#the anti anti homeless high bench

[miniartistme]

Sebastian solace,,, bench fish,,,

[lucydacusgirl]

My bookshop has a bus stop right outside that has those anti homelessness ‘benches’ that are thin and slightly sloped and quite high up and you’re meant to sort of lean on them rather than properly sit down and at least every other shift there’s a mum with her kids who are screaming bloody murder because they’re overtired and there’s nowhere to sit or they’re trying to jump up to sit but it’s too difficult and so they hurt themselves and it’s just like this is worse for everyone!!!!!!! This sucks for absolutely everybody! Old people don’t have anywhere to sit and it’s more stress for parents and it’s all out of cruelty for the homeless it’s so depressing.

[boreal-sea]

the whole "social experience" thing is total bullshit you see out of movies because there are no 3rd places so they set scenes in bathrooms because- wheres the communal lobby? wheres the rec room? wheres the tv center with public sofas? where is a basic bench to just rest at for 2 seconds? the bathroom is the one thing that anti homelessness action and cost cuts wont go for and EVEN THEN its not like every bathroom is a large array of mirrors and table space to chat with the "giiiirrls and do your makeup" its just a shitter in a box thats all a fucking toilet is.

Right? Like. I did not and have never "hung out with the girls" in a bathroom. That's just gross. I hung out with my mixed-gender group in one of the side halls in my high school, there's where us "loser kids" hung out. Literary club, stage crew, nerds.

[rayofeesago]

who: @bambianne

where: City Central, in a public park

It's not what it looks like! Just kidding...it's totally what it looks like. Raymond was sat on one of those anti-homelessness park benches (pure evil by the way) and was throwing pieces of his pizza crust at the birds nearby. It was actually starting quite the little riot. He wished the Synonym Sugar crowds were like this all the time. He watched at the birds fought for scraps. It was an allegory in a way.

He looked up for a moment...just in time to see a cute girl walking out of a fancy building. She had great style, great hair, and one of those butts that you notice. Respectfully of course. Shit they made eye contact. Shit...did she start walking faster? You're a creep Raymond Feesago! A total sleeze-ball.

Through his inner monologue he realizes this girl was more than just attractive. She was familiar. But not in a groupie or one night stand way...in a Francis Bay way. He leapt up from his bench and started pacing after her, sending the birds scurrying in his wake.

"Bambi? Are you a fucking New Zeppelin politician!?" He shouted from meters away. "Are you kidding me???" He continued, completely gob-smacked. There was a 30% chance this was not the Bambi he dated in high school. But Raymond wasn't high today...so really it was like a 15% chance he was wrong here.

[skiplo-wave]

What makes a bench anti homeless? Humans cant sleep outside in the elements for very long so why would a homeless person sleep on a bench in the winter.

It's to keep them from sleeping on the whole bench or in government's eyes " hogging" public space

As to why would they sleep outdoors. It's probably their only option. Homelessness is so high it's hard to find shetlers that aren't full or reach high capaticy. I'm seen some at airport because that's a 24 hour building and warm. Or they buy a camping tent ( which I'm seeing more under the highway)

It's gotten bad anon, any spot a homeless person could seek shetler they get shooed away and that spot is fenched off

[sn4kep1t]

solo / LXXXVIII

CONTENT WARNINGS:

the following content contains allusions to, mentions of, or mentions non-graphic examples of: homelessness, emotional/psychological abuse, anti-lgbtq discrimination, gender dysphoria, and severe depressive episodes as well as other examples of severe mental health symptoms. viewer discretion is advised.

if you entered the front door of the high school and immediately hung a right, you'd be walking down the hall to one of the auditorium's entrances-- specifically, the entrance to the orchestra pit. the piano was often brought between here and the practice room depending on the season. it was always scarier to play with a risk of someone hearing from afar, but that fear only followed akira through his freshman and sophomore years. there was no longer any regard for whoever ended up hearing viper's practice by the time he was in his senior year, oftentimes skipping classes just to play in the empty auditorium.

it was his only reprieve, after all. it was the only time he wasn't seen as the stinking hobo of his graduating class, nor the spastic weirdo, nor the potential violent criminal... hell, he loved the fact that a piano had its own voice so he wouldn't immediately be thought of by staff or strangers as the wrong gender entirely.

yes, the piano has its own voice. what a pianist brings is not a voice, but a stunning performance with that perfect tone at their disposal. expression never need lie in the notation alone when it came to a song. it's why even a performance of a funeral dirge, a swan song, a final musical farewell can be played in such a way that it's no longer so melancholy.

instead, it's furious and defiant.

dies iræ, dies illa solvet sæclum in favilla.

even after school ended, he'd often stay with the piano. oh, his parents had one at home, but he could never get a note in edgewise. the second he made a mistake, he had someone over his shoulder telling him every reason he fucked it all up.

"you're playing too loud. i can't hear the TV. yes, the news is more important than your bullshit." "why'd you cut your hair again? i can see it when you're sitting with your back to me like that. why'd you cut your hair again, huh?" "you need to hang around better people. i've set you up on a date with my coworker's son, and you are not going to make me look bad." "not this fucking shit again. you fucking listen, if you don't--"

"you hit another wrong note again. why even try? you won't be good enough to get on TV with it."

oh, how he loved to play at school. how he loved being able to take to the bench and, for once, uninterrupted, uninhibited and freely,

he could scream through his hands.

whatever song he played didn't matter. whatever sheets he had, be they classical pieces or sheet music for songs he'd heard off video game soundtracks, he'd bring an energy that showed the anger he harbored within.

crying himself to sleep the night before, viper's fingers hammered each key with force he couldn't bring to his words. swallowing his resentment from how he had to buy and make his own dinner far before moving out of his parents' house, even a waltz felt foreboding and imminent.

he knew his more profitable skill was strength. he knew it was more reliable, as well, and easier to ensure constant practice with. but he learned very fast that violence was a language spoken only in appropriate forums, under circumstances dictated by arbitrary laws of supposed decency-- he couldn't scream with his fists like he could with his fingers.

he missed being able to scream. he missed his voice. with it finally in his hands again, it was hard for viper to hold back tears when he could play a simple chord again after so much time and so much progress. he worried for a moment that it wouldn't feel as good to 'scream' as he used to, that all the rage had passed. there was no fire of defiance within him any longer. there was acceptance, and surely nothing else.

even so, he can feel it now as he continues his feverish practice with quite the dramatic step up in quality since his first time expressing himself for so long. he can feel the fire coming back. he can feel the screams, directed by his fingers, wailing from each string struck by the hammer; he could hear his screams, but instead of lamentations, there was now a triumphant, hoarse laugh. a victorious laugh.

with 88 keys, he could laugh in the face of every obstacle that tried to block him from this bright future. he could do it just like he'd begged for something better with the same tools before.

[bemimi]

hello again !! it’s me, bear ( he/him, 24 ), back with my third and final (much anticipated) muse hwang mimi ( 010701 ). he’s a muse i’ve had in the works since late last year, dreaming of him with the far off hope that one day i’d be able to have a third muse, and that day has finally come 🥹 . i’m going to apologise in advance for him—he can be a bit of a problem, but he has his reasons, so please don’t judge him too harshly (or do, that might be fun tbh). you can find more info about him on his profile page, his biography is still under construction (forgive me), but i’ll leave more info about him beneath the cut. if you’d like to plot please like this post and i’ll send you a message! i also have discord upon request!

⸻ TLDR

[ tw: car accident mention ]

mimi was born to a young couple in seoul, but only a few years after his birth his father was killed in a car accident and his mother turned to the guidance & comfort of the new pastor at her church. within a year she’d gotten married to the pastor, and quit her job to be a stay at home mother (as her new husband thought was more ‘appropriate’). his stepfather very quickly became the unquestioned head of the household and shaped the family to his liking. mimi tried to be a good, obedient child, but his stepfather hated his questioning nature, his curiosity and soon forbade him from asking ‘why’. when he was six, his little sister was born, and he found he loved being a big brother, even if he was constantly reminded that he was a ‘bad influence’, no matter how hard he tried not to be. the rest of his childhood and adolescence went pretty much the same—he tried to win his parents approval, but could never seem to do anything right, so eventually just stopped trying. 

as time went on, and other influences in his life grew stronger than his parents, he realised he didn’t agree with most of the things his stepfather (and subsequently, his mother) believed. his stepfather had never managed to cage in his thoughts, and so mimi began to explore interests that he knew his parents wouldn’t approve of. he’d always been a lover of music, but in high school he found rock music and dove headfirst into it. a new sense of style soon followed and this was where mimi’s true problems arose. his parents didn’t like his scruffy attire or dark clothing—’is that barbed wire on your shirt?’—and weren’t afraid to voice their opinions. he managed to placate them for a few years, minimising himself and his interests when he was at home. 

everything came to a head during early to mid 2022; mimi had grown his hair out and dyed it. at this point, his parents came to the conclusion that he must be possessed, and after a failed attempted exorcism (which mimi merely found comical), he was ungracefully disowned and kicked out of the family home. his life pretty much fell apart after this, as he no longer had funding for unviersity, no home, and because he’d become homeless, his long-term girlfriend (who he’d thought he was going to marry) broke up with him. for a while he was homeless, going between park benches, bathhouses and friend’s couches until his bandmate ( @jindallaebe ) offered for mimi to stay with him. he’s been there ever since, but due to how suddenly he was kicked out before, he’s unsure about calling it ‘home’ quite yet. 

⸻ UNDER THE SKIN

🎸 mimi’s always been very... anti-authority-figures. he has never liked rules or being told what to do, unless he can see a good reason for the rule existing. he’s a very self-led person, and is pretty impossible to influence. he’s so chronically individual that if everyone was doing something, and he’d end up entirely alone forever if he didn’t, he’d still stick to his own decisions and opinions, even if that didn’t align with what everyone else was doing. however, he’s not judgemental about people having differing opinions or tastes in things, unless those opinions are bigoted—then he’s not afraid to speak his mind. he’s the kind of person who won’t hold back from ripping someone a new one, even if that person is a good friend of someone he cares about. if they’re being a stupid a**hole, he’s going to say so, and if his friend doesn’t see it, he’s happy to cut them off too. 

🎸 mimi has undiagnosed borderline personality disorder. while he showed minor signs in his youth, it wasn’t until he became homeless that the symptoms became very noticeable. he’s very sensitive to perceived ‘abandonment’, even when, after calming down a bit, he logically knows that, for example, someone choosing to spend the evening with someone else, instead of him, isn’t him being abandoned, it still, in the moment, feels that way. his emotions can change very quickly, and he can have pretty ‘black-and-white’ thinking about people; one day he can view someone as nothing but good and nice, the next as an entirely horrible, irredeemably bad person. he can lash out, say things he doesn’t mean, and sometimes throw things when he feels ‘in danger’ of being cast-aside/rejected/replaced/forgotten. he’s also very private—he believes that no one could really understand how he feels, and that he’s broken in some way, so there’s no point in explaining his emotions/feelings/problems to people, because they will unfairly judge him. he often feels ‘raw’ emotionally, as if everything affects him 100x more than it affects everyone else.

🎸 he’s an incredibly passionate, loving, and creative person. he loves very intensely (sometimes too intensely), and sometimes views this as a weakness. this love can be for people or things, like hobbies. he’s always had a very deep love for video games, music, and art, and loves no one in the world more than his sister. he’s always loved writing music/lyrics, doodling and drawing little cartoons, and escaping the real world through video games. he doesn’t readily share the things he creates with people, however, as he feels very vulnerable due to how much of himself he puts into them—criticism can seem, to him, like a direct criticism of who he is. he does love to play games with people, though, and considers this one of his main forms of bonding with people, as well as bonding through music. 

[paperbagpancakes]

louder for the people in the back

walkable cities include public benches, bathrooms, shade, parks

walkable cities does not mean anti homeless architecture, minimalism, high expense areas

walkable cities also means sittable cities send tweet

[ragecndybars]

Ryoji hcs? >:3 he's a lil guy

>:3 just a little guy. we spend so little time with ryoji 😔 but that just leaves more room for imagination <3

Nonbinary Ryoji. This is a hill I will die on. Ryoji and Aigis have the exact same gender vibes to me -- 99% of the time, they just go along with their supposed binary genders, because they like presenting as masc and femme, respectively, but if someone actually calls them male or female, then suddenly they're like 😐 "Yeah... no." Ryoji says "I'm not a boy, I'm Death." in the exact same matter-of-fact way that Aigis says "I am not a girl, I am an Anti-Shadow Weapon."

The reason he gets along with Junpei so well is that, while he may not remember it at first, his whole perception of what it is to be "human" (or, more specifically, to be a high school kid) comes from the protagonist's perceptions... and their best friend is Junpei, so Junpei's whole idea of "the best friend ever" is literally just Junpei. And he wants to be the best friend ever too!!! So basically, his personality is based around his idea of what a friend is, and his desire to be Friend.

I think he also retained a lot of knowledge that the protagonist learned before they split apart, even if he doesn't specifically remember learning it. And, since I headcanon the protagonists as being very extensive databases of esoteric knowledge (specifically on the topics of music, the occult, and weapons in Minato's case/martial arts in Kotone's)... this also means that Ryoji can pop out completely random facts out of nowhere and even he doesn't know where he learned them.

Like, he and Junpei walk past the antique store in the mall and Junpei is like "Dude, look at that old-looking lute," and Ryoji is like "Common mistake, but that's actually a rebec; it's Arabic in origin and was historically quite popular in the Ottoman Empire :)" and Junpei is like "Oh, I didn't realize you were that into instruments, dude," and Ryoji is like, "I'm not! I just Know that :)"

One thing he doesn't get from the protagonist is his fondness for paintings. He can't put it into words, but he can marvel at just one painting in a gallery for ages. It's one of the only times when he can sit still without getting a little restless, lmao.

This headcanon is stolen from a fic that I wasn't able to find to link in this post (I'll add it in the replies or something once I find it!), but you know how Ryoji fully thought that he was just a normal human despite having no memory? Yeah, he was sleeping on the streets. He didn't even fully register that he was homeless -- or what it even meant that he was homeless. He just knew that he had nowhere to go (although he didn't have the context to consider that weird or scary; it was just a neutral fact to him), so he slept on benches or behind the station.

For a normal teenage boy, of course, that would be dangerous -- we've seen that even Shinji didn't have it easy on the streets -- but, every time that some wannabee delinquent took a swing at Ryoji, they broke their entire hand and arm on him, so they learned to leave him alone pretty quick. This was another thing that he didn't have the context to think of as odd.

He may be more or less indestructible in battle, but he is actually very wimpy when it comes to physical activity (same, Ryoji, lmao). He is absolutely right there with Junpei whining when they have to do a long run at school, or doubling over to put his hands on his knees after being forced to sprint short distances. (And then Junpei goes and gets all buff when he gets really serious about SEES and Ryoji is left alone in his Complaining Club with Kenji, lmao)

[kevindayisafrog]

Jerejean because I fucking love them, okay 🧎‍♀️

TW - anxiety, injuries and hints at past abuse

“Hi, I’m Jeremy Knox, team Captain and I’m here to pick you up”, Jeremy stuck his hand out with the widest grin he could muster whilst being glared at by the new recruit. He took in Jean’s bandages covering his neck and snaking down his shirt, the ends poking through his shirtsleeves. His eyes were sunken and he had the darkest eye bags Jeremy had ever seen. “Yes, I know. We’ve met before at games”, Jean slapped the offered hand away and shifted his duffel bag to his other shoulder. “Here, let me get that”, Jeremy made to grab the bag, but his quick step forward made Jean recoiled back so fast he tripped backwards onto the pavement. Jeremy swooped down and quickly caught the taller boy before he slammed completely onto the ground. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking”, he carefully pulled Jean back upright and took a large step back. “Just get me out of here”, Jean’s cheeks were burning red as he clutched the bag’s straps with a white knuckled grip. Jeremy nodded and blushed as he quickly turned on his heel to lead Jean away from the airport towards his car. “You can throw it in the back”, Jeremy unlocked the car and popped open the boot, stepping back as Jean literally threw the bag in. He heard the passenger door slam shut as he closed the boot door and let out a shaky sigh, “lord, give me strength”, he muttered as he made his way to the driver’s side, plastering a wide smile back on as he got into the car. “By the time we get back your new kit would’ve arrived, so we can go there first to try it on or wait until you’ve put your stuff in the dorm”, Jeremy started the car and tapped his fingers on the wheel as he waited for Jean to answer, “you’re sharing with me”, he continued when he was met with stony silence. Jean grunted and stared out his window, watching the airport fade into the distance and a long strip of road replaced it. “Do you mind if I turn on the radio?”, Jeremy looked over at Jean who just shrugged his shoulders and rested his head against the window. Jeremy nodded and turned back to watch the road as he blindly plugged in his phone and turned it up. They sat in silence as Jeremy’s road playlist filled the car with an array of mixed genres until Jean grunted and turned his head to shoot him a death glare. “I cannot listen to this shit, you have a terrible taste in music”, Jean picked up the phone and skipped through a load of songs before settling on a Mother Mother one, “this’ll do”, he muttered as he settled back in his seat. Jeremy smiled to himself and turned the volume up again as he watched Jean bop his head in his peripheral vision.

“Home sweet home”, Jeremy unlocked the dorm door and stepped aside to let Jean through first. “The walls are yellow”, Jean looked around himself and glared at Jeremy in disgust, “and the carpet is green, it doesn’t match”. Jeremy huffed a laugh and dropped Jean’s duffel bag just inside the door. “Do you want to see the bedroom? Oh, you have the bottom bunk by the way”, he lead Jean into the bedroom with pink walls and a purple carpet stained with coffee he dropped in his freshman year. “Your color scheme makes my eyes burn”, Jean looked around the room and quietly muttered: “at least it’s not red or black”. Jeremy glanced at him sideways until he noticed Jean watching, “anyway, the bathroom is just off the side and the kitchen is back through the lounge. Do you need anything to eat or drink?” Jean shook his head and sat down on his bed, “I need my bag”. Jeremy frowned before turning and quickly leaving the room to grab the bag. “I’ll leave you to freshen up, I’ll just be in the kitchen making lunch”, Jeremy carefully placed the bag on the floor and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

Jeremy hummed and swayed his hips as he poured pasta into two bowls, throwing pieces of spinach on top. He leaned over the food and turned the dial on the radio to blare the music as he danced over to the fridge, pulling out a carton of orange juice. “Jesus wanking Christ”, Jeremy gasped, bending over and clutching his chest. Jean stood in the doorway silently with his arms crossed and a blush burning his ears a dark red, “you looked like an idiot”. Jeremy nodded his head as he straightened back up, “well I would’ve been a dead idiot, Christ, you scared the shit out of me”. A small smile tugged at the corner of Jean’s lips, sending an odd flutter through Jeremy’s chest. “Anyway, I made pasta for lunch..and orange juice”, Jeremy smiled a toothy grin and held the juice triumphantly above his head. “I said I didn’t want to eat”, Jean looked over at the pasta and frowned, “and that portion could feed the whole team”. Jeremy looked at the bowls piled high with food and waved his hand dismissively, “it’s good for you so it doesn’t matter, do you mind grabbing the glasses from the cupboard above the sink?” He balanced the orange juice, two forks and both bowls in his hands as he slowly passed Jean in the doorway and walked over to the dining table in the lounge. He placed the bowls at opposite chairs and took a seat. “Why do you only have three glasses if this a dorm for four people?”, Jean’s thick accent curved around the door and left a hot chill running down Jeremy’s spine. “Um...I always drop glasses and bowls, I have butter fingers”, he replied, picking up his fork and twirling it between his fingers. “I grabbed the two without scratches”, Jean walked over to the table and settled onto his chair, pushing the orange juice towards Jeremy who poured it into their glasses. “Do you like the dorm?”, Jeremy shoveled his food into his mouth and spoke through it. “Christ, you have no manners”, Jean grimaced and gently ate a mouthful. Jeremy smiled openly and quickly closed his mouth as Jean looked away in disgust. “Sorry”, he laughed as he swallowed the food, stabbing a large amount onto his fork, “you didn’t answer me”. Jean rolled his eyes and took a sip of his juice, “I hate the colors and the mattress is too thin...I hope the court will be more..”, he twirled his wrist as he thought of the word, biting his bottom lip as he did so. Jeremy took a sip of his drink to hide the annoying blush that crept along his cheeks. “Pleasing? Is that the word? I don’t know”, Jean shrugged and took another bite of pasta, tapping his fingers against his glass. “You’ve been on the court when you came to play us a few years ago”, Jeremy cocked his head to the side as he pulled his fidgeting knee up to his chest. “Yes well, I’ve never been on your side, have I?”, Jean looked out of the dorm window and watched a flick of seagulls squawk past.

“Do you know what you want to study here?”, Jeremy rested his chin on his knee as he played with the last bit of food in his bowl. Jean looked down at his bowl and hummed as he thought, “i have always wanted to be an architect..”, his voice was quiet as placed down his fork and pushed his bowl aside. “Take it as a subject then, there’s nothing stopping you”, Jeremy tapped his foot against the floor as he took in Jean’s sudden vulnerable posture, “why do you want to be an architect?” Jean shrugged and took another sip of his drink, “I’ve always wanted to make better buildings that are accessible for everyone”, he scratched his thigh and smiled a childish lopsided grin, “and you know those benches that are anti-homeless? I’ve always wanted to demolish them and make comfier ones that are for homeless only and not public use. I’d only make them for temporary use though whilst I make little homes or apartment blocks that are free for people who can’t afford homes or need shelter”. Jeremy felt his heart burst as he wrapped his arms around his knee, “that’s a really sweet idea, I love it”. Jean cleared his throat and straightened his back, “yes, well it might be impossible so..”. Jeremy frowned and shook his head, “I don’t think it is, I think that you’ll be able to pull it off. I believe in you”, he smiled widely at Jean before standing up and collecting the dishes, “I’ll wash these and then we can head to the court”. Jean nodded quietly and stared down at his hands as Jeremy left the room and turned the radio back on.

[guttersniper]

mutt has definitely done a lil vigilante bullshit to target anti homeless architecture and measurements (such as using The Mosquito or playing loud music outside ur store at night) like…..give him a crowbar, he’s gonna try his damndest to remove the bars in the middle of this bench that is there to deter people from stretching out on it…..take some rocks, we’re gonna throw them at the speaker emitting high-pitched beeps underneath the bridge and deactivate that fucker

[clueingforbeggs]

Hang on...

Obviously, putting trees in urban areas is good for many reasons, but urban areas are also very much areas without too much space for trees, and that algae tank is smaller than your average tree, at least in two axis'.

It also looks like it's backed by a bench. Which is also cool, and might encourage urban areas to have more benches, something they've been trying to get rid of recently.

So how effective is this Liquid Tree? Unsurprisingly that's been left out of the tweet, as has the fact that at night it just looks like a cool light backing a bench, and it has a USB charger, so all in all it sounds to me like it's combining 'we need to increase tree coverage but don't have much space' with 'How do we invent some pro-homeless architecture to combat the anti homeless architecture?'

One of those tanks can replace a 10-year-old tree, or 200m^2 of lawn. They can be built and installed more quickly than a tree can be planted and grown, so they can start doing what they do best immediately.

Oh, and it has a solar panel. Which is not something you can put in a tree.

Additionally, as something trees can't do, but technology can, polluted air is pumped directly into it.

And where were they first installed? Belgrade in Serbia. A city with high PM2 counts due to two nearby coal plants. 175 people die from pollution per 100,000 people a year in Belgrade. It has the 33rd worst pollution levels in the world.

Additionally, I'd like to point out this paragraph of the article:

'Much of the uproar towards the devices is misguided. The bioreactors aren't intended to replace urban trees with scary-looking machines. Instead, they're designed to slot into spaces where growing a tree is impractical. Plus, the microalgae bioreactors offer efficiencies that trees and grasses simply can't match. Microalgae can be capable of removing CO2 at a rate 10 to 50 times faster than even mature trees, to boot. Once grown, the microalgae can be harvested and used as a potent fertilizer, as well.'

[ladyblogger-margie]

Permit Pending - Part 1

Pairing: Will Miller (Triple Frontier) x F!Reader

Summary: All Will Miller wanted was a park permit for a VA fundraiser, what he got instead was an unscheduled afternoon exploring different parks with F!Reader.

Word Count:  3890

Rating: G (smut to come in chapter 2!)

Warnings: Course language. Eventual smut in future chapters. 

a/n: My first time writing reader insert and for Will Miller AND for Triple Frontier, so any feedback at all is appreciated. No Y/N. 

Series Master List

3-2-1, Will Miller counted down to the ring of his morning alarm clock. Just like every single day his phone blared a monotonous alarm sound at exactly 05:42 and Will shut it off. He spent the next three minutes practicing mindful breathing and preparing for the day ahead. At 05:45 he rose and changed into his gym clothes. 

He shook together a protein shake as he rode the elevator down to the surprisingly decent gym in his building where he did exactly 30 minutes of cardio followed by an hour of weight training. Today was back and chest day – his favorite – so of course he decided to listen to a podcast instead of a playlist of high tempo motivational music. It was easier to be motivated for something you already wanted to do after all. The podcast today was about finding a balance between order and relaxation, something his therapist had recommended he do before his insurance ran out on therapy sessions and he opted out of continuing the process.

After the gym he returned to his apartment and started the coffee maker. After a quick shower and some facial hair maintenance, he dressed in one of his branded polo shirts and drank his coffee with his breakfast. He had two talks scheduled for the day before lunch, then an errand to run after lunch. Later that evening he would meet up with Benny for fight training. Today could not be any more normal for him - exactly the same as the day before, and the day before that. 

Or so he thought. 

You woke up groaning when your alarm went off at 7:15am. You snoozed it. You also snoozed your 7:22am, 7:31am, and 7:40am alarms. You finally rolled yourself out of bed at 7:50am in time for your quick 30 minute yoga routine before you got ready for work. 

You breezed into the parks and recreation office at City Hall at exactly 8:57am. You grabbed a cup of coffee from the office machine knowing that if you got up at 7:15am as planned you would’ve had time to stop at Starbucks on your way into the office. 

You spent your morning as you usually did - catching up on your passion projects which were the youth sport organizations. You ensured all the public teams had access to the necessary fields and confirmed with the greens team that they were all in working order. You loved your mornings at work even though you weren’t necessarily a morning person. 

After lunch was another story. After a series of poorly timed budget cuts, your department was forced to cancel the internship program. That meant you were drafted into working the permit desks in the afternoons. You knew that it wasn’t actually the worst thing in the world, it was just so boring. The applications were longer than they had any right to be and filled with confusing language. This meant nearly every single application required a specific follow up that never fit one of the many form responses you’d been accumulating in the hopes of streamlining the process. 

Of course you wanted your community to take advantage of the awesome parks in your town, but apparently the legal department didn’t. It put you in a difficult spot where sometimes you were forced to give the park permits to corporations instead of individuals and it drove you crazy to do so. It also locked you to a desk unless a specific permit issue arose that required an in-person follow up which never happened. Which is why after lunch you went off campus to get yourself your favourite Starbucks order because the permit desk on a Monday required the heavy artillery to survive. 

Or so you thought. 

After a few hours of pouring over pages and pages of documents, the most handsome man you had ever seen walked into the office. He had blonde hair and soft eyes which you noticed right away but immediately after you were drawn to his strong chest tightly wrapped in a blue polo with some logo you didn’t recognize over one of his firm pecs. 

“My name is William Miller, and I’m hoping you can help me with a park permit,” the man said, holding out his hand to you. 

You composed yourself as quickly as you could and introduced yourself in return, shaking his hand. “I’d be happy to help you with that,” you said as you let go. His hands were firm and from the callouses you could tell he worked out, though his general physique already gave that away. 

He smiled at you and you felt something stir inside you that was not exactly professional, “Did you have a specific location in mind?”

“No, actually I was hoping to get your opinion. I’m helping to put together a community fundraiser, a BBQ actually, to help support the local VA, but I’m not exactly sure where would be the best place to set something like that up,” he replied. 

You knew exactly where to send him. There was a perfect location you often recommended for huge family reunions, outdoor wedding receptions, and concerts. But as you looked down at the desk for the correct application form you saw the huge pile of pages still left unread taunting you and you got an idea, “Why don’t I give you a tour of a few different locations to help you make your decision?” 

“That’s a service you offer here?”

“We aim to please” you said, desperate for an excuse to get out of the office. 

Will hesitated as he fiddled with his keys for a moment. 

“I could drive if you like,” he offered.

You smiled as professionally as you could, trying to contain your glee. 

“Thank you, let me just check out with my boss and I’ll be right back” you darted away before you could blow your composure. 

You stuck your head into your boss’ office. “Hey, I’m stepping away from the desk. Some guy is insisting I help him pick a park location for his permit request. I’m on my cell if there’s an emergency” you said, not stopping to hear their response before darting off. 

You grabbed your coffee off the desk and landed in front of Will. “Ready,” you said as he smiled warmly at you. He held the door open for you as you left the office, and your boring afternoon, behind.

He led you to his truck in the parking lot and held open the passenger door for you which made your heart flutter though you tried to control it and you reminded yourself that this was a professional outing, not a date. 

He climbed into the cab beside you and started the truck before he turned to you and asked, “Where to?”

You gave him directions to a park you know wouldn’t work, but it did have a couple of soccer fields, and you wanted to check the nets there for holes and figured you could push your luck a bit more today. 

He pulled into the park parking lot and looked around with a slight purse of his lips and a furrow in his brow. He cleared his throat before asking, “I did explain it was a BBQ, right? I don’t really see a place for that,”. 

You suddenly felt guilty, thinking he probably had somewhere else to be today and you derailed him for your own selfish reasons. “I’m sorry, I’m keeping you. I just had to get out of the office, and I took advantage of you. If you’ve got somewhere to be, leave me here with your information and I’ll get everything arranged for you at the perfect place,” you said, avoiding eye contact.

To your surprise he smiled at you, “You should’ve said, I’ve got nothing going on this afternoon, I can help you play hooky.” 

You smiled back at him, relieved that he was on board with your scheme. 

Will watched as you inspected the soccer nets for tears and he felt a warmth in his chest he hadn’t since his fiancee, who had left him after the incident at the Publix. You were really nice and he could tell you were passionate about your job, at least parts of it, especially hearing you explain exactly what your job was while he drove you both to this destination. Plus there was no denying that he found you incredibly attractive. 

You returned to his side at the edge of the field after completing your inspection. “Thanks for waiting, there’s a middle-school tournament here starting tomorrow and I wanted to make sure everything was set,” you said to him and he knew he was in trouble. 

“Ready for park number two?” you asked. 

He nodded and led you back to the truck. 

When you arrived at park number two, Will realized this had to be the place you intended for the permit and he was a bit disappointed. He had been hoping to stretch out his afternoon with you a little longer. Before he could ask if you needed a ride back to City Hall he heard you let go a soft, sad sigh. He looked at you but you were gazing out the front window at the park. 

“Is something wrong?” He asked. 

“I’m going to kill the guys in City Planning,” you muttered upset. 

Will tried to figure out what it was you were looking at, but he couldn’t see anything wrong with the park. It looked like the perfect place for a fundraising BBQ. 

You turned to Will hopeful, “Do you have tools in this truck, or is it just for show?”

He smiled at your joke, “I’ve got a box in the back. What’s the problem?”

You gestured to a park bench, “City Planning keeps installing anti-homeless architecture in my parks and I’m not going to let them get away with it,” you said with a sly smile. 

Will knows for sure now that he definitely has a crush on you. He gets out of the truck and grabs his modest tool box from the bed and follows you over to the bench. He sees a metal arm rest in the middle of the bench, obviously installed to ensure no one lays across it. He checks the back to see how it’s attached and scoffs at the simple way it’s been bolted in and opens his tool kit. 

“Am I going to get arrested for this?” He jokes as he gets to work. 

You laugh, “You’re with me, I’ll protect you”. 

You smile at this; you could get used to the idea of having his back. He gets the bar free and you take it from him. He gestures to another bench a few steps away and he gets to work on liberating that bench too. You happily follow him as you ask, “So, you work for the VA?”

“Yeah, I mostly just run my mouth though,” he grunted as he loosened the much tighter bolt on the second bench. 

“Were you military?”

“Yeah,” He rolls up his sleeve and shows you a tattoo on his forearm, “Delta Force”. 

“But you’re retired now?”

“Something like that,”.

“Aren’t you a bit young to be retired?”

He paused and handed you the second detached metal arm. 

You felt self conscious, maybe you were being rude? “Sorry, it’s none of my business,” You said nervously. 

He shook his head, “You’re fine. It’s just not something I’m necessarily proud of though”. 

“You don’t have to explain, it’s none of my business,” You said, as you led the way to the third bench. 

“I had some trouble, and I was told my services were no longer needed in the field,” he explained getting to work on the third arm, “But I found a way to be useful, stay involved”. 

You nodded, “That couldn’t have been easy,”.

He shook his head, “There are good days, and bad days,” and he handed you the third arm. 

He looked around and didn’t see any more pieces of hostile architecture so he turned to you, “Do you need a ride back to City Hall?”

You looked at him and felt bold. “This is obviously the best park for your event, but if you’ve got nowhere to be, did you want to make one more stop and see my favorite park?”

He smiled at you and nodded his head. You led the way back to his truck where he put his tools away and took the arms from you and dumped them in the bed. 

“I can’t wait to drop those off at the City Planning office tomorrow,” you giggled triumphantly. 

You and Will loaded up into the truck and you directed him out of the parking lot. 

Park number 3 was your favorite place in the entire world, though to be fair you hadn’t actually travelled much so you couldn’t really compare it to anywhere else, but still. To you the lakeside beach next to the tree covered green grass was a slice of heaven. You’d go there on the weekends with a podcast lined up or an old book and spend the whole afternoon on a bench with a coffee and some fresh air. 

When Will pulled into the parking lot, you suddenly got nervous. You had lost some of your earlier boldness that suggested you open yourself up like this to a man you just met. But there was something about him, a warmth and a vulnerability that made you want him to know you, and you to know him. 

You both got out of the truck and the sun was starting to get low in the sky as you walked him to a bench that bordered the beach and the grass. You took a seat and he sat next to you, your thighs gently brushing. The contact sent a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the cool breeze that brushed through the leaves above your head. 

Will looked out across the lake and around the park. He felt the warmth of your leg against his and the urge to lean over and brush your cheek with his thumb nearly overwhelmed him. You were so close, it would be so easily for him to just kiss you. But he wasn’t sure you’d want that. You wanted to play hooky from work, and share your love of the parks. He couldn’t let himself think that your enthusiasm for the day had anything to do with him. Instead of holding you under his arm and against his chest, he folded in on himself and looked at you.

He was about to ask what you were thinking about when his phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and noticed Benny’s name on the caller ID and cursed under his breath. “I’m so sorry,” he said to you as he answered, “I’ve got to take this.”

He stands and walks a few paces away and you watch him leave, disappointed. You thought maybe he was about to ask you on a date, and tried not to let yourself be too upset that he didn’t. You watch as he rubbed his forehead and shook his head as he talked on the phone to someone you couldn’t hear and didn’t know. 

He hung up the phone and turned to look at you, and you turned away, a little embarrassed to have been caught staring at him. He walks back to you on the bench but doesn’t sit down again. 

“Thank you for showing me this place, it’s beautiful,” he said softly and his sweet voice drew your gaze to his lips as he spoke. You felt the electricity surge between you all the way through to the tips of your fingers and your toes. “I hadn’t realized how late it’s gotten, I’m supposed to be at the gym, training my brother,” he explained. 

You nodded and stood up next to him, so close you had to look up to meet his eyes. “That’s fine, I can call an Uber or something back to City Hall” and you pulled out your phone. 

He put his hand on your arm, “Don’t be silly, I’ll take you back. Plus gotta make sure those city planning guys get their gift.”

Your breath hitched when he touched you and you couldn’t contain your smile as you nodded. “Are you sure? I’ve already taken so much of your time” you said, unable to tear your eyes from his. 

“I want to”.

He walks you back to the truck and opens your door for you again and you hop in both flustered and excited. 

The drive back to City Hall is more quiet than you’ve been all day. Your previous trips were full of chit chat about sports and books and random small talk. Now all that existed in the truck was the electricity and tension between you. You wondered if he felt it too, or if the surprising infatuation was a one-sided affair. 

Will gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles went white. He had spent most the afternoon with you and he failed to buck up the courage to ask you out. You took him to your favorite place and basically hand wrapped a romantic moment, and he blew it. He didn’t know if you noticed the potential romance of the location, or if you intended to entice him so completely, but you had. And he blew his shot. 

Back at City Hall he handed you the metal arms from your adventure and you stayed by the truck. You were hoping he’d ask you out before he left. 

“Thanks for the ride, and the impromptu bench liberation, and the excuse to get out of the office,” you said with a smile, lingering longer than you needed to. 

He smiled back, maybe he could ask you now and he could still pull off the romantic gesture. “I had a great day, which I hadn’t actually expected when I went in earlier looking to fill out boring paperwork,” he said leaning unconsciously closer to you. 

He took a deep breath, ready to ask - when his cell phone rang again. He silenced it and tried again, “Hey-“ and the phone rang again and he answered it. “I’m on my way, asshole. Start with cardio,” he said, frustrated, “you don’t need me for that”.

He hung up and looked at you embarrassed by his outburst, absolutely believing that he had blown it for sure now. But you just looked at him amused, not annoyed. 

“Friend of yours?” you asked, stifling a laugh. 

“My baby brother. He’s a fighter and I’m his trainer, which I do for free by the way, but he loves to act like he’s my boss”, he explained. 

“Sounds like a character.”

“He is something that’s for sure. He’s also really special, really talented. He deserves a better lot than what he’s got”, Will's voice trailed off as he thought bitterly about how Benny left service when he did and the guilt he carried, unspoken, about that ever since. 

Will leaned back, “Do you need a walk to your car?”

“I’m alright, thank you. I better head back up to the office first anyway. Thanks again for today. Maybe I’ll see you around”, you forced a smile, abandoning all hope of a date and retreating into the building. 

Will kicked himself mentally all the way to the gym. When he got there he was in a bad mood. 

“Finally!” Benny shouted at him when he walked in.

“I have a life outside of you, you know that right?” Will spit towards Benny.

“Fuck’s wrong with you?” Benny asked.

“I told you I was on my way, what was so important that you had to call me again and nag me?” Will asked.

“You’re never late, I was worried,” Benny admitted. 

Will paused. He hasn’t thought of it like that. He was never late, it was so unlike him. It was actually kinda nice Benny worried, even if he was an ass about it.

“Well I’m here now, let’s get to it”, Will shrugged and he climbed into the ring opposite Benny. 

After training they grabbed some food together. After scarfing down most of his meal without breathing, Benny asked Will, “Why were you late? You didn’t say.”

Will cleared his throat, “I was trying to get a park permit for the VA BBQ”.

“I thought you did that right after lunch?”

“It took longer than expected,” Will said vaguely. 

Benny squinted his eyes at his older brother until the metaphorical lightbulb went off. “Oh shit!” he said, “You were with a girl! Fuck, I never would’ve called you away if I knew, you’ve been alone for so long!” 

Will threw his used napkin at his taunting brother, “Fuck off.”

“Seriously,” Benny said, not laughing anymore, “I hope I didn’t blow it for you, I want you to be happy.”

Will sighed, “I didn’t get her number, and I didn’t ask her out.”

Benny gave him a sympathetic smile, “At least you got the permit for the event.”

Will pinched the bridge of his nose, “Fuck, I completely forgot to actually get the permit.”

Benny smirked at him. “You know what that means, right?”

“No,” Will groaned. 

“You gotta go back and see her tomorrow.”

Will leaned back in his chair, his mood dramatically improved. 

The next morning you dragged yourself out of bed after your third alarm and skipped yoga, just not in the mood. You hoped stopping at Starbucks would get you out of your funk, but even your favorite coffee didn’t have its usual effect. You felt so stupid for feeling like this today. You literally knew Will Miller for all of one afternoon, it shouldn’t ruin your whole week that he didn’t ask you out. 

You walked into the office ready to be grumpy for the rest of the day when you noticed Will stand up from the chair in which he was sitting. 

Will had been waiting for you since the office opened. He was there long enough to wonder if what he was doing was creepy or sweet. The longer he waited, the worse he felt about his plan. Though once he saw you, his resolve formed and he stood to greet you. Any insecurity he had melted away when he saw how you smiled at him when you noticed him there. 

“Hey,” he started, finding his voice. 

“Hey,” you replied, breathless. 

“I never did fill out a permit yesterday, I got distracted by someone way more interesting than paperwork,” he said, unable to contain a grin. 

You felt something deep in your center as you too failed to contain a beaming smile. 

“I can help you with that,” you walked behind the permit desk and he met you on the other side. 

You handed him the paperwork and helped him fill everything out. The entire time neither of you could contain your ear splitting smiles. When he finished you stamped his form and returned his copy. 

“You’re all set, Mr. Miller,” you said, “Will there be anything else?”

He looked you the eye, “Are you free Friday night? I’d love to take you out.”

You nodded eagerly, “I’d like that.”

PART 2 

[6knotty6thotty6]

PSAs in Kid’s Shows Are Terrible, and This Is Why

YouTuber TheMysteriousMrEnter recently made a video criticizing PSAs in kid’s cartoons. They like to tackle some serious topics such as climate change, voting, COVID-19, and racism. The problem is these PSAs were either painfully one-sided, had terrible writing, no entertaining ( which is the point of a cartoon aimed at kids), taught kids the wrong lesson, or were just not the right cartoon to discuss the issue. Who honestly thought it was a good idea to have Arthur, a cartoon where all the characters are animals, talk about racism towards black people?

I'm more surprised that there hasn't been a modern cartoon PSA about body positivity. The whole body positivity/body acceptance movement is a joke because all of the most prominent advocates are terrible. Lizzo, Amy Schumer, and Rebel Wilson think it's cute to be as loud and obnoxious as possible and insult skinny women. While also being fuel for people who claim that the movement is nothing but "fat acceptance" or "promoting an "unhealthy lifestyle." The beauty gurus and fitness enthusiasts are hypocrites since they admit that beauty standards are unfair, while still being gatekeepy since they still fit the standard and want to benefit from pretty privilege. They also say things like, "Stop saying all bodies are beautiful!" "Not everyone can be beautiful (like me), but that's ok." "Looks do matter in relationships because humans are visual creatures." In addition to promoting appetite suppressants, plastic surgery, and restrictive diets you'd have to be a thousandaire to follow. They want their cake and eat it too. Then we have makeup and fashion companies trying to earn brownie points for using plus-sized, dark-skinned, and older models. Even though those "plus-sized" models are a size medium at most, and the others still uphold all the other beauty standard (no wrinkle, no stretch marks, no cellulite, no pimples, no body hair, full volume hair, straight pearly white teeth, firm skin, high pitch voice, and between 5'7 - 6'1). Kids in general have a terrible reputation with using body-shaming as a joke. One of the most common tropes in cartoons is the abhorrent admirer. A trope that literally mocks “ugly” and fat people for being in love with someone that is “out of their league.”

P.S. This also brings up an issue with health PSAs. In my opinion, they were the corniest and most ignorant out of all the other PSAs. They basically followed the "Supersize Me" formula of putting all the blame on children for their poor diet. Here's the problem, children can't control what they eat. That's their parent's job. Parents are the ones who make the money, buy the food, and do all the cooking. If a kid told their parents to feed them healthier food, they'd either get yelled at for being an ungrateful brat, punished, or starve. This is why "finish your plate or starve" tends to cause eating disorders and obesity in kids. The harsh truth is parents hate being told how to raise their kids. It's the main reason why so many parents protested Michelle Obama and Jamie Oliver for changing the school's lunch menus. There's also the fact that health PSAs refuse to address that the leading causes of obesity are economic disparity and the predatory promotion of fast food and junk companies. Poor neighborhoods contain lots of fast-food restaurants, those restaurants have deals such as $5 meals and $1 menus, grocery store shave better discounts on chips and soda than meat and vegetables, and most poor neighborhoods are in food deserts, which means there aren't any grocery stores within 20 miles. According to those health PSAs, If a poor single-parent feeds their kids McDonald's, then it's their fault. Not their boss who forces them to work overtime every day with little pay; which makes them too exhausted to cook, and not be able to fill up their car and drive to the grocery store that's over 30 miles from where they live. Not the McDonalds who prides themselves on their cheap and unhealthy food (even their salads have been proven to contain sugar). Not the grocery stores that jack up the prices on fresh and organic produce while having a buy 1 get 1 free sale on candy bars. Nope, it's all the parent's fault. The people who make those PSAs are the same people who think homeless people chose to be homeless and that spikes and anti-homeless public benches are a good idea. 

P.S.S. A great example of counterintuitive anti-racist sentiments is color-blind casting. This is the reason why white people voice so many POC characters in cartoons, Cree Summer (a light-skinned bi-racial black woman) is the token voice of every black girl in the 90s and early 2000s cartoons, and why mono-racial POC voice actors have a harder time finding work.

[silvormoon]

But the cities they do their work in just keeps throwing more money at the problem and replacing what gets torn up, so then they start getting creative.

Installing those sprinkler systems that dump water on places where homeless people are trying to sleep? The fire sprinklers in the courthouse keep going insane at the most awkward possible moments (like when there's a press conference about how much water these anti-homeless sprinkler systems waste, but the city fathers say a little dousing never hurt anybody). As a result of this barrage of water, a lot of paperwork gets turned into pulp, and several computers get fried. This results in several people who would have otherwise had stiff fines, jail sentences, and evictions being let off the hook because all the records have vanished.

The city starts removing benches all over the city. Every chair in the courthouse mysteriously disappears, including all the benches in the courtroom, on the day of a high-profile case. Most of the furniture turns up at various places around the city, but some of it is never found, including an easy chair from the mayor's private study. Aziraphale's new reading chair is very comfy, though.

So the city tries that bit where they have benches, but there are annoying gaps in the middle "for wheelchairs" so no one can lie on them. The guy who came up with that idea wondered about the red-haired repairman in the dark glasses he met leaving his house the next day, until he sat down on his favorite chair and discovered that someone had turned it into the chair version of a pit trap, with only a thin layer of fabric covering nothing at all. He ended up with his rear on the floor and his arms and legs sticking straight up, and his family had to dismantle the frame to get him unstuck.

The city invests in those sheets of spikes they lay out wherever they don't want people sleeping. Subsequently, the man who pushed for that idea divorces his wife, because he can't imagine who else would have put all those spikes just under the fitted sheet of his bed. (His mistress was very put out about it, too.) Aziraphale maintains that this was a good deed to the wife as well because she could do much better than that, honestly.

Eventually the city gives up and adopts sweeping measures in favor of affordable housing and various social support programs. Over celebratory drinks, Aziraphale and Crowley consider the merits of getting into ecology next. After all, they're old hands by now at averting apocalypses.

Aziraphale removes anti-homeless architecture in his spare time

aziraphale pulling out a crowbar: this is good because it’s helping those in need

crowley pulling out a matching crowbar: this is evil because this is vandalism technically

[breakingsomething]

the fall part eight - in which magic is dangerous

basic summary: magic is a dangerous thing to mess with when you don't understand it.

trigger warnings: vomit, violence

tagslist: @synonymsforzombie @spicydanhowell @skyewardlight @dreaming-of-stories-and-stars @cest-mellow

anti was starting to think running away from the hospital hadn't been a good idea.

he didn't even know how he'd done it. the whole hospital was crawling with magicians, magic in every fucking corner… and anti was a murderer. they knew this. he shouldn't have been able to escape so easily. yet somehow, here he was. wandering around the streets and trying not to be sick again. throwing up hurt so, so badly these days.

anti groaned and grabbed at a wall with his good hand, skin scraping against the stone. his fingers were too numb to even feel it properly. his head pounded, like someone was hitting him repeatedly with a mallet. or a baseball bat. fuck, but he didn't want to think about red and the music shop right now. he didn't want to think about it even before red had beaten him. he didn't want to think at all, really.

anti was a virus of a person - literally. he had never been sick before in his life. now, he clutched the wall behind him tighter, head spinning as bile rose in his throat. it was all he could do not to faint there and then. funny, he laughed internally, how he'd been feeling ok right up until he escaped. of course it would be now that it would hit him. just his fucking luck.

a person walked by - a man in a thick jacket carrying a skateboard. anti struggled to move, to hide himself, but the man… walked right by. anti watched him go in amazement. had he not noticed the half dead looking man coughing and leaning against a wall for support? maybe not. this was brighton, after all. anti didn't expect much more.

but then more people went back and forth, and not one of them noticed anti. his legs gave out beneath him and he sank to the ground, panting. a woman stepped over his legs.

what the fuck was happening?

this wasn't right. as anti stared up at the people, he noticed how despite their seemingly normal appearances, they all had one thing in common. blank eyes. but as he took the time to keep watching, he saw something else. from far away, the people looked completely normal. it was only as they drew near to anti that their eyes blanked out like they'd forgotten how to see.

maybe they thought he was homeless, anti thought drily. this was pretty much how the general public treated you when they thought you were begging for money. but this seemed different from the usual uncomfortable looking away and awkward avoided eye contact. it was like… they literally couldn't see anti.

he dragged himself to his feet. stumbling into the middle of the pavement, he tried to get someone's attention. most people walked by him, not even giving him a glance. what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, anti's thoughts screamed. he had to glance down at himself to make sure he hadn't turned invisible.

"'scuse me, sir?" anti glanced up to see a teenage girl with a buzzcut and a black tracksuit peering up at him curiously, holding a white greggs bag in hand. "uh, are you… ok? you're really pale, are you hurt?"

she could see him. how, he didn't know, but fuck if he wasn't grateful. he shook his head, suddenly realizing he had no idea what he was going to do now.

the girl took a bite of her sausage roll, not taking her eyes off anti. "do you need money for train fare or something? you look a bit lost, man."

a few people behind the girl slowed as they passed, and a few of them made eye contact with anti. confused looks spread across their faces before slipping away the second they weren't looking anymore. that was weird. that was very weird. anti's heart was fucking racing, though whether it was caused by fever, dehydration or stress, he didn't know.

the girl saw him looking and glanced behind at the people. "are you looking for someone?"

anti shook his head again. the girl scrubbed at her nose, shifting from foot to foot. "is there anything i can do to help? sorry if i'm bothering you. my day's been pretty boring and i figured if i could help you, i would. do you need anything?"

anti was about to reply when the girl glitched.

she glitched. there was no doubt about it. a solid ripple of neon colour ran through her, static briefly spiking as her body distorted out of place before returning to its original position. anti made a noise of shock deep in his throat before clamping a hand to his mouth, backing away slightly.

the girl frowned. "you ok, man?"

anti turned and fled. he pushed past people on the street, not once hearing anyone telling him to watch it or anything of the likes. eventually he collapsed on a bench next to a bus stop, gasping and wheezing and clutching at his stomach. don't be sick, don't be sick, don't be - too late. anti wished the bins didn't have lids over them, but hey, maybe that was a plus to seemingly being invisible to everyone but some random child. no one was drawing attention to anti vomiting on the pavement in front of them.

he laid down across the bench, shivering. he should definitely be thinking about what he was gonna do now that he'd escaped from the magicians. he should probably, definitely do that.

but all he could do was squeeze his arms around himself and wait for his head to stop spinning.

-

"i'm going out," marvin said as he raced down the stairs from his room to the main hall. chase and henrik were both in the kitchen, surprisingly. he'd have thought they'd be avoiding each other like they had been since the fight. chase was sitting on the counter drinking something hot, eyes rimmed red. he didn't look up. henrik glared at marvin from the sink where he was washing dishes.

"off to see anti?" he said scathingly, tone dripping with contempt. marvin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. he was trying to get back in henrik and chase's nice books, and he figured being patient would help.

"anti's missing," he said instead. the reaction in the other two was instantaneous. henrik dropped a cup to the floor, and chase almost fell off the counter.

"m-missing?" henrik choked out. he slumped down on his knees, trying to pick up the glass with soapy hands. "where - he - he wouldn't -"

"hey, calm down," marvin soothed, racing forward to help henrik with his task. chase jumped down and joined him, the three of them working together. "he's still sick, he won't come here. most likely he's just being a big bitch and thinks he can get away from hecate so they don't try to contain him after he's better. but he's too sick to do much now, i swear."

"oh yeah, you'd know," henrik muttered. his eyes were shining, tears teetering on the edge.

then chase spoke for the first time marvin had heard in about two days. "do you know where he is?"

marvin blinked, scooping up the glass into a dustpan and standing to get a bag to put it in. "uh, we don't know," he said. "they don't know how he escaped either. the hospital is high security, given that the medical aspect of hecate is based there. he shouldn't had been able to just - walk out."

"are you… going to try and find him?" chase asked uncertainly.

marvin hesitated. "uh, i suppose." he dumped the glass into the bag, crouching back down next to his brothers. "i don't have much choice."

"no!" henrik gasped. he grabbed at marvin's arms, clutching his sleeve tightly. "no, no, he's dangerous, you can't!"

marvin gently pulled away. "he could hurt someone else if i don't stop him," marvin said softly, taking henrik's hands in his. "i can't just stand by and let that happen. i'm gonna find him, return him to hecate, and -"

"and what?" henrik demanded. the tears spilled over, and he angrily wiped them away. "what if he hurts you? i - marvin, as angry as i am at you, i don't want you to d-die!"

he doubled over, digging his hand into his mouth to stop his sobs from escaping. chase rubbed his back before looking up at marvin with a determined gaze.

"i'm coming with you," he said, raising his chin slightly. marvin was about to protest, but chase raised a hand. "you can't go alone. i don't want you hurt somehow, even if you think anti's too sick to hurt you. he's a liar and a convincing actor. i mean… look at my children." he winced, most likely remembering how anti had lied to his kids to get them to trust him. "if it'll help put henrik's mind at ease, i'll go."

"that wouldn't put my mind at ease at all!" henrik cried. "then he'll kill the both of you!"

marvin and chase exchanged looks, trying to come to a silent agreement. then they turned back to henrik. "we'll be ok," marvin promised. "i take it you want to stay here?"

henrik sniffled, nodding slowly. he took a trembling breath as chase helped him to his feet. "if that's ok," he mumbled. "i don't think i can face him right now."

marvin and chase left about five minutes later, having reassured henrik that they'd be ok and cleaned up the rest of the floor. as soon as they closed the front door behind them, marvin cleared his throat. "ok, uh… so. i guess we'll just… i know a couple tracking spells, but they never worked as well with anti since he's so good at scrambling transmissions, magical or not. although maybe now that he's sick, he won't be able to -"

"you didn't think about this at all in advance, did you?" chase asked. marvin turned to look at him, and chase raised an eyebrow.

"no," marvin mumbled, glancing in the opposite direction. "but i'm responsible for anti and everything he does now. i have to be the one to find him."

"can hecate not track him?" chase asked. "isn't that sort of their thing?"

"they're not - hecate doesn't just track magic," marvin explained. he raised a hand and muttered some words under his breath, feeling the sudden pull of magic in his chest. so the spell was working - that was something, at least. "they control it. they find magicians and watch over them, train them to use magic better, all under the guise of a rich people's golf club. they're partially based in the hospital as well - the one nearest to us, luckily." he beckoned for chase to follow him down a nearby street. "they've saved my ass many times."

"but you left," chase said, keeping up with marvin easily. "because they… don't do black magic?"

"because… yeah, basically." the signal was fading, and marvin spun round on the spot, struggling to pick it up again. "hecate apparently doesn't do black magic at all, although you can learn things about it so that you know not to use it. there are certain black magics that are illegal, such as necromancy, certain hexes, ect, ect. lots of shit. and i will admit, i used to do a lot of that stuff. but not now. i hid away all my magics - that is, until jackie gave it away to some other random fucking organization, apparently."

they were silent for a little while, marvin simply following the spell and chase trailing behind quietly. it was a while before marvin decided to speak again.

"i'm sorry about the fight," he said, voice low. "i know how - we shouldn't have gotten you involved. it was stupid and wrong and we were being immature. i'm sorry."

chase didn't answer. he was hugging himself and rubbing his arms, which to anyone else would look normal, but marvin knew was something chase did when he was anxious and needed to soothe himself. the older man placed a gentle hand on chase's shoulder. "are you still upset? or is it… something else?"

"i dunno," chase mumbled. he flinched away from marvin's touch. "i just - i miss… i miss jackie. and jamie. i miss jackie so, so bad and i can't accept that he'd just… that he'd ever hurt us like that." he blinked rapidly, voice breaking. "and jamie, i - i - he - he never even said goodbye!"

he let out a choked sob but quickly pulled himself together, breathing in deep and stroking his arms. marvin wondered when chase had learned to self soothe so well.

he inhaled through his nose, swallowing hard. "i miss 'em too," marvin whispered, voice hoarse. "more than - more than i can explain."

"i know you do," chase said. "jackie was like your twin. and you were closer to jamie than all of us. i know this - this hurts more for you. and i know i'm kind of being selfish right now."

"you're allowed to be upset too," marvin said, and he bumped chase's arm lightly. "we all loved them."

luckily, neither man had to say more, as marvin's spell sputtered and gave out underneath his fingertips.

"well, fuck," he said, after a pause. "where are we now? i wasn't paying attention."

"high street," chase said, peering round a corner. "near the academy. is anti near here, then? we're not super close to the hospital."

"let's hope he's here," marvin said, pulling chase across the street. "and start looking."

-

henrik was fucking fuming.

he'd been pacing the living room for about ten minutes trying to calm himself, to no avail. how could they just up and leave for anti of all people? seriously, anti? henrik rolled his eyes at the air. fucking anti. even chase had wanted to help this time. he wondered if they were both mocking him as they wandered brighton looking for the glitchy bastard.

little feet padded behind him, and henrik turned to see jaffa cake walking along behind him. "hallo, jaffa," he greeted, some of his anger melting. he bent down next to the cat, smiling fondly. "are you looking for your papa? he is off being a bastard somewhere. sometimes i wonder why i put up with him, yes i do, yes i do." he scratched jaffa's head as he talked in a silly voice, mimicking the one chase often used, and she purred, pressing her head to his hand. henrik sighed. "i love him though, unfortunately. i really wish i didn't."

someone knocked at the door. probably the package guy chase had asked him to look out for. henrik gave jaffa one last scratch before getting to his feet and checking the door. a young blonde man stood on the other side, wearing a uniform and holding a box in hand. henrik sighed. well, maybe getting chase's package would help them to talk about something other than… getting chase's package. that one sentence had basically been the only thing chase had said to henrik in two days, which he really didn't blame him before. he kind of hoped marvin would talk to him a bit while they were out.

"i'm here," henrik announced, undoing the locks on the door. when he opened it, the man flashed him a smile, holding out the medium sized box.

"package for one chase brody?" the delivery man asked with a cockney english accent. henrik nodded.

"i'm his brother," he said. "do i need to sign?"

"yes, please," the man agreed, shifting the package to get out a small electronic tablet. "and your name is?"

"henrik von schneeplestein," henrik said with a small smile, taking the stylus the man had offered him and attempting to scribble his name down. funny, the pen didn't seem to work.

the other man paused. "henrik. that checks out," he said, and punched henrik right in the stomach.

henrik flew back, gasping in pain as he hit the kitchen table and collapsed to the floor, pain flaring instantly in his back. the other man stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind him. henrik couldn't even try to get up without crying out in agony, so all he could do was watch from the floor as the delivery man stepped forward, eyes dripping with darkness - darkness, like jackie's darkness - and grinned, staring down at henrik with a pleased look on his face.

"i - i - who -" henrik stammered. he looked around wildly for something, anything that might help him, before his gaze landed back on the man in front of him. "jackie?"

the man laughed. "oh, fuck no. a… close friend, as historians would say if they were to write about us in the future." he lifted an arm, and a black flame blazed up on his hand. "jackie does want to see you, though. i'd stay still if i were you, doctor."

-

it wasn't hard to find him. all they had to do was follow the sound of static.

he was lying on a bench near a bus stop, across the street from the park. they could see him glitching from miles away. chase swallowed hard; he wasn't too keen on the idea of going near him. luckily, marvin stopped him from moving anyway, throwing an arm in front of him. "wait," he said. "what's with the people?"

chase squinted. "dunno what you're talking about, man…" he trailed off. because the people walking by anti were acting oddly - posture straightening, eyes snapping forward and looking anywhere but the man on the bench. marvin visibly stiffened.

"i can smell magic," he mumbled. "a lot of it, too. weird magic. like… like…" he stared straight ahead, eyes clouding. "like smoke. like smoke coming through an open window."

chase gently shook marvin's arm. "hey, man. remember what we're here for."

marvin blinked slowly. "oh. ok." he stepped forward like he was walking through thick honey, face pale. "you stand here. i'll see he's ok."

"no, i'm - i'll go with you," chase protested, squashing down his fear. "he's sick anyway, not much of a threat."

he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else, but marvin didn't call him out. as they walked towards him, the static ringing get louder and louder. chase cringed at the sound.

"anti?" marvin said loudly, stirring from his haze slightly. chase hung back as marvin bent down, shaking anti's shoulders. when had he gotten so comfortable around him? "anti, you fucking dunderheaded bitch, get your ass up. fuck, he's been sick all over the bloody pavement, ew. my shoes! anti, fuck…"

anti groaned softly, face scrunching up in pain. "mm," he whined, not moving to get up. he clutched at his stomach, curling up into a ball. chase watched him, fascinated. he hadn't seen anti look this pathetic since the day he'd left jack.

"anti," marvin said again, but his voice kept getting quieter. he glanced around him, eyes wide. "anti, what did you do?"

anti rolled over, breathing heavily. "nothing," he signed shakily. "for once."

his eyes met chase's, and chase took another step back. he was wishing he hadn't agreed to come with marvin.

"call the hospital," chase told him, not looking away from anti on the bench. "they'll take him back and we'll figure shit out."

"no!" anti shook his head rapidly, slicing his hands back and forth through the air. "no, no…"

he pushed himself up into a sitting position, swaying on the spot. he tried to stand, groaning, but instead went very pale and just managed to lean over the bench to be sick again.

"lovely," marvin deadpanned. he pulled out his phone, glancing down at it to type in the hospital's phone number. "how did you get out anyway? there were people looking after you."

"weird," anti signed. "didn't see. nothing is -" he made a sign chase didn't recognize, trying to use both hands but wincing in pain.

"what - what was that?" chase asked nervously, shoulders shooting up when anti looked at him. he shouldn't still be so scared, especially after having just seen him throw up on the ground. anti blinked, head drooping to his chest.

"g-l-i-t-c-h," he managed. "in…"

"hello?" marvin was saying into the phone. chase glanced over, letting anti regroup. "hi, it's marvin mcloughlin. i found - uh, my brother anti was missing. i found him near the school on - hello, is anyone there?"

chase tuned back to anti, taking a cautious step forward. "glitch?" he asked, confused. "you?"

anti shook his head. he slipped off the bench, and without thinking, chase raced forward to catch him before he hit the floor. it was only after he'd done it that he remembered. chase make a noise of discomfort, trying to lay anti down on the bench so he wouldn't have to hold onto him. his skin was very hot to the touch.

"hello?" marvin said, even louder. he paced back and forth frustratedly. "hello, this is - this is a hospital, why is no-one -"

chase heard a faint voice come out the phone, and marvin gasped. "put in on speaker!" chase demanded, his arm still around anti. marvin nodded and did so, letting chase hear the woman on the other end.

"is that your brother there?" said the deep female voice. "hello. nice of you to finally call, marvin."

"i wasn't calling you, kazuki," marvin said angrily. "i was calling the hospital. my brother ran off, he's hurt. he hasn't recovered at all since -"

"well, maybe if you'd called like you promised, i'd be able to tell you why," the woman - kazuki, the head magician at hecate if chase remembered correctly - told him drily. "get in the car. it'll take you here, and i will explain."

"what ca-" marvin started, but he'd already turned round and seen the black car pulled up behind anti. the windows were blacked out. chase stared in awe as marvin whipped back round, clearly annoyed. "how did you find - actually, i won't ask. you really want to bring anti to hecate?"

"i do," kazuki said. chase could hear a smile in her voice. "i would like to talk to him, actually. get in the car. we don't have a lot of time."

chase looked to marvin for instruction. marvin ran a hand through his hair, looking stressed. "time? time for what?" he despaired. "why are all the people round here being weird? how did anti escape so easily? why - why can i smell such horrible magic?"

kazuki sighed loudly. "ok, i'll give you the basics. if i do, will you promise to get in the car and come to me so i can explain properly?"

chase nodded. marvin watched his nod, then tossed his head back, glaring at the sky. "yeah, sure," he mumbled. "so what's happening?"

"well," kazuki said. "the world is falling apart, and we believe it's partially your brother's fault."

-

"who are you?" henrik demanded, trying to steady his voice. he pressed his hands flat to the floor, preparing to stand. he didn't take his eyes off the man in front of him.

the blonde smirked, tossing his head to get hair from his bright green eyes. "my name is aaron, if you must know," he said, twirling his hands dramatically. "did you not know your brother had a boyfriend?" the man laughed at the look on henrik's face, putting on a mocking baby voice. "oh, he did keep a lot of secrets from you, didn't he?"

"well, i think this is fairly less of a surprise to me than the fact that he was torturing a man in an abandoned store," henrik said, glaring. "what are you going to do, beat me? tie me up, break my bones?" he laughed harshly. "i've seen it all. it's been done. maybe if you try a method to scare me that i have not seen before, i will be impressed."

his hands drifted backwards, feet steadying themselves on the cold linoleum. he was suddenly incredibly glad he'd put on shoes earlier.

aaron bent down, pulling something out of his back pocket. despite all his talk, henrik's heart skipped when he saw the translucent, beautiful dagger in the other man's hands. "see this?" aaron said with a winning smile. "do you know what sort of things i've done with this blade? do you know? of course you don't. now, i'm gonna tell you what we're gonna do."

he pressed a knee to henrik's foot, pinning him down. "i'm gonna handcuff you and take you to jackson. he's gonna take good care of you, and eventually, your other brothers too. you aren't safe around that glitch bitch who's trying to work his way into your heads."

"i know that already!" henrik exclaimed. he sat up just slightly straighter, as casually as he could. he shook, playing up the act as aaron watched with a satisfied smirk. "i tried to tell them - ich schwöre, i do not believe he is - bitte, bitte, i am -"

without warning, he slammed his knee forward, right into aaron's nose. the man roared in pain as henrik jumped up and jabbed an elbow into his back, drilling him to the floor. aaron grabbed at henrik from behind and flipped himself round, eyes fully black and teeth bared. snarling, he whacked henrik's head against the table, making white spots dance in front of his eyes. henrik gasped, clawing at aaron's hands as he lifted his dagger and prepared to plunge it downwards.

"please!" henrik choked. "he's not - jackie, jackie, hurts, bitte, bitte, du machst mir angst!"

with one final shove, he threw aaron's arm back and fell almost on top of him, scrambling to his feet and racing for the door. something wrapped around his leg; a burning strand of pure blackness, emanating from aaron's hand. henrik kicked forward despite it, trying to free himself and stay standing as aaron got up again, not lowering his hand to free henrik from his magic.

"stay still, doc," he grunted. "the magic will only hurt you more if you fight."

"why are you helping him?" henrik cried, clinging tightly to the doorframe. "he's gone mad, he doesn't - nngh, he - he's hurt us, he tortured our brother!"

"i'm just trying to help you," aaron said, voice suddenly soft. "please, the glitch has brainwashed you all. you don't -"

henrik suddenly yanked himself backwards, legs being pulled out from under him, and aaron cried out as henrik slammed the front door on the magic holding him to the other. the bond snapped, but aaron threw the door open without touching it, eyes blazing. "don't try," he snapped. "listen to me, fuck's sake! it's like talking to a brick wall!"

henrik ignored him, half running and half limping down the stairs on his hurt leg. aaron followed, throwing bands of darkness at him that snapped his shoulders like a whip, making him grit his teeth against the pain. "come on, doc," aaron called. "slow down, you'll hurt yourself more. please, will you listen -"

henrik turned to his last resort. in one swift motion, he bent down and yanked a knife from his trouser cuffs before throwing it straight at aaron.

henrik was a good shot. he knew he didn't miss. aaron screamed, and henrik bolted, tears flying off his face from the speed at which he was running. eventually, when he got far enough away, he pulled out his phone and punched marvin's name in his contacts.

"hen?" he heard marvin say. his voice sounded slightly distorted. "we're heading to the golf club. everything ok over there?"

henrik collapsed onto the edge of the pavement, the summer sun beating down on him. he was sweating, and he was too afraid to look at his leg or his shoulders where aaron had hit him. "marv'n," he slurred, wiping at his face. the tears had already dried off, but he could feel how blotchy his skin was. "some guy… 'tacked me, got in the house. don't we have defenses up?"

"what?" marvin cried. "we do, yeah - what the fuck? was it jackie?"

henrik shook his head before remembering marvin couldn't see him. "said he was jackie's boyfriend?" henrik mumbled. he shuddered in a random blast of cold wind. there hadn't been time to put on a proper jacket apart from his denim one, and he curled in on himself in the cold. "he has magic. he's in the house… i got away."

"shit," marvin swore. "i'm gonna - i'll - a ca - street -" his voice glitched in and out, a sound of static rising.

"marvin?" henrik said loudly. "you're - i can't hear you. is anti with you?"

no response but the hum of white noise.

"ok," henrik murmured, a trickle of unease creeping up his back. "well, if you can still hear me… i'm coming round to hecate. i'm sure they'll let me in if i 'splain the situation. bis dann."

the call ended without henrik touching a button.

-

ring, ring. ring, ring. ri -

"jackson?"

"hey, babe. did he get away?"

"mm-hmm. what now?"

"you follow him. i know where he's going, i'll be right behind."

"cool. also, didn't you say the place was guarded? spells 'n shit, that's why i needed to pose as a delivery man so i could get him from outside, yadda yadda yadda?"

"yes?"

"place wasn't spelled."

"...seriously? no magic there at all?"

"nope. just usual household magic smell. no protection."

"oh. interesting. marvin's... slipping, i see. are you ok?"

"oh, i'm fine. i mean, he threw a knife into my arm. but it's cool, i'll live."

"he threw a -"

"i will see you soon, babe. meet you at the golf club."

beep.