#no more political inactivity for me

[calling-the-angels]

Americans!

If you go to this handy little site (Find my Representative .gov) and look up your address, you find out who your representative is. :)

In light of recent world events, I've decided to stop being so politically sedative (i.e. "it doesn't really affect me") and was curious 1. who my rep even is?? and 2. how they vote.

Turns out my area is hella conservative (shocker) and that my rep is Republican and supporting Isn'treal. He also voted 'Yea' to censuring Rashida Tlaib and 'Yea' to providing more weapons to further the genocide of Palestinians. Are there things he is sponsoring that I support? Yeah, nothing is black and white, folks. Rural issues are still issues he has to work on. However, how else is he to know how his constituents feel about current affairs if no one is letting him know? :)) Him and his staffers are getting messages from me. Might call his team once the office opens Monday as well!

What I'm trying to get at here is that we - as Americans - have gotten really comfortable with voting in a representative and forgetting about them. That's selfish and short-sighted... as our reps have power in global problems we don't as individuals.

I've decided that my rep doesn't get to vote on bills without wondering whether anyone even realizes what he's doing. He'll know, because I'll let him know! :)

[starry-bi-sky]

pouring one out for luo binghe in my disciple SQQ fic, poor guy has taken a backseat here. we're nearly 30k words deep and he hasn't even shown his face once. it'll be much longer before he even actually talks to Shen Qingqiu.

(i say im pouring one out but in reality im sitting in my director's chair chewing on a cigar and wearing a beret as he tearily and unsuccessfully pleads with me for more scenes with Shen Qingqiu)

[cherry-chaos-cola]

"you don't deserve to have Raymond on your island I expect him in boxes by morning"

[lil-oreo-crumbles]

The more I develop the magic system and magic lore for the Septarsis Dragonfly AU, the more Glossaryck is shaping up to be more and more actively villainous and explicitly antagonistic.

It’s kind of fascinating.

[porto-rosso]

just saw someone say that the reason american politicians aren't pushing to give third parties better chances in elections is because the majority of third parties are communist leaning. lmao.

[pseudowho]

"Itadori-kun. Good. You're on time."

Kento checked his watch, clearly distracted, as Yuuji approached with pocketed hands. The shopping centre was bustling, a hive of activity around them. Yuuji ruffled his own hair, unsure.

"Yeah, I just...wasn't sure why we're meeting here, is all."

Still distracted, Kento tapped off a message, before slipping his phone back into his inner pocket. He rarely offered smiles when there was business yet to be done, and today was no different.

"I was hoping for your assistance with a few errands before your school term ends. I'm sure you'll be busy with your friends after then, and I shouldn't like to take your vacation time. I'm sure you're looking forward to the break."

In truth, Yuuji deflated just at the thought of it; though he was an orphan amongst orphans, he didn't favour empty time in the way he used to, with memory and the devil as his constant companions. Still he smiled.

"Yeah! Can't wait. Got...got loads planned."

Kento read Yuuji, shrewd for a moment, before hyper-focusing on the task at hand.

"Quite. Come along, Yuuji."

Yuuji grew more and more flummoxed as Kento's list of errands tickered out before them. Too polite to question why, and with absolute faith that Kento had good reason to drag him along for the ride, Yuuji stomached it all with confused good grace.

Yuuji blinked, momentarily blinded by the flash of light in the photo booth. He grinned for the next photo, and Kento's cool deep voice rumbled past the curtain.

"No smiling, Yuuji."

"H-huh? How did you know?"

"Was I wrong?"

"Uh...sorry, Nanamin."

As a strip of tiny poe-faced photos clicked into the dispenser, Yuuji couldn't understand why Nanamin was so satisfied by such bland pictures. Yuuji was, however, touched; clearly Nanamin liked wallet photos as he liked his suits-- beige. Kento clipped across Yuuji's thoughts.

"Do you like the beach, Yuuji?"

Yuuji blinked. "The beach...?"

"Yes. The beach. Do you like it?"

"Uh...I guess. Why?"

Kento hummed, satisfied, not answering Yuuji's question. Instead, as he passed Yuuji his coffee, he stood and leaned around Yuuji, gently pulling at the back of Yuuji's collar. Yuuji twisted to look, baffled now, and Kento released him, sitting with another satisfied hum. He tapped on his phone again.

"Your identification documents are in your room at Jujutsu High?"

"Nanamin...what's this about?"

"It's important to take care of your documents, Yuuji."

"...so you're just...checking up on me?"

Kento smiled, polite. "Of course." A pause. "I assume you'd like to come back to ours for dinner?"

Yuuji brimmed with unasked questions. "I don't need to-- I'm not really that hungry-- honestly a coffee is great--"

"Mrs.Nanami has cooked extra."

"God, yes, please, I'm starving."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The summer vacation approached Yuuji like a black cloud. He could not bring himself to be excited for enforced inactivity; his casual offers to assist staff on missions fell on deaf ears. Gojo laughed Yuuji off with a clap on the shoulder. Yuuji smiled away the gentle rejection; he did not have the stomach to beg to work.

Instead, Yuuji stewed, leaning on his rainy windowsill until cicada buzz replaced the pitter-patter of water on earth. Late July arrived, unwelcome, and Yuuji steeped in a pit of dread.

At 2am, on the first day of summer vacation, Yuuji's phone rang. Bleary-eyed, and flat, he looked away from his computer screen and lowered his headset. He looked at his screen with a lurching gut; he answered the phone.

"Nanamin?"

A voice, rusty with sleeplessness. "Ah, Yuuji. I apologise for waking you at this hour. I need help with a mission. Are you available?"

Yuuji perked up immediately, tail wagging. "Y-yeah! Yeah, totally! I can be ready...er...in ten? Yeah?"

Kento's voice smiled. "Good. I'll pick you up."

Yuuji danced from his desk chair, shaking off his joggers and wriggling into his uniform with a grin, ruffling his hair before the mirror. In barely two minutes, he was ready, a spring in his step as he headed to wait outside. He felt so light, so relieved, and he grabbed his keys, opening his door to--

"Oh, shi--...Nanamin?"

Kento stood at the door, comfortable in loose clothes, and...sandals? It was an odd contrast to the backdrop of night, and Kento's usual attire. Kento smiled again, polite.

"Yes. Are you ready?"

"Y-yeah, I'm...how did you get here so fast?"

"The roads are quiet at this time of night, Yuuji."

A pause. "...Nanamin."

"Yuuji."

"Are you fucking with me?"

"Language."

When Yuuji opened his mouth to argue back, his jaw dropped, as you bustled up the corridor behind Kento with a sleepy grin on your face. You slapped Kento's elbow, shooting him a chastising look.

"Morning, Yuuji! Excited?" You pressed a kiss to his cheek, whirling past to invade his bedroom. Yuuji was speechless, horribly confused.

Kento checked his watch as you bustled around. Tapped his foot as you bustled around. Tutted, and leaned pointedly round the corner to stare at you as you bustled around.

"Darling, we're going to be la--"

"--don't give me attitude, Kento, we are about 6 hours early, and you know it--"

"--it pays off to check-in ahead of schedule--"

"--hush. I'll have words with you later."

Kento bristled, pugnacious. You walked out of Yuuji's room with his rucksack in hand. You pinched his chin, gesturing him along with your hand.

"Come on, Yuuji. Before Mr.Organised has conniptions."

Yuuji felt himself swept along by Kento, who still scoffed, mulish. The night air smelled sweet, and Yuuji found himself gently bodied into the back seat of Kento's car.

"--Nanamin-- I don't understand--"

You shot Kento a pointed look from the passenger seat. At first frowning, then with dawning realisation, you scolded Kento in disbelief.

"...you haven't told him."

Kento almost smirked as he rolled the car away over gravel. "I don't know what you mean."

You looked from Kento, to Yuuji, and back again. You reached slowly into Kento's bag, rummaging. Yuuji felt a glossy little book pressed into his hands.

"...a...passport?"

"...Kento didn't tell you."

Never one for expecting a gift, Yuuji couldn't see one when placed before his eyes. "Tell me what? Nanamin?"

Kento chuckled to himself, his eyes glimmering at Yuuji in the rearview mirror.

"Our flight is at 10:30, Yuuji."

Yuuji peered into the seat beside him; a new suitcase, neatly labelled with a luggage tag in his name. He yanked it to the seat beside him, unzipping it, and finding it full of new swimsuits, t-shirts, shorts, sandals, everything he could possibly need. He opened the glossy new passport in his hands, and hiccupped, his breath catching in his chest.

Yuuji rammed into realisation with prickling eyes, and a quiet sniffle, his eyes hidden in the dark. His reply was thick, stilted.

"Our flight...to where?"

"Malaysia. Now give me back that passport. You'll only lose it."

[ms-demeanor]

hi, hopefully this isnt a stupid question -- this is only my second election i'm voting in, and i'm a little confused about results. is it actually confirmed that trump has won, or is it just almost certain based on the counted votes? bc i know that provisional ballots (like mine) probably arent immediately counted, and there was that thing about votes needing to be verified because of signatures, plus to my knowledge the electoral college doesnt vote til december? i'm probably just grasping at an infinitesimal chance of things not being shit, but also i do actually want to understand and google is not helping :( if you can't explain no worries, you just seem to be knowledgable & willing to answer questions haha

This is absolutely not a stupid question.

So everything is currently pointing at what is most likely, not at what is 100% certain, but it's like 99% certain. There are still votes being counted, but in the states where the election has been called it has been called either because enough of the ballots have been counted that the remaining count wouldn't change the results, or that the area is historically so strongly in favor of one party that it's exceptionally unlikely that they'd flip the other way (for example, they're still counting california's ballots but you're more likely to get struck by lightning five times today than california is to flip red in this election). The places that have not yet been called do not have enough electoral votes for Harris to win the election.

The electoral college is exceedingly unlikely to flip their votes against the state/district vote; "Faithless electors" is the term for members of the electoral college who would vote against the vote they are committed to for their region. It was something discussed in both the 2016 election and the 2020 election and flipping the electoral college without winning the election was the motivation behind J6. As shitty and bullshit as I think the electoral college is, if you're going to have one and you're going to have the rule of law, you can't hope for faithless electors because what you're hoping for at that point is that the people representing you are acting directly against the choice of the voters.

I want you to listen to me. I have been voting in presidential elections since 2004. Presidential elections always suck. Who the president is does matter, and does impact your life, but you genuinely do not have a ton of influence over that so you can't let it throw you into despair and inaction, because we should be active and political and protesting the wrongs of the world even if your favored political party wins. Vote in local elections, work with your local community, and if your local community sucks too, work with online communities to both give and get support.

Whenever something like this happens, people pass around the Mr. Rogers quote about looking to the helpers. I like that quote. I think it's good, I think it's hopeful, I think it helps! But I also think that sometimes it's even more effective if you look for how to help. Who are you the most scared for after this election? Who are you worried about in your community or among your friends? What can you do that might make their life easier? What can you do to protect people like that in your community? What don't you know that might make you better prepared to help them in the future?

One thing that I think is a fantastic way to prepare to help is to either begin or continue learning a language that you don't know. I am working hard on my Spanish because I live in California and there are a ton of Spanish speakers here who I might be able to help. Is it directly aiding anyone right at this second that I'm practicing conjugation? No. But it might help someone who is being harassed by a cop, or who is unhoused and needs help, or who is being abused by an employer at some point in the future, and I can get myself ready to help. Learn how to use naloxone and pick up up an inhaler; you might not need it now, but it'll make you ready to help someone who does need it. Order free covid tests every chance you get, even if you don't need them, because then you can give them out to people who do need them. Plan B has a multi-year shelf life. Pick some up so that you've got some on hand if someone needs it.

Maybe there's nothing you can do right at this exact second (though if you are able to donate to gender affirmation fundraisers, border kindness, abortion funds, bail funds, etc., you can absolutely do that), but you can get ready to help someone who will need you someday.

[makeitmakesomesense]

Hard To Find

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: This is from a ridiculous prompt from a lovely friend. It uses a lovely prompt from @taylorswiftmicrofic for the 14th of January, which is 'psycho'.

.

You received a letter. It was simple, if a little formal. It had one request. 

You showed up obediently at the Shawarma place the very next day. Your heart in your mouth at the thought of seeing her. Two men walked in at the same time as you. You noticed the same letter clutched in the hand of the taller one. It made you nervous. 

You looked back down at the name signed on your letter. It steadied you. You would go anywhere for Natasha. You always would. If she wanted you. You’d be there.

The dimly lit establishment was empty. Only a young, blonde woman sat inside at one of the central tables.

The man to your right smiled as he looked around.

‘Wow.’ He said softly. ‘This place takes me back.’

The other man was too busy staring at the blonde woman. 

‘She found you.’ He muttered at last in a tight voice. ‘I told her it was psycho to go back there. But she did.’

The woman nodded simply. She seemed young, maybe in her mid-twenties. She had an unnerving composure, a perfectly controlled casualness. 

She reminded you of Natasha. Not in looks. But in the way she held herself. Not Natasha’s daughter. But definitely Natasha’s someone. 

Her long blonde braid was intricate and beautiful. It ached with the familiarity of someone who wasn’t here.

‘I know you were all expecting my sister.’ The woman said calmly. ‘She’s still on the run.’ 

Her eyes flickered between the men on either side of you. They shifted uncomfortably.

‘If she doesn’t want to be found -’ The bearded man started uncomfortably. 

The blonde woman rolled her eyes. Her petulance was undermined as she played nervously with the rings that decorated her fingers.

‘Of course, she wants to be found. Everyone wants to be found.’

The woman’s gaze turned to you. You felt the intensity behind her eyes. You met it readily. 

‘Just by the right people.’ The woman finished softly, her stare continuing to pierce you. ‘I’m Yelena.’ She introduced herself at last. 

You cleared your throat and answered with your own name. 

Steve Rogers introduced himself and then Clint Barton did. You only nodded as you processed their names. It felt a lifetime ago when she’d told you about them. 

You remembered Natasha, cross-legged on your living room floor. Eating take out chinese food and doing impressions of the other Avengers. The men she laughed at so easily that you knew she must love them,

‘You’re the closest thing she has to family.’ Yelena echoed, almost accusingly. ‘You are the people she loves the most.’ She paused and gave a dangerous smile. ‘Apart from me of course.’

‘I’m retired.’ Clint was the first to speak. His shoulders hung with a heavy kind of fatigue. A guilt that comes from inaction. ‘I can’t find her now. It would compromise my family. I thought Tash-’

Yelena cut him off. 

‘Steve?’ 

You turned too, to look at the man on your right. You wondered how he’d managed to sneak successfully into the center of New York city. His name was on all the wanted lists right next to Natasha’s. And, now that you were looking at him, he was not the kind of man who could go unnoticed in a crowd. 

Steve smiled with inherent politeness.

‘I’ve found a safe place that might work.’ He offered carefully. ‘I’m staying there with some friends now. Natasha would be more than welcome -’

This time it was you who cut him off. 

‘Why isn’t she already there then?’ You felt yourself bite out. A thousand sleepless nights worrying about Natasha suddenly rearing up angrily. ‘If you’ve found a safe place to hide with your friends. Why isn’t she already there?’

Yelena hummed an approving noise and your focus turned back to her. She nodded at you in encouragement.

You felt a longing surge up inside you. The impossible one. The one you rarely let yourself feel. 

‘Of course.’ You choked out. ‘Of course. I’d love to see her. But. After everything that happened between us. I don’t think she’d ever want to see me again.

Your confession rang in the air and you felt the urge to cringe from it. The things that you couldn’t undo.

‘Natasha told me, don't worry. Let me worry about that.’ Yelena assured you, standing up from the table and stretching out her arms leisurely.

‘You two can go.’ She dismissed the men off-handedly, ignoring them with obvious disgust. 

Yelena offered you her hand to shake. You took it readily. You realised abstractly that this all might be a trap. There were a million and one variables that you hadn’t considered. 

You had a life. Not a very interesting one, admittedly. But you had a job, and a cramped apartment and two annoying roommates. 

You had a heart that was finally almost ready to heal. 

The restaurant door slammed shut behind Clint and Steve. You flinched, remembering the echo of another time.

After a moment, Yelena reached under the collar of her shirt. She pulled out the silver arrow charm on her necklace, letting it rest on full display again. 

You stared at it for a long moment. You realised the answer was simple. You loved Natasha. 

You were nothing like an Avenger. You knew nothing about survival. You knew her smile in the mornings. You knew the weight of her head on your shoulder. You knew the touch of her lips on your skin.  

Yelena watched the expression on your face. She patted you on the shoulder.

‘Come on. You look like you need an adventure.’ She encouraged simply as she walked you to the back door. 

Together, you climbed the rickety fire escape upwards. 

When you reached the roof, Yelena made a grand gesture towards the quinjet that she’d clearly landed there earlier. 

‘I’m glad that didn’t take long.’ She muttered as she unlocked the jet and welcomed you aboard. ‘I could not figure out the right button to make it invisible.’

You waited nervously in the middle of the jet as Yelena programmed in a flight path. You suddenly felt very out of control.

Once you were in the air, Yelena turned back to you. She grabbed your hand and pulled you down with her as she sat cross-legged on the hard ground. 

‘So, tell me what happened with you and my sister.’ She directed calmly.

You promptly exploded. You jumped immediately back to your feet.

‘You don’t actually know?!’ You hissed, rubbing your hand through your hair as you started to pace the small room.

Yelena waved her hand casually in the air. ‘Not specifics. Just that it didn’t work out.’

‘Oh my god.’ You felt yourself start to hyperventilate. Your hand covered your chest. ‘We need to turn this jet around. Oh my god.’

Yelena hopped back to her feet, grumbling a little about assassins having stiff joints. She grabbed your arms and forced your attention back to her.

‘Calm down.’ She ordered. 

You noticed abruptly that she was smaller than Natasha. You wondered vaguely how it was possible for her to be even scarier. 

‘It can’t be that bad.’ Yelena determined in a calming voice. ‘It really can’t. Just tell me what happened.’

‘We had a fight.’ You blurted out suddenly. Yelena’s grip loosened and she nodded for you to continue. ‘It was my fault. I told her she wasn’t letting herself be happy. Always putting other people first. Never trusting the people who cared about her.’

You gulped, feeling the burn of threatening tears. 

‘She, uh-. She left and it was bad. I thought we’d broken up. I was sure we had.’

You felt Yelena tense in front of you.

‘It had been nearly a month of radio silence.’ You whispered now. ‘And then Natasha showed up on my doorstep unannounced. She’d been called out on an undercover mission. That's why she hadn't answered. She hadn’t been ignoring me.’ 

You brushed a tear from your cheek. Loathing yourself as you repeated the story.

‘I was halfway through getting ready for a date when I answered the door. She took one look at me and she just knew.’

Yelena stared at you for a long moment. Her brow furrowed as she lost herself in thought. 

‘Okay.’ She said at last. ‘You’re right. Natasha might kill us both.’

.

The quinjet landed in a small clearing in the middle of the Norwegian forest. Yelena hurried you out and turned you in the direction of a lone trailer in the near distance. She patted you on the back and it didn’t reassure you. 

You looked back to Yelena, trapped between the longing and the fear. 

Yelena’s gaze turned sad. She gave you a small shrug.

‘You’ve got to try.’ She told you.

You nodded, turning back to look at the trailer. She was right.

.

You knocked on the trailer door. You were shaking. 

There was a noise inside the trailer and then silence. 

After a moment, the door opened. Natasha Romanoff stood there, a gun in hand. Her long red hair framed her face messily. Her dark, oversized hoodie made her look smaller than you remembered.

You watched her mouth fall open. 

You felt the longing inside you surge into its own creature. You tried to smile.

‘Hi -’  You started nervously. 

Natasha interrupted you with a sudden hug. You staggered slightly at the force of it. Her arms wrapped around you tightly. You swallowed the choking realisation that you were wanted.

Abruptly she pulled back. Her green eyes scanned yours worriedly. Her hand cupped your face, desperately tentative. 

‘Are you real?’ 

‘Yes.’ You felt the tears running down your cheeks. ‘And I’m so glad you’re safe.’

Natasha started crying too. She reached out shakily to find one of your hands. You watched her press her lips to your knuckles. You felt the warm breath on your skin as she found the courage to speak.

‘I thought you'd moved on. That day, when I came back.’ Natasha whispered at last. ‘I don’t. I never. I never wanted to get in the way.’

The fragments of your barely glued together heart fell apart again. 

You leaned forward and kissed Natasha carefully. Slow and lingering, it felt like coming home.

You let the aching longing become what it had always been. You pressed your forehead against Natasha’s. You listened to the sound of her shallow breaths. She squeezed your hand tightly. 

‘Natasha, you can't be in the way.’ You promised desperately. ‘You're everything I wanted to find.’

.

.

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Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

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[dughole]

radiohead’s complicity in israeli-occupied palestine

my feelings on radiohead are complicated these days, as i’m sure they are for many. i'm using this post as a method of sorting out my own thoughts & to provide sources.

for me, the bottom line is this: radiohead is both a brand & a musical group. the brand of radiohead has always had deep roots in the israeli colonial project - they have played many, many shows there throughout their career. their breakout single - creep, was intially only a hit in israel (x, x) & the personal choices of some of radiohead's members remain just as involved. jonny greenwood met his future wife - the israeli artist, antivaxxer & vehement zionist (x) sharona katan - at a show radiohead played in israel in 1993 (x). jonny consistently collaborated with zionist musician shye ben tzur & his projects continue to tour in tel aviv as recently as last september. as for jonny himself - his only statement in regards to the war on gaza has been in mourning for the israeli concert goers on october 10th - w no such empathy spared to the 100,000 palestinians dead, injured, or missing. as for thom, while he’s thrown a few bitchfits (x) through the years abt criticism of radiohead’s shows in israel, he has imo - only paid lipservice to the criticism, saying “playing in a country isn’t the same as endorsing its government” going against the pleas of his peers & coworkers in the music industry. as well as the pro-palestine activism undertaken by his long term friend micheal stipe (x & x). (note: stipe stood by radiohead’s performance in israel in 2017, but his current political choices suggest his understanding of the situation has evolved). even his own son - noah yorke, a fellow working musician, has voiced his opposition to the genocide in gaza via instagram stories. as for the other members, rhythm guitarist ed o'brien has called for a ceasefire, as well as making a few tweets about "solidarity with palestinians & israeli peacemakers". while bassist colin greenwood reportedly refused to accept letters of dialogue from the fan-run organization radiohead fans for palestine. drummer phillip selway's commentary is similarly brief but defensive, saying radiohead's 2017 tel aviv concert "felt right"

to me, this paints a picture of a band who's members stances on israel range from abhorrent to simply not enough. & as a brand, their particular combination of action & inaction amounts to a fundamentally zionist perspective. you cannot separate radiohead as artists from radiohead as a brand name.

i've loved radiohead since i was 14. i was brought into it by another longtime fan. i cried & danced when i saw them live back in 2017 - it was, & remains, a moment that allowed me to live through the hardest parts of my life. i felt for the longest time, that radiohead's music & political positions encouraged my empathy - my questioning of conservative political authority. & while all celebrities are failures in some sense - it is still heartbreaking to know how wrong i was.

i don't think it's possible to disconnect the decade of connection & love i have for their music - I won't ask that of myself or anyone else. & the idea of scrubbing one's taste of the "morally impure" is useless effort & an inappropriate simplification of both art & our conceptions of what makes someone "bad". but i can say with certainty - i will not be giving them any more of my money, whether that be streaming their music or buying their merch - & i encourage you to do the same. silence is complicity - this is beyond silence.

in the words of nina simone - "an artist's duty, as far as i'm concerned, is to reflect the times. how can you be an artist and not reflect the times? that to me is the definition of an artist."

[diz-eaze]

TRIVIA: LOVE. (soft yandere! wanderer x female reader)

; written during 2023. you call him kuni, vv self-indulgent i will not lie. minor lore divergence because of the name kunikuzushi.

; There is a longing present in his eyes when it came to you.

WHEN WANDERER met you under the hustle and bustle of Port Ormos, a missing piece of his being was completed like the last component to a crucial puzzle. The memories come rushing back - memories that are you, memories that compromise of you, memories that enjoy life with you - memories that he thought have been locked in the very back of his mind.

Yet that proves to be false, for how else can he know it's you if not for knowing you? He thought he'd moved on, he thought he accepted peace with himself that this time, he'll let you go and allow you to be free - a luxury that he hadn't granted you before, back when he wasn't a mere wanderer.

He thought he contented himself with aimlessly wandering the world of Teyvat.

Yet that also proves to be false, a lie piled on top of another lie, as before he knew it he was fast approaching you.

He had to make sure it truly is you, he had to.

Amidst your pleasant conversation with a kind merchant comes him, the outlier. He taps you on your shoulder, plastering on a kind facade - he asks you for your name.

"It's (Y/N)." You respond, returning his politeness back.

"What's yours?" You ask.

Ah, it truly is you.

It seems no matter what he does, Wanderer will always come back to you in the end. For his soul will always yearn for yours.

Just as it had since the very beginning.

Wanderer chuckles - a boyish charm that brings heat to your face.

"I don't really have a name," He says, relaxed and poised. "But someone always called me Kuni, so I suppose that's what you can call me. As it would be an honor I bestow upon you."

"Okay...?" You trail off, not able to decipher his cryptic words. "Kuni."

He'll never say it out loud, at least not yet, but he truly did miss you.

For as long as he lived, through every version and past of himself that he experienced, there was always one constant.

It's you, always have been.

Kabukimono - Resident of Tatarasuna.

The populated city of Inazuma lies the most prominent influence of the shogun, for her domain is placed at the most lavish point in the city. The shogun's army littered the streets, with soldiers occasionally passing by rowdy children playing tag or perhaps coming across the elderly in need of assistance. The residents of the main city greet the army with respect, with honor.

Life in Inazuma City is easy, almost unfairly so. The residents are under the protection of the Shogun, even despite her recent inactivity in ruling the lands. Outside the Main City of Inazuma, there is still life to be found.

There is Tsurumi Island, where a boy that befriends an almighty being resides. Seirai Island is inhabited by Asase Hibiki and her cat, Neko, along with a small village. And many more.

Tatarasuna is where Kabukimono's home is.

After being woken up from a deep slumber by Niwa, the puppet was introduced to the local residents of Tatarasuna, where Blacksmithing thrived. Most of them had an affinity for swords - sword dancing, sword forging, sword duels.

Even you, a local village girl who's known for sword dancing, specialized in it.

Kabukimono meets you on a particular night when everyone else had gone to sleep with the exception of the two of you. He sees you sharpening your blade, lost in thought. Kabukimono hesitates on approaching you, in fear of resulting in an unpleasant interaction.

After all, Kabukimono is not human - how can he know what humans like to talk about? He is naught but a mere imitation of life. He is a puppet, his joints, and his porcelain face are proof of that.

So he stays hidden in the shadows, watching you with catlike eyes - eager to harness your techniques when it comes to sword dancing. Kabukimono has no courage to talk to you - he can't and he won't.

It stays like that for a couple of weeks, he watches you in the shadows at night with a sense of standstill - the urge to cross it and just speak to you.

It isn't until Niwa introduces you to him one summer day did he cross the boundary.

"This is (Y/N)," Niwa says, smiling brightly. "I thought you needed more friends, Kabukimono. I think (Y/N) is perfect for that! She's adept at sword dancing!"

Kabukimono knows, he's seen you dance at night far more times than anyone else in the village. He's memorized each trademark of your dance, the signature flare that makes it your dance. He knows your mannerisms, and your routine before doing a dance - he knows it like the back of his porcelain hand.

And unlike nighttime, there in clear daylight, Kabukimono sees all your perfection and imperfection that makes up your entire face. He sees all the little details that the moonlight refused to reveal to him.

Here in broad daylight, you are even more beautiful than when he first saw you.

Niwa nudges him subtly, worried about his friend's sudden silence.

"Psst!" He whispers, not wanting his efforts to go down the drain.

Kabukimono's eyes widen, "U-uhm!" He stumbles over his words akin to a newborn baby, "You may call me Kabukimono...!"

You nod, not minding his belated response. "It's nice to meet you, Kabukimono. I hope we can be good friends!"

He nods as well, big doe eyes never leaving the silhouette of your form. "Likewise!"

This was the first time, out of the many, that he met you. His time with you was short, but it was undoubtedly the catalyst for everything that transpired between the two of you in the span of centuries.

Loving you when he was Kabukimono is akin to a first love in late summer and early spring.

Because you are, you're his first and only love.

Kabukimono vividly remembers chasing after you in the rice fields of Tatarasuna, not minding the gentle humming of cicadas and the soft buzz of bees. He remembers the way the wind tickled his hair, blowing past him as he races to catch up to you, he remembers the way you joyously laughed as you continued to outrun him.

Kabukimono remembers the heat of the summer sun, he can still imagine the feel of the blooming flowers that tickled his bare feet, he remembers the tsk coming from blacksmiths and the bemused chuckle of Niwa as he watches the two of you having fun without a care in the world.

Kabukimono remembers the countless nights spent dancing with you, holding your hand, and being surprised at the warmth your skin held - as opposed to his artificial hand that was cold to the touch. He remembers the way you awed at the feel of his skin, the way you traced each inch of his hand up to his forearms.

Kabukimono remembers a treasured conversation shared between the two of you, speaking out your innermost feelings and thoughts with each other. There, you ponder his lifespan and how he'd fare when you die.

"Do you think reincarnation is real?" You question, not really expecting a response from him.

Kabukimono remembers frowning as he looks at the way you seemed so troubled.

"Well if reincarnation were real, then I'd find you."

You frowned, finding his words hard to believe. "But what if I look different then? What if I looked nothing from the way I am now? How would you know it's me?"

Kabukimono remembers laughing out loud, "That's easy!" He retorts, grinning when you stare at him, "Because your eyes would tell."

"I'll know it's you, just because."

For the first time that night, you finally smile. "Okay," You reply, "I trust you, come find me in my next life."

"It's a promise, then."

(The same night, you gift him the name 'Kunikuzushi', and he feels blessed by Celestia itself.)

He remembers it all too well as if forgetting it would result in his ultimate demise.

As a puppet, Kabukimono knew he was not a real human. He can't be human, for he has no beating heart - he doesn't have the sound of gentle thumping that can be heard through your chest. When he presses against his own, he hears nothing but silence. He can't blush the way his friend Niwa can, for he has no blood, and blood can't rush up to his cheeks. He can't bleed the way you do. He can't wound the way you do.

Kabukimono has no human functions, but he feels human. He resonates with humanity far more than the average person, he empathizes and he cares like a human would. He feels love swirling within his nonexistent heart whenever he looks your way, and he thinks that this must be what living means; to love.

Life with you then was easy, he had nothing to worry about other than trivial matters. Life was an enjoyment, every time he opened his eyelids he was off to search for you.

First love is reminiscent of sweet candy and sunsets; Kabukimono thinks you are a dream, for you are everything he's ever wanted. Kabukimono thinks you're like candy because you love him like he's the only one in the entire land of Teyvat. Sunsets remind him of you for he can't imagine anything else other than the countless afternoons he spent with you.

But all good things must come to an end.

When you die while accompanying Niwa, Kabukimono feels his whole world tilt on its axis, and a surge of pain sprouts from his hollow chest; heartbreak. He's suddenly thrusted into a reality where you no longer exist because you're dead. He's forced to live on without you.

Love feels so good, but it also hurts just as much.

As Kabukimono, he feels love for the first time and loses you in the same breath.

But that's fine. Because you and he both promise to meet in your next life - he holds onto that like gospel. 

When Kabukimono leaves Tatarasuna, it's you in the back of his mind.

Kunikuzushi - Caretaker of a Sickly Boy.

A few decades have passed before he met you again. This time, he no longer goes by Kabukimono; he calls himself Kunikuzushi nowadays, a fond reminder of the imprint you left on his identity.

You were the one who gave the name to him, after all.

This time, you are no longer a village girl with an affinity for sword dancing. Instead, you are tied down to life by being the sole caretaker of a sickly boy with no parents. You look a bit different compared to your 'original self - a weary look is permanently etched onto your face, there are stress lines visible all throughout your body, you are deathly frail, and your face has blemishes more than usual - minor differences but ultimately, it's still you.

Kunikuzushi breathlessly laughs, it's still you, even after all these years.

From then forth, he volunteers to help take care of the sickly boy - he'll be the one to scavenge for materials and food because his inhuman physique allows him to. Your frail body can't handle it, clearly.

Kunikuzushi finds that this life with you is harder to navigate due to an unexpected factor - the child. It isn't to say that he's unwelcomed, because that's far from the truth - Kunikuzushi adores the child. But it's clear that his inexperience with handling young children shines through, especially when it comes to taking care of him on the off chance you were unavailable.

You, too, are terribly sick. Some days it has come to a point where you are bedridden. It's like an unknown disease have caught both you and the child - but it's fine, Kunikuzushi still loves you all the same.

Kunikuzushi learns that life is not easy at all, it's nothing compared to the easygoing perception he had back in Tatarasuna, where all he had to worry about was whether or not you would be at the village that day.

This time, he has to mature and learn along the way. Forced to abandon the childlike wonder he once had back in Tatarasuna in favor of adopting a more mature role in life, Kunikuzushi lives day to day as he learns more and more about vulnerability when it comes to being human.

Day by day, he tries his absolute best to keep you and the child alive through only his inexperienced hands - but this proves to be fruitless as with time, you come to deteriorate like the wood rotting the walls of the 'home' you and he called.

In the grand scheme of life, Kunikuzushi is nothing but a speckle of dust, powerless to stop or prevent deaths. Trying to keep you two from dying was akin to sand slipping through his fingers. It's the thought of fighting just for it to amount to nothing in the end.

On your deathbed, the last few remaining hours of your insignificant life, Kunikuzushi blabbers anything and everything that his puppet mind can conjure up; anything to keep you conscious, to keep you awake. He speaks of tales and stories about a life you once had with him, he speaks of it fondly like a wistful dream.

He assures you that he'll find you once more, it was bound to.

Amidst your hazy mind, you find the strength to ask, "...How will you remember that you loved me, Kuni? Don't your feelings fade over time...?" Your voice is hoarse, frail, and weak. So, so unbearably weak, it pains him to hear it.

"Never." He refutes, answering without skipping a beat.

"...Why?" You question once more.

"That's easy," He whispers, his cold fingers moving to gently grasp yours. "I can't help it."

He loves you so. 

Because loving you is like second nature to him, a part of his life that will always happen. An inevitable that has no end - and he has no complaints against it, he wants it all the same. Kunikuzushi knows how to love purely because you loved him so much that he learned how to love, too.

You let out your last breath and Kunikuzushi is now left to live without you once more. Quietly, he buries your cold corpse near the makeshift house. Kabukimono's time with (Y/N) was short, but even more so with Kunikuzushi - it's almost unjust.

A few days later, the sickly child dies too.

And Kunikuzushi is left to re-evaluate the very notion of love. 

Scaramouche - The Balladeer of The Fatui.

Scaramouche is everything that Kunikuzushi and Kabukimono are not, he is the very opposite of their being, he abandoned his previous life after he joined the organization known as the Fatui. The antithesis of what they once were.

Here, his existence means something - he is not the clueless childlike puppet back in Tatarasuna nor is he the powerless caretaker. Here, he is a Harbinger - a bringer of demise, he's a sense of coming foretold.

This time, when he meets you once more, you won't slip away so easily. This time, he'll make things right, the way he previously couldn't do. This time, he'll face death and fate itself just to keep you bound to him - not even your mortality can interfere, he'll find a way.

Except it takes over two centuries for you to reincarnate once more, a time too long for him to idly sit by and wait for you. Scaramouche meets you after an agonizingly long time, in this life, you are a resident of Inazuma City - home of the ruthless Shogun who stores people's vision in the massive stone statue.

For the first time since he met you ages ago, you yield a vision now - a Dendro one, a vision that signifies life and blooming hope. Such a shame, then, he has no plan for you to cultivate that kind of mindset once he grabs a hold of you.

The term 'meet' is much too generous, as he never introduced himself to you - he has no plans to, at this moment. He simply caught sight of you around Tatarasuna, looking for flowers to cultivate back at your house. But even with you meters away from his eyesight, it's unmistaken.

It's you, he's never been wrong about this. Because Scaramouche knows you so well it's almost as if the image of yourself is stuck to him whenever he closes his eyes. For him, it's impossible to mistake you for somebody else for his soul is so attuned with yours that it's no different to a pair of instruments.

Scaramouche knows you better than anybody else, that's simply a fact.

Yet while his soul strongly yearns to see you after all these years, he knows that patience is key. He must content himself with surveying you from afar until all the pieces are put into motion, once it's rolling then he can make his move.

He waits patiently, akin to a spider waiting for their prey to get stuck on the web.

For days, weeks, and a good month or two, Scaramouche keeps tabs on you as if you're Steambird's latest headline. He never skips out on a day when it comes to checking up on you, out of concern or malice, none of his underlings know the underlying reason.

They think he's a tad bit obsessed, but it's far worse when delved into the deep crevices of Scaramouche's mind; he thinks of you day and night, almost incapable of thinking about any other matter. He needs to see you daily, even if afar, or else he'd lose his grip on his sanity.

He has waited for you for centuries, what's a couple more meters to endure?

A few days later, the ship has been tipped - the resistance's army has made its move and the spread of the delusion has greatly impacted them. The traveler confronts him in a fit of rage, Yae Miko saves them by giving Scaramouche the Gnosis, and,

All is well.

He obtained the tool needed for him to break free from his place as a Harbinger. Next stop is Sumeru, with the company of no one else but you. That night, he visits your home as if he's a welcomed guest, clearly having known the interior and the contents of each room, unknown of how many times he's been inside.

Scaramouche creeps into your room like a shadow, quiet and undetected. You're sleeping peacefully, softly clutching your pillow and occasionally mumbling in your sleep - he watches for a few moments and lets adoration bubble up in his hollow chest.

And once more, he is reminded as to why he adores you so.

Nothing else in the world matters except you.

He'll become a god for the sake of you - for your worship, for your love, for your mortality to fade away. He can't bear to see you die one more time, he simply can't.

Everything he'll do is in the name of love, for the sake of the happy ending he deserves.

Scaramouche rips you away from the place you call 'home' and forces you to travel with him to Sumeru, threatening for you to not try any means of escape or call for help. You follow what he says, in fear of other people being involved in the tyrant named 'Scaramouche'.

He claims that he loves you, that all of this is for your sake, he says he's doing it for the two of you, he states that he doesn't mind being the villain in your mind as long as you're alive in the end.

You think this guy is off his rockers, spouting utter nonsense with no correlation whatsoever. How is his birth of godhood beneficial to you in any way?

Yet, the softness of your heart pricks at your very being when you see him purposely harming his puppet body just to accommodate the artificial god the Sumeru Sages are creating for him. Can puppets feel pain? You think so, you'd like to think so.

You liked to think so, so that your concern for him can be justified. It's so that you have a wall to hide behind when he questions why you're hurting in his stead - because surely, piercing large holes on his back just to insert a tube can't be painless, right?

His words play at the back of your mind,

All of this is for you.

And you curse yourself for having such a soft and fragile heart, for letting yourself feel concern over someone like him - yet, despite it all,

"Hey," You call out to him at midnight, "Does it hurt?"

It takes a while for him to respond, his eyes snap open and he instantly looks at you in his peripheral, "Concerned?"

"Perhaps," You admit, slowly climbing the robot he's now permanently tied to lest he ripped himself off it. "I just don't like it when I see people get hurt."

"I'm not a person," He snaps, haughtily crossing his arms. It takes a while before you're able to climb inside, stumbling in as you do so. "I don't care," You frown, guilt overcoming yourself. "You're still getting hurt."

He stays quiet for a few moments, not expecting you to care this much - in hindsight, he should've expected so. It's you, (Y/N), after all. "I'll be fine," Is what he finally says, "So stop worrying your pretty head over it."

"It's hard for me to not care when I see your back get impaled by a tube every day," You retorted, inching closer to him. He allows you. "I'm only human, I don't know anything, but let me see your back."

"Why?" He asks, yet he still turns around.

"I'll see if my Vision can help," You whisper, gently placing your hand at the smooth expanse of his tubed back. He almost shivers at the feeling of your touch alone.

"You really shouldn't concern yourself over matters like this, you'll lose sleep," Scaramouche snippily responds. "I'll heal overtime, I'm a puppet."

"But I want to," A soft green glow emits from the palm of your hands, "Because it's you."

He sputters at that, softly flinching before incoherently cursing you out. Eventually, he quiets down, not before muttering something.

You lean closer, eager to find out what he said, "Hm? Can you repeat that?"

"No." He grumbles. "Please?" You plead. "Pleasee?"

He sighs, giving in all too easily. "I said," He reiterates, "It's been so long since I felt what love from you is like. There, happy? Drill it into your tiny little brain."

You huff out a laugh, opting to stay quiet as you tend to his wounds. When you finish, you remove your hands from his back and bid him goodbye, clearly tired and sleepy from staying up for so long.

"Goodnight," You bid him farewell, exiting his Mecha and trudging back to your room.

Only when you're gone did he whisper out, "Goodnight."

Scaramouche is not one for religion, and he never will be. Scaramouche does not yearn much in his life, just one thing; you.

Celestia above, please let him have this one thing, for he doesn't ask for a lot.

You are the one, after all. Only you. 

Wanderer - One With No Name and No Kin.

The innermost layer of the Irminsul Tree is a once in a lifetime experience, he thinks. Inside the section that pertains to his centuries long life, are various memories and perspectives that he never thought he'd see.

But he came here inside, risked everything and more to make things right.

Dottore killed both you and Niwa, and he must adjust history according to what he sees fit. Even at the cost of his existence, the reality that he, Kabukimono, no longer existing would result in you never meeting him - never loving him, he'll risk it all.

If it means that you will live out your life without dying in such a cruel manner, then he'd do so in a heartbeat.

Because there's nothing more that he values in his life more than your happiness.

He loves you so dearly, so he must let you go - to make the ultimate sacrifice at the cost of you never meeting him. You love him, and he loves you - then and now.

But if you were to ask him, he loves you more.

He looks around the memories of his life, trying to pinpoint the exact moment he was created into the world by his mother. Countless glimpses and flashing memories of you go by, as if tempting him to back out. But his will to make you happy is much stronger, as it's not long before he finds it; the memory he seeks.

The moment of his creation - his birth.

He takes a deep breath, preparing to change history in a few moment's time.

Before entering, he bids you a heartfelt farewell.

Goodbye, (Y/N), I will always love you - even if it's at the cost of you not knowing. 

For the ultimate form of love is to sacrifice. 

V. He who loves you in every life.

Wanderer doesn't know if he should be thankful or not for his attempt at rewriting history. While you may not have met Kabukimono, Kunikuzushi, or Scaramouche - in the end, you still met the ultimate mix between his past and present; the Wanderer.

But then again, who is he to defy the strings of fate?

Fingers creep up in front of him from behind, and he resigns to a deep sigh, already knowing who's behind him - he wouldn't have let them get near him if it wasn't you, anyway. "What?"

You giggle, mischievous, clearly in the mood of teasing and annoy him to the edges of Teyvat. "Nothin'", comes your easy reply, "Just wanted to see my soulmate, is that so bad?"

Soulmate, the word suggested by you when he revealed to you the past that you hadn't lived through - the lives you met him in, back when all his previous versions of himself still existed in the world.

At that time, when he finished disclosing from top to bottom, he expected you to laugh at him or perhaps look at him like he was a madman - a most appropriate response considering he had no evidence to back it up. Unexpectedly, you looked at him in complete awe - curious at his past incarnation and your past lives that they lived through together.

"That's amazing!" You remarked back then, "It's like we're fated to meet, no matter what."

He coughed, a little flustered. "I suppose."

You smiled, "It's kinda romantic, no? It's like a..." You trailed off, pondering. "...! A soulmate!"

"What's a damned soulmate? Did you make that up just now?"

Cheekily smiling, you winked at him. "Maybe."

"Well?" He prodded you, "Elaborate on the term 'soulmate'?"

"Soulmate is a... person that knows you better than anyone else, it's like your soul is in tune with theirs and nothing can change that. I think, a soulmate is a greater scale of loving someone, because your love goes way past than what's considered the 'average'. A soulmate is... someone who loves you in every universe, in every life, and will never stop loving you no matter what..." You trailed off, deep in thought. "A soulmate is a best friend and a lover in one, they're someone who wholeheartedly accepts you for what you are and who you are."

You looked at him straight in the eyes, then. "I think that's what a soulmate is."

He stayed silent, processing the words you just spoke out. "...You think of me that way? That I'm your soulmate?"

"Why not? If we weren't meant to be, then we never would've met after you tampered with the Irminsul."

"But-!" He retorted, "We only met because of me-"

"So?" You shrugged. "That's still us meeting again."

You smiled at him back then, filled with mirth and unfounded feelings he could never fathom. "You are my soulmate, after all."

"I..." He was at a loss for words, the things he wanted to say were stuck on his throat.

"I think," You moved to intertwined your fingers with his, "You will never be unloved by me, because you are too well tangled in my soul."

It's impossible to stop loving you, too.

"'Cause you love me, and I love you."

Tears threatened to spill over his porcelain face,

"...I love you too."

To the boy who still found love amidst the great sacrifice he made for his one and only. It's the thought of being loved so much to the point someone would alter time and history just for the idea of you being happier. But what he didn't know was that you were happier with Kabukimono, Kunikuzushi, and Scaramouche in your life. No love is perfect, but his love for you was the best there was. 

[noirscript]

glass garden

Pairing: Yandere Doctor x Reader ; Elias (son) Description: Raised far from the dome, the eldest son of Anselm Faer returns with the siblings he raised, only to confront the obsession that turned their mother into a ghost—and himself into a witness. Warning/s: Yandere (Father) | Emotional Manipulation | Coercive Control | Child Neglect | Generational Trauma | Psychological Abuse | Family Trauma | Toxic Family Dynamics | Captivity | Survivor Guilt | Institutional Abuse | Slow burn | Toxic Obsession | Implied Physical Abuse Note: Apologies for the inactivity! I'm currently working on Sovereign's Reign's draft. Also, this one IS different from my usual works. Told from their child's POV. Let me know what you think! Enjoy!

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He had been six when they sent him away.

You had kissed his forehead with trembling lips and pressed a poorly made bracelet into his palm, whispering that it would protect him. He didn’t understand then—how could he? The dome was the only world he knew. A place where everyone smiled with locked jaws, where the sound of weeping was politely ignored through paper-thin walls. Where fathers were gods and mothers were machines programmed to endure.

But even as a child, he had seen you break. Not with screams, but with silence. Your quiet pleas. The tremble in your body as you shielded him. The way you would tuck him under thin sheets and place your back between him and the door, whispering promises you didn’t believe. “Just a little longer. Just until you’re bigger. Just until I figure it out.”

At six, your mother-in-law took him in. Not Anselm’s idea, of course—Anselm Faer didn’t like his children forming alliances beyond his control. But she had insisted. “He’s too clever,” she had said to you, the night she smuggled him out with forged paperwork and cold fury. “He’ll end up like him if we leave him here.” You had only nodded, eyes hollow from childbirth and sleep deprivation.

Your first son—Elias—was raised in the city, in an estate too pristine to feel like home. The subdivision was for Altas—those who lived far above consequence. It had white walls, quiet streets, and surveillance so complete it gave the illusion of safety. It was there that he first understood who his father truly was, not just in title, but in reach. Anselm was revered. A doctor who saved lives. A man whose name carried weight heavier than justice.

At thirteen, Elias began to notice changes. One by one, infants arrived at the estate—his siblings. They were brought there after being weaned, as quietly as he had been taken out. He didn’t go near the dome. He wasn’t allowed. But they came to him, all of them, delivered like sealed letters with no return address.

He remembered the first—Isla—just a baby, eyes squinting at the light. Then Theo, then Eren. Mira. Baby Luan. All brought to the estate with little more than your scent lingering on their skin. All too young to understand why their mother didn’t follow.

He raised them.

He held Isla through her night terrors, the ones that began before she could speak. He distracted Theo with books and puzzles when the boy began pulling at his own hair. He shielded Eren’s gentleness, told Mira it was okay to cry, and promised Luan that he’d never let anyone hurt them. He kept them normal. Human. Not like Anselm. Not like the other men of their blood.

He became their parent in your stead. Not by choice, but by duty. By guilt. By the memory of you—your bruised arms, your trembling voice, your fading presence.

And when he was old enough to marry, when his fiancée asked about his parents and he could only speak of silence and distance, he decided to return once more. Not alone—this time with your children in tow. He needed them to see. To know. To remember, even if it hurt.

The facility was hidden within the dome. Sanitized. Fortified. His cousin met them at the checkpoint, eyes darting to the cameras.

“Don’t take too long,” she said. Her name was Ivelle—older by a few years, sharp in every way that mattered. “He’s here. He doesn’t let anyone near her for long. Not even staff. Not even me.”

Elias stiffened. “She’s still alone with him?”

Ivelle nodded. “No visitors. No advocates. Not even a nurse unless he permits it. The last woman who tried to get reassigned to your mother’s wing was let go within twenty-four hours.”

Mira looked confused. “Why would he keep her like that?”

But Elias didn’t answer.

Ivelle sighed, voice softening. “She never wanted you to see her like this. She tried to keep him calm, to keep him happy, just so you kids wouldn’t get dragged back into that place.”

Theo muttered, “He’s obsessed. I can feel it. The way he talks about her like she’s some... relic.”

“She was his,” Elias said hollowly. “In his mind, she was never supposed to be anything else.”

The facility’s hallways were cold, all soft lights and hushed white floors. And when the reinforced door opened, Elias could feel his heart stutter.

Inside, there was only you.

And Anselm.

No guards. No staff. Just you sitting in a plain chair, eyes unfocused, your fingers curling into the folds of your clothing as though to hide the skin he used to caress like a trophy.

He stood beside you, one hand ghosting above your shoulder, like a crown without weight. His eyes lifted the moment Elias entered.

They were sharp. Possessive.

“Why are they here?” Anselm asked, his voice like polished metal.

You looked up at the sound. And in that flicker—barely a second—Elias saw the memory in your eyes. Recognition. Fear. Hope, barely breathing.

Mira clutched Eren’s arm. “Is that... her?”

Theo whispered, “She looks like a ghost.”

Isla didn’t speak at all.

Luan, always soft-spoken, murmured, “Dad doesn’t look happy.”

Elias couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.

Because the sight of Anselm hovering beside you was too familiar.

The way he had looked at you back then—not with love, not with hatred, but with hunger. The sick kind that devours without teeth. The possessiveness of a man who believed that love meant control. That devotion meant isolation.

And suddenly Elias remembered it all. The sound of your cries muffled by his pillow. The way you held him behind your back when Anselm’s voice rose. Not to strike, no. Anselm never bruised what he claimed. But he threatened. He cornered. He made you choose again and again—him or the children.

And you always chose them.

He looked at your wrist. The bracelet was gone. But the tan line remained, faint and barely there. Like the echo of a promise.

He wanted to run to you. To pull you away.

But Anselm’s stare made him stop. Because that stare said: "She’s mine. She was always mine. Not even you can have her."

And it was then Elias knew that you had never been freed. Not truly. Not even when you sent your children away.

He stepped forward anyway. Even if it hurt.

He raised his hand.

You watched it with a tremble in your chest.

And softly, Elias spoke.

“Hi.”

It cracked something open in the room.

And in both of you.

TBC.

noirscript © 2025

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[covid-safer-hotties]

Back in early 2020, the news of the strange illness causing terrible pneumonias in China saddened me, but I believed I was safe in Canada. Within weeks, there was a reckoning: thousands were dying on my doorstep, too.

Directors of an independent living residence at the start of the pandemic asked me to become the residence’s COVID-19 advisor. They had no qualified medical staff, despite supporting elderly residents. Back in those early days, anyone with a medical qualification was commandeered to help in any way they could.

Confronted with the task of providing guidance to the nonmedical staff taking care of these residents, I decided to learn everything I could about the pandemic. At that time, about 1,000 papers were being published every month detailing research into every aspect of the coronavirus. Of course, I couldn’t read all of them, but I read as many as I could and built a breadth and depth of evidenced-based knowledge about SARS-CoV-2 and COVID-19. I wrote up the protocols and during my tenure as COVID-19 Advisor for this residence, we kept COVID out.

As a family physician seeing COVID-19 in my practice, I came to recognize that so many of my colleagues and patients had no idea how to keep themselves safe from the coronavirus, nor were they aware of its long-term risks. I saw the need to take action and effect change, which ultimately led me to becoming an advocate for Long COVID awareness.

I started the medical education company Kojala Medical, aiming to provide evidenced-based information about medical issues in a form patients could understand and reliably trust. I wanted a credible, trustworthy site to which I could refer my patients, colleagues, friends and family. We started with a focus on COVID-19 and have now expanded to Long COVID, with the site longcovidtheanswers.com.

I first learned about Long COVID in 2020 through publicity raised by the Body Politic COVID-19 support group, then became more alarmed as I read scientific articles about the disease.

Aside from the official death toll of over 7 million from COVID-19, Long COVID has emerged from the pandemic as the single biggest disaster to afflict humanity, yet very few people who are not sick with Long COVID are aware of it, want to know about it, believe in it, or even acknowledge that it’s happening. Sadly, many in the medical profession fall within that group of non and disbelievers.

This is bizarre, especially because of the impact of the disease. One recent review estimates more than 400 million global cases of Long COVID. I am furious that not enough is being done to alleviate this suffering. The injustice of yet another neglected and marginalized chronic illness that disproportionately affects women.

So, rather than sitting around waiting for ‘someone’ or ‘body’ to do something, I decided to act.

For me, medicine is fundamentally about aiding people to get as well as possible from any sickness they have — and even more importantly, preventing people from getting sick in the first place. In both of these regards, we are failing people with Long COVID dismally.

Long COVID is not the flu, it is a multisystem debilitating infection associated chronic condition. Developing Long COVID can be disabling and life-changing. Recovery remains low — and some manifestations like heart disease, dysautonomia, and myalgic encephalomyelitis (ME) may last a lifetime.

This is a terrifying situation to be in when, as a global community, we have chosen to act as though the pandemic is over and repeatedly expose ourselves to SARS-CoV-2, a grade 3 biohazard, with little to no protection.

As I read more and more research papers about Long COVID and looked at the inaction of global governments and my own profession, I feared that we were sleepwalking into a global mass disabling event unnecessarily, since we have many technologies available to prevent this.

Infection-associated chronic conditions do not have an established medical speciality, and are rarely taught in medical school. With the medical profession disengaged, people with Long COVID have been left to find answers for themselves.

My work aims to build on support groups, which have helped establish caring communities for people with Long COVID, but have also paved the way for us as scientists and medics to change the way we conduct research in a more patient-focused way. Nevertheless, they don’t entirely fulfill the need for evidence-based information about the disease in a readable format for nonmedical individuals.

I saw a huge need for a comprehensive website that would be of use to all people with Long COVID, their caregivers, the scientists researching the disease, and the multidisciplinary team of healthcare professionals that would be needed to rehabilitate them. Our organization believes that Long COVID The Answers meets those requirements.

There is also a pressing need to train medical professionals so that they will acknowledge Long COVID and feel confident about diagnosing and managing it. Inspired by an interview with Dr. Ric Arsenaeau, an expert in managing complex chronic diseases, my team and I created a podcast series: so that medical providers can receive continuing professional development/educational credits from watching this series.

The podcast series features a range of experts, including people with Long COVID, doctors, scientists, educators, and medical clinicians. Some of these experts also serve on our advisory board, overlooking and participating in the project.

Our site aims to raise awareness about the dangers of continuously exposing ourselves to a perilous virus with no thought of what it will cost us and our children.

This will mobilize the people of the world to demand that their leaders properly provide safe spaces for us all to prevent us from ever getting infected in the first place.

We need to mandate our governments to access all the mitigating technologies that we have in our roster, not only vaccination. The best way of managing Long COVID is to prevent people getting infected with SARS-CoV-2 in the first place!

We need national and international indoor clean air acts – to protect us from emerging pathogens.

For people with Long COVID, awareness will bring an educated and mobilized medical profession, governmental resources, financial and sociological support, and money for research — to facilitate treatments and, hopefully, a cure.

These are the main reasons why I jump out of bed in the morning with gusto, focus, and determination, and why I’ve poured all my money and my time into educating people about Long COVID.

Dr. Funmi Okunola is a British Family Physician who lives and works in Vancouver, Canada. She is the President and CEO of Kojala Medical, a digital medical education company behind COVID-19 The Answers and Long COVID The Answers.

[deja-you]

Starling: Act I

bucky barnes x reader

masterlist | series masterlist | next part

word count: 1.7k

summary: You don’t expect to befriend your neighbor in apartment 3B. Not the one who only speaks in dry observations and quiet glances. Not the one who watches you like he’s memorizing your escape routes.

A/N: hi! So I've been inactive for years and trying to remember how to do this all again. This is my very first time writing for this fandom so this is a big change for me! I would welcome any tips or advice or literally anything. But this is basically going to be a five part series? I'll probably be doing a lot of format changing and all that soon.

You moved into the apartment two months ago and still haven’t figured out whether the building is sketchy or charming. Maybe both. Probably both. It’s old. Radiators don’t work the way they’re supposed to, floorboards creak in some kind of Morse code, but your neighbors mostly mind their own business, unless they’re Mr. Keller. He’s always looking for a reason to report you for a noise complaint even though it's his bird that is constantly shouting threats of getting you arrested. 

It’s the right amount of shady. Just the kind of place where nobody questions why you’re doing laundry at 2:47 a.m., and if they do, they’re probably running from something, too. 

You’re jiggling the coin slot on the washing machine with a bobby pin you keep tucked in your sleeve. You’ve got the motion down to muscle memory. The trick is gentle pressure and patience–things you learned the hard way. The washer clicks open. 

The door creaks behind you.

You don’t turn around immediately. Whoever it is walks soft, which means they’re either dangerous or polite. Maybe both. You bobby pin back into your sleeve and keep your tone light and casual.

“Almost done. There’s a dryer open if you want it.” 

You’re met with silence. Then:

“That’s illegal, you know.”

“So is jaywalking,” you shrug.

You pause, hand still on the machine’s lid, glancing over your shoulder. He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed like it’s instinct. Gloved on one side. You catch the glint of metal peeking out from the other. Left hand. Of course.

You know who he is. Of course you do. But you’ve gotten good at pretending you don’t recognize ghosts when they show up in the flesh. 

He doesn’t smile, doesn’t move. He just stares like he’s trying to figure out if you’re dangerous or just disrespectful. Maybe both. 

You break the silence.

“It’s not a crime if no one sees it.”

He raises an eyebrow at your faulty logic.

“I saw it.”

“What, you gonna report me to the landlord?”

“Mr. Keller would love that.”

“Yeah. Well. Mr. Keller also things his parrot’s a government spy, so I’m not exactly quaking.”

There’s a small flicker in his expression. An almost smile. Almost. He still hasn’t moved from his position on the wall.

You turn back to the washer and finish loading it before snapping the lid down and dusting off your hands. When you walk past him, your shoulder brushes the air between you. You turn back briefly to get one more quip in.

“Thanks for the legal advice, Barnes.”

His brow furrows slightly. “Didn’t give any.”

“Sure you did.”

You give him a small, coy smile and leave the room without looking back. You can feel his eyes on you as you make your way to the stairwell.

- 

It’s been a few weeks since your interaction with Bucky Barnes a.k.a. The Winter Soldier a.k.a. Your neighbor in apartment 3B. 

The apartment is too quiet to sleep. Too many locks on the door, not enough on your mind. You throw on a hoodie over sweats, lace up your boots without tying them, and slip into the hallway like you’ve done a hundred times before. You grab your to-go cup of tea–the one you’ve nuked twice but never actually drank. 

The stairwell is cool and dim, lit by one ceiling light that flickers like it’s on its last life. 

You freeze halfway down the first flight. He’s already there.

Sitting on the bottom step, hoodie up, elbows on his knees. His hetal hand hangs loose between them, glinting when the flickering light catches the plating. He’s not asleep, but somewhere else entirely. You hesitate.

Then, quietly, you descend the rest of the stairs and sit two steps above him. Not beside him. Just…near. 

Neither of you say anything at first. You set your cup by your feet, it clinks softly against the concrete. He doesn’t respond. 

For a minute, there’s nothing but the soft humming of the building. Pipes ticking. A TV murmuring through the walls. The buzz of the light overhead. 

Then:

“You always this dramatic, Barnes?”

Silence. You think he’s not going to respond. But then he turns his head slightly to look at you.

“Only when I’m awake.” 

You nod as if this makes sense. It does. “Must be exhausting.” 

“Yeah,” he says softly. 

Another beat of silence.

“You got someone looking for you?”

The question is blunt. Between your current interaction and the brief one in the laundry room, Bucky Barnes has picked up that you’re running… or hiding from something. Someone. You don’t know if there’s something obvious you’ve done to give it away, or if it's just the fact that Bucky could recognize someone on the run from miles away. He should be able to. He’s spent too much of his life on the run himself. 

You don’t look at him when you answer.

“Not anymore. Not really.” 

He nods slowly. He understands. 

Then quieter:

“You got someone looking out for you?”

You don’t answer. The light flickers again. You find your hands grabbing fistfuls of your hoodie, knuckles white. 

He doesn’t press. He just breathes out slowly, leans back against the wall behind him, and shifts slightly like he’s settling in to keep watch–just for a while. He decides then and there that he’ll look out for you. Whether you want him to or not. 

You stare down at your cold tea, still not drinking it. 

-

You’re headed back from a bodega run that wasn’t about groceries so much as getting out of your head. It’s late—later than usual—but the building’s always quiet at this hour. You like it that way.

Except this time, the stairwell isn’t empty.

You spot him instantly, crouched on the landing like he belongs to the shadows. Hoodie up, shoulders tense. Left hand dangling loosely over his knee. The other—

Split knuckles. Blood dark across his skin, pooled in the creases. There’s some on his jaw, too.

You stop halfway down the stairs and exhale through your nose.

“You got a thing for this spot, or is it just a coincidence I keep finding you here?”

He doesn’t answer. Just shifts his jaw and glances away like the wall’s got something important to say.

You sigh, head back up the stairs, and return thirty seconds later with your beat-up first aid kit from under the kitchen sink.

“Don’t move.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m sure you are. But that hand isn’t.”

You drop to a crouch beside him, ignoring the stiff way he goes still. You pop open the kit, flick the latch like you’ve done it a thousand times, and pull out a packet of antiseptic wipes.

He doesn’t protest again. Just watches.

“You throw a punch or catch one?”

“Little of both.”

“You win?”

“...Define winning.”

You huff a quiet laugh and start cleaning the blood. The cut’s deeper than it looked, but you don’t flinch, even when the antiseptic hits raw skin and he tenses under your touch. He doesn’t make a sound.

You don’t ask what happened. He doesn’t offer. It’s better that way.

You tape the knuckle gently, fingers brushing over his calluses, and you catch him watching you—not the kind of stare people give when they’re sizing you up, but the kind they give when they’re trying to remember the last time someone touched them like this.

When you’re finished, you close the kit, set it aside, and wipe your palms on your sweats.

“You should put ice on it.”

“Don’t like the cold.”

“That’s rich, Frosty.”

That gets the barest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile, but closer than anything you’ve seen from him.

“You always talk this much?”

You sit back on your heels and arch a brow.

“Only when I’m patching up super-soldiers who loiter in my stairwell.”

“I wasn’t loitering. And we share a stairwell.”

“You were brooding. Bleeding and brooding. It’s a step up.”

He grunts—noncommittal—and leans back against the wall. The tension in his shoulders has eased. Just slightly.

“Thanks.”

You nod.

Neither of you moves for a moment. 

“Next time,” you say, standing and grabbing the kit, “try to win in a way that doesn’t involve blood loss.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

You start back up the stairs.

“Hey,” he calls after you, voice low.

You turn.

“You didn’t ask.”

“About what?”

“Why.”

You shrug. “Didn’t need to.”

And you leave him there—alone, but not as alone as before.

-

The city is quieter than usual tonight.

No sirens. No arguments echoing off brick. Just the distant hum of traffic and the occasional flutter of fabric on clotheslines no one ever takes down. Brooklyn pretending to sleep.

You’re out on the fire escape, perched like you belong there. Bare feet on cold iron, knees tucked under a blanket you meant to mend weeks ago. One hand wrapped around a beer bottle gone warm. The other resting loosely on your knee, fingers twitching every now and then like your nerves haven’t quite gotten the message that you’re safe.

You’re not sure what time it is. You don’t check.

The window creaks open behind you.

You don’t turn around.

You know it’s him.

Bucky steps out like the fire escape might bite him. Slow, deliberate. He’s in sweats and a t-shirt, hoodie slung over one shoulder. Barefoot. You catch the glint of the metal arm in your periphery.

He doesn’t sit. Just stands by the railing, hands braced on the edge, body angled slightly toward you.

“You always sit like that?”

Your eyes stay forward.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re gonna fly away if I say the wrong thing, Birdie.”

The word hits you in the chest like a second heartbeat.

You go still.

Your grip on the bottle tightens, not enough to crack it, but enough to feel the strain.

Your gaze drifts up—to the skyline, the lights, the dark slice of sky where stars are supposed to be but never quite are.

“Don’t call me that.”

Your voice is quiet. Not sharp. Not pleading. Just… tired.

He doesn’t apologize.

“Okay.”

A beat.

“But I’m gonna anyway.”

You let the silence stretch. The breeze carries the faint smell of fried food from a cart six blocks away. Somewhere down the street, someone yells at their dog in Russian.

You don’t correct him again.

Not because you like the nickname.

Not because you trust him.

But because, for the first time in a long time, someone called you something without expecting anything back.

You take a slow sip of your beer.

He stands there a while longer.

Just breathing beside you.

Not trying to fix anything.

Just staying.

[eroguron0nsense]

Garp, Fascism, and Parental Failure

Garp is truly one of the most interesting One Piece characters for me because of the extent to which his dogged, relentless devotion to a fascist system–and the supposed "order" it promises to uphold in the face of anarchy or rebellion–perseveres no matter how many times it fails him and his son and his grandsons. He's fully aware of the deep-seated corruption and atrocity, and feels some kind of moral obligation to bend its rules to protect the innocent (as we can see with his attempts to protect Rouge and Ace), but when faced with widespread femicide and infanticide, genocide, slavery and endless examples of egregious cruelty, he is unable to comprehend the notion that the system is indefensible, or that the only moral choice he can possibly make when faced with that level of atrocity is to leave and resist it. His son recognizing the inherent, inexcusable failures of the World Government and its armed enforcers–literally quitting the force to start a revolution– changes nothing. The order to slaughter pregnant people and infants at Baterilla can't convince him otherwise. The countless instances of bribery, the tolerance of atrocity from state-sanctioned privateers, everything about the history of the Valley of the Gods are all things he's aware of, and takes issue with, but never comes to the conclusion that he cannot affect positive change within a system designed for oppression. The public execution of his grandson–a prime example of the marine's fundamentally irrational, arrogant, vindictive cruelty clearly bound to blow up in all of their faces even before their Pyrrhic victory at the summit war–makes him waver, but even when confronted with this obvious, indefensible injustice against a child he raised and rescued by people seeking to murder him on live TV and desecrate his corpse as a show of power, he cannot bring himself to act against it in any meaningful way no matter how much it hurts him to leave his grandson to die. If he can't veto it, he'll stay Vice Admiral and suffer through Ace being sacrificed on the altar of fascist state control, and functionally leave Luffy for dead in the process while he's at it. He fails every single person he wanted to love–Ace, Luffy, and almost certainly Dragon–and allows himself to be reluctantly complicit in countless crimes against humanity again and again and again because he's so deeply steeped in this notion of preservation of order through state control that he convinces himself that even this disgusting, atrocious, fundamentally flawed and untenable excuse for a government is better than abolition, better than revolution, or just the act of expecting accountability or literally anything better from the systems that issue false promises to protect you. Dadan beating the living shit out of him and calling him a failure as a grandfather, as a self proclaimed defender of the people, is one of the most important scenes in the Postwar Arc because a lesser series might frame Garp as a tragic, helpless figure suffering more than anyone else due to conflict of love and duty, but One Piece refuses to whitewash his actions/inaction or allow the grief and suffering caused by systems he's complicit in to take precedence over its real victims: the D brothers.

There's so much I could say about statism and anarchism and the ways people have internalized the supposed necessity of state violence to the extent they can't oppose that violence even when it ruins them or their loved ones, but that horrible indoctrination and its devastating consequences for both him and his family are what makes Garp so fascinating to watch and so thematically/politically important to One Piece as a whole.

[yikesy]

I'm aware of how random this sounds

But because rrverse Apollo and rrverse Hermes have a tense and distant relationship, I was thinking about how differently they interact with their kids, and my thoughts spiralled until I thought of Luke.

I feel like an Apollo and Luke interaction would be so interesting. Luke probably wouldn't like him due how May got all messed up from trying to be his Oracle, but I feel like Apollo would be a kind uncle BECAUSE he knows what Luke's fate is (and probably disapproves about how Hermes treated the whole thing).

Like remember when Apollo once said that he would of adopted Frank if he could? I would like to think he would of wanted to adopt Luke too.

Your thoughts?

oh luke DOES NOT have a good impression of apollo. apart from the may thing let's not forget the event that kinda radicalized him was HALCYON GREEN. it's very interesting actually because he sees hermes as uncaring and neglectful but he sees apollo as actively malicious

so he thinks hermes is The Worst bc of his inaction but then comes apollo who he perceives as too involved, in the bad way (he's not, luke who by pure coincidence witnessed two apollo related atrocities before sixteen is an outlier and shouldn't be counted) Lots of wires crossed

but sadly I think bc of that his reaction to apollo would be very,, measured?? like, he thinks he's evil!! apollo would come down to see what's the deal with this kid everyone's making such a fuss about and luke would be very polite and amiable and and apollo would get hermes vibes™™ that he's just acting like that to hide he's scared and uncomfortable and then apollo would leave bc he doesn't want to keep subjecting him to that by forcing his presence. but he wouldn't know just How Much he was lying then and the depth of his Issues

but if they somehow got into a situation where luke gives up any attempt at preservation and GOES OFF at apollo (which he would) apollo would, well he would respond very calmly and pointedly take responsibility for everything which would confuse THE FUCK out of luke

and then he would go directly to hermes and tell him he needs to get down here now this shit is serious and hermes would be like "you know I can't why are you making it more painful than it already is" and apollo would be like "you're being an extremist and oddly stubborn about this" and they would go at it for a looong time.

apollo's opinion on luke's fate is that hermes may not be able to control or change it but what hermes can control is his own relationship with luke and the way he's hurting him right now, that if tragedy is going to happen anyway and you love the one it's heading to, then it's your duty to balance the scales and steal moments from between the lines of prophecy, so that happiness WAS there, even if it didn't change anything. that hermes is not only withdrawing his love but causing more misery to an already doomed person... he cannot stand for it

in the end apollo would end up routinely dragging hermes to see luke bc hermes does want to but he won't admit anything to apollo and he'd be sooo awkward and pathetic with luke and luke would stare at him with disdain and judgement. in the end apollo ends up acting like a kind of particularly forceful family therapist

so lmao from luke's perspective it would be like "this guy I don't like and I don't understand, for an unfathomable reason, took my dad being absent as a personal offense and now keeps dragging him here like some kind of cat who keeps bringing dead mouse and keeps dropping by to give me weekly updates and lessons on godly psychology and politics"

[astrodice]

What career suites you best based on destiny matrix? (part 3/3)

part 1 part 2

To find out what career suits you best and what can you do to succeed, we have to look at the number under the dollar sign.

note: there are so many different career choices and the options I'm listing here are just general examples based. you're free to choose any career, and hopefully, you don't feel pressured by this post to suddenly become philosopher.

16 - The Tower

People with the tower energy are resilient to change when it comes to finances and career. They face obstacles that affect their careers and finances pretty often, but still they can overcome all the problems. These people are strong, adaptive and energetic.

The most suitable career:

lifeguard

builder

electrician

renovator

Challenges that affect career:

fear of change (the tower is a proof that you can overcome all the obstacles, rebuild yourself and your career)

self-destruction

overestimating your skills

unfortunate circumstances (something that can't be forseen like job loss)

I couldn't find famous people with this placement. If you have it, please tell me what you do for a living 🤩

17 - The Star

People with this energy usually have a dream job, and they can achieve their dream if they believe in it. They are creative, artistic and the public loves them. But it doesn't mean that their career will be necessarily related to art, it may be something more mundane, but it requires a creative approach.

The most suitable career:

artist/actor/singer

designer/architect

astrologer

astronaut

Challenges that affect career:

rejecting your dream

being shy about being talented

being passive

"star sickness"

over consumption

Famous people with this placement: Zaha Hadid (architect), Ryan Gosling

18 - The Moon

People with the moon energy are empaths who have an ability to to materialise their thoughts. The can achieve the most success when they do art or create something material.

The most suitable career:

poet/writer

doing show business

astrologer/fortune teller

psychologist

bloger

Challenges that affect career:

fear of failure

taking no action towards your dream (maladaptive daydreaming entered the chat)

storing negative energy (repressed anger, holding back tears, etc)

escapism

Famous people with this placement: Kylie Jenner, Lana Del Rey, Elvis Presley

19 - The Sun

People with the sun energy are ambitious, energetic, they know how to make people pay attention to them, know how to lead the crowd. When the energy is in the negative, these people can get fixated on one thing, which may lead to burn out.

The most suitable career:

politician

CEO

motivational speaker

global artist

top manager

Challenges that affect career:

pride

excessive demands on people around you

being critical

inaction

Famous people with this placement: Beyonce, Justin Biber, Rihanna, Kim Kardashian, Zayn, Kurt Cobain

20 - Judgment

First of all, this arcana is related to your family. You have to check how you parents/family affect your relationship with money and career. Maybe they have a belief that it's impossible to get rich, and therefore you adapt their belief. Moving on, 20 indicates success in the fields of politics, science and education. Also, 20 can indicate having a successful business with family.

The most suitable career:

journalist

politician

advocate

scientist

philosopher

teacher

Challenges that affect career:

being involved in family conflicts

controlling tendencies

dependence on the opinion of elders in the family

fear of change

denial of progress

lack of education

Famous people with this placement: Priscilla Chan (pediatrician and philanthropist, co-founder of Meta), Tatyana Kim (CEO of the largest online retailer platform in Russia, teacher, before staring business with her husband she was teaching English), Perrie Edwards, Aaliyah

21 - The World

People with the world energy are able to carry large-scale projects. They are influential, open-minded and they are in tune with the world around them.

The most suitable career:

diplomat

traveler

travel agent

software developer

artist/musician/actor

Challenges that affect career:

power abuse

staying in comfort zone

limiting beliefs

intolerance

technical backwardness

Famous people with this placement: Timothée Chalamet, Camala Harris

22 - The Fool

This arcana makes people spontaneous, they are guided by their passions and intuition. They are the ones who can come up with successful startup, business plan, etc. Also, they have creative/artistic potential. The downside of the fool is that office job and schedules make them stress too much, because they find it hard to concentrate.

The most suitable career:

bloger

movie director

startup(er)?

dancer/actor/musician

producer/movie director

poet

photographer

Famous people with this placement: Elon Musk, Kris Jenner, Marilyn Monroe, Donatella Versace