they wanted to kill you in their name.

No more than twelve hours after waking up in the Nation of Freedom, you were cowering in a hidden radish plot in Springvale, watching the setting sun shine gold on the faces of your pursuers. Some interrogated the townspeople of your whereabouts, others put up posters calling for your arrest at the decree of someone called 'The Divine Creator'.

A Divine Creator? Could they maybe be Fontaine's Archon? Your knowledge on the lore of Genshin Impact was rusty at best. However, you knew of the emphasis the French-inspired nation had on invention and composition. Perhaps Fontaine had a unique system of worship for their regional god, just like all the other nations you'd come to know and love. Plus, it'd explain why you hadn't heard of the title before while playing the game.

Yet, the longer you pondered over it on your way to Stormterror's Lair, the less it made sense. You'd only just woken up in Teyvat and unless there was an omnipotence amongst the Archons which you hadn't learned of, it was pretty much impossible for the god of Hydro to know about you when you'd barely stepped foot out of Barbatos' territory.

That left the questions: who was this Divine Creator that wanted you dead? And why did it feel like you'd forgotten something important?

Your trek towards Old Mondstadt was tiring - you'd never done this much walking in your life - and when the moon was high, you had no choice but to put your journey on hold for the sake of taking some much needed rest in Wolvendom. A Wolfhook bush was your bed for the night and you prayed to any Archon who'd dare listen to you for a peaceful trip and some safe refuge.

No one was listening that evening. That seemed more and more apparent as your hike continued.

Knights were scattered across the lands, vigilant eyes scanning the surroundings and forcing you to rely on sneaking and climbing abilities you didn't know you had. Mobs that were usually hostile towards you as a player were more than willing to lend a helping hand but as it became clear they were also more than willing to die for you, you steered clear of hilichurl camps, no matter how small. You soon only had yourself and a growing queasiness to keep you company on your travels.

It became a hard-won miracle that you managed to make it to the ruined city, your mystery illness that struck no more than a day after you first arrived in Teyvat reducing you to shaky limbs, stale saliva, pounding headaches and teary eyes. However, you only barely managed to cross into the new region before you fell onto the stone in a heap, crying. You hadn't felt this bad since you were first put on your meds-

Oh shit. Your medication. No wonder you were feeling like garbage.

As quick as the realisation came, another wave of helplessness crashed into you. Teyvat likely wasn't advanced enough to manufacture something like anti-depressants and even if they were, the Knights had made sure that any citizen of Mondstadt who saw you would drag you back to the city to witness your execution. You probably had more of a chance of finding the Unusual Hilichurl with a blindfold than seeking out someone who'd be willing to help you.

Metal gently scooped you off of the floor and you wiped your eyes, clearing them enough to see the Ruin Guard which was carrying you towards the centre of the lair. All you could do was lay your head against the machine, eyes fluttering shut. You knew that withdrawals wouldn't kill you but with how awful you felt, you almost felt like handing yourself in just to make it stop.

When you opened your eyes next, it was to the sight of a makeshift lab built in the cave you'd been placed in. A familiar blond man was sitting cross-legged at the small bench, fiddling with eye-droppers and beakers, and before you could stop yourself, you weakly called out his name.

Albedo was quick to move from his seat, moving to you and hovering his hands over your arms. "You still need rest, Your Grace. Please, sleep some more. I'm almost finished."

Delirious from your foggy mind and in disbelief that the nation's Chief Alchemist was aiding you, all you could mutter was "My name's not Grace."

A ghost of a smile crept upon his lips, although that might've been the withdrawals messing with you again, before he moved settled next to your hunched figure. "It's your title, Your Grace. It seems my hypothesis has been proven, unfortunately. You don't appear to remember much about yourself-"

"Why are you helping me?" you interjected. A small voice in the back of your mind scolded you for being impolite to the only person who'd helped you since you first arrived in Teyvat but it was quickly lost in another wave of wooziness. "They've got a big cash reward if you kill me."

Albedo's eyes widened ever so slightly, his face seemingly growing a shade paler. "I would do nothing of the sort, Your Grace. You are the Divine Creator and what the people of Mondstadt are doing is treason against your great name," he explained.

"But I'm not a Divine Creator of anything. I thought that was another name of the Hydro Archon," you mumbled, eyes squeezing in pain.

"Oh dear, it's worse than I predicted. Please, provide me with a few more moments, Your Grace. I almost have the fluoxetine ready for you."

It was that single word, so starkly familiar amongst the blond's overwhelming claims, that had your eyes darting open and your body sitting up so quickly Albedo didn't have enough time to move his hands away. The soft fabric of his gloves touched your skin for a moment before his arms recoiled like you were hot to the touch. Cheeks flushed a soft pink, he fell back, restoring the distance between the two of you.

"Fluoxetine? Y-You have anti-depressants? How do you even manufacture them here?" you questioned, disbelief keeping your eyes wide. However, it was the prospect of finally getting rid of these shitty withdrawal symptoms that injected life into you once more. You never thought you'd be excited to take your medication, not since you were told you'd need to start taking those tablets, but in this moment, you wouldn't blame anyone who thought you'd just won the lottery.

"Teyvat, uh, doesn't manufacture the fluoxetine," Albedo replied in his usual soft tone, moving back to his knee-high bench to finish his chemistry. "The recipe for the 'anti-depressants' comes from an ancient scripture. I've been studying this sacred text for a long time to deduce how to make this substance if you ever were to descend in a mortal form in my lifetime."

"Albedo, with all due respect, I have no idea what you're talking about," you said, staring at the blond as his words swum in your already full head. "I'm sorry. I think the explanation might need to wait until I've had my meds in my system for a little bit. It's really hard to think right now."

Albedo only nodded. "That is understandable, Your Grace. I will finish concocting the fluoxetine so we can restore your form to its full glory. Once you are feeling like yourself again, you may ask me any question you want answered."

You nodded back in response, leaning back onto the soft grass with a sigh. As bad as things felt right now, somehow the promise of your meds reentering your system, even being delivered by a character from your favourite game, made your symptoms ease ever so slightly. It wasn't enough to get rid of the stale taste in your mouth or the tremors in your hands. It was enough, though, to finally allow you to get some more rest since your sleep in Wolvendom.

As for all the Divine Creator stuff Albedo claimed you were? You'll just deal with that when you've had your tablets.

[girlboss-enthusiast]

Please tell us how to get into IT without a degree! I have an interview for a small tech company this week and I’m going in as admin but as things expand I can bootstrap into a better role and I’d really appreciate knowing what skills are likely to be crucial for making that pivot.

Absolutely!! You'd be in a great position to switch to IT, since as an admin, you'd already have some familiarity with the systems and with the workplace in general. Moving between roles is easier in a smaller workplace, too.

So, this is a semi-brief guide to getting an entry-level position, for someone with zero IT experience. That position is almost always going to be help desk. You've probably heard a lot of shit about help desk, but I've always enjoyed it.

So, here we go! How to get into IT for beginners!

The most important thing on your resume will be

✨~🌟Certifications!!🌟~✨

Studying for certs can teach you a lot, especially if you're entirely new to the field. But they're also really important for getting interviews. Lots of jobs will require a cert or degree, and even if you have 5 years of experience doing exactly what the job description is, without one of those the ATS will shunt your resume into a black hole and neither HR or the IT manager will see it.

First, I recommend getting the CompTIA A+. This will teach you the basics of how the parts of a computer work together - hardware, software, how networking works, how operating systems work, troubleshooting skills, etc. If you don't have a specific area of IT you're interested in, this is REQUIRED. Even if you do, I suggest you get this cert just to get your foot in the door.

I recommend the CompTIA certs in general. They'll give you a good baseline and look good on your resume. I only got the A+ and the Network+, so can't speak for the other exams, but they weren't too tough.

If you're more into development or cybersecurity, check out these roadmaps. You'll still benefit from working help desk while pursuing one of those career paths.

The next most important thing is

🔥🔥Customer service & soft skills🔥🔥

Sorry about that.

I was hired for my first ever IT role on the strength of my interview. I definitely wasn't the only candidate with an A+, but I was the only one who knew how to handle customers (aka end-users). Which is, basically, be polite, make the end-user feel listened to, and don't make them feel stupid. It is ASTOUNDING how many IT people can't do that. I've worked with so many IT people who couldn't hide their scorn or impatience when dealing with non-tech-savvy coworkers.

Please note that you don't need to be a social butterfly or even that socially adept. I'm autistic and learned all my social skills by rote (I literally have flowcharts for social interactions), and I was still exceptional by IT standards.

Third thing, which is more for you than for your resume (although it helps):

🎇Do your own projects🎇

This is both the most and least important thing you can do for your IT career. Least important because this will have the smallest impact on your resume. Most important because this will help you learn (and figure out if IT is actually what you want to do).

The certs and interview might get you a job, but when it comes to doing your job well, hands-on experience is absolutely essential. Here are a few ideas for the complete beginner. Resources linked at the bottom.

Start using the command line. This is called Terminal on Mac and Linux. Use it for things as simple as navigating through file directories, opening apps, testing your connection, that kind of thing. The goal is to get used to using the command line, because you will use it professionally.

Build your own PC. This may sound really intimidating, but I swear it's easy! This is going to be cheaper than buying a prebuilt tower or gaming PC, and you'll learn a ton in the bargain.

Repair old PCs. If you don't want to or can't afford to build your own PC, look for cheap computers on Craiglist, secondhand stores, or elsewhere. I know a lot of universities will sell old technology for cheap. Try to buy a few and make a functioning computer out of parts, or just get one so you can feel comfortable working in the guts of a PC.

Learn Powershell or shell scripting. If you're comfortable with the command line already or just want to jump in the deep end, use scripts to automate tasks on your PC. I found this harder to do for myself than for work, because I mostly use my computer for web browsing. However, there are tons of projects out there for you to try!

Play around with a Raspberry Pi. These are mini-computers ranging from $15-$150+ and are great to experiment with. I've made a media server and a Pi hole (network-wide ad blocking) which were both fun and not too tough. If you're into torrenting, try making a seedbox!

Install Linux on your primary computer. I know, I know - I'm one of those people. But seriously, nothing will teach you more quickly than having to compile drivers through the command line so your Bluetooth headphones will work. Warning: this gets really annoying if you just want your computer to work. Dual-booting is advised.

If this sounds intimidating, that's totally normal. It is intimidating! You're going to have to do a ton of troubleshooting and things will almost never work properly on your first few projects. That is part of the fun!

Resources

Resources I've tried and liked are marked with an asterisk*

Professor Messor's Free A+ Training Course*

PC Building Simulator 2 (video game)

How to build a PC (video)

PC Part Picker (website)*

CompTIA A+ courses on Udemy

50 Basic Windows Commands with Examples*

Mac Terminal Commands Cheat Sheet

Powershell in a Month of Lunches (video series)

Getting Started with Linux (tutorial)* Note: this site is my favorite Linux resource, I highly recommend it.

Getting Started with Raspberry Pi

Raspberry Pi Projects for Beginners

/r/ITCareerQuestions*

Ask A Manager (advice blog on workplace etiquette and more)*

Reddit is helpful for tech questions in general. I have some other resources that involve sailing the seas; feel free to DM me or send an ask I can answer privately.

Tips

DO NOT work at an MSP. That stands for Managed Service Provider, and it's basically an IT department which companies contract to provide tech services. I recommend staying away from them. It's way better to work in an IT department where the end users are your coworkers, not your customers.

DO NOT trust remote entry-level IT jobs. At entry level, part of your job is schlepping around hardware and fixing PCs. A fully-remote position will almost definitely be a call center.

DO write a cover letter. YMMV on this, but every employer I've had has mentioned my cover letter as a reason to hire me.

DO ask your employer to pay for your certs. This applies only to people who either plan to move into IT in the same company, or are already in IT but want more certs.

DO NOT work anywhere without at least one woman in the department. My litmus test is two women, actually, but YMMV. If there is no woman in the department in 2024, and the department is more than 5 people, there is a reason why no women work there.

DO have patience with yourself and keep an open mind! Maybe this is just me, but if I can't do something right the first time, or if I don't love it right away, I get very discouraged. Remember that making mistakes is part of the process, and that IT is a huge field which ranges from UX design to hardware repair. There are tons of directions to go once you've got a little experience!

Disclaimer: this is based on my experience in my area of the US. Things may be different elsewhere, esp. outside of the US.

I hope this is helpful! Let me know if you have more questions!