#the worst part of it is that I’ve actually been working really hard on its

[zxoaii]

Everyone but you

fem! reader x Mike Schmidt

Summary: Mike finally opens up about his soft spot for you.

WC: 4.8k

Warnings: NSFW 18+ (idk how to do this its smut)

A/N: I was already halfway through this when the votes tied for this and Peeta so let’s hope Peeta doesn’t surpass Mike

[ Y/n ]

“You know, you’re actually pretty weird.”

Mike looks up at me with an unamused look on his face. “I’m weird?” He takes a fry from my tray. I nod with my mouth full.

“I’ve never met a security guard who was as good looking as you.” My smile forces through mid-sentence. I can’t ever keep a straight face. Mike on the other hand can only keep a straight face.

He shakes his head at me and pulls his wallet out of his pocket. “Can you go get me some fries? Now I want some.” When he opens his wallet I catch a glimpse of a photo.

“Who’s that?” I reach out and grab his wallet. “That’s my sister, Abby.” He actually tells me. Mike omits most things about his life. “She’s cute. How old is she?”

The wallet is taken from my hands. “I’ll tell you if you go get me a large fry with some ketchup.” Our eyes meet for a moment. I’m the first to give in. His gaze always melts me.

“Fine.” I grab the five from his hand and get up from the table. As I make my way across the food court I glance at the clock on the wall.

Damn, I only have ten minutes left on my break. Sometimes I wish I had a reason to call security during my shift just so I could see Mike. He never really walks near the Victoria’s Secret.

I guess it’d be kind of weird if he lingered around it though…

“Hi. Can I just get a large fry please.” I look back at the table to check if Mike is still there. I’m not sure why I check like this when I leave. He always stays. And he always comes back too.

“Here.” The kid at the register hands me the receipt. “Thanks.” I take it and move off to the side to wait for the food.

Mike is a confusing guy. Most of the time I’m not actually sure if he likes me. He doesn’t smile or laugh. He doesn’t talk much either.

Maybe it’s obvious how smitten I am with him. I don’t think I could make it any more obvious. I drop hints for him like my life depends on it. He’s never really acknowledged or reciprocated any of them though.

“Large fry.” I grab the fries off the tray and a handful of ketchup packets. The crowds shift unpredictability. The food court is the worst part of the mall. Easily.

I shoulder my way through the crowd and weave through tables. “Here. Now, how old is she?” I drop into the seat and reach for the rest of my burger. “She’s six but she thinks she’s 16. That girl fights for independence like her life depends on it.”

Mike smiles a little as he talks about her. “You guys are close?” He doesn’t seem to mind talking about her. “Yeah.” Damn, I thought I’d get more than that.

“How much longer do we have?” Mike shovels his food. “Uhh… Five minutes.” A feeling of sadness actually washes over me.

“We should hang out after work.” That is the boldest I’ve been so far. It still doesn’t seem to faze him at all. “I can’t.” Mike takes one of my napkins to wipe ketchup off his face.

“Why?” The sting of rejection hits me hard. “I have to get Abby from school.” He looks back at the clock. “I can meet you somewhere after.”

“I don’t have anyone to watch her.” I’m taken aback by this comment. “What about your parents?” Maybe I’m prying too far now. “Look, if you want to do something you’ll have to come over to my place.”

Do something? I’d like to do a lot of something at his place. My stupid grin is too big to hide. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Mike nods and puts his trash on my tray. “I’ll meet you here and give you my address later then.”

I pull my sun visor down and open the mirror. Hopefully I don’t look slutty. Sexy but not slutty. He has a little sister. Maybe she’s actually his daughter…

That’s a bit of a stretch.

I check the time and shut my sun visor. My heart pounds in my chest. This is actually happening. I’m outside Mike’s house. About to go inside.

I used my employee discount to get a new lingerie set just for tonight. Not that I’m expecting anything or something like that… Just in case.

Mike doesn’t even liked being touched. Maybe he doesn’t like sex either. No, that can’t be it. Who doesn’t like sex?

It’s already five past four and I told him I’d be here at four. I turn my car off and step out. The small house has some random toys littering the front yard.

I make my way up to the door and ring the doorbell. Anxiety and anticipation fill my stomach. The door opens and I’m met with the brunette from his wallet.


“Hi Y/n!” She greets me like she knows me. Mike rushes up and pushes Abby aside. “Go finish your dinner.” He mutters to her before turning to me.

We just stare at each other for a moment. Mike steps aside and I let myself in. “Take your shoes off.” Abby calls from the table.

I nod and discard my shoes by the door. There are three plates at the table. Oh god… He is her dad. Her mom is probably somewhere around here.

“I made you a plate.”

“What?” I turn to him, my cheeks heated with blush. “I didn’t know if you’d eaten yet so…” He gestures to the table. “No, I haven’t. Thanks.” I make my way to the table and sit across from Abby.

My plate is filled with mac and cheese and a hotdog. “Sorry… Abs requested this specifically. I would’ve made something nicer otherwise.” Mike sits down at the head of the table. “No, it’s better than what I would’ve had-”

“What were you going to have for dinner?” Abby pokes at her food with her fork. “Don’t interrupt.” She sends Mike an annoyed glance.

I shake my head and put my hands up. “She’s fine… I probably would’ve had some leftover takeout.” Abby nods and looks over to Mike.

I look over at him too, trying to understand what the exchange of glances means. Nothing is said or given away.

The two of them go back to eating like they had come to a silent agreement. I follow them and start eating the food on my plate.

“Y/n you’re really pretty. I hope I look like you when I grow up.” My face lights up. “Oh my god that’s so sweet. You’ll be prettier than me when you grow up. I’m sure of it.”

Abby turns to Mike again. I feel like I’m definitely missing something here.

The rest of dinner is filled with Abby talking about her day. She doesn’t mention friends. Or talking to anyone but her teachers. The only thing she really talks about is drawing. Mike looks at her like she’s the only thing in the world.

I wonder if he’s ever looked at me like that…

“Can I come with you to work on Saturday?” At this Mike actually rolls his eyes. “You know you can’t. I don’t want to do this tonight.” He takes her empty plate and goes into the kitchen.

Abby throws her head back and groans. I’m not working this Saturday. It would give me an excuse to see him… “I’m not working. I can watch her.” I blurt out.

Both of them stop and look at me. “Really?” Mike walks up behind Abby with his hands on his hips. God it shouldn’t be as sexy as it is. “Yeah, I don’t mind hanging out with you at the mall.”

Abby turns to face her brother. I can imagine the pleading look on her face. When Mike looks away with a sigh we both know his answer. I continue eating my food to avoid the annoyed look I’m being given.

I sit on the couch alone. The tv is on but my eyes linger on the hall. Mike went in to put Abby to sleep. I’m prepared for the lecture I’ll probably get when he joins me.

Hopefully he isn’t too mad about it though. When the door clicks closed I turn my attention to the tv. In my peripheral vision I can see him walk over to the couch.

“Want some popcorn?” He asks as he sits down on the other side of the couch. “No, thanks.” I look over at him. In his sweatpants and tee he looks like a fucking gift from god.

When Mike looks over at me I don’t bother to look away. Part of me wants to make a move. To finally find out if he wants me too.

“Y/n…” My stomach turns over as he says my name. “Yeah?” I find myself leaning in closer. “I… Abby can be a handful and I can’t pay you for watching her.”

My heart sinks in my chest. “Oh, that’s fine.” I slowly sink back away from him. The annoyance of this avoidance starts to build up inside me.

Does he want me? Does he not want me? Is it worth losing him as a friend if he doesn’t want me? What could happen if he says he does want me?

“Mike I’m interested in you.” I blurt out, not even looking at him. He turns to look at me. I avoid his eyes. The silence drags on for ages. With each passing second feelings threaten to burst out of me.

None of them good.

“I should go.” I quickly get up and head towards the door. As I pass him, Mike grabs my wrist. He stands up and tries to meet my eyes. I avoid him still. Tears threaten to fall.

I don’t need the rejection to be said. His silence was loud enough.

“Please. You don’t have to do this. It was stupid, if I’ve learned anything about you it’s that you hate everyone but your sister. That’s fine. I’ll watch her and-”

“Hate you? I don’t hate anything about you.”

At this point I’m so overwhelmed with contradictory feelings the only feeling that I can clearly feel is nausea.

“What?” Finally I look at him. My breath gets stuck in my chest. “I don’t hate anything about you.” He repeats. “You… Are everything. When I’m alone you are all I can think about. All I can want.”

I exhale a shaky breath. “You do things to me that drive me insane. You have had me since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

I’m left completely speechless. The only thing that makes sense is to pull him closer. I wrap my arms around his neck and smash my lips onto his.

Mike drops his hands to my hips. He pulls me in closer so our bodies are pressed against each other. Our kiss is lustful and desperate. Neither of us can get enough of each other.

We stumble around for a moment until my back hits the wall. His taste is intoxicating. Mike moves down to kiss my neck. I take quick and shallow breaths.

The heat pooling in my underwear is unbearable. I squirm under his touch. With one hand I grab his hair, I use the other to stifle my moans.

Mike pulls away from me and takes some deep breaths. “Is this ok?” He asks obliviously. “Don’t talk.” I pull him back in and kiss him again.

“Wait. Not here.” He pulls me with him into his room. As soon as the door is shut he pulls his shirt off. His toned body is better than I could’ve imagined.

My fingers trace the shape of his abs, sliding down toward his v-line. His heavy breathing drives me insane.

I reach down and lift my own shirt. Mike’s hands slide up my body and push it off me eagerly. “Fuck.”

The only light comes from the street lamps outside his window. It creates harsh shadows that define every inch of him. I reach down and slide my fingers into his waistband.

As our eyes meet I’m sure our intentions are the same. I remove the last of his clothes carefully. Mike steps out of his pants and pulls me over to his bed.

He sits on the edge and pushes me down into a kneel in front of him. Without exchanging any words I took his tip into my mouth.

“Ohh fuck.” His rough hand grabs the back of my head. My tongue works around his shaft. I use my hands to carefully rub what isn’t in my mouth. “Come on. You can take more than that.”

Mike’s hand puts pressure on my head. I sink lower on his cock, taking as much as I can. “That’s perfect. Good girl.” His hand slides off my head and down my back. My bra is unhooked and slides down my arms.

My hands work to undo my pants. As I pull my head back for air I work them down over my ass. Mike watches me through half lidded eyes.

He tugs his lip between his teeth as I lower my head again. The taste of his precum fills my mouth. My pants sit at my knees. As I try to reach down to relieve myself, Mike grabs my wrist.

“Don’t.” His voice is husky and demanding. I obliege and instead grab onto his legs. The sounds of my mouth fill the room. Mike’s quiet moans push me to do more.

My nails dig into his skin as his tip brushes the back of my throat. Nothing I’ve ever dreamt of compares to this. To the lustful look he has in his eyes.

Mike grabs my face to stop me. My desperation for anything for him shows out. As I sit on his floor with my pants half down and no top, Mike looks at me like I’m the only thing in the world.

“Stand up.” He demands. I slowly raise myself up from the ground. My pants fall to my ankles. Mike lifts my leg and removes my pants then follows with the other.

God his attitude has never driven me this wild. His lips caress my stomach. My fingers twist into his hair.

My hand clenches into a fist as his fingers brush against my core. “Jesus.” The feeling of his rough hands being so gentle with me drives me insane.

I know he can do so much more. I wish he would. “How’s this?” Mike’s finger brushes past my clit. “Good.” My voice shakes as I answer him.

“Just good? You deserve better than that.” His breath is hot on my stomach. I toss my head back as his fingers rub me harder. “Ah!” My hand covers my mouth to shut me up.

“Like that?” Mike kisses my belly. “Yes. God, don’t stop.” I roll my hips with his fingers. The feeling of hush tongue on my skin drives me crazy.

I want to taste his lips again. Not only that, I want him to just fuck me. A raw fuck would drive me insane.

“You’re so wet.” I look down at him, grabbing his shoulder for support. With his free hand Mike strokes himself. His lips tug into a smug grin.

“Give me more.” My pleads seem to get him off more. “Please. I don’t want to wait anymore.” I continue. “Fuck.” His fingers leave my body and with a swift motion and has me down on his bed.

Mike places himself over me. He leans down and presses his lips to mine in a needy kiss. Our bodies grind against each other.

We both want it so badly and simultaneously need this to last forever. This feeling of desperate lust.

“How many times have you thought of me like this?” I whisper as we pull away for air. “A million times.” Mike moves down to my neck, sucking on the bare skin.

My back arches up against him as his teeth add pressure. I have work tomorrow. I don’t bother mentioning it. I want everyone to know how hard I got fucked tonight.

Our make out session ends as abruptly as it started. Mike spreads my legs, holding my thighs apart. He looks to me for a moment. I nod back.

He adjusts himself until his tip is pressed against me. My hand grabs at the sheets. As he slowly thrusts into me, my grip tightens.

Mike’s hands press harder on my thighs. Strangled moans escape from my mouth. I fight to stay quiet. My body responds to him with pure pleasure.

“Jesus christ you were made for me.” His head falls forward between his shoulders. Mike thrusts into me at a steady speed. We touch each other like needy idiots.

My head digs into his pillow. I’m surrounded by him. His smell is intoxicating. His sounds are addictive. His touch is breathtaking.

“Mike.” I moan, reaching up to grab at his back. “Harder.” I hold him closer to me. Mike obliges and starts to fuck me harder.

“You’re so good.” He whispers, gripping my hip. How do we go back to normal after this? Do we? How do I keep my hands off of him after this?

“Turn over.” Mike pulls out of me with one sudden movement. I quickly turn onto my stomach. His hands grab my hips, pulling my ass up.

I dig my face into the pillow as I anticipate his penetration. When he finally slides back into me my moans are quieted.

“God, fuck.” He grunts as he builds back up to a steady rhythm. My legs start to slide apart with each thrust. Mike grabs them to steady me.

Warmth starts to build up in my stomach. I don’t want this to end yet. This hasn’t lasted nearly long enough.

My fists clutch his sheets again. I let myself moan more freely now that my face is in the pillow.

Our skin meets with a rhythmic clap. Mike tries to quiet it but doesn’t seem to care enough to change positions. Thank god.

I’ve never been fucked like this. I hope no one ever has the chance to fuck me again. This is it. No one could possibly be better than this.

“Are you close?” Mike groans. “Yes.” I choke out. “God your cunt is clenching around me.” One of his hands slides from my thigh to between my legs.

He presses onto my clit, circling his finger slowly. My whines start to creep out louder and louder. My orgasm builds up satisfyingly slow.

“Don’t stop.” I beg, laying my head in my arms. Mike continues with his movements. The feeling continues to build up more quickly now.

I feel Mike’s cock twitch inside me. His quiet profanities and grunts give away how close he is as well. I want to see his face as he finishes inside me.

“I want to see you.” My words come out more slurred than they should’ve. At first I’m unsure if he could even understand me.

Then in one swift motion Mike flips me over. His relentless fucking continues immediately after my back hits the mattress. Our faces are both damp with sweat.

His eyes lock with mine, his gaze piercing right through me. There’s nothing he couldn’t get from me. “You’re the most beautiful thing to ever walk this planet.”

I’m taken aback by his comment. Before I can respond my orgasm consumes my thoughts. My back arches up until we’re skin to skin again.

Mike slides a hand under my back, holding me tight. I sink my teeth into his shoulder to hold my moans in. “Fuck.” His grip gets even tighter. We both stay like this until our orgasms have passed.

I lay back down on his bed. Mike lays down next to me. We both stare at the ceiling while we catch our breath. I creep my hand over toward his. When our pinkies touch, Mike takes my hand in his.

“I like you so much.” He mumbles. “You don’t know how crazy you’ve driven me since I first saw you.”

My heart skips a beat in my chest. I turn my head to look at him. Mike looks over at me too. “I didn’t even think you liked me as your friend.” He did nothing to give it away. Ever.

“I don’t like anyone but you. You’re fucking mesmerizing.” He pressed my hand against his lips, kissing my knuckles.

If I’m dreaming don’t ever wake me up.

I lean in and kiss him again. His stubble contrasts my soft skin. The roughness he has is one of his sexiest qualities.

“Do you want to shower?” Mike whispers as we part. “With you?” My hand slides up to his shoulder. “I wouldn’t let you shower alone.” His smirk returns.

That fucking smirk. If he had flashed that at me any time before today I might’ve just grabbed him and kissed him right there. He doesn’t even know how sexy he is.

“I’ll go run the water.” Mike sits up and reaches for his clothes off the floor. “Here.” He slides his boxers back on then walks over to his dresser. I watch as he pulls out another pair of boxers and a tee.

“You can wear this.” As he drops the clothes on the bed he leans in closer to me. I meet him in the middle, pressing another kiss onto his lips. I’m desperate for his touch. Even after all that.

“Alright. I’m going to go get the shower ready… Come join me when you’re ready.” Maybe it’s too dark to see but Mike actually winks at me. Before I can ask him if he really did he’s leaving the room.

I collapse back onto the mattress. Jesus this guy is going to be the death of me.

[ilikekidsshows]

Could I ask for your thoughts on Kuro Neko the episode as a whole? It's actually kind of my final straw, so I wanted to ask for your perspective on it.

I haven’t actually seen Kuro Neko in its entirety, and I have no intention to. This episode repels me. Everything I’ve learned about this episode has just made me want to avoid it more. I’ve read the transcript and I suffered every moment of it. I heard the first episodes of season 5 were good and thought to myself: “God, I hope season 5 doesn’t actually fix season 4 because then I’ll have to watch Kuro Neko to catch up.”

Kuro Neko is like Reflekdoll all over again, when the characters come away with the worst possible lessons. In Reflekdoll, Adrien learns that he should never try to be Ladybug and he can’t handle responsibility, while Marinette learns Cat Noir really does just goof off all the time and that’s his “role”. In Kuro Neko, Adrien and Marinette both learn the same lesson that his feelings don’t matter because Ladybug will always have more important things to worry about than his emotional state and he should just be her emotional support dispenser.

Basically, Kuro Neko has Marinette at her most self-centered in the entire show, and she’s downright selfish in it. That by itself wouldn’t be an issue if this wasn’t the retool and Marinette wasn’t Astruc’s imaginary daughter and therefore the “person” this world was made for. The thing is, the episode doesn’t have Marinette learn a lesson about valuing other people and their opinions, like any other cartoon protagonist would have in this scenario, no no no, the episode instead vindicates her.

Kuro Neko has Marinette chase away her partner with her unjustified negative attitude towards him, and she doesn’t regret it once. Instead the episode makes excuses for how she’s under so much pressure and Cat Noir should be grateful Ladybug considers him a useful tool. It’s basically the New York Special all over again. Marinette is in the wrong, but she’s under so much pressure guys, that Cat Noir should accept whatever mistreatment he receives because doing otherwise would be mean to poor Marinette.

Hot take: Marinette deserved to lose her partner in the New York Special and she deserved to lose him in Kuro Neko. Her actions directly lead to him leaving for completely justified reasons, and Marinette never apologizes. It would have been better for Adrien if he didn’t come back, so yeah, I don’t think “Marinette deserves to lose Cat Noir as a partner” is as extreme of a take as I was convinced it was when I first saw the special. Because Marinette keeps pulling this shit and never reflects or improves on her behavior.

Here’s what Kuro Neko tells me: Ladybug doesn’t actually care about Cat Noir as a person, but Cat Noir should still be grateful that he gets a spot on the team working for a leader who constantly abuses her power over him.

This fandom loves to rag on Adrien for being suicidal, because Cat Noir throwing himself in the path of an enemy’s attack to save Ladybug upsets Marinette, but, here’s the thing: LADYBUG DOES IT TOO. LADYBUG HAS PUSHED CAT NOIR INTO AN ENEMY’S WEAPON BECAUSE THAT WAS PART OF HER PLAN IN ‘BACKWARDER’ AND THE FANDOM SLEEPS ON THAT. Marinette’s plans often revolve around Cat Noir being in danger or compromised and the fandom dares to blame him for thinking his life doesn’t matter when that’s what his partner tells him with her actions constantly.

Kuro Neko is just more of that. Cat Noir quitting didn’t come from nowhere. There were warning signs of him missing fights and so on, but Marinette can’t be arsed to spare a single thought to what might be going on with her partner. She just thinks he should be happy he’s getting a break, because being a superhero is so much hard work, projecting her own thoughts and feelings onto him instead of asking. Marinette never asks when it comes to Cat Noir, she just assumes and demands.

She thinks Kuro Neko is Cat Noir, which is equal parts frustrating and hilarious when it’s paired together with her insisting time and time again that she knows Cat Noir so well in this episode. And it’s the episode where she fails to recognize him twice and misconstrues his issues to be about the fact that he can’t handle being one-sidedly in love with her. But, like, here comes the really asinine part; despite all these facts being provably incorrect, the episode still doesn’t make Marinette learn she’s incorrect. It really is Reflekdoll, but worse.

The only time Marinette apologizes in this episode is when she thinks Cat Noir was Akumatized, and it was for “not seeing how broken-hearted he was”, not for actively pushing him away. When Cat Noir comes back, she instead gives him the silent treatment until he says his justified anger at her was just “her kitty being temperamental”, invalidating his own feelings. Sure, Cat Walker, and therefore Cat Noir, heard those apologies, but Marinette doesn’t know that. Somewhere between realizing Kuro Neko isn’t Cat Noir and seeing Cat Noir again, she decided she had done nothing wrong that warranted an apology. And the thing that did it: the person she hurt coddling her through her pity party.

When Marinette realizes that Cat Noir is still missing and not Kuro Neko, in true Marinette fashion, she makes it about herself. “I must be the worst Guardian ever!” she bemoans when she should be putting together a plan. Hell, even a decision to do better by Cat Noir. But no, our solution-oriented protagonist couldn’t possibly make a plan to find and apologize to Cat Noir (maybe even do away with the “no revealing identities” rule so that this can’t happen again), she’s too busy bitching and moaning about how hard she’s having it. The only thing that gets her out of her funk is the new guy, who she thinks she’s just met, calling her faithful former partner “too emotional” and swearing servitude to her and her altar of the most important problems in the world. And the reason the episode is written like this? It’s because the writers don’t think she needs to apologize and do better in the future. Of course they’re not having her come to the conclusion that she needs to fix something, because they don’t think she does.

“You take care of everybody equally, Ladybug. Now I want to take care of you,” Cat Walker says, to absolve Ladybug of any guilt. The reality, though, is completely different. Cat Noir has always supported Ladybug. The reason he quit was because Ladybug made it abundantly clear she didn’t want or need his support anymore. And he’s made to come back to her, saying he hasn’t done enough? HE COMFORTS LADYBUG THROUGH AN EMOTIONAL BREAKDOWN AT LEAST ONCE PER SEASON. HE DOES SO FUCKING MUCH AND HE’S FORCED TO SAY HIS EMOTIONS ARE “MAKING TROUBLE” FOR LADYBUG WHILE HIS SELFISH, SELF-CENTERED PARTNER WHO DOESN’T TREAT HIM AS A PERSON GIVES HIM THE SILENT TREATMENT, ONLY FACING HIM WHEN HE MAKES LIGHT OF HIS OWN EMOTIONS SO THAT SHE DOESN’T HAVE TO APOLOGIZE FOR ACTING LIKE A JERK.

“You treat everybody equally” my ass. The day she starts treating Cat Noir like a person, then we can talk. Before that point, she’s a selfish, entitled jerk and Cat Noir deserves better.

The Fae Cat Noir Interpretation was supposed to reflect a flaw of Marinette’s, that Marinette never thinking about Cat Noir as a human being with emotions and problems was something she’d need to grow out of. Except that she doesn’t. Instead the show agrees with her and makes excuses for her. Adrien isn’t even human, he literally is made a “perfect” fae being that Marinette can treat however she wants and he will never complain and he will be in the wrong if he tries to leave.

[whakkicat]

i am leaving

i made a post on my twt about this, but i should make it here as well.

this is my last text post before i archive this account and start elsewhere. video about what’s been happening at some point.

this post will be a personal note to friends, mutuals, communities, etc, and what will happen from here.

brief warning for mentions of abuse

1. i want to start with a word towards the rain world community. first off, i want to thank rain world for giving me a home. for starting me off as an artist. i had never actively participated in a fandom before this, and it was a wonderful experience.

the game brought me and so many of my friends together, i met a lot of amazing artists, some of which i’m still shocked they’re my mutuals, and rain world itself changed my life for the better, i believe. it gave me hope and something to live for when nothing else did.

i’ve always been quite afraid of voicing myself, as i had never participated actively in a fandom before, therefore had never gotten used to talking in one. but to those who’ve stuck around, who have enjoyed my content, thank you.

2. to the people who have been there for me during the worst, who have let me know i am not alone in my suffering, it means so much to me. i really hope that i can still keep contact with many of the people i have met on here.

there have been so many kind people on this platform and it’s been a joy talking to you all. if this is goodbye, to some, i wish you all the best. it’s only what you deserve.

3. i will be reaching out to the main people who i owe art to, regardless of cmms or not. it is unprofessional of me not to keep track of myself and keep everyone waiting. my ADHD has not made it very easy for me. i apologize.

4. this point will mention abuse, so cw dealing and getting out of abuse this year was extremely hard for me, and is still taking its toll on me. it’s part of the reason i can’t stay, because i feel they still have power over me, even if they’re not actively in my life anymore.

as i move on, i don’t want to completely abandon my past, and everything that came out of that abuse in the first place. i am not abandoning myself, or forgetting what i went through. i want to grieve my younger, naive self as i go forward as an artist.

this doesn’t mean i’ve let them win and break me down. i won’t give up on myself. i need to be kinder to myself and heal, so being away from this will help. this also goes out to anyone else trapped in their friendships, relationships. you will be okay. talk to

please do not silence yourself for the sake of other people. your own feelings are just as valid and important as anyone else’s. don’t let people make you feel bad for feeling your own feelings.

5. to mutuals who’d like to stay in contact, i have a priv account on twitter i will mainly be using from now on. it won’t be used as much as it used to, considering this is a hiatus, but it will be where i will reside. you’re free to ask me in dms.

6. i’ve already begun starting over, i won’t be gone completely. if you happen to recognize me in the near future, please do not pester me about it. simply accept that i have restarted, as a brand, as an artist, and i’d like to start over from square one.

7. this account will also be public for the remainder of its existence, however i may clean it up for archival purposes. i don’t want to simply vanish, i am proud of some of the work i have published, and i don’t want it to be forgotten.

it’s a bit odd, considering most of my art is composed of doodles, non-serious jokes, and mostly fanart. hopefully i can make self indulgent art in the future. i’ve always wanted people to know my characters, but was always too afraid to actually talk to people.

closing point i’m sorry if my absence upsets anyone, if you are disappointed in me. i can’t stress enough that this year has been hard enough on me, and being here is hard enough. i want a fresh start. i want to be okay.

i love my fellow artists, my friends, everyone. there’s so many talented people i’ve met and i don’t ever want to forget them. my last post will be my video talking about my experiences this year, previous years, because i feel it’s important for me to come out about it.

this is a goodbye. i will miss many of you. here’s to hoping the rest of the year will be good for everyone! until our paths meet again. good luck out there

[padfootastic]

please say more about jilypad + diverging parenting styles... perhaps even a possible scenario >:) i imagine harry has very cunning tactics for using this to his advantage

helloooooo <3 thank u for this ask bc i love talking about these three and harry. i went looking thru the archives to find this post; my first foray into this side, and really, i’ve never looked back after that.

so i’ve talked ab this a bit before but i fully think that james was a very overprotective ‘mother hen’ type parent. i tend to read his behaviour in lily’s bday letter to sirius as being scared of his child on a broomstick and i fully, fully think he’ll never be able to let go of that as harry grows up. he’ll be anxious and suspicious and paranoid, and his first instant will always be to wrap harry up in cotton wool and hide him away. (i low-key connect this to his childhood as well; going from being spoiled and sheltered to dropped in the middle of a war, black & white thinking, living in extremes etc etc makes it v hard for him to be Normal about his child. as he shouldn’t be, really, but yeah) that’s why he thrives during the initial years; he never minds the hard parts of being a new parent, loves it in fact, and it makes it better that he can keep harry close to him at all times w/o coming off as a helicopter parent (not that the notion bothers him ofc).

it’s good, then, that he has two partners to even the scales, no? i think lily was the most…balanced out of the three. she had a relatively normal childhood, grew up in a working class family/neighbourhood and had to deal w adversity from a young age so she’s developed a nice, thick skin. she also has a sibling with whom she has a v rocky relationship so she knows that kids are, ykno, a bit unhinged. and a little bit of hardship is not a problem. i hc her as needing time to get used to parenthood, unlike james who stepped into it natural as breathing, or even sirius who loved harry on much on first sight that it made up for everything else. ofc lily loved her son, but it didn’t come w the same blinding intensity of her partners and made her feel really shitty in the beginning. but, i think she’d shine during his teen years actually, because she’s not overbearing or intense and becomes the quiet, calm strength that a hormonal, spotty teen boy would probably need.

and sirius <3 our poor baby falls in love with harry, perhaps even more quickly than james, with such startling speed that it shakes his entire foundation. he doesn’t regret it but he’s constantly discombobulated. i also imagine that…it takes him longer to settle into the role of parent, esp bc he’s not biologically one ykno? not like it matters to anyone, ofc, but it takes him a long time to truly accept his authority and place, to believe that he has just as much right as j&l to be there, to parent harry. this has the consequence of him always being more indulgent than the other two; after all, he considered himself a godfather before a parent and a lot of that thinking stayed. he lets harry get away with stuff the others might not (and the little mf figures this out later); some of it also comes from sirius seeing so much shit, and facing so much shit himself, that he rationalises a lot of stuff as ‘well, this isn’t the worst it can be, so what’s the harm’ (because his life has been such a roller coaster that he’s forgotten that not everyone’s like that, if that makes sense?)

its obviously not this clear cut but i imagine harry looks at it like this: if he needs unconditional love, he goes to james; rationality and logic, lily; acceptance and calm, sirius. when someone has to be beat up for hurting harry, james steps in. if he needs help burying a body, it’s sirius. dealing with some asshole boss/teacher/classmate’s mother who’s making harry’s life hell? lily. i can keep going but,,,u get the idea, right? this makes sense, i hope lol

i actually think harry’s first birthday is a great example. sirius pushes the boundaries by gifting lil harry a broom; james loses his mind running after him; lily places an industrial sticking charm on harry’s butt, leans back with a glass of wine, and enjoys the show. even as he grows up, lily and james act as the disciplinarian, and sirius is the emotional outlet. all of them fill in each other’s cracks so well, and it’s only when harry grows up that he realises how effortlessly they worked off each other to parent him.

also oh man o man. harry being cunning is,,,,,see, i’ve not considered it this far but it makes perfect sense. i think canon harry actually had so much manipulative energy and it’s often overlooked for his goofier traits but! this is the same dude who used his dead parents to trick slughorn into revealing sensitive info! imagine if that could be channelled into his jilypad interactions 😈

it’s like, it takes him a bit, because his three parents r so smooth, but once he realises that all of them have certain weak spots, he does NOT hesitate to exploit them. (it has the unintended consequence of truly strengthening the jilypad relationship into an unbreakable one bc one thing their kid taught them is to have ironclad communication going at all times so nothing they’ve said, or not said, is used against them). so like, he knows if he wants to sneak out to a party, it has to be sirius and in a specific way—‘i’ll be totally safe, papa, plus i really wanna see what it’s like and idk when it’ll get a chance to again’. if he widens his eyes to pitiful levels, pouts a little, and blinks faster than usual, then james is putty in his arms as long as he’s separated from the other two. divide and conquer becomes the main tool in harry’s arsenal, actually. lily’s the toughest nut to crack, purely bc she doesn’t run on emotions or irreverence, but harry soon learns that if he comes up with a solid, logical case that proves his argument has unbiased merit then he has a good chance of getting her to say yes. (this is good, bc u can arrange words in the correct order, but u can’t always control emotions)

so overall yeah, you’d think one kid + 3 parents would be an easy bet, but harry keeps them on their toes all the fkn time.

[thatblackravenclaw]

Pen Pals

a/n: you guys know how Andrew Garfield’s parents are British but he was born in L.A. but he still has a British accent that’s not extremely British with a little bit of an American twinge? that’s what the reader sounds like. also, i go by the grades of everyone in the books so Cho and the reader are a year older than the golden trio and a year younger than the twins. 

Blog Details | Let’s take a trip

Fred Weasley x Black!fem!reader (Ravenclaw)

warning(s): british slander bc im a raging american (RED WHITE AND BLUE MF THESE COLORS DON’T RUN BITCH lmfao please believe me when i say im joking), cursing, mention of drugs and alcohol use, tooth rotting fluff

word count: 3.3k

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“Are you writing to that British boy again?” I hear from over my shoulder.

“Yes, and have you heard of personal space?” We erupt in giggles as I push her away.

I close my notebook and move from my desk to my bed. The foot of my mattress is barricaded with boxes. I look around and see my childhood home become empty and filled with boxes and buckets. The walls that were once painted with polaroids of my friends and family from over the years is now back to its basic color of brown that was painted when I was born. My desk is no longer covered with knick-knacks and clutter. The room is just empty. I’m happy that my mom got promoted so my dad gets to go back to his hometown, but it’s going to be hard leaving a place I’ve spent ¾ of my life in.

My mom is a Magizoologist. She came to the United States 20 years ago for a business trip. My dad is a Dragonologist. Their paths crossed when she came to help take a look at a sick Dragon. He showed him how their sanction work and over time I guess they became close because 3 years later I was born.

We used to go back and forth between Illinois and England for about 4 and ½ years before mom decided to just move here. I guess the distance was just a little too much for them, so she decided to move here and now we’re moving back.

I lay down on the bed and stare at the ceiling. It’s scattered with glow in the dark stars that I begged for when I was 7 and ten years later, here they still stick. I’ve been asking dad for four years to take them down. He always said he’d get around to it.

The air feels dry, and my throat is scratchy. I’m trying my best to hold my tears at bay. I love England. It’s a second home to me. Whenever I’m out for summer break I go to my grandparents’ house in Norwich. This is different though. I’m going to be living there now. The British accent I had when I was younger has faded overtime to an American-British hybrid. I’ll surely be made fun of for it.

Maya lays down next to me. We’ve been best friends since the 3rd grade. Just the two of us against the world. Now I have to go through the rest of university without her.

“Maybe it won’t be bad. The worst part is going to be eating their food.” Her jab pulls a smile to the corner of my lips.

“I’ve heard the food at Hogwarts is actually pretty good.”

“Not possibly better than Ilvermony.”

“Never!” I dramatize the word with a gasp. Really selling it as if saying Hogwarts food is better than Ilvermony is a federal offense.

The dust settles and a silence washes over us. It’s a comfortable silence. Soaking in our last moments together. I know it’s not forever. I get to come back here on holiday, and she can use the floo network to visit me, but it won’t be the same. This is the person who has a key to my house because she’s considered family. The same person who that brings me an extra banana nut muffin every day before school just because she knows it’ll bring a smile to my face. I won’t get that anymore.

“What time are you guys leaving tomorrow?” Her head turns towards me, but I keep my eyes trained on the popcorn ceiling in fear that the tears I’ve been holding back will give me away.

“Early. I think 6. We’re meeting the realtor with the keys at 7, so we need to make sure that all of our stuff gets transported this in one fell swoop since we’re apperating there and apparently mom came up with a spell to have our stuff apperate to the new house.”

“Hm. Have you told British boy that you’re got accepted into Hogwarts?”

“Fred doesn’t even know what I look like. Let alone that I got accepted to the same school as him.”

“HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE?” I slap my hand over her mouth and shush her.

“Bitch, shut the fuck up. My parents are right down the hall and don’t know I have a pen pal. They said it was dangerous because people pretend to be someone they’re not, but what the hell?”

She pushes my hand off of her mouth and sits up. Her back meets my headboard and she straight ahead at the door.

“Do you know what he looks like?”

I nod my head yes before rolling off of the bed. I feel to the last page of my journal and find and find a polaroid of him and his brother George from when they went to something called The Quidditch World Cup. I do a quick look over before making my way back to the bed and offering my hand to Maya. She looks at the picture and you can almost see her eyes bulging out of their sockets.

“He has a twin brother?”

“No it’s just someone he met at school.” I resist the temptation to roll my eyes at her comment, but the attitude goes completely over her head.

“Is he single?”

“Maya!” I exclaim with my jaw dropped. “What? You can have a twin and I can’t?”

“Oh hush. You said yourself that you don’t even date white boys.”

“That was before I saw this one. Besides, he’s a ginger so he’s exempt from that statement.”

“I’m really going to miss you Maya.” We make eye contact for the first time in a while and her eyes soften.

“I’m gonna miss you too Angel.”

She looks down at her watch and tells me that it’s fifteen minutes to ten meaning it’s almost curfew. We share one last tearful goodbye as she walks out of my bedroom door for the last time.

.          .          .

Sure enough, at 5:45 my dad woke me up and told me it was time to get ready to leave. I had taken one last look around my room and made my way downstairs to meet my mother so we could all leave. Right as the clock struck 6, my parents let me grab the powder and be the first to see our new home.

I stood in the foyer and tried to convince myself that it isn’t the best house I’ve ever seen. It’s got a cottage core vibe going on, on the outside. It’s cozy, but big enough for all of us. I wanted so badly not to like it. We went to the backyard and there’s a small river filled with a family of ducks. To the right there’s something that looks like a shack, but bigger. My parents then explained to me it’s my own apartment. That’s when the smile broke across my face. I was finally getting my own space.

The house tour didn’t last long due to the tight schedule we are on. I ended up just waving my wand and letting the magic unpack my stuff as we were right back in the fireplace. Why? Because tomorrow is the first day of school and I have not done any school shopping. The stuff on the list differs a little bit from the shopping list we had for Ilvermony so dad thought it best to wait until we got here. We had to go to Diagon Alley anyway for everyone to open up a bank account.

Now, I’m standing in Madam Malkin’s getting measured for everything. Once I’ve been basically poked and prodded all over my body with clothes pins, I stare out the window and watch everything and everyone pass by. As if someone had played a slow potion button, I see a whole family of red heads walk down the cobblestone and sure enough one of them is Fred. I snap my head down and try to cover my face with my hair. I don’t know why I did that. Once again, he has no idea what I look like.

“All done. You can step down now.” I look over to Madam Malkin and grab my uniform and robe out of her hands. I thank her and rush out the door. Thankfully my parents are done with their list too so we decide to go home.

.          .          .

The next 18 hours go by quick. I didn’t get a chance to really enjoy my apartment or decorate it due to packing up my trunk since we once again left early in the morning for transportation.

The train ride was painfully boring. No one told me how long it is from England to Scotland. I sat with some mundane people whose names I don’t remember. They were also half asleep and exchanged pleasantries only out of politeness. We bought some stuff off of the trolley and then went back to our own worlds.

At one point it became a little suffocating and I needed to pee so I got up and started walking through the cars when I heard a “Have you heard from her yet, Fred,”. I had stopped before becoming visible to their compartment. He told them no and that he was a little worried. That’s when I remembered that Maya distracted me so I never got to finish the letter.

At the moment, I’m standing at the front of the line of 1st years because I’m new as well but I’m older so I get to get sorted first. My hood is up and I’m looking at the ground, suddenly interested in my shoes. Professor McGonagall informs everyone that I’m a new student from the American wizarding school and I feel my face heat up, knowing the amount of comments I’m about to get from everyone.

She calls my name and I carefully walk up the stairs. At this point my hood is still up so no one has gotten a clear view of my face. I want to do a big reveal of sorts. I sit down and let the hood slide from off of my head. There’s gasps from all across the hall. Some whistles from a few guys. Whispers from a few girls. A handful of people conveyed nonchalant expressions which I greatly appreciate over being fawned over. My eyes gravitate toward the Gryffindor table and I catch Fred already looking at me. His friends are nudging him with an elbow while also looking at me. I guess that answers the question of if he told his friends about me or not. I can’t decipher how he feels, but the adoration on his face calms my nerves enough.

I break our eye contact to look back down at the floor as not to fall off of the stool. I make haste to the Ravenclaw table. I greet everybody and they instantly start asking questions. I laugh as I can’t understand them all at once, but it’s funny hearing them squabble like seagulls. A hand is placed over mine and I look in the direction of where it came from. A beautiful Asian girl gives me a small smile.

“Hi y/n, my name is Cho.” I return the smile and tell her that it’s nice to meet her. A silence washes over the table. I become befuddled and look around to distinguish if I did or said something wrong.

“I thought you were American?” Someone says from the other side of the table. I don’t catch sight of who said it, but respond, nonetheless.

“I am. Well, I’m half. My mom is American and my dad is British. I was born in Manchester but was raised in America.”

An understanding nod is shared amongst the table in hearing vicinity and the conversation ceases as someone else is sorted into Ravenclaw.

.          .

After dinner the prefects give the first years a quick tour of the castle and show them to their houses. Cho snuck me with the other 5th years. I’m thankful as I far from want to be touring the castle with a bunch of children. Besides, I have a map of the school and I’ve created a spell that can bewitch the map to help me find my classes.

We make our way up the many staircases and are faced with a large door with an Eagle head as the knocker.

“The only way to enter the common room is by answering a riddle. If you get it wrong, then you have to stand here until someone else comes and says the correct answer or until someone from the inside opens the door.” She says to me. I nod my head in understanding.

“Wanna try it?” Another Ravenclaw asks me. A male. I believe his name is Talbott. I nod my head again and step closer to the door.

“When young, I am sweet in the sun. When middle-aged, I make you gay. When old, I am valued more than ever. What am I?” The voice bellows as the Eagle moves its beak. It shakes my core a little bit.

I look around at the other Ravenclaws. Some with quizzical brows. Some with a knowing look. Others just looking and awaiting my answer. The answer would have caught me up if it weren’t for the last clue; “When old, I am more valued than ever.”

“Wine.” There’s a click sound as if unlocking a lock, and the door slowly opens. Smalls cheers are shared as we walk in.

I’m stuck at the entrance of the threshold inside by the sight in front of me. It’s probably the most gorgeous room I’ve ever seen. The ceiling is coved and gives the illusion of a clear night sky. Stars litter the ceiling and give off the effect of actual twinkling. A blue velvet couch sits in front of a fire, with matching chairs on either side. What really catches my attention is the enormous statue of Rowena Ravenclaw in front of a bookcase. We never had anything like this at Ilvermony. Our emblem was a serpent and we would just have those displayed in various parts of the common room. I watch as everyone goes to various parts of the room while some go behind the bookcase. Cho grabs my hand and also brings me behind the staircase. She shows me that behind this staircase is where the dorms and bathrooms are. I follow her up the staircase and to a dorm. The rooms inferior to the common room but not any less gorgeous. The beds align with the wall as each dorm is in the shape of a tower.

“I see you got the middle bed. Seems fitting as you’re new.” No malice in her tone, though I can see in some way it might have seemed like it.

I sit on the bed and exhale. Truly exhale. This whole journey has been happening too fast. Now that I’m sorted into a house, everything else seems easy. I went over my schedule with Cho and we have all the same classes except Defense Against The Dark Arts. I guess I’ll survive one class without her.

“Well come on lazy bones.” A different girls says to me. Anastasia I believe.

“What?” I sit back up and ask with pure curiosity.

“It’s time to get ready for the party.”

“What party?”

.          .

The beginning of the year party. The party where everybody gets blacked out and regrets it in the morning since we start classes at 8 am.

I believe I heard someone earlier yell about flower. A Hufflepuff I believe. I had put on the sluttiest thing I owned and made my way down to the party with everyone else. None of us wear heels, as not to be caught by the caretaker.

The party is in full swing when we open the door the ballroom. The lights are dimmed, but the strobes of light are pungent. We barely make it to the drink table without bumping into everyone on the way. At the drink table is a tall red head with another tall read head which I can only assume is me about to be dealing with the consequences of my own actions.

“Excuse us,” Cho exclaims at the two while trying to push our way to the punch bowl. They look our way and go to move but freeze when they set their eyes on me.

“Y/n?” Fred asks/yells.

“In the flesh,” I yell back.

His smile reaches his eyes as he pulls me in a hug. My face in brought into an awkward place where it’s not quite his chest but not quite his stomach either. I wrap my arms around his middle and hug him back. He smells like cinnamon. I welcome in the scent as we hug for a few more seconds. I can only imagine what Cho is thinking right now.

We pull back at the same time and he begins to speak again. I can’t really hear him over the noise of the ballroom. I look in the direction of the entrance of the room and point to it. He nods his head and we walk towards it, hand in hand.

The door closes behind us but we still stood with our hands intwined.

“Pen pals for 4 years and you didn’t tell me you were transferring.” He exclaims while keeping his voice down.

“I wanted to surprise you.” I say sheepishly.

“Considered me surprised.” He smiled no longer reaches his cheeks but its more somber.

We hear footsteps coming from the far end of the corridor. He pulls me and we start running. I don’t know where we’re going but I trust him. A giggle threatens to out my mouth as we are going up the maze of stairs.

After what feel like forever, we make it to the floor that the Ravenclaw tower is on. I see that Gryffindor is also on this floor. In the middle of both is a spiral staircase. Great. More stairs. He leads us up to a room that looks like a classroom with multiple astronomy tools and an openness to the outside.

“Welcome to the Astronomy classroom.” I unknowingly let go of his hand as I look around in amazement. There’s a celestial sphere with all the constellations on it. A fancy telescope by the balcony. It’s quite literally the Ravenclaw common room in classroom form.

“Gods, this place is gorgeous.” I walk onto the balcony and stare up at the sky. All the stars twinkle and the moon is full.

“As are you.” I turn my body around and face him. He walks up next to me without breaking eye contact.

“Not a disappointment, am I?”

“Only a little. I expect more of an American accent.” I laugh at this before looking down at my shoes.

“You and everyone else. It’s there a little bit with certain words and phrases.”

.          .

I sit on the ledge and we talk for a bit. Not much to tell considering I know almost everything about him and vice versa. We talk about school and the people here which eventually leads to the topic of dating.

“Anyone here you fancy yet?”

“You could say that.” I look into his eyes and see if he’s able to read in between the lines.

He leans in and I hear my breath hitch. My fingers grip the railing. His eyes jump to my lips and back to my eyes.

“Who is it?” We both know.

“He’s in Gryffindor. Tall red head with freckles. His brothers are also in Gryffindor.” We inch closer.

“I might know him. What’s his name?” 3 inches apart.

“Ron.” He rolls his eyes at the answer with a chuckle.

“Shut up,” and then he kissed me.

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Fred Masterlist | United Kingdom

[lavendermoonlitskies]

Life updates that nobody asked for <3

Hi. So my life has been kind of hectic lately and it has been really hard finding comfort in anything, but I think I might slowly be coming out of that stage. I posted a little while ago that my dad might have cancer for the second time in his life and I was kind of falling apart at the thought of it, and now it has been confirmed that it is, in fact, cancer.

The good news is it’s localized, which means that in its current state, it’s a small tumor and it hasn’t spread, so all hope has not been lost, which is what I think I was really afraid of. Someone told me that the hardest part is waiting for test results and not having any idea what the future looks like, and I think that’s true because even though it was bad news, we are not experiencing the worst case scenario at this point. That could be set to change, but I would drive myself insane if I keep thinking about it like that, so I’ll try not to. He has a treatment plan, and that’s gonna go on for another couple months before they reassess and figure out where to go from there. I still have hope that it will go away, and I think it’s really important for me to hang onto that for my own sanity.

With everything going on, with all the crippling anxiety that goes along with it, I still have the urge to create. I’m not the best writer, I’m sure my work at this point is littered with mistakes and it’s clear to any professional that I am most certainly not, well, a professional. I know my writing hasn’t reached that much of an audience and I am so okay with that, but it brings me joy. I’ve always had little stories floating around in my head and this last year has been the first time in a while I’ve actually sat down and put it to paper (or perhaps more accurately to a google doc that’s never going to be printed on actual paper).

I know that the gap between the time I posted the first chapter of The Road Less Traveled (GO fic) and whenever I’m going to finally update it again keeps getting larger, but it crossed my mind again today and I remembered all my plans for it, and even though things in my real life look bleak right now, I almost felt excited for just a moment. It’s going to be slow, but I want to keep this story going, so I’m just going to have to be patient with myself.

In addition to that, I’ve been reading a lot of original novels lately and I feel inspired. I’ve never written anything that even comes close to a full-length novel, but I have this concept and I think it’s a good one. I’ve created characters, plotted stuff out, and even written a scene or two, so I guess I’ll just have to see where it goes. I think that this has kind of always been something I’ve wanted to do in the back of my mind, and with where I am in life right now maybe it’s as good a time as ever to try something new just because. I’ve let depression and anxiety consume me before, so even though this is a very real and very scary situation that could go in a lot of different directions, I don’t think I want to let myself do that this time.

November is coming up (sort of), and I know that that’s a really important month for writers, so I’m sort of getting myself ready for that. People are organizing NaNoWriMo alternatives, so I might jump in on one of those (side note: fuck the NaNoWriMo people for claiming that denouncing the use of AI in creative spaces is “ableist.” As a disabled person, that is a deeply insulting misuse of a word that is meant to shed light on the real issues disabled people face every day). I am an amateur, I don’t know what I’m doing at all, but maybe there’s something beautiful in someone who doesn’t have any ��credentials” as a writer/artist/etc. just creating something because they want to.

[nectaric]

zeus & his family

its been a long time since i’ve talked about this, and i don’t even know if i’ve talked about it on this blog - but the time has come to address zeus’ opinions on his family, and how i have always envisioned their relationships.

on his siblings:

hestia is one of the most important people in zeus’ life, and he looks up to her immensely. he is protective of her to an extreme degree, and relies on her a lot for guidance (particularly when it comes to his own emotions). there have been times where this relationship has bordered on a little unhealthy but i think zeus has come to have a much more equal and loving relationship with her.

hades is complicated. in their youth, zeus admired and loved him a lot. as they grew older, and became separated due to duty, zeus’ struggle with his own trauma became apparent. he developed a loathing for hades born not out of spite but out of jealousy. part of him was envious of hades, of how removed he was, how he did not have to deal with the struggles of olympus or the pain that came with it. zeus was damaged and he saw hades so in control of it all (whether or not that was actually true) and it soured their relationship a lot, at no fault of hades. in modern times, i imagine the two have managed to overcome some of their troubles, but its a work in progress and zeus wants to make amends, even if he has a hard time.

poseidon, also complicated, but for different reasons. obviously, there was tension between them on account of zeus’ early days where he struggled to be a fair king, abused some of his power, and was generally a menace. then there’s the coup, where whatever trust they still had in each other was completed shattered. their relationship remained incredibly rocky for a long time, cordial at best and argumentative at worst. but following the coup, and his torture at the hands of typhoeus, zeus makes a very big effort to change. and i think somewhere down the line, they begin to mend. zeus loves his brother, even if poseidon pisses him off immensely.

demeter is one of his best friends, very much so in the only i’m allowed to make them miserable kind of way. their parting after the birth of persephone was initiated by demeter despite zeus’ own wishes, and they became good friends. zeus did what he could to provide for persephone while keeping his distance, and so they are pretty close. i like to imagine that they have a very classic sibling relationship, full of roasts w/ love and bonding over their mutual dissatisfaction at their childhood.

on his wife:

zeus loves her. despite everything they have been through, that he’s done to her and had done to him, he worships the ground she walks on. his affairs were not born out of spite or falling out of love with her, but oftentimes out of necessity or his rather impressive wealth of emotion. i like to imagine that they have reached some level of understanding and that she loves him too.

on his mother:

not much to say here other than zeus is a huge momma’s boy.

on his children:

zeus is not a perfect father. he is extremely flawed. he struggled for a long time with trauma, and paranoia, and fear. it made him emotionally distant, sometimes cruel. but zeus really does love his children - and as with the rest of his family, he has fought very hard since he chose to reform to make things right with them. he has attempted to admit to his mistakes and make them right. he has attempted to reconcile damaged relationships. it varies, of course, from child to child. he has a stronger relationship with children like athena, hermes, artemis, dionysus, eileithyia, or hebe. he has a more difficult relationship with apollo, ares, hephaestus, eris, or enyo.

he does not expect forgiveness, but he is going to keep trying to earn it with each of them, even if he struggles and fails sometimes.

regarding pjo kids: zeus loves them. zeus mourned them, sincerely, was inconsolable for ages when he lost both of them. he does what he can to protect them while remaining distant, because he has learned the hard way that involvement of any kind makes things so much worse for them. but i sort of refuse to subscribe to the idea that zeus has, at any point, been disinterested in their well-being nor that he ever intentionally tries to harm them.

tl;dr: zeus loves his family. that has always been the case, that will always be the case. he is flawed and he struggles and he has not always shown his love. he has hurt the people he cares about. but he is trying, desperately so, and is on his journey to make amends.

[bapydemonprincess]

I’m 24 and I’ve been in this fandom since like 2010 . So not the entire time it’s been around but I was here for its main surge I feel like. And I won’t lie, when I was 10 and a majority of the fandom did ship sebaciel publicly and people made you feel weird for not shipping it, I definitely did engage with it. It was pushed on me as a 10 year old by a majority of the fandom, and I didn’t see anything wrong because I was younger than ciel/same age and I was like “yeah I think Sebastian is cute and I’m the same age as ciel so—“ BUT you know as I got older I’d say even by 14 I had the realization of how gross it was and how I didn’t actually ship it it was just that they were the two main characters in the fandom and that typically main characters are the ones who get shipped and that at that time in the fandom it was impossible to not be faced with ship stuff. And I was groomed by adults in the fandom on this very website. They knew my age and would send me smut and talk to me about myself and flirt and I honestly feel bad that I ever did engage with the ship. I didn’t know any better. But now as an adult when I do see sebaciel stuff I find myself questioning if they’re just young and if they’re going to grow out of it too and I wonder if maybe they’re also having it pushed on them by older fans like I was. I find it concerning because i know what it did to myself and what kind of situations I was put in because of it. I try to avoid the adult ones because unfortunately I think if they haven’t grown out of it and realized the implications of the ship and how it does affect real life I don’t know that they ever will. I hate that this fandom has such a bad label on it. Every person I mention it to is like— “oh the pedophile demon anime?” And it just sickens me. Idk this is kind of just a rant and I wanted to offer my thoughts as someone who has been in the fandom a long time and as someone who was in the fandom as a child even. I’m sorry if this is weird ask to send but I see you posting content about it sometimes and it made me feel safe to share my thoughts

Well I am not personally good at answering these types of asks but I am glad you felt safe to send this to me, specifically, and get it off your chest, it's all good!! 💖 And glad to know you came to realize how bad the ship was at one point, I'm always happy to see that happen once in a while in kuro, because there are so many folks around my age refusing to accept the truth and doubling down on proshipping, and also I notice very recently too trying to cause problems on purpose for antis in their spaces. 😒 It's getting hard out there since the new anime came out, and a lot of those types have attempted to return.. likely from twitter where they ran off to last time they were booted (some quite literally banned hmm I wonder why) from tumblr.

And the worst WORST part knowing proshippers around my age is knowing.. remembering.. the very beginnings of kuro, seeing the early fics on ao3 by those guys, who really started it all, knowing somewhere they're still out there.. some even maybe with kids of their own WHO KNOWS... Ugh.

And I hope new fans, no matter their age really, make sure to be careful esp on here in the main kuro tag, for these proshippers have been constantly- AND VERY BLATANTLY I MIGHT ADD -trying to advertise their blogs and discords as safe spaces for interacting... CLEARLY trying to start/continue the process of grooming that is so well known in fandoms like kuro at this point.

Overall just use block on tumblr recreationally, it's free real estate ✨, stay safe in general, and again don't be afraid whether on fellow anti blogs like mine send messages or if you feel more comfortable make posts of your own on your own blog expressing how you feel, getting it out of your system.

Hope my response was okay (I say because I'm at work at also health-wise a bit out of it so sorry grbhjfkugu) and hope you, anon are currently doing okay now!! Thank you again for sharing your personal experience!!

[starstwinkleplanetsshine]

Daughter of the Sea

New Fic alert!

I have been writing this in my head for over ten years. Actually sitting down and putting it on paper has been more emotional and fulfilling than I could've ever imagined. Meet Angie Jackson, a 14-year old who finds out she is a demigod and gets more than she ever asked for. Thrown into a world of monsters and gods and titans on the brink of war, with her twin brother (who she had no clue about) MIA from his Quest, she must learn quickly how to become the hero everyone expects her to be, before its too late.

This is a retelling of Battle of the Labyrinth and The Last Olympian where Percy isn't the only child of Poseidon, and doesn't have to shoulder his burdens alone.

I love Angie, and her story, dearly, and I have poured so much of myself into her. I hope you fall in love with her and her story as much as I have. Originally, I created Angie to play a very large role in the Heroes of Olympus series. However, I realized it made more sense for her to come in halfway through the PJO series. This fic (Daughter of the Sea) is the prequel work to the core of Angie's story, which is in HOO. In this story, you will see as Angie learns who she is, comes into her own, and becomes inseparable from her brother. In the next, you will see her become the hero she is fated to be. Without further ado, I welcome you into the world of Andromeda Jackson, Daughter of the Sea.

Chapter 1: I Walk into a Fireplace (Read on AO3 here)

Look, I didn’t know I was a half-blood. 

Growing up, a lot of adults would always call me special . They would gush to my adopted mom at parent-teacher conferences about what a hard worker I was, how I was creative and a great student and always ahead of my classmates. Apparently, I was a pleasure . To the other kids, though, I wasn't precious or special. I was just weird. A freak. A teacher’s pet and goody-two-shoes. So I got used to a double life of gold stars and straight A’s while getting pushed off the monkey bars. 

Recess was always the worst part of my day, and now that I was older, so was lunch. That was the only time I would ever get in trouble, even though I tried my best to keep my head down and stay calm when the other kids would pick on me. Sometimes I just couldn’t help it, though, and I would lose control and end up in the principal's office for giving my bully a bloody nose or ripping out a chunk of their hair. When asked why I had resorted to violence, I would reply with something along the lines of, 

“Suzie said my mom wasn’t my real mom,”

Or,

“Ally said ‘no wonder your real parents didn’t want you, freak!’” 

The principal would then give me a sad, almost sympathetic look, write a referral, and I would cry the whole way home. 

I knew what those kids said were lies—I knew my mom was my real mom even if she didn’t give birth to me. She had raised me ever since I was a baby and was the only family I had ever known. I knew she loved me, she told me so all the time. 

But I always had a nagging feeling that some part of the taunts were true. What if my birth parents really didn’t want me? What if they saw me and decided after a month or two that I wasn’t what they wanted, or that I wasn’t good enough, or worse, that they just didn’t love me? 

I always knew that I was adopted. My mom, Hannah, always told me that my birth parents did love me, very much, but they just couldn’t take care of me. She said they didn’t want to give me up, but they knew I would have a better life with different parents. 

I tried to believe her, but as the years went by, the voices of all those mean kids constantly ringing in my ears made it pretty difficult to hold onto that hope.

But maybe she was right–my life with my mom was pretty good (not counting the constant bullying and strange, scary creatures that only I could see).

Oh yeah, I haven’t mentioned that yet. 

I’ve been this way ever since I can remember. The earliest memory I have is from when I was around three, playing in our backyard. I was creating a concoction of mud, grass, and seeds when I heard a loud noise coming from the roof. When I looked up, I saw, clear as day, a beautiful white horse with black-speckled wings sprouting out of its back, just looking at me. Next thing I knew, I was climbing up a tree in an attempt to get onto the roof, causing my mom to rush out from the house in a panic, pulling me out of the branches while I screamed and cried that I wanted to see the pony. My mom then said that there was no pony on the roof, but I knew she was wrong. 

And that was just the beginning. 

I didn't see them all the time, maybe once or twice every month or so. Despite the infrequency, the sightings never stopped and I eventually just got used to them, learning quickly to keep them to myself. I couldn’t even share what I had seen with my mom, who would just write them off as my imagination, and I got called crazy by the neighborhood kids one too many times. I thought that after years of seeing creatures that looked like they came out of a sci-fi movie would prepare me for anything, but I was wrong. 

It was a hot day in early June and the heatwaves bounced off the boiling pavement and played tricks on my eyes. I had lived in Tucson, Arizona, for fourteen years, my entire life, so you would think the 120 degree summer days wouldn’t phase me anymore, but they were still horrible. It was the kind of heat that sucked every bit of moisture out of you and dried out your lungs. It was unbearable. Still, it was home, and I was riding my beat-up bike back from my best friend’s house, who luckily lived in my neighborhood. At 5pm it was cooler than it had been in mid-afternoon when the sun was at its height, but it was still far from comfortable, and I could feel sweat begin to trickle down my back, the low sun blinding my eyes. 

‘Only a few more blocks’ I said to myself, trying desperately to pedal as fast as possible. I couldn’t see the road well because of the heatwaves and sun, which wouldn’t normally be a problem except when an old woman is standing on the sidewalk directly in my path, which just so happened to be the case. She seemed to appear out of nowhere, and I slammed on my brakes, turning my handle bars hard, causing metal to screech and my tires to skid along the sidewalk. I stopped inches from the grandmother, and when I finally got a look at her face, I wondered if I had ever seen someone who looked so old. 

“My my, going a bit fast, were we?” The lady’s voice was slow and gravelly, her dour tone matching the look on her face. She wore a brown dress that was almost as wrinkled as her skin. 

“Sorry, ma'am, I didn’t see you. The sun–” 

“Ah ah, we mustn't go blaming others for our shortcomings. Right, Andromeda?” 

I stared at the woman in shock–I was sure I had never seen her before, but somehow she knew my name. My real name. 

“Right, sorry.” I straightened my handle bars and told myself she was just a crazy snowbird neighbor who must've heard one of the rare times my mom called me by my full name. “I’d better get home.” The way she was looking at me was starting to make me uncomfortable, and a feeling like an itching started in the small of my back and somehow I knew it meant I needed to go.

To my surprise, she put a wrinkled, leathery hand on my handlebars and gripped tightly so that I couldn’t move them. 

“Oh, my dear,” the itching moved up my spine to the base of my neck, “it’s rude to rush off.” 

“My mom expects me home for dinner and I shouldn’t be late.” The old woman’s platitudes were starting to annoy me, and it showed in the tone of my voice. I attempted to make a break for it, but she held on, stopping the bike. She was surprisingly strong. 

“Andromeda Jackson,” My eyes went wide–I never used my birth surname, and there was no way one of my neighbors would know it. I began to freak out and that itching feeling was getting worse and something deep in my gut was telling me to get out of there. “I’m afraid I can’t let you go just yet. There’s something I still need to know.” 

It was then that my ride home went from bad to really bad. 

The woman changed before my eyes, sprouting large, brown, leathery wings from her back and growing talons from her hands. She looked like a terrifying cross between a very large bat and a very old woman. I was too scared to scream. 

The creature was so close I could feel it's horrible breath on my face, and then it swiped at me. I reacted quickly, diving onto the ground onto a strangers front yard, the rocks digging into my skin. I hoped whoever owned the house wasn’t home, and by the time I rolled over to look for the beast, it was on top of me and I was sure I was about to die. 

My mind went to my mom—my wonderful, hard-working, loving mom-–and a new energy surged through me. My fear and confusion met with my anger and determination and I could feel a tension building inside of me, threatening to bubble over and spill out. I felt a tug deep in my stomach right behind my belly-button, kind of like being on one of those drop rides at a carnival but 10x more intense and way sharper, and I let out a yell.

The monster started to laugh before both she and I were pelted with water that sprayed from an out-of-control hose that had been lying in the yard. The water was more intense than it should've been, like the water from a firehose, and there was a split second where I thought the spray should be hurting a lot more than it actually was. It was the creature’s turn to scream, and something about the spray of the water on my skin gave me the strength to shove it off of me and roll away. I scrambled to my feet and held my hands up defensively, now ready to fight. But the monster just glared at me and growled. 

“My master’s suspicions about you were correct, Andromeda Jackson.” she surveyed me uncomfortably. “He will be most displeased. You’re lucky my orders weren’t to kill you—this time.” With that, she beat her large bat wings and hovered a few feet in the air. “I’m sure we will meet again, young one.” And with a final large beat of her wings, she soared away, flying low over me and messing up my hair with her talons as they barely cleared the top of my head. 

I stood there in shock for a few moments before jumping back on my bike and racing home as fast as I could. I ran into the house breathless, my face red and sweaty, leaving my bike strewn on the rocks in my front yard instead of putting it away. My mom jumped up from where she sat by the fire—why she had a fire going in the middle of an Arizona summer I never knew—but as long as I could remember, there was always a fire going in the house. Whenever I asked about it when I was young, my mom would say something about how important the hearth was to the heart of the home , and eventually I just stopped asking questions. After fourteen years, I was used to it. 

“Angie!” It was clear she could see that something was wrong. “Did you fall off your bike? Have an accident?” 

I stood staring with wide eyes and slowly shook my head. What could I tell her? 

“I–” My mom moved to me with concern, her hand gently going to my forehead. I pulled back in pain as she touched me, and when I saw her hands, there was blood on her fingers. The monster must've scratched me when it flew away, and I didn’t even notice. 

“What happened, love?” 

“You wouldn’t believe me.” My voice was small and I barely recognized it as my own. 

“Trust me, I would.” Something in the way she was looking at me made me want to trust her—but how could I?

“I…I can’t explain it.” She nodded as if she understood, which I didn’t understand. 

“Come to the hearth, I’ll put on a kettle and fix you up.” Sitting by the fire and sipping tea was always moms way to make everything better. The last thing I wanted was to be any hotter, but I listened and moved toward the flames. Strangely, as I sat on the ledge, I didn’t feel any heat. I let my eyes get lost in the fire, allowing myself to be mesmerized by the dancing and flickering oranges and yellows, and for the briefest moment I could’ve sworn I saw red, glowing eyes and a kind face looking back at me, but when I shook my head and opened my eyes again, it was gone. Maybe my head was hurt worse than I thought. 

Soon enough, I had a mug in my hand and a bandage on my forehead. My mom sat down and looked again at the fire beside her. 

“Angie,” her voice was gentle, “you saw something you can’t explain, didnt you?” 

I nodded, my eyes still fixed on my ocean-blue mug. 

“Something like a monster?” 

“Yeah.” 

Instead of acting surprised, she just sighed. “I knew this day would come.” Her words finally made me turn my head and look at her. 

“What?” 

“It’s hard to explain, but you’re…different.” 

“Yeah, I’ve known that for a while.” Let me tell you, it didn't feel great to have the woman who raised you call you different. 

“No, I mean…” She rubbed at her temples, as if the words she was about to say gave her a headache. “You’re not like other kids, other people. You’re–you’re not mortal.” 

I stared at her, not understanding. “How is that possible? What do you mean?” 

“Listen, everything I’m about to tell you is about to sound completely insane, and you’re going to think I’m crazy. But it's all true, and you have to believe me.” 

“Okay mom.” 

“I need you to promise you’ll believe me.” She held out her pinky and I considered it for a while. If any other person did this, I would push their hand back at them. But this was my mom , and something inside whispered for me to trust her. 

“Okay, I promise.” I linked my pinky with her, and she relaxed. 

“There’s no easy way to say this, so here I go—you’re a demigod.” 

“A demi-what?” 

“Demigod. It means you’re half-mortal, half-god.” 

“I know what it means, I’ve seen Hercules. I just didn’t know it was real .” 

“All the Greek myths are real. The gods, monsters, heroes. All of it.” I felt like my head was spinning, like my world was crumbling around me but also falling into place somehow. While everything was confusing, everything also was starting to make sense. 

“How do you know this?” I was gripping my mug so hard my fingers hurt, desperately trying to hold onto something solid. 

“That’s a long story,” she glanced nervously at the flames, “and I don’t know how long we have.” 

“Please, I need to know.” My mom sighed and then tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. 

“Someday, dear. Soon. But for now, we must move quickly. Now that you know who you are, more monsters will come—at least that’s what she told me.” She stood up quickly. “You have to pack.” 

“Pack?” My heart began to race. 

“Yes, and quickly. There is only one place you can be safe now, and it's time to show you.” She offered her hand and I took it numbly. “Take only what you need.” My mom pushed me toward the hallway and I walked slowly to my room, feeling like everything was in slow motion. I let my fingers trace along the walls and I wondered absently if I would ever see them again. My entire life was just flipped upside down, and now I had to pack? I wanted to scream and cry. I heard my mom mumbling to the fireplace, as she often did, and for the first time in my life I truly wondered why. 

It didn’t take me long to pack my life into a suitcase and a backpack. I only took the essentials, as my mom said, which ended up being some clothes, shoes, toiletries, a few trinkets, my favorite books (reading could be difficult, so I tended to read the same ones over and over), and my ADHD meds. When I walked back to the main room, my mom looked like she had been crying, and my heart sank. 

“I’m ready.” For what? I didn’t know. She turned to me and smiled the way parents do when they know they won't see you for a while. A lump formed in my throat. 

“Look at you…all grown up.” She walked to me and put her hands on my shoulders. “The place you’re going to is called Camp Half Blood, you’ll be safe there. You can train and be with other kids who are just like you. They’ll explain everything else you need to know when you get there.” Her eyes were glistening and she pulled me into a tight hug. 

“Why are you talking like this is a goodbye? Aren't you coming, too?” 

“I can't, honey.” Her voice caught, “I’m not like you, although I can see more than most mortals. Even so—it’s against the rules. I’m sorry.” 

Now tears started filling my eyes. 

“I won’t go, then.” 

“Angie, you have to. You’re not safe here anymore.” She pulled away and cupped my face. “When I took you in all those years ago, I promised her I would keep you safe. If anything happened to you while you were under my care I’d never forgive myself.” Tears were now falling down her face, and I could feel the same wetness on my cheeks. “Please, do this for me. Be brave–we will see each other again.” Her eyes were glistening but her smile was warm. I could feel the hot tears running down my face as I looked into the eyes of the woman who raised me, the only person who had ever truly been there for me. The only person who loved me. 

And as much as it hurt, I knew I had to go. We had made a pinky promise to be honest, and if she said Camp Half Blood was the only place I’d be safe, then I trusted her. That tingling returned to the small of my back, and I knew that also somehow was telling me to go. 

“Okay.” I said finally, my voice shaky. “How do I get there?” 

My mom let out a sigh as relief flooded through her body. Then she said something no mother has ever told her child. 

“Get in the hearth.” 

I stared at her in shocked silence for a moment before my words came back to me, “I’m sorry?” 

“Trust me, you’ll be safe.” 

“Mom, I don’t think—” 

“Here,” she cut me off and walked to the kitchen, grabbed a loaf of bread, and handed it to me. “Put this in the hearth and then repeat after me.” She looked at me expectantly, and I tossed the bread into the fire. As it blackened, my mom continued, “Oh Hestia, receive my offering.” 

“Hestia?” 

“Just say it!” It was clear I had limited time to do whatever it was I was supposed to do. 

“Fine! Umm, oh Hestia, receive my offering.” 

“Good. Now: I request your aid as Goddess of the Hearth.” 

I repeated her. 

“If it pleases My Lady, let me pass unharmed through fire and be safely delivered to Camp Half Blood.” 

I finished the ritual and for a scary moment, nothing happened. My mom stared at the flames expectantly. And then suddenly, the flames went from yellow and orange to a cool blue, flickering with green and purple. Now, I’d always been told that blue was the hottest fire, but my mom seemed to be satisfied. 

“Okay sweetie, grab your things. It's time.” 

I swallowed hard. 

“How do we know it worked? What if I get burned?” 

“Angie,” my mom took my hand and I wondered how long it would be until she held me again, “you have to have faith. Hestia has been protecting you your whole life, she will not fail you now.” 

“But I don't understand—” 

“You will, all in the Fates timing.” She gave me another tight hug, letting go quicker than I wished. “Now get your things.” 

I did as she said, putting my backpack on and gathering my suitcase. 

“Oh! I almost forgot.” My mom exclaimed as she rushed to our big bookshelf and grabbed the largest and heaviest tome. I recognized it immediately–a book of Greek myths. They had been my bedtime stories growing up, and I knew most of them by heart. While other kids got Cinderella and Charlotte's Web, I got Jason and the Golden Fleece and Princess Andromeda (my favorite, of course). “Take this, it will help you.” I had to hold it with both hands, clutching it to my chest. 

“Thanks, mom.” She nodded and looked to the flames, which were still flickering blue. 

“You’d better go, it's best not to keep the Goddess waiting.” 

I couldn't believe what was happening, but it was as if an external force was guiding me along when my feet could not. I stepped to the large hearth, and, feeling no heat, took a deep breath, thought here goes nothing , and stepped in. 

I closed my eyes and winced instinctively, but after a few scary moments I realized I wasn’t being burned alive. Sure I felt the flames, they were warm, but they didn’t hurt. I laughed in relief, but my mom didn’t look surprised. 

“I’m proud of you, Andromeda. I love you, and you always have a home here—remember that.” 

It was rare my mom called me by the name given to me at birth, and for some reason, hearing her say it now was confirmation that I was doing the right thing. 

“I love you too, mom.” 

And, almost as if on cue, a golden shimmer filled the hearth and obscured my vision. I felt like I was falling, like I was being pulled through time and space at a speed humans were definitely not supposed to travel. In a moment, I was forcefully pushed forward into a bright room, coughing and covered in soot, my hands gripping my suitcase and my book.

[3584-tropical-fish]

Day three of @podcastgirlsweek :

WIP Wednesday! We all have art/fic/ meta we've been meaning to get to. This is your day to finally commit (as long as your WIP is about podcast women, of course.)

Opened up one of my AU planning documents for this, so: introducing (on my blog, at least) @the-zenith-calls' and my part-crack, part-fix-it, part genuine means of character analysis crossover AU! Possibly the worst way to introduce it, as this doesn't include any of the characters that actually make it a crossover, but it does mark a significant scene for the B-Plot.

(Luckily for me though, Lia has a more proper post about it! Go look at their art, it’s literally so so cool and I love it so much!)

Summary: Georgie had been expecting a fairly peaceful evening, but unfortunately for her, Melanie's post-work gossip session quickly turns into what feels a bit too much like an interrogation from one of their local vessels of horror.

Melanie has had a key to Georgie’s flat for a couple of months now, so Georgie isn’t all too surprised when she opens the door and immediately flops face-first into the couch of the main room with a groan. Georgie decides to let her lie there for a moment, but when a second groan comes from somewhere in the couch cushions, she decides it’s better that she bite the bullet now, rather than let Melanie stew in… whatever it is she’s stewing in.

“What’s wrong?”

Another groan from the couch. “Work.”

Georgie almost laughs at that, but instead says, “You’re going to have to be a little bit more specific than that. Was Jon being an arse?”

Melanie flips herself over on the couch and props herself up on its arm to look at Georgie. “Yeah– well, no. Not really. A bit? It’s more what he’s not doing. And what Martin is.”

“I thought you didn’t talk to Martin anymore.”

“I don’t. No one does, least of all Jon. And that’s just the problem.” She slumps back into the couch. “Jon doesn’t even try to talk to Martin anymore, and Martin decides to make it worse by holing up in his office and blasting music! And his taste is horrible, Georgie, I can’t stand it.”

Georgie stares at the back of the couch. Luckily for her, Melanie can’t see the face she’s making. “That is… not what I was expecting from your ‘everything is spooky’ job.”

“Me neither,” Melanie says, her voice filled with an agony that Georgie had expected to be reserved for “my boss and coworker just performed nonconsensual surgery on me” situations. Apparently, that voice has also been deemed suitable for… whatever this situation is turning out to be. 

“Have you tried to talk to him about it?”

“Yes, actually,” Melanie says, poking her head above the back of the couch again. “And somehow I’ve become his wingman.”

Georgie looks back at her. “I’m sorry?”

“I told him – like a fool – that I’d try and get Jon to talk to him again. Not because I particularly want them to get together! I mean, I do, because they tend to pine at truly unprecedented levels if they are anywhere near each other, but mainly because I need to stop being constantly bombarded with Martin’s music taste if I want to get out of the Archives.”

Georgie continues to stare.

“Of course,” Melanie continues, “I'd much rather Martin just get over him so I don’t have to talk to Jon. But I highly doubt that will happen anytime soon.”

“And why not?” 

“Have you seen the man?” Melanie asks incredulously, and then she tilts her head and reconsiders. “I mean, it’s kind of hard to see him anymore anyways. But you know what I mean.”

Georgie hums. “I suppose I do. Well, just let me know how that one works out for you, alright? I’m expecting updates on the workplace drama now.”

Melanie laughs at that. “As if you don’t get all the workplace drama already.”

Somewhere on a wall just out of Georgie’s line of sight, a door creaks open. She doesn’t notice it, but what she does notice is the voice that comes from just beyond its threshold. It makes her think of shattering glass.

“And do I get any of these workplace updates?”

Melanie almost falls off the couch with how fast she twists around to face whatever it is that has entered Georgie’s apartment uninvited. “Helen!” Her voice gets defensive. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Georgie steps out into the main room to see Helen leaning against the frame of a bright yellow door, her body – or what has to be her body, even if it twists more than a body should – blocking the view of what seems to be an endless corridor on the other side of the door. The colors of the hallway are unlike anything Georgie has ever seen, and there’s something else about it that just seems off-kilter. She can’t quite place it.

Helen herself seems off-kilter, but Georgie can at least point to what it is that makes her look the way she does. Her fingers, for one, are much too long, and her hair curls and twists into spirals that shouldn’t be possible. Her limbs are gangly and bend at awkward angles to fit inside the doorway, and her smile… Georgie isn’t quite certain how to describe it. 

She decides that perhaps it’s best not to try.

“I’m a little out of the loop when it comes to the Archives, these days,” Helen says, tilting her body in something of a shrug. “But I would rather like to have an idea as to what’s going on there, and I can only hope that you’d…” she tilts her head and folds herself around the doorframe, “humor me.”

Melanie crosses her arms and eyes Helen. “And why – exactly – don’t you know what’s going on there? Jon mentioned to me that he hasn’t seen you in a while, and I know that I certainly haven’t seen you recently. Where have you been? Why show up now?”

Helen sits down (where on earth did that chair come from?) and smiles sweetly. “Oh, no reason that matters to you. Now, you were updating us on workplace gossip?”

“I was updating Georgie, actually.”

“And now you’re updating me as well! So, get to it!” She grins. “I brought wine for your troubles.”

Melanie throws her hands up and turns toward Georgie again. “Do you see what I have to deal with? Every day?”

“Yes, hon, I see.”

Melanie stares at her. “You’re no help.”

“She’s not really doing anything, is she?” Georgie asks. “As long as she behaves” – she gives Helen a hard look – “I don’t see why she can’t stay.”

Helen laughs gleefully, and the glasses sitting out on Georgie’s table rattle. Georgie raises her eyebrow. Thankfully, Helen stops laughing, and Georgie takes her place at her kitchen table to listen more carefully to Melanie’s work updates. “Might as well get started now, Melanie, if you want her to leave sooner.”

Melanie groans and flops back onto the couch. “Fine. Fine! I guess she can just stay here, and loom ominously, and–”

“I did say that I brought wine.”

“And I don’t trust your wine!”

“That’s probably a fair judgment,” Helen says, and the wine bottle (which had appeared seemingly out of nowhere at some point during the conversation) disappears under equally befuddling circumstances. Or at the very least, circumstances that Georgie certainly doesn’t understand. “But tell me,” Helen continues, “what’s the whole kerfuffle with Jon and Martin now? I thought by this time those two would have figured themselves out.” She grins again, her teeth sparkling in a way that Georgie knows shouldn’t be possible. “Much like you two have!”

Melanie groans, but begins to explain anyway. “I’m sure you know how Martin is, what with your whole… everything. Poking your head into places where you’re not wanted. And I’ve told Georgie about my gripes about him enough. Take that – volatile already – and combine it with the fact that Jon has apparently made some new friends? Yeah, it’s not–”

“Jon has new friends?” Georgie asks, perking up in her seat.

“Haven’t I told you about them?”

“You might have, but if you did I thought you were joking.”

“Unfortunately for me, I’m not.”

“Who are these people?” Helen asks, with an edge to her voice that Georgie isn’t entirely certain that she likes. 

“You know, I don’t really know!” Melanie says. “Apparently they both came in to give a statement, one after the other, on a day I wasn’t there. And a week or so later, they were set up in the Archives and I’ve basically been avoiding them ever since. Jon’s been telling me ‘Oh, they don’t have anywhere to go right now,’” – this she says in an approximation of Jon’s voice, but doesn’t quite get anywhere close to anything accurate – “But Basira seems to trust them, at least! And Daisy’s out of that coffin now, so I suppose it doesn’t hurt having them around.

“Except, of course, for Martin getting pissy about it.”

Georgie begins to ask a question, but Helen beats her to the punch. “Do you know where they showed up from?”

Melanie shrugs. “I haven’t asked, and they haven’t cared enough to let me know. And really, I don’t care all too much.”

Georgie leans back in her chair. “Why do you want to know, Helen?”

The smile never once drops off her face as she answers, “I like to know what’s going on, is all. It’s good to be connected in this great, wide world of ours, and currently my connections are a little… lacking at the moment.” She stands suddenly and claps her hand, the echo bouncing strangely off the walls of Georgie’s flat. “Same time next week, then, girls? Sounds like a plan!”

Before either of them can say a word in protest, the door behind her swings open and she steps backwards through it with a polite wave. The click of the door as it closes leaves no room for any argument. 

[project-sekai-facts]

I wanted to share my thoughts on what the next focus events could be for arc enders, while also asking you what you think is going to happen if you haven’t already

L/n: I’m honestly at a loss as to what the next event has in store for us. I definitely think it’s an Ichika focus (though I’ve seen people speculate it’s Shiho), but I’m not sure what they could do. Maybe enter a recording label to increase their audience? (Haven’t read Get Over It. yet so maybe I’m missing a part of the puzzle)

VBS: most likely a Toya event, I want to see him get mad. Like full blown anger from him. He was absolutely livid in Light Up the Fire as seen from his card, so I just want him to absolutely go apeshit. Worst part is that he doesn’t have the best relationship with adult figures so the parallels with his father are there. Maybe they’ll also try to reunite with Kotaro etc? VBS has a lot on its plate after the truth bomb regarding Nagi, that’s for sure

WxS: I mean. I’m pretty sure we all know it’s indirectly confirmed to be a Rui event. And this one is most definitely addressing the disbanding of the unit. Since he’s the one most worried about it, I think it makes sense he started the arc with Farewell at the Curtain Call and now gets to end it with a conclusion that will affect the group one way or another

N25: also somewhat obvious we’re getting a Mafuyu event from the teaser, this one is surely going to address what’s on all of our minds: is she going to run away? Our Escape for Survival has definitely set me on edge so I can’t wait to see how the story plays out

Oh yeah I’ve been thinking so hard about the arc enders the past few weeks so here goes nothing

L/n: They actually got signed at the end of Get Over It. It was right at the end of chapter 8 though, so I reckon the event will be taking the first steps as pros, especially considering this was their main goal up until this point. Like how at the end of Re-tie Friendship MMJ decided to change course, and then STEP by STEP was about them actually leaving.

VBS: Toya definitely. You can work it out by MV distribution. I think this will be a getting the band back together sort of story, considering that all the side characters left in LUTF and BAD DOGS interact with the side characters more. In his last event, Toya became good friends with Souma, and considering how Taiga crushed Arata’s ambition using Souma, I wouldn’t be surprised if those two were in it a lot. I hope Kotaro gets a good resolution too after his breakdown in LUTF.

WxS: Okay I have actually spoken about this one but I’ll do it again because I’m very invested in the current WxS arc. I originally thought this would be an Emu event mainly because WxS really needs to shuffle their event order but considering we now know it will be an arc ender no way it’s not Rui. At the end of Canary in a Quagmire he says that he thinks he’s worked out a way for them to all pursue their dreams together, which. The fact that Tsukasa and Nene want to go abroad and Emu wants to stay home already kinda messes with that concept sorry Rui. WxS is very special to him because he’s never had close friends before and doesn’t want to lose it (he literally refers to it as his home in Island Panic) and I think this event will be a bittersweet slaps in the face of reality that they can’t just stay together forever. 👍 also I really want him to spill that Asahi invited him to join ArcLand (aw yeah conflict)

N25: The fucking puppet from her first event man. The puppet triggered Mafuyu in Captive Marionette because she saw herself in it - everything in her life was puppeteered by her mother. And the curtain closing? I’m not sure if she’ll actually run away, but I think she’s going to confront her mother herself. I think Mafuyu is finally more ready to confront that her mother is the problem and is controlling her every move and I want to see her at least try to break free of it.

[novanhistorian]

I must say, thus far I have been quite a poor correspondent. The point of this blog is to slow the rate at which I pester my friends with elaborate—and winding, when verbal—rants about various facets of the Imperium Novel, as well as to have a convenient public point of reference for them when I offhandedly mention something like the “regional parliaments” or when I forget myself and accidentally talk about the gender binary as if it were the gender trinary. (It is partially also because I want a public forum to yell to my very small audience about this thing I’ve been working on for years.)

Needless to say, I have thus far done exactly none of that.

To jumpstart things and give my readership at least something, I have made this massive post.

You can also get this split into separate posts for a better, but less linkable, reading experience:

The Fundamentals

A Sketch of History (masterpost with sublinks)

The Fundamentals

1.3k words.

I am here to talk about the Imperium Novel, which I must immediately clarify is not a novel. What it actually is is a rather massive and intricate worldbuilding project. Now, I could tell you that its name is a relic of the earliest days of its development, when it was really to be one novel with an increasingly cartoonish amount of backstory, and that would be true enough; but the heart of the matter is that I am a painfully pretentious artiste in this specific way. I could have changed the name; I didn’t.

(As for why it is no longer a single novel: As I write this, the [pseudo]historical period I concern myself with covers almost fifteen centuries, most of them quite complicated. Any attempt to cover the whole in one novel would wind up a gargantuan, winding, likely quite boring mess possessing more pages than a medical textbook and less plot than a wet blanket.)

Anyhow, hard segue.

The other basics you need to know are the following:

We are not in our solar system. References to the sun are to the star Scientia (to us, Era Cassiopeiae A), and references to Forsuno or the Far Sun refer to, well, Forsuno (Eta Cassiopeiae B).

The main planet, Terranovo,* has twenty-six-hour days and slightly stronger gravity than Earth. Its days are the standard in most other regions; we are ignoring Ilajn for now because I haven’t formally named their planet. (It has 21.5-ish-hour days and markedly weaker gravity. Let’s hear it for large, fast-rotating terrestrial planets.)

All the planets we care about after 2300 orbit Scientia, and—at the risk of misrepresenting the gravitational dance—the orange dwarf Forsuno basically does too. Scientia’s stellar classification is G0 V, which is to say that it is more or less like our sun, though slightly brighter. Forsuno’s is K7 V, which makes it either an orange or a red dwarf, depending on which classification system one follows. Basically, it’s small, it’s dim (only 6% of the Sun’s luminosity, still far brighter than a full moon), and it will live a very long time after Scientia is dead. Although their orbit is very eccentric (that is to say very elliptical rather than circular), the closest approach between the stars is 36 AU, or just this side of the Kuiper Belt; this allows for stable, although compact, planetary systems around both stars safe from the worst of the gravitational interference of the other star.

Novanity (non-collective singular novan and plural novans) is the sapient species the Novel follows for most of its history. They are, as many of them will bitterly tell you, the products of genetic engineering and a whole lot of moral stupidity on the parts of various humans—but we shall get to that in the history.

* At other points in its history, Terranovo was also known as Terra Nova, Terranova, Tero Nova, and Nova Tero. By the current working date, 745, variation is only historical.

The gender trinary is probably the most relevant thing in here besides the location, but thanks to narrative flow I have to put it down here. The three novan genders occupy roughly the same position as the human two, which is to say that the majority of the population falls into one or another, but there are a large number of outliers besides.

Two of the dominant genders are descendants of our concepts of male and female, and they remain mostly similar and are called by their names. The third is called sendua (an adjective), and people who have it are called senduoj. Its name derives from a shortening of senduuma, a rather nonstandard way of saying “nonbinary;”* it somewhat evolved from the use of the word as an overcategory for a variety of genders,

* It literally means “without a binary;” the human standard, neduuma, is a calque from English.

If you encounter something like Ĉlr or Nŝx/n, that’s reference shorthand, a standardized system used in the Imperium (with War-Era predecessors); it tells you a person’s gender and pronouns, and sometimes their preferred grammatical gender and physical sex.

The capital letters stand for gender and are derived from the gendering suffixes in the Imperium’s dominant language: Ĉ stands for male, N for female, S for sendua, and X (from crossing out the category on a form) for anything else. The lowercase letters, of which there are often more than one, stands for pronouns: l for li, the equivalent of “he;” ŝ for ŝi, “she;” r for ri, “re;” and x for anything else (which is quite rare, but in practice means “ask”).

The lowercase letter after the slash, if it exists, describes grammatical gender—and boy do I wish English had a shorter way to say that. The Imperium’s dominant language is largely non-gendered, and for words which could be gendered—titles, professions, and so on—the default is to use the genderless base word rather than add on one of the gendered suffixes. But some titles are routinely declined by gender, and several minor languages gender their adjectives at a minimum and their verbs at a maximum. As a result, some portion of the population has a preference about which gender is used, and that’s usually denoted like this. (The letters themselves follow the same rule as the actual gender indicator, and good lord have I said “gender” a lot of times in this paragraph.)

Occasionally, an italicized x or y or a centered asterisk, placed after the pronouns, indicates physical sex. The x and y, mean roughly what one would expect—XX or XY chromosomes respectively, without any sort of intersex condition. The asterisk, which in some state governments has subcategories, indicates that the person is intersex. Sex is mostly irrelevant in social life, so its denotation is circumscribed to medical and governmental records.

As you may have guessed by now, the dominant language is Esperanto—or, well, a version of Esperanto that’s evolved like a (fairly regulated) natural language for a millennium and a half. Some people speak one or more of the so-called “minor languages,” usually regional dialects descended from natlangs.

There are two different calendars in use over the course of the Novel, one that continues roughly directly from the Gregorian calendar and is dated relative to the traditional year of birth of Jesus Christ and another dated relative to the Year of Fortifying the Peace (the official end of the War Era, covered in the last two sections of the Sketch of History).

The first or human calendar can be identified because it will almost always have a four-digit year, and in cases where it doesn’t it gets labeled (B.)C.E. The second or novan calendar can usually be identified by having a three-digit year, or else because it uses a minus sign to indicate its negatives. It may also be distinguished by the ᴊ (from jaro, “year”) that precedes single- and double-digit years, as well as any three-digit years that require disambiguation. The novan calendar has a year zero; this is, as can probably be predicted, the Year of Fortifying the Peace.

Technically there are four major dating systems (standard, human, Terranovan orbital, and Ilajnaplaneta orbital). The orbital calendars exist because neither of the inhabited planets have years particularly close to 365 days, so their seasons are wildly out of sync with the administrative calendars. I should probably also note that neither planet has 24-hour days, and that the administrative calendars are standardized on the 26-hour Terranovan day.

I think that’s about it. I’ll write up instructions on how to pronounce all the random Esperanto words soon; for now, the vowels are like Spanish and the J makes a Y sound.

A Sketch of History

Human Future History, 21st to 23rd Centuries

I will cop to it up front that this period is the least interesting to me and has had the least work put into it; I hope to settle most questions about it here and keep the blog to a mostly novan focus. You are welcome to inquire further, but since humanity’s time on Earth is mostly just background to the background it will likely not receive much coverage organically beyond this. If you, like me, are mostly here for in the genetically-engineered cat people and their post-human politicking, you can probably jump ahead to the next section. 2.1k words.

For all my fine talk, we start with humanity as the sole species, and we start with them on Earth. Everything that led up to our time happened. After 2024, humanity narrowly survived climate change with their civilization battered, but in one piece. The sciences progressed; the most relevant for our current purposes are astronomy and space travel, and the most important later on are the advancements in batteries and synthetic biology.

Public interest in space grew, at least partially fostered by escapist thinking, and the World Space Agency (a terrible name, but so is “the World Health Organization” and they get on alright) was formed. At the outset it was more a collaboration of national agencies than an agency unto itself, but over the years it slowly gained authority and independence and evolved from a coordinator into a major player in its own right. It had quite extensive scholarship programs, which probably contributed.

The Moon was not so much settled as populated by sparse construction and mining towns with few steady inhabitants. I will spare you most of the details, but in short the main business of the Moon was construction for spaceflight and asteroid-mining. Its lower gravity (a) made construction rather easier and more importantly (b) made it much easier to reach escape velocity—that is, to launch something off it and into space. Almost no one stayed for more than five years.

Several things built on the Moon were space telescopes, eventual heirs to the long-defunct Webb, with one being roughly comparable to the proposed Habitable Worlds Observatory. During the climate crises (plural intended) a dedicated minority of the public attention had turned toward exoplanets. Whether or not humanity could reach them now, they said, we should try to develop the option.

Most of the advocates, being laymen, did not understand how mind-bogglingly far such exoplanets were, nor how mind-bogglingly difficult it would be to get there. Most reasonable astrophysicists, and those in related fields, cautiously encouraged the public fascination because it had caused a funding boom, but rightly downplayed the possibility of finding and settling anything.

Then Eta Cassiopeiae Ae fell into humanity’s collective lap. A terrestrial planet, slightly smaller than Earth; in the habitable zone of a very sunlike star; in possession of an atmosphere, but not too much of one; wet, but not too wet; showing evidence of volcanic activity that likely indicated tectonic action—all this, and only (“only”) 19.42 light-years away! Careful observation even indicated it had a moon comparable in size to Earth’s!

Humanity took the hint. In the middle twenty-second century, relatively shortly after its discovery, η Cas Ae (at the time known as η Cas Ad, as it was discovered after the two outer super-Earths) was confirmed to have the right amount of water to potentially support life. No life yet existed, at least that humanity could detect; but that didn’t mean they couldn’t go over and put some there.

A certain august international body, in company with the World Space Organization, put out a call for anyone of skill interested in the prospect of settling η Cas Ae. The public response was immediate and enthusiastic, and demands were made to give this new Earth an official name rather than its sterile initial designation. In their exuberance, they unwittingly named it after Newfoundland; this was only noticed several months after the fact.

Thus was the Convention for the Terraforming and Settlement of Terra Nova called. The Convention gave way to the Committee for the Terraforming [and so on]; no one wanted to say all that, so most languages shortened it to “the Terra Nova Committee.” In English it was often called the rather snappy “New Eden Project.”

The official language of the project was declared to be Esperanto. This left most of the world very confused and astonished the handful of people who knew what had been going on behind the scenes—they had never expected it to actually work.

(Esperanto, as I hope you know, is an international auxiliary language created by L. L. Zamenhof and first published in 1887. It is designed to be simple and easy to learn, but still capable of a full range of expression. It is the most popular I.A.L., though that does not mean it has ever been exactly societally prevalent. Most everyone I mention it to has never heard of it, or else has only run into its name in passing. I have never, to my knowledge, met an Esperantist—unfortunately including myself, as I am grammatically sound but not yet fluent.)

Most of the work of the Committee was one of five things:

How do we get there?

How do we build that?

What do we do once we get there?

What do we need to accomplish the above?

Whom do we send?

They solved the first question by commissioning various independent teams of experts for potential starship designs, choosing the best three or so, and bringing their creators onto the subcommittee responsible for the actual final design. That committee was given ten years to come up with a first design and was intended to run for thirty overall, then handing things off to another committee that would be responsible for bringing that plan to fruition. It wound up taking forty, but that more or less happened.

The second question was solved incidentally by the first committee from question one, and their answer was “in space.” Given humanity’s off-planet expansion, it seemed the natural choice. By the time of the conclusion of the design phase they were also mining the asteroid belt, very carefully and mostly via robots, which provided the Terra Nova Committee another much easier fount of resources for their project.

The solution to the third question was rather more complicated than it might initially appear. Clearly they had to terraform the new world—that atmosphere, in its current state, was poisonous—and that would require a timescale measured in centuries at the minimum; but whence were they to do it? Where do you send potentially tens of thousands of your children and their children’s children to live and work in pursuit of a goal they themselves will never see?

The best choice was obviously the moon around the planet—it was well-positioned for a base and it should have enough gravity to beat off the worst of the developmental effects. Life on the moon had been proven possible long before, although few who took up residence there stayed very long; so had life in the asteroid belt, whose recently-sighted Terra-Nova-system counterpart they planned to mine. There would have to be improvements—these hypothetical “canned generations” would have to spend their whole lives on the moon, so their situation was not really comparable to that of the human-contemporary lunars.

It fed into the fourth and fifth questions, which were uncomfortably close to one and the same. Once the starship arrived at Terra Nova, its occupants would be alone. Earth would be unable to send help in anything resembling a timely manner, and supply runs were an outright impossibility. The lunar settlement, and later the planetary ones, needed to be self-sufficient and capable of performing the terraforming work laid out before them. But they also had to be able to build the ship in the first place, within reasonable materials constraints. Mass is a major consideration in air- and spacecraft design for many reasons (the most relevant here being its effect on the amount of energy needed to alter a craft’s course, be that for maneuvering reasons or simply to get the blasted thing moving in the first place), so cargo had to be minimized too. As a result, they tried to maximize the amount they could derive from materials in the new system or renewably produce aboard ship—food, water, clothing, plus metals and more water after Advent.

I’ll omit the math and any more of my rambling here, as I have already gone on far too long about the fourth question. Just understand that the fifth question was decided under the same material constraints as the fourth. They decided to send a few hundred carefully-chosen scientists, other “people of expertise,” schoolteachers, and their immediate families, all given training on how to handle the isolation they would face and on how to deal with the vastly different cultures their new roommates would come from. The number of people—around eight or nine hundred—was high enough and their sources global enough that they ran very little risk of problems with genetic diversity or in maintaining their population. Only three of the twelve highest-ranked officials in the Committee (which by this point was more of a Division) opted to go.

Probably in the early twenty-third century, the project was finally ready. The great starship was built, the people were chosen, every single possibly necessary thing had been loaded aboard in triplicate. (That last is an exaggeration—the things allowed on board were very strictly controlled and pared down, and while they were given a margin of error, it was far from triple the expected need.)

They set out—and novan knowledge goes entirely dark.

I write from a post-Departure novan perspective, and although I have my guiding theories and research on how humanity got to Terra Nova and what they did on their way, at the end of the day I like to keep it a black box. With that said, feel free to speculate wildly in my inbox. God knows the novan scientific community has been doing the same for centuries.

We will get to why this disappointing blank exists, and why the dates on the Committee period are so fuzzy, when we arrive at the Departure and then the Devastation. We think the voyage lasted two to three generations, if that helps in your guessing.

We pick up their trail again somewhere between five years (short chronology) and two decades (long chronology) before their arrival at the new solar system, and we do this mostly by reconstruction. The early Lunar period, beginning about two years post-Advent (that being the general term for arrival at the Scientia system), was not targeted for destruction, and thus its records have a much better survival rate. By this point the miracle starship had apparently been disassembled and re-formed into Prime Dome. As Prime Dome is known to have been nearing completion two years after Advent, that allows us to use its culture and current events to reconstruct those of the late Shipboard period.

Shipboard politics were generally quite a restrained affair. Government was handled mostly by an elected committee of respected scientists, professors (these from the shipboard university), and career public servants. It was called simply the Leadership Council and held wide-ranging authority. Social norms, like politics, were fairly rigid, and there was a strong emphasis on the social contract. Cohesion was to be prized and praised, and the good of the collective came first in all cases. The ship required its human components to be in as perfect of working order as its mechanical ones, and any societal crisis would potentially damn everyone aboard to death in the void. In this unstable environment, the Terra Nova Committee had determined, a strong hand was needed at the tiller and social cohesion had to be prized above other goals. (Every member of the project who had embarked from Earth had agreed to their peculiar form of government, which was to be replaced with a less-overbearing republic once they were safely settled on the Moon and could afford such things.)

Scientists from, or whose recent ancestors had been from, certain countries often had minor rivalries or feuds with scientists from certain other countries; but this was kept to a background tension, heated competition over sports and that sort of thing. The ship had a population of perhaps eight hundred at the outset and it seems a similar number arrived at Terra Nova, so there may have been some amount of regulation on reproduction.

Independent organizations of more than a handful of people required official permission, and until they got it were given very little leeway. Political parties were unofficially banned as engines of disunion; one was to vote based on an assessment of the relative merit of the candidates. Most political discussion took place in private discussion clubs, which usually met in a member’s apartment or a restaurant. These clubs, which I will for ease’s sake be calling by their later name, “salons,” generally numbered ten to forty people, the average being twenty-six. Since the population was so small, at their peak there were only nine such salons worthy of the name; by the arrival at Terra Nova four had dwindled out and only two newcomers had risen to take their place, yielding the Seven Salons so notable in later history.

The Pre-Novan Lunar Period, 2300 to 2450

This part of history is predominantly based on the actions of a few key people. I swear to God this is very condensed compared to the amount of canon that actually exists. The next section should be more trends-based, as we and history are no longer working with a population of less than a thousand people wherein everyone knows everyone and individual actions have outsize impact. Please be aware that this section of the summary contains descriptions of what I can only describe as a mishandled crush leading to nonconsensual use of genetic material. I really don’t know if that needs a warning, but what Sikora does is creepy as hell. 4.5k words. Part of “A Sketch of History;” preceded by Human Future History; followed by the Remainder of the Lunar Period.

The Advent, in this instance, has nothing to do with Christ—it refers instead to humanity’s arrival at the new solar system. The shipboard government decided it was such a momentous occasion that they should jump the calendar forward to the suitably impressive year 2300, so they did. (This is important later.) The aim of those aboard then shifted from the holding pattern of life in transit to frantic preparation for their final landing on Terra Nova’s moon.

The early Lunar period is largely dominated by two figures: Alexei Ilyasov and Darya Staravya. I’ll discuss them as briefly as I possibly can here, given that I’ve already had to cut two drafts that spent eight paragraphs on them and them alone. Expect a cleaned-up version of one of those to be posted at some point as an extra.

Alexei Kirilloviĉ Ilyasov was, at Advent, forty-one and supposedly a climatologist. In practice he was a politician of the rather subdued shipboard breed; he ran with no party and gave his rousing speeches on paper. His major focus was preparing for Advent, an event which, while yet unnamed, had loomed large on the horizon for most of his life. He had been an Illustrian—that is, part of a large salon known for meeting in the poshest restaurant on the ship—for about ten years. Like most of his fellow members, he was a reformist and an amateur linguist absolutely convinced he and he alone knew how to perfect Esperanto; also like most of his fellow members, it never came up unless he was asked about it point-blank.

It surprised even him when he was elected Council Chair* shortly before Advent; he was serving a Council term at the time, but had made no bids for the Chair and had planned to guide the Council toward a successful Advent from within rather than above. Regardless, he acquitted himself wonderfully in the office, and his administration—twenty-two years long, with a two-year gap after his eighteenth, when he was voted out of the Chair—did likewise. It was under his authority that the starship was broken down and re-formed into Prime Dome, the first and largest of the lunar dome-habitats; he inaugurated the First University. When he finally retired, construction and terraforming were both proceeding ahead of schedule and the first mining expeditions into the asteroid belt since the construction of Prime Dome were underway.

* His election was the result of a compromise on the Leadership Council between deadlocked Illustrians and Blue-Roomers, who both saw him as inoffensive and unlikely to make any terrible decisions.

Toward the end of Ilyasov’s career, Darya Staravya, the other major figure of this period, comes to prominence. She was born three days after Advent, the first baby of the new solar system, and she would have been notable for that alone. Her parentage—Brits Clarence and Marina Staravia, who had, in accordance with a contemporary fad, made up a “new name for the new world” upon their marriage—is necessary to mention to explain her surname, but they’re most notable as her later collaborators. I should also mention that she was Ilyasov’s goddaughter; he was about a decade older than her parents, but they aligned politically and intellectually and had met in their mutual salon.

Staravya was a prolific inventor and engineer, and in her forties she was the primary mind and force behind the Starry engine (officially the “New Standard Engine, Mk. IV”), which would be the basis for most all interplanetary flight for centuries to come. That was arguably her most distinctive invention, but her most pervasive came about by accident when she was in college. She, like all Scientian children, was in some form of school from age four until eighteen; during the latter half of that time she and a friend* progressively refined a private phonetic script or cipher, which they mostly used for the extremely teenage purpose of snarking at their teachers without them knowing. While students in the First University, they taught their other friends the cipher, and, generations being small when the total population is 1,021 people, it quickly spread through all of theirs.

* Yoshikawa Namiko, about a year older than Staravya, later a biochemist and historian. (Her parents, by contrast to the Staravias, and the Myleras a generation later, were not caught up in the new-name-for-a-new-world craze, seeing as they were Red Hats and didn’t bother with that sort of thing the way the Illustrians and Spider’s Nest did.)

Now I have to step back and give a bit of context. The problem of naming had been under debate since shortly after Advent, when Ilyasov had tried unsuccessfully to force everyone to fully Esperantize their names. (“Aleksejo Ilyasofo,” who did not by any means like writing that version of his name in every blasted language, was almost glad when the motion was shot down by seven elevenths of the rest of the Council.) Debate, among the perhaps sixty percent of the population who cared one way or the other, was split between those who favored the invention of some new writing system and those who instead favored regularization of sounds in names to match the phonology and writing system of some language. The former were called Sonskribists and the latter Regularists (though I anglicize their names here).

Staravya was in the forty percent. She thought it all kind of silly, having heard every possible argument at her dinner table growing up. She had been an unofficial test subject for too many of the new scripts (her parents being ardent Sonskribists, to Ilyasov’s alternating consternation and amusement) to actually take them seriously as a solution; she dismissed the Regularist position out of hand. While she did use her phonetic system to note down names’ pronunciations, it had always functioned as more of a code for her. She and her friend, Yoshikawa Namiko, actually had a minor falling-out over whether or not to encourage the growth of the script, which Yoshikawa believed they should and Staravya dismissed as irrelevant.

Yoshikawa won.

Now we come to a more trend-based as opposed to person-based period, which I can—finally—cover pretty quickly. Staravya went on to be a prolific inventor, as described in the second paragraph of her description, but she never crossed over into a major public figure the way so many others did. The Yoshikawa-Staravya phonetic script became the standard way to note down pronunciations, though it would take a century and a half more until it started replacing Latin and Cyrillic outright for the writing of names. (It never entered some scripts at all, including Arabic, which even well into the novan period adapted all names to its own orthography.)

The Leadership Council does not so much give way to as become the Academy, a name initially belonging to the board of directors of the First University set up by the moon-dwellers. Akademio, translated here as “Academy,” is also the term used for Esperanto’s regulatory body in our world and theirs. The University’s Academy had absorbed the Akademio de Esperanto, to the great consternation of the salon called the Spider’s Nest, back in the early days of the project. The Leadership Council in turn absorbed this unified Academy, at first thanks to near-complete overlap in membership and later by official decree; having so done, it declared itself the Terra-Novan Legislative Academy. (Later historians know it as the First Terra-Novan Legislative Academy.)

Staravya died in 2358, just under two decades after Ilyasov; Yoshikawa lived into the early 2370s, meaning her lifespan just barely overlaps with the next people we need to talk about. They, as they are ultimately more historically important, will take proportionally longer.

Florentine Sikora was born in 2370, or shortly after the official merger of the Leadership Council and the Academy. She grew up in an era of immense (compared to the mostly-static shipboard culture) change, but we’re not going to talk about any of that. We’re going to talk about this thing called the Catgirl Principle, and then we’re going have some bad lesbian representation. (Quite likely it also qualifies as bad allosexual representation, seeing as your author is ace.)

The Catgirl Principle is an oft-cited novan aphorism, most common in the first few centuries of the Imperium and believed to have reached its permanent form sometime in the middle War Era. The sentiment it describes is far older, and we will get to it in due time. The Principle is this: “A statistically significant proportion of the human population would want to fuck a catgirl were the opportunity to present itself. A statistically significant proportion of them would be willing to take active work toward that goal.”

Sikora was in that second proportion, and unlike the vast majority of them she refused to handle it by any reasonable means. I will spare you the details of what I mean here, but in short, Sikora never considered just getting a girlfriend and discussing arrangements for role-play involving a cat-ear headband and a tail.

Sikora wanted a catgirl, and—given the advancements in synthetic biology since our time, which I almost completely glossed over back in “Human Future History”—she figured she could just go ahead and make one. This was an absurd proposition—doable, maybe, for a team of two dozen with good funding, a few decades, unfettered access to the supercomputers in the heart of the First University, and fairly loose ethics. Sikora was a schoolgirl with a dream. But she wouldn’t remain that way forever, and soon enough she was off to the First University, designated a student without work* and planning to major in genetic engineering.

* Most university students had, in addition to their classes, to perform some menial office for perhaps ten hours a week, or two hours per day of the core week. The “student without work” designation was given to those who showed remarkable aptitude in some useful field, as a way of softly forcing them in the direction they would most benefit society or the sciences. With Sikora it paid massive dividends in the most awkward way possible.

Because Sikora lived on the far side of Red Dome (the second erected and first constructed, by the classical reckoning), she was offered the chance to move into an apartment inside the University itself. She took it and was assigned Mieke Nagtegaal as a roommate. Nagtegaal was also a student without work for her promise as a genetic engineer, but—in contrast to Sikora’s animal focus—particularly interested in plants. She was outgoing, very attractive, and the kind of person to listen intently to what someone was telling her no matter how long the explanation lasted, and Sikora fell hard for her. Nagtegaal, for her part, saw Sikora as a surprisingly charming person beneath the quiet exterior, and they became fast, close friends.

As you can imagine, this went badly.

In university as in tertiary school, Sikora was driven; intelligent; especially talented at genetics; and very, very good at ingratiating herself with teachers. In her first year, one of her professors brought her onboard a project that had as one of its goals the development of a large research database of fully sequenced human genomes. Sikora saw this as an excellent opportunity to—instead of, say, confessing her feelings and maybe trying to start a relationship—convince Nagtegaal to contribute her DNA to a public University database, from which Sikora could later retrieve it and use it as the base for the catgirl. The samples were supposedly anonymized, but Sikora figured she would, like Caesar, build that bridge when she came to it.

Their second year brought Nagtegaal a girlfriend, later her wife, and Sikora greater technological access that did not quite make up for the loss. This greater access came in the form of a laptop, powerful even by that time’s impressive standards, running the University’s full suite of cutting-edge-five-years-ago gen-eng software. The project she joined to get access to it is unimportant; it did, however, give her a foot in the door that would prove vital later.

Then she used a professor’s administrative access to locate which anonymized human genome belonged to “Nagtegaal, Mieke,” waited a few days for appearances’ sake, and downloaded roughly seven gigabytes of her roommate’s DNA to her new computer. Creep.

That brings us to what would later be marked as the beginning of (drumroll please) the Novan Development period. Some reckonings have it starting earlier, with Sikora’s initial decision to make a catgirl in her early adolescence or else with her entry into the University; but while she clearly worked on the catgirl project on and off, mostly by research, before acquiring the suite, the actual development begins only now.

It ran ten more years. Sikora was in the University the entire time, pursuing first a master’s and then a doctorate after her baccalaureate failed to give her enough time and access, and often sidelining that doctorate to hop aboard professors’ projects and even headline one of her own. In that time Nagtegaal, who got an excellent offer right after she finished her master’s, moved out and started work, leaving Sikora alone in their apartment.

Sikora’s magnum opus progressed in secret, extensively annotated and tested almost every night (as running it still took four to six hours). Back in her second year, she had quickly and euphemistically named the project file containing Nagtegaal’s DNA “nówka,” roughly “new thing.” The name wormed its way into her head over the years, and in time she came to think of the catgirl as the nówka instead. (It doesn’t hurt that “nówka” happens to decline in the feminine.)

As for the development of the nówka, her ears expanded and shifted down her head to match the too-complicated-to-move human ear canal while keeping a tall-eared silhouette; her tail came along nicely; working claws into her human fingers required completely redesigning her distal phalanges; Sikora quickly abandoned all pretensions at whiskers. (I bold “ears, tail, claws” here because they will come back with a vengeance when we get to the identity crisis of the second century, and that’s not to mention the Novan Nationalists.)*

* Nor “hearing, balance, defense.”

Eight years in, Sikora had done all she could with the simulation capabilities of any of her succession of laptops. The version of the software she had, the one that didn’t have to run on a supercomputer cooled by a lake, could do full simulations of the effects of short genetic sequences (i.e., the resultant biomolecules) and rough simulations of much longer material, but the human genome was more than twice the length of its ostensible input cap. Given a few hours it eventually managed, but her laptops suffered for it and the results it produced were necessarily inexact. Having now gotten the best draft possible with her current resources, she set her sights on better ones.

In flight the supercomputers had been used to manage the ship; now the Academy and the Terraforming Bureau had right to them, and a subset were used for genetic simulations of great accuracy and almost unlimited size. You can see where this is going.

She had by this time been brought onto a project (ultimately ill-fated, but later to inspire the sand-wolves) with an Academian at its head, and although she was in one of the lower rungs she had caught the said Academian’s attention. She had over the years maintained public side projects, partially out of interest and partially to impress her professors, and now it paid off. The Academian—and a few of her colleagues, Sikora’s professors—tacitly suggested that it would not be such a bad thing were Sikora to run the occasional after-hours experiment using one of the supercomputers, if nothing too urgent was going on.

Sikora, given an inch, made like the Devil and the British and took a mile.

She spent the next few years patching the gaping flaws in the nówka’s design that this more precise testing revealed. Finally, in 2407, she had something good. It ran perfectly in the supercomputer; it had all the features she wanted. It would work, she was sure, if she grew it in the real world; so she finangled her way into a frankly absurd set of permissions, never quite letting anyone know just what she was using them for, and actually managed to slip it by the review board.

The first nówka experiment was an utter failure. The nówka fetus, difficult to create and so promising, died before three months were out. Sikora couldn’t understand why, and she couldn’t get together the materials and permissions to do it again. She gave up utterly on the project, wallowed in self-pity, and tried to re-focus on her much more boring normal life.

Here Nagtegaal re-enters our story. She had never left Sikora’s, even though they drifted apart over the years as Sikora failed to call or write. She knew, vaguely, about her former roommate’s attempts to “create a new species,” had gathered that this new species was supposed to be sapient, and had overall thought it was neat. Too ambitious and not in her—Nagtegaal’s—area of primary interest, but neat. She asked about it one day, having asked Sikora out to coffee and Sikora having taken her up on it delightedly. Sikora almost started crying and said she had given up on the project, refusing to give Nagtegaal any more information.

Nagtegaal spent three weeks trying to figure out what happened and to convince her clearly distraught friend to resume work, or at least talk to someone. Then, after the last of a string of near breakdowns on Sikora’s part, Nagtegaal’s concern reached a boiling point. She broke into Sikora’s apartment and tried to find her notes on this “nufka” project, to see who—Nagtegaal was sure it was a who—had so badly damaged her self-confidence.

What she found instead was complete, fastidious, impossible documentation of the genetic code for a new sapient species. At the top of the folder a pinned text file held data about a practical test, ending with a paragraph about the final failure of the experiment.

Nagtegaal was floored.

So was the Academy, when she showed them Sikora’s research (which she had quickly copied onto a flash drive).

With the Presentation to the Academy we come to the Public Phase of Novan Development. The Academy, with Nagtegaal’s advice, privately contacted Sikora, who—despite being a normally dignified doctor in her thirties—sent back a moody email saying simply that the nówka wouldn’t work and there was no point in trying. She refused all involvement, but wanted credit for the initial development of this impossible dream. Maybe there would be a novel about it someday.

She also requested they rename the project from “nówka” to the less Polish and more Esperanto “novo,” which preserved the pun in almost exactly the same form. (Nówka is the adjective meaning “new” plus an ending that turns it into a noun, and so is novo.) It did create some confusion regarding the adjective nova, which now could mean either “new” or “having to do with the project called novo,” which never really got solved. The way the novans later deal with it is to use novara (“having to do with the novan species”) as the adjective form of novo, which works well enough but breaks the stated purpose of Esperanto.

Without going into excessive detail, the Academy liked “novo” mostly because it was so similar in structure to to homo, “human” or (at that time) “person.” Copying that pattern let them quickly produce versions for other languages, including novan (English), and the species name novaro (off the pattern of homaro, “humanity”); it would later produce the Latin novō, which is a homograph of an existing verb and must often be distinguished by context.

The Academy then published Sikora’s research and announced it widely, but declined to form an official committee to continue it. The nówka was in no way relevant to their main focus, that being terraforming efforts,* but anyone to take up the project would be given liberal resources. Essentially, they left it to open-sourced community development. It fostered a surprising camaraderie among the different teams who formed to take up the challenge, and it actually soothed political tensions between diametrically-opposed salons.

Well, it did portions of all these things. Novans have a tendency to assume their creation must have been a society-wide effort, but really perhaps a hundred people ever had more than a surface-level involvement over the decade and a half of novan development. A twelfth of society, yes, but only a twelfth. (Nagtegaal was not one of them, even after someone realized it was her sample used as the basis for novanity. She was, as she put it, just and only a botanic engineer.)

* There were persistent rumors that the Academy fostered the development of early novanity in search of a servant species, and in later days it was commonly believed as fact. It is in reality bullshit. Not unreasonable, given the Academy’s persistent monopoly on and heavy-handed use of power, but bullshit. I have to mention the rumors here because of the influence it has on the Darwins and the various novan identity crises, but the Academy was genuinely focused only on the flagship scientific achievement that novanity represented.

Fifteen years after the Presentation to the Academy, Novan Test 42 was successful. On the seventh of November 2419, a successful novan infant was born to delighted and somewhat terrified foster/surrogate parents the Augereaus. When it looked like she would survive, she was given the name Evo Darwin—Evo being one of two Esperanto forms of Eve and Darwin, of course, being for Charles. (Esperanto lacks /w/ and has very regular emphasis, so her surname lost its original pronunciation. The end result was a name said /ˈe.vo darˈvin/, something like AY-vo dar-VEEN in English phonetic spelling, with “ay” standing for the sound of the name of the letter A. This concludes the awkwardly-shoehorned-in phonology section of this essay.)

Evo proved bright and excelled in school despite her very obvious differences; she had her entire growth charted and wanted to be a genetic engineer when she grew up, just like her mother. When she was twelve, the first male novan (who had been in development for a while) was born; he was given the name Adamo Chikaonda, partially at Evo’s suggestion.* Another female novan followed shortly thereafter, off Evo’s pattern, as that was proven to be stable. Her name was Espero Darwin, thus making the Darwin lineage or gento the first of many to have duplicate line-headers. They were each raised by different families, which may account for Evo’s and Espero’s startling later differences.

* “Chikaonda” is in reference to the late lead developer of the software Sikora had written the initial nówka genome in, who had in his later years had some involvement with the novan project.

Evo fell in love with and married a human after they met in university; they communicated well and were mostly happy together, even when the human started getting strange medical issues they seemed to have inherited from their father. They did not try to reproduce, but adopted a handful of children: a later Darwin, her spouse’s nephew, and a novan patterned off the said spouse’s genome. Adamo and Espero, on the other hand, saw nothing to do but get together and propagate the species, in exactly those terms. They did not love each other romantically, nor share particularly many interests, but they understood each other better than anyone else would. Their seven children, plus an eighth that they wheedled Evo into carrying after Espero suffered an injury and became infertile, split their surnames between them (the first child being a Chikaonda, the second a Darwin, and so on); this would be common early-generation novan practice for the rest of the novan creation period.

Having gotten the rest of their lives out of the way, we need to jump back to when Evo was fifteen, because it was in that year that Sikora asked Nagtegaal out to coffee to celebrate the three-days-past birth of Espero. This was a tradition of theirs, having been started after they had met and held Evo for the first time fifteen years before; but, fatefully, this time Sikora brought moonshine.

Sikora, once tipsy, confessed that—or more accurately joked about how—she had known full well whose genome she was using and that it had its roots in a longstanding crush on Nagtegaal. Then, well, the whole sorry story of novan development came tumbling out of her mouth; it became increasingly clear the nówka was ultimately the result of a sexual fantasy; and Nagtegaal, horrified, exploded. The resulting scene—Nagtegaal standing up and striking the coffee table, irate, while Sikora leans back in her chair and laughs—would later become a frequent subject of paintings and tableaux, especially during the first and second centuries. What would not become such a favorite of the artists was how hard Nagtegaal wept that night, or how she filled a notebook and a half in the next two weeks with everything she knew about Sikora. They sometimes depict her internal torment over what to do with this new horrible knowledge in light of its potential effect on fifteen-year-old Evo Darwin, but they tend to make it a lot prettier than it was.

Three months later, Sikora died of a stroke. Nagtegaal drafted a letter that night.

Mieke Nagtegaal’s memoirs of Dr. Sikora, created with the full approval of then-seventeen-year-old Evo and her parents, were published two years later. The scandal rocked the Moon and destroyed Sikora’s reputation—but not that of the novan project. That, by now, was far more associated with the community of developers and harried university students that had brought it to fruition. The third novan genome sitting in their mutual drafts was originally intended to bear Sikora’s name, and work ground to an internally-snarled halt. After a worrying two-month stall, a public appeal from Evo and Nagtegaal brought it back into motion under the name Moreau.

And that’s the condensed version.

There are three more major sections of history to get to, and hopefully I’ll get them out soon. I’ll both update this and put them up separately, so you don’t have to watch this post for edits.

[k1nky-fool]

Truth of a Parallel

Part 3: The Thirteenth Widow

Masterlist

Miguel O’hara x OC: Elisa Hannen

Pairing: M/F

Per Chapter Rating: Explicit (for violence reasons. there is no sexual content in this chapter).

Warnings: MCD (major character death), death is treated very seriously in this chapter with lots of angst. But this chapter is almost exclusively hurt/comfort.

Taglist: @gatnalien @sevikasstressball @musicmansauxcord @2downbad4dilfs @its-paprika

Gif by @prettyoatmeal

-Elisa-

To his credit, Eddie didn’t immediately freak out. His flurry of questions was held back in a much more clear minded move, but the longer he took to formulate a response, the more Elisa felt she was intruding on someone’s peace that she rightfully shouldn’t even know anymore.

“Nevermind, this was a bad idea.” Venom decided.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be here. I’ll leave.” Elisa began to turn around.

“No! I-” Eddie struggled. “I’m happy to see both of you.”

That made both her and Venom perk up. “I have a hard time believing that.”

“Come on in.” He invites her away from the window. “I suggest utilizing the door next time.”

“I don't have any other clothes.” She pointed out, and he just grabbed her a hoodie and pair of sweatpants for her.

“Something has to be wrong, he has no reason to think we’re not here to kill him.” Venom panicked, but Elisa was more motivated to distract herself from everything going on outside.

Once she was comfortably situated in his clothes, on his couch with a cold beer, offered out of the kindness of Eddie’s own heart, Elisa waited patiently as Eddie finished whatever he’d been doing before she showed up. He eventually sat down beside her, being remarkably less awkward than she anticipated.

“I feel like I have the right to know why you came here of all places.” Eddie prompted. “Not to sound like a dick, but aren’t you still dating that MJ girl?”

“No, she broke up with me sometime last spring. Apparently there's a limit to how many times your fiancée can stumble into your apartment needing extreme medical attention and begging not to go to a hospital.” Elisa said.

Eddie actually laughed. “I must have missed that class in school.”

“You missed every class but sex-ed.” Elisa pointed out.

“Not nearly as many titties as I was led to believe by a certain friend at the girls academy down the block.”

Elisa gasped in offense. “I must have just had a better education than you.”

“Yeah, I’ll say. Still, you don’t know how to answer a question.” He jabbed back at her. “Why come here of all places?”

“Why does he have the right? You didn’t have the right to your questions when he was being a prick-”

She forced herself to take a deep breath, which Venom clearly wasn’t on board with and it made her slightly nauseous. “I’m overwhelmed. I figured if I had nowhere to go, I might as well settle on the worst.”

“That bad, huh?”

“What?”

Eddie snickered. “It had to get that bad before you thought of coming to me? You’re many things, but you don’t run from your problems.”

Elisa slumped back into the corner of the couch. “Yeah, I’ve got a track record.”

“Why can’t you go home?” He asked. “You got another heart to break waiting for you there?”

“I really wish that wasn’t as accurate as it is, but I’m not dating him.” She let herself accept the defeat all while still defending herself from something that wasn’t even attacking. “His name is Miguel. He’s a Spider-Man from a different universe, and he’s here to catch something that landed here that shouldn’t be.”

He just nodded, knowing that weird stuff like this was pretty typical for her ever since she became Spider-Woman and even more so after she became Widow. “Just out of curiosity, is he hot?”

“I’m working with him, I’m not oggleing this poor man that probably doesn’t even want to be in this miserable universe.” She defended, but Eddie just stared at her as she was having trouble meeting his eye line. “... He’s not… unattractive.”

“Uh-huh.” He smirked to himself in his victory.

Elisa was exposed, but she didn’t mind. Eddie wasn’t the same as he was back in high school and neither was Elisa. But somewhere inside both of them lived two weird kids that were still friends after everything. And Eddie still bought the same trashy brand of beer that was the only brand at the mini-mart that wouldn’t ID them.

“I feel like I’ve earned at least one question.” She suggested, and Eddie made an accepting gesture. “Why’d you let me in?”

“You snuck in.”

“Prick.”

“You know what I mean.”

Eddie laughed, but relented. “I didn’t like how we left things.” He admitted. “I’ve seen the amount you swing to MJ’s apartment, so if you’re not dating her, then you’re at least still friends. I thought there was a chance we could be friends again.”

That made sense, some part of Elisa felt the same. Eddie had betrayed her, and he pretty much ruined her lives as both Elisa Hannen, and Spider-Woman, forcing her to become Widow. And yet, when she was overwhelmed, she needed to find comfort. Whether she liked it or not, Eddie was that comfort. “Were you going to reach out at all?”

“I’ve started to call you about five or six times, but I’ve chickened out every single time.” Eddie admitted.

“What’d you want to say?” She asked.

He choked on his own breath for a little before just retrying with an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know. I really just wanted to know if there was a chance you’d let me try again.”

Elisa felt her heart sink, and Venom did too.

“He could start with a damn apology for once.” Venom hissed into her head.

I want to hear him out.

“Why the fu-”

“Eddie, you used me as a popularity stunt.” Elisa challenged. “Not just my name as a researcher at Oscorp, but also my persona as Spider-Woman.”

“I know.” He accepts. “And it’s no thanks to me that you managed to get on your feet after I published the hit-piece. I did it wrong back then, so I wanna make it right now.”

“You can’t make it right.” Elisa scoffed. “It’s already been done, and it was wrong to do it.”

“I-I know. I-”

“I fixed it without you. There’s nothing left to make right.” She explained to him. “So maybe just do it right next time.”

Eddie perked up. “Next time?”

“Absolutely not!”

Elisa nodded. “It’ll take a little more to get Venom on your side, though.”

“A little? This man better start groveling, or whatever humans do when they don't want to be eaten!” It snapped, still refusing to come out and talk to Eddie, itself.

Eddie agreed without question. “I understand. And I get that it won’t be the same, but I’m willing to be a better friend this time.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, Eddie.” She challenged, and he just kept smiling like an idiot. It was getting late, and Elisa couldn’t realistically stay the night at her ex-boyfriend’s house. “I should get going.”

Venom showed its eagerness to leave with how fast it materialized the suit over her skin and over her face. Elisa took the mask off her face and Venom soaked it back up while grumbling in annoyance in her mind.

“I’ll see you around.” Elisa took off his hoodie and sweatpants, giving him a friendly hug.

“Take it easy, Widow.” Eddie watched as she made her exit out the living room window.

“You made me hug him.”

“You’ll survive, Venom.”

“You going to face Miguel?”

Elisa knew she didn’t have another option, but she really had to know if they had been successful in tracking down Clara from 5302. She got back to her apartment and quickly got dressed, knowing Miguel was likely to show up now that her location was known.

She didn’t expect him to actually knock on the window when she sensed him land outside, but immediately, something was odd. The landing was far too quiet to be Miguel. Instead, Elisa cautiously approached her window to see who was there.

Olivia Weaver, Widow 5302, lifted a shy hand to wave at her. Despite how odd it was, Elisa opened her window and let her in. Olivia was about her height, but with a slimmer build. Her long, blonde hair was tied up on the crown of her head, being pulled through her mask to avoid a misshapen head under the mask. She took off her mask and her eyes were the same shimmering green that Elisa’s had been before Venom had bonded with her.

“Let me guess, Eddie?” She deduced. “He was a host of Venom in my universe too, and still your friend. Oddly enough, you still have Venom currently in my universe.” Olivia explained. “We knew it’d be wild when we found Elisa wearing the Widow mask.”

“You and the other twelve Widows?” Elisa asked.

“Yeah, all of us.” Olivia confirmed. “In every Widow universe, you were always just different. It’s why Venom always finds you. We were too busy wondering who would be hosting Venom if you were Spider-Woman that we never stopped to consider that maybe, Venom wouldn’t find another host.”

“Yeah well, I’ve got-”

“A track record.” Olivia interrupted, relishing in the awkward look on Elisa’s face after being easily predicted. “That’s the same line you said to me in my universe after I said Venom was only using you. Of course, not really you, but the look on your face suggests you want to throw a taxi at my face in this universe too, so maybe it’s a parallel trait.”

“Is being a know-it-all, priss a parallel trait for you?” Elisa snapped. “Miguel too shy to ask for my help, or are you here to tell me I’m not welcome in your Spider Society?”

Olivia threw something at her head at a surprising speed, but Venom moved her arm fast enough to catch it. It was a watch.

“Can you blame him? You’re intimidating.” Olivia joked.

“Wait, I thought none of them trusted Venom?” Elisa recalled quite easily, while Venom was just excited at the thought of going a second round with the Spider Society.

“Venom means a lot of things in the multiverse.” Olivia explained, “Meeting or bonding with Venom is a Canon Event. It’s just a Canon Event that is over for most of them. Peni lost her friend to the Ven#m mech. The Peter that noticed you really hurt his MJ while he was hosting Venom. Peter Porker faced a Symbiote in his universe called Pork Grind. Miguel nearly died fighting Venom in his universe. And don’t even get me started on the Venom Anomalies.”

That definitely sounded right for the reaction she got. “What about you and the other Widows? I even have the same face.”

Olivia took a deep breath. “Venom was originally drawn to my powers when it crashed. Venom and I ended up killing Oscar in my universe. That wasn’t the kind of hero I wanted to be. But it found Eddie, and he stayed hidden for a while, but when he published the Oscorp Expose, Venom took your side. And you were much more of a threat than Eddie was. You and Venom just have a different kind of bond than the other spiders do.”

“What does she mean ‘the Canon Event is over for the other spiders?’” Venom bristled.

That made her heart drop. “Olivia, is splitting from Venom a Canon Event?”

That was the question Olivia was avoiding.

It was obvious as soon as she asked it. Olivia took a moment to find the words. "It happens differently for everyone."

"Wait, we're gonna break up?" Venom panicked.

"We're not gonna break up, Venom." Elisa groaned, and focused again on Olivia. "Look, if everyone agrees that a Spider splitting from Venom is a Canon Event, then suddenly everyone I talk to is waiting for what would have to be the worst day of my life."

"Everyone's waiting for the next horrible thing to happen to you." Olivia pointed out, but when Elisa gave no sign of understanding her, she continued. "Is Oscar still alive in this universe?"

"He was locked up yesterday, I think." Elisa didn't understand what she was getting at.

"What about Dr. Claudia Connors?"

Elisa freezes. Claudia Connors worked alongside Nora Osborn in biochemistry, and her attempt at developing a method for regrowing limbs could have benefitted all amputees not unlike herself. Her serum went wrong and she became The Lizard. It was Claudia that introduced Elisa to Oscorp at all because she was the only scientist that truly enjoyed the publicity of it all. Claudia led the field trip her class had gone on.

Elisa made a cure for her, but while it worked on everyone she had turned, Claudia had been dosing herself too high, and the cure only sped up the rate it was killing her. Elisa didn't go to her Junior Prom, she attended Dr. Claudia Connor's memorial service.

"Yeah." Olivia knew the look on Elisa's face. "She's still alive in my universe. She went to your graduation party."

"Why would you tell me that?" Elisa asked.

"Because everyone just lives with it." She answered delicately. “If everyone is waiting for you and Venom to split, then they’re also waiting for me to lose Dr. Connors. For some others, we’re waiting for the Police Captain, Nora Osborn, Flint Marco. Everyone’s on a different timeline, Elisa. And after the worst of it is done, we have a support system made up of the only people in the multiverse that’ll understand.”

Elisa took a long look at the watch. “What about everyone that was ready to attack me? I doubt they’re welcoming me back with open arms.”

“They’re free to avoid you if they want, but if you guys want to sing kumbaya, then that’s up to you.” Olivia shrugged and opened the portal back to the headquarters. “But I know at least one guy that wants to try again.”

“That sounds promising.” Venom teased.

Shut up. Elisa stepped into the portal.

On the other side of the void, several spiders just stared. Some ignored her and continued on their way, and to her surprise, some even gave a polite wave. It was dark outside now, and the lights in the building were kind to her senses.

Olivia brought her back to Miguel’s platform where it had been lowered. His back faced Elisa where she noticed something interesting.

Miguel doesn’t have heightened awareness.

Venom recoiled. “Then how the hell did he pull one over on us?”

“Miguel!” Olivia called out so she wouldn’t startle him.

When he turned around, he seemed surprised to see Elisa. “You actually came back.” He noted.

“I told you.” Olivia reminded him. “Elisa was always an odd-girl-out.”

As much as Elisa wanted to pretend like Olivia didn’t know her at all, there was an obvious sense of familiarity that they had. Elisa remembered that she was in the hospital for 300 rads of acute radiation poisoning for a brief time after she was bitten by the spider. The science class that went on the trip had all made her cards, and Olivia hanged back while some more familiar faces visited her in the hospital with the class. MJ, Eddie and Holly all came to visit, but Olivia was kind enough to visit her personally, give her all the assignments she had missed, and went over her notes when Elisa didn’t understand. Elisa could only hope that her alternate self was kind enough to do the same for Olivia.

“I’m glad you came back.” Miguel said to her.

Elisa hopped up onto the platform with him. “I’m not gonna start running from my problems now.” She said, “What’s your status on the tracking device?”

Miguel’s expression didn’t give her much hope. "We may have underestimated her advancement."

“Uh-oh.”

"No chance that means we can track her tech?" Elisa hoped.

Miguel confirmed the difficult reality. “We realized she wants 4167 Carnage to find Clara.”

“Yeah, I talked to Clara Kassidy down at the station. She didn’t know who reported it, but she was able to figure out it wasn’t me. At least the two of them haven’t met yet.” Elisa supplied.

“Do my ears deceive me, or is she back?”

Olivia lit up like she was expecting this. “How nice of you to join, Peter.”

Peter swung up to meet them and glared at Elisa. “So what is she doing back, and with a watch, no less?”

“Not this wash-up again.” Venom groaned to her.

“Peter, we don’t have time for this.” Miguel argued.

“Miguel, she’s an OUCH waiting to happen!” Peter didn’t let up.

“Mind telling me what the hell an “ouch” is?” Elisa asked.

Olivia was kind enough to explain while Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering in Spanish under his breath, letting her explain. “An OUCH is an acronym for an Out of Universe Canon Hazard. It’s when either an Environmental Trigger travels across a universe and sets off a Canon Event for a spider that isn’t in their own universe in Type 1, or a spider in another universe stumbles across the right Environmental Triggers outside of their own universe in Type 2.”

Venom took offense, yet again. “Everyone is so certain we’re gonna break up.”

Elisa was just about done with this argument. “Peter, I turned you and all your spider friends into a joke because of Venom. Right now you vs. Venom is tallied up at zero to one. I’d say we’re doing fine.”

“And I’ll get your ass again!” Venom cheered to itself.

“We all loved the power the black suit gave us, but we know the cost of it is too much to justify wearing it.” Peter reminded everyone else. “The Canon says that the Spider and Venom will split. And I might not even be worried about any other Event, but if it’s triggered here or anywhere other than your universe, then we have a rogue symbiote on the loose, outside its universe.”

“It’s not his business!”

“Then we burn that bridge when we get to it!” Elisa hissed, only to be held back by Miguel.

“Elisa, stand down.” He said. “Peter, whether we like it or not, she’s bonded with Venom. Many spiders had to reach a truce with Venom to beat Carnage anyway. This might be the only way she survives this.”

Peter wasn’t happy, but at the very least, he understood Miguel’s point. He gave a warning pointer finger in return. “I’m keeping an eye on her.”

“Try it.”

“Miguel couldn’t keep a tail on me for longer than a minute, but whatever helps you sleep at night, Cryptkeeper.” Elisa jabbed, and Olivia nudged her like that was something she shouldn’t have said to their principal, but it made both of them laugh.

“Híjole chicas, we need to figure out our next move, not pick little cat fights with each other.” Miguel chastised. “Now, we can’t find her, we can’t track her, and we’re fresh out of ideas.”

“Well, I don’t usually have tracking technology in my universe, so I say we do this the old fashioned way.” Elisa suggested and Olivia let out a long sigh, likely just tired that this couldn’t be solved by the magical mechanisms from Miguel’s universe.

“Oh, but two Widows investigating a parallel identity in each other’s universes, that’s not an OUCH waiting to happen either?” Peter just gave up on trying to argue this.

“I’ll keep an eye on them.” Miguel assured him, but Peter didn’t look very impressed as Elisa opened the portal to Earth-5302.

The portal came out on a roof near the Oscorp building. “Umm, fair warning Elisa, you might want to keep your mask on for this.” Olivia warned as she brought them to one of the many balconies of the building. Elisa was worried since she recognized this as the balcony to Nora’s Office, but as soon as they entered the building, she realized exactly what Olivia meant.

“Dr. Connors? We need your help on something.” Olivia greeted with joy like this was common.

Claudia smiled, welcoming Widow warmly. Her coat was neatly safety pinned up by her bicep to keep the residual limb safe while she worked in the laboratory. Elisa was left amazed at her face. 5302 Claudia was forty-seven. Her age was showing in a way that only reminded Elisa that she had failed eight years ago. “Who’s this with you?”

“Clara Kassidy found a way to travel across universes. This is the Widow from the universe that Clara invaded, and this is the Spider-Man that knows how to make sense of that tech.” Olivia explained. “We know she was working on her research here, and Oscorp still has copies of those records. We need to see what Clara was working on before she was arrested.”

Claudia took a long look at Elisa, and even Venom could feel her anxiety rising. When she finally took her eyes off her, Elisa was relieved that she’d moved on to observing Miguel. Claudia just nodded. “Alright, I can take you to her lab and unlock it for you, but that’s as far as I go.” She warned.

“That’s all we need.” Olivia thanked her and walked beside her as they led the way to the laboratory.

Miguel stayed back with Elisa, and he was as observant as ever. “Are you alright?” He asked.

“I’ll survive.” She dismissed. Claudia looked back at them for a brief moment, and Elisa tensed and averted her eyes.

“Maybe Peter was right.” Miguel wondered.

“Shut the hell up.” Elisa warned.

Most of the laboratories were sealed off in their own rooms to avoid contamination, and it was easy to plan a route that wouldn’t leave them exposed to any of the ones that had any glass on the walls. It allowed them to just duck under the view of any of the labs that had windows to the hall.

“This is it.” Claudia announced, opening the door with her own key. She stayed by the door as all three of them passed. The police were done here and now the records were organized in the office for anyone that needed to reference her work, with Nora and Claudia’s supervision. Elisa stayed in the back as she began looking around the laboratory. It had been mostly picked clean by the authorities, but the equipment was definitely more advanced than Miguel expected just based on the expression his mask held. Elisa found Kassidy’s desk to figure out if there was anything that suggested a plan, while Olivia and Miguel were assessing the equipment and theorizing ways to locate Clara or perhaps find other evidence of her escape.

There wasn’t much left on the desk, but there was a photo of Clara Kassidy several years ago, celebrating with Nora Osborn and Claudia in front of a chalkboard covered in mathematical work. “That was the day she mathematically proved AdS/CFT correspondence.” Claudia supplied. “Everyone was quite excited, understandably.”

Elisa put down the frame and continued searching without saying a word. She opened a few drawers and pulled out some manilla folders and opened them to see plenty of research papers on a device she called The Seeker. This looked somewhat important, and Venom was also lost on how to scan something and archive it for later use. Elisa poked at her watch for a moment and found a Call Lyla button, and she reluctantly pushed it.

Her tiny, hologram form appeared in front of the watch. “What’s up?”

“Hi, Lyla. Is there a way I can scan this for archiving?” Elisa asked, and Lyla was happy to show her how to use the scanner on her own.

Claudia watched in amazement, but kept giving useful context to Elisa. “That was a paper she wrote on quantum gaps forming between multiversal planes.”

Elisa knew just enough about Oscorp’s quantum physics experiments to understand what Claudia was saying, and what it meant. There were gaps between multiversal planes, and Clara had developed a machine that could seek them out, allowing her to travel through the gaps that already existed.

“It’s interesting to see her theory proven correct right in front of me.” Claudia mused. “I’m glad there’s a universe out there that has Elisa Hannen protecting it.” Elisa flinched and turned to Claudia. “That finally got you to look at me.”

Elisa didn’t know what to say, so she just gave up, signaling Venom to drop the mask. “How did you know?”

“I know the voice of my lab assistant that I see every day.” Claudia laughed, but it was bittersweet. “Something tells me that your universe wasn’t very kind to your version of me.” She said, noting the scar on Elisa’s cheek that she had no way of knowing came from a parallel version of Claudia herself.

“You died eight years ago.” Elisa confessed. “It was an accident that I couldn’t save you from.”

Claudia smiled sadly and Elisa struggled to stop herself from becoming a scared high schooler that never got to say goodbye to her mentor. “My version of you is still my lab assistant in this universe. She’s good friends with Holly Osborn, and she’s a talented chemist.”

“Nora kept me in that position when she hired Oscar. I was still in high school at the time, so I couldn’t take your spot.” Elisa explained. “I was seventeen when you died. And only a year later, Oscar was exposed.”

“Then it seems like your universe hasn’t been kind to you either.” Claudia figured. Olivia said that the Physk hit-piece had happened in this universe, which meant that 5302 Elisa had her trusted mentor to fall back on in this universe.

“You’re so much like my Claudia.” Elisa noted, really attempting to convince herself that this didn’t mean she was talking to a ghost of her friend.

“Elisa, I know I’m not her.” She offered. “But I also know that you aren’t my Elisa. So, just let me as I am, speak to you as you are.”

Elisa let Claudia take her hands in her one left hand. “If your universe has treated you anything like I think, then I hope you know that you’re doing good. The fact that you’re here means you’ve kept going after everything, and if you’re anything like my Elisa, then I know you’re the right person for the job.”

She couldn’t hold back anymore, she just hugged Claudia like she would have if she could have said goodbye. “If you’re anything like my Claudia, then I want you to know that, even after everything, you never stopped being my hero.”

Claudia hugged back just like how Elisa remembered. “Then keep being a hero over there for both of us.”

When they finally let go, Claudia just smiled, letting her get back to scanning documents.

“Just out of curiosity-”

“No, Claudia.” Elisa warned, knowing she was just wondering what had actually managed to take her out in a parallel universe. She was always quite the eccentric personality.

“Alright, fair enough.” She accepted.

“Do you know who your Widow is?” Elisa asked.

“Ms. Weaver told me her identity months ago when she was originally investigating Dr- Ms. Kassidy.” Claudia said. “But I can’t figure out who the triangle man is. I know that’s not Eddie.” She suggested, nudging Elisa’s shoulder with her stump in an old joke. She definitely noticed something suggestive between the two of them.

“N-No, he's Spider-Man from a universe that’s ninety-seven years ahead of us with a wildly different history.” Elisa explained. “He brought together hundreds of spider people to investigate and apprehend malicious universe travelers.”

“Hmm…” Claudia mused. “Then you probably know more than me how troublesome that could be.”

That caught Elisa off guard. “Troublesome?”

Claudia was surprised she had to explain, but it seemed that she was somewhat aware of the theory of Clara’s work. “All of these spider people would be parallel identities in some aspects. I just hope you know that affecting other realities, especially your own parallel identities, might be dangerous for the integrity of that reality’s durability.” Claudia warned, and Elisa was somewhat worried now, thinking of Miguel.

She really did like Miguel, but Claudia was right. Interfering with Miguel’s reality or getting too attached to him and neglecting events that are supposed to happen in hers could be detrimental to the Canon. After all, Canon Events included events like meeting partners like Eddie and MJ, or making friends like Holly or Claudia. If Elisa got too caught up with Miguel, then her own reality could suffer for it. She didn’t need Miguel or Peter to tell her that the Canon was the very fabric of reality that they all existed on. Ignoring or trying to change it could have disastrous effects.

“I’m not dumb enough to start letting romance get in my way.” Elisa assured her.

“Well, you’ve got a track record.” Claudia laughed, and Elisa was once again surprised that she was actually happy to hear those words come from Claudia at least one more time.

Miguel and Olivia came back, happy with their own scans. “We got what we needed, we think we might know where to find her equipment.” Miguel said as Elisa’s mask crept back up her face.

“Good. I got all her research data for reference later.” Elisa offered.

“Alright, we have a trail!” Olivia clapped in excitement. “Thank you, Dr. Connors.”

“My pleasure.” She said, guiding them to the nearest balcony. “And good luck to all of you. We’re lucky to have people like you to keep us safe.”

They bid her goodbye and continued on to find where Clara had set up her equipment after breaking out of prison. Miguel kept pace with Elisa once again. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” Elisa answered. “I just needed to talk to her.”

Miguel didn’t press, likely understanding exactly what just happened. Elisa would just have to move on with the fact that she would never live in a reality where she could truly tell Claudia Connors just how important she was to her. But getting to hear her mentor tell her that she was the right person to protect her own reality was healing. And Elisa got to make sure that in this universe, Claudia Connors would die knowing that she was never seen as a villain to people that loved her.

“That’s good, then.” Miguel said.

The group came to a subway station, and found their way to a maintenance tunnel. The fence in front of them had a locked gate and Elisa grabbed the lock, allowing Venom to poke and prod within it to get it open without much effort.

“Gracias, Venom.” Miguel acknowledged.

Venom bubbled in excitement in Elisa. “I like him too.”

She just laughed and continued down the tunnel with the two of them. Olivia led the way, looking closely at the ground and walls to make sure she wasn’t missing anything. She likely realized at the same time Elisa and Venom did that this tunnel was essentially a choke point.

You know anything about Carnage as a member of your species?

“Carnage is a red rank member of my species.” Venom explained. “Black rank symbiotes, like me, are sent as scouts to worlds that are meant for hunting grounds, as you know. If we do not contact the base, then the planet is not viable for hunting. Red rank symbiotes are physiologically different from my rank. They have the ability to cannibalize equal and lower ranked symbiotes.”

So, did you contact the base when you arrived on my planet?

“I never got the chance to. But I don’t think 5302 Venom did either if it found you.”

“This looks like it.” Olivia announced, finding a lightswitch that did not light up the whole underground lab, but was sufficient enough to find what Clara was doing.

Only one wall was lit up by the lamp beside it. The brick was patterned with all kinds of calculations for the tech she had used to travel. There were tables that were filled with gadgets and papers, only vaguely lit up by a couple of lamps in the cylindrical, brick dome.

Elisa found a reason to be next to Miguel again. “Venom says Carnage’s rank of symbiote is known for cannibalizing equal and lower rank symbiotes. Is it possible 5302 Clara and Carnage want to destroy my Carnage?”

“It’s not impossible, but if they’re trying to kill Canon, then they’re much more dangerous than we anticipated.” Miguel noted.

“Hey, guys?” Olivia called out. They both looked across the circle to see what she was worried about. It was a very interesting contraption, being a collapsible cylinder with a lens that someone could see through. The cylinder itself was bulky, nearly the size of Miguel’s arm, and it looked at least nearly complete.

Miguel’s watch gave him a silent, buzzing alarm that he looked down at, and Elisa froze where she was.

“Something’s wrong.” Venom cautioned.

Elisa kept watching Miguel, and he dropped his wrist and put himself between Olivia and Elisa. He looked back at Elisa, but she couldn’t tell what his mask’s expression meant. His gaze turned back to Olivia, and he began to back up with Elisa, toward the exit.

“We have to get out of here.” Venom warned again.

Elisa’s own senses sent a chill down her spine and she could only do as Miguel said.

We aren’t alone in here.

Olivia had also just felt the presence that could have only been lurking above them the whole time, obscured by the shadow that lay out of reach of the weak lights.

A towering woman dropped from the ceiling, facing Olivia. Her skin was stretched with the red muscle that Carnage enhanced, and Clara wasn’t holding it back at all. It was a full symbiote takeover, and Olivia was right in front of the most dangerous enemy any Widow would ever face.

Elisa began to charge in, but Miguel stopped her. “Stand down, it’s a Canon Event now.” He grabbed her, opening a portal to leave, and leaving a drone to allow them to observe and help when the Event was done.

She followed Miguel through the portal, and they immediately opened the footage the drone was gathering.

Olivia barely dodged Carnage’s claws, but Elisa knew Olivia was smart. If any of her old classmates were clever enough to outsmart Carnage, it was Olivia.

Widow launched herself up to the ceiling, and in a moment, she proved Elisa’s assessment of her right. Olivia used herself as bait, correctly realizing that the ceiling of the brick cylinder likely came out above ground. When Carnage lunged at her, Olivia webbed the ceiling and dropped, using Carnage’s force, and her strength to kick Carnage through the brick ceiling, getting them out of the tunnel.

That was a good move, Olivia can catch it off guard out there.

“There’s no way.”

Shut up, she’ll do it.

Several more spider people ran into Miguel’s observatory to see what was happening. But when Elisa looked back to them, she realized that every Widow had heard that this Canon Event was happening for another Widow, and they all came to just hope that Olivia would be the one to tell them how to survive it.

Olivia kept running from Carnage, but it was easy to notice that she wasn’t trying to escape. She could have easily lost a tail, even if it were Carnage and Clara, but Widow’s were never known for being cowards. All of them have been knocked down no less than any other spider, but no spider, especially not Widows that had all found solidarity in their shared place in the multiverse. No, Olivia was leading Carnage somewhere.

Oh shit, I know this street.

“She’s calling on Venom for backup.” A Widow noticed. Elisa recognized her as Beatrice Jacobs.

The other Widows chattered anxiously amongst themselves, all while Elisa’s heart was beating a mile a minute, and she couldn’t tear her eyes off the screen.

She thinks I have a better chance of beating Carnage. Elisa didn’t want to think that. Olivia was one of the best. Elisa felt utterly hopeless. If Olivia thought Elisa was stronger or smarter than her, then they were all damned.

Olivia waited by a window and dodged just as Carnage’s claws grabbed at her, sending her hand plunging through the glass, and catching the attention of whoever was in the apartment. Carnage realized what had happened, and it grinned with a mouth full of sharp teeth.

The oily, black muscle completely overtook 5302 Elisa’s form. And her friend, Venom, was enraged. Surprisingly, both Venom and Olivia were able to catch Carnage off guard for a moment, and sent it flying into the ground.

Venom wasted no time going after it to kick it while it was down. Unfortunately, Carnage did not stay down for very long. It caught Venom’s neck in its claws and squeezed. Venom screamed out and Elisa had to look away, unaware that her own Venom had put her hand over her neck in an absent-minded move of protection.

Her eyes remained at the floor until the screaming stopped. Olivia had webbed Carnage’s mouth shut, and kicked it in the throat, successfully forcing it to release Venom. However Elisa knew that if Carnage was cannibalistic, even one injury from it would completely wipe out Venom and Elisa for days. Olivia kept moving fast, using her flexibility to weave the webs in a way that restrained Carnage while remaining unpredictable.

Olivia’s odds were getting better, until it all dropped at once along with the hearts of every Widow watching.

Carnage broke through the webbing. When the drone finally caught a glimpse of the outcome, every Widow braced for the worst. Olivia had been caught, and she wasn’t moving. When Carnage released it’s claws from around her neck, she just dropped. The Widows all froze in complete terror.

Clara Kassidy and Carnage had claimed the life of another Widow.

Elisa’s breathing was becoming more and more uncontrollable, and Venom was in complete disarray. It was like they were new to bonding all over again, both of them losing control of the symbiosis they balanced every day. The room began to spin and Elisa lost balance.

She could tell someone was trying to get her attention, but she brushed off their hands and just started walking away. She had to get her and Venom back together, but her heartbeat and lungs were overwhelmed without her permission, and all of her nerves went cold, even as her exhausted muscles continued pushing her forward as she sprinted, and she didn’t know where she would end up, but if it was away from her own skin, it would be far enough.

Whoever had been trying to get her attention followed her, and when they made another attempt to stop her and calm her down, Elisa jumped back away from who she eventually processed as Miguel, and they had managed to walk right out the front door, and were now in the courtyard in front of the building, beneath the city lights of Nueva York.

“Relàjate. Yo tambien estoy asustado, Elisa.” His voice was soft, not annoyed or tired, just delicate with her and desperate for her to listen like he had no idea how to speak to her. This time, when he told her, she did as he said, calming down as Miguel set her steady by holding her shoulders. Her breathing was still erratic, but it was manageable now, and her heart still rushed, but it wasn’t painful anymore.

“Miguel…” Elisa’s voice shook. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Elisa, please just-” He was losing her, and her heart rate began to pick up again as Venom was unsettled again.

“She was smart and strong, and if she’s gone, then I’m next, and I can’t-” Miguel just cut her off by pulling her close and falling to the ground with her. She was finally pulled from her panic as she realized Miguel was shaking too.

"Relàjate. Yo tambien estoy asustado, Elisa." He told her again, but Elisa finally realized what he was saying to her.

"Relax. I'm scared too, Elisa."

Elisa just let herself cry out there with him. Both she and Venom hated crying in front of another person, but it was far beyond either of their control by now. Not only was she terrified for her own survival, but Olivia was someone she had only just begun to know, and her life was now just gone.

"Taken from her." Venom spat from within.

They stayed like that for a moment. It was quieter than she expected. The sounds of a busy city were far off in the distance and low beneath the ground. Elisa and Venom slowly became in tune again, able to use Miguel's comfort as an anchor to reality.

Miguel eventually, reluctantly, opened his arms as Elisa released him.

"We should go check on the Widows." Elisa suggested. Miguel silently nodded and let her help him up and lead him back to the observatory.

The Widows hadn't dispersed. They all stood in a circle surrounding one Widow. Elisa had read that the first Widow to be found by the Spider Society had been Maxine Catch, but she had died in the first Carnage attack. Kat Marco was the second, and it seems to have been her duty to activate the portal to retrieve Olivia's watch so it didn't go unaccounted for. They all turned to Elisa, maskless, holding varying expressions of concern, sadness, or terror.

An overwhelming reality was coming over the room as everyone knew what this meant.

"We're next."

[echo-lore]

A while back I read “The smell of plum blossom tea” by WeirdNCrazy (10/10 do recommend) and a minor part of the story was how Macaque was a medic and was teaching Mk how to be a medic

And ever since then I’ve fallen in love with the idea of Mk being a medic or wanting to study medicine

Like I imagine the scenario as to why he gets an interest in medicine is when Pigsy gets sick when he was around 8 or 9.

Like really really sick.

Could barely stand type of sick. He was vomiting everywhere and trembling and coughing. Tang had to force him to close down the restaurant because of how badly sick pigsy was

It was really weird for Mk to see his usually strong and stubborn dadsy left a puddle of misery in his bed and little Mk had been really worried that he wouldn’t get better. Of course tang reassured him that pigsy would get better, and that he would be back to his full strength in no time!

He was in fact not at his full strength in no time. If anything pigsy had gotten worst.

He was really out of it for the most part. Not fully there type beat. And that scared the shit out of both Mk and tang, who was trying really hard to keep things together for Mk but man it was rough.

But late one night, when the sickness was probably at its worst, Mk had gotten a nightmare. Nothing too significant but he still wanted the comfort of his dads. So he found himself outside his dads rooms but the door was alredy slightly open and he could hear tang ranting/crying about how it wasn’t fair that there was no medicine that would work. All the medicine he did give pigsy just made it worst and he was worried that he wouldn’t make it and how he wishes sometimes that the system wasn’t so unfair against demons

But that didn’t make sense for little old Mk. If there was medicine that was for humans why wasn’t there medicine for demons? And what it made so that pharmacies only have human medicine? Both demons and humans lived in the city, shouldn’t they sell both?

And with that, his nightmare was forgotten and he went down the rabbit hole of healthcare for demons.

Which was just a different type of nightmare.

Ignoring that medical treatments tended to cost more for demons, the whole healthcare system was garbage when it came to demons. Unlike humans, it was a lot harder to generalize the effect of certain medicine for demons. Things like type of demon and magic type affected the type of medicine demons could take which made it a lot harder for demons to get over the counter medicine. Everything needed to be approved by a doctor, even just simple headaches relief. And that was if the demon was allowed inside in the first place, many pharmacies and even major hospitals not allowing demons inside their facilities unless properly documented or not being “too dangerous”.

There was also the issue of many demons having horrible reactions to the type of drugs used in human medicine. Demons tend to be more connected with nature which means some can have really bad reactions to the shit that we kinda just made up. And while there are ways for demons to get more natural medicine in the cities, it is usually expensive and predatory towards those who need it.

At the end of all his research he basically realized that the exclusion of demons from healthcare was a silent way to exclude them from society- even if meatropilos was one of the better cities when it came to it.

And Mk thought that was utter bullshit and decided he wanted to have his own clinic- for both demons and humans using ways that work for both species.

All because he was so very terrified he would lose one of his dads when he heard what tang said that night. Sandy ended up finding a clinic that sold medicine that actually work for demons (thought farther from the city center) and pigsy got better in around a week.

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #294: "If Wishes Were Horses...”

August, 1988

WHO leads the Avengers?!

-vibrates in anger-

You suck, Anthony Druid.

Let’s get into this.

Last times in Avengers: Despite having shown herself to be competent previously, leader of the Avengers Monica Rambeau Captain Marvel actually sucks and you’re a fool if you think otherwise. She spends all of her time thinking to herself about how incompetent she is and she never accomplishes anything without someone telling her to do it.

Grumble.

Also, Namor’s wife and former member of Alpha Flight Marrina turned into a giant sea monster for some reason. How mysterious. Dr Druid wanted them to murder her immediately if not sooner due to the damage giant sea monster Marrina was doing to shipping and coastal settlements. The other Avengers wanted to at least try to cure her, which Dr Druid saw as a foolish sentiment.

So after Druid mind manipulated into attacking Atlantis to get Namor on board, the Avengers tried a cure Hank Pym whipped up.

It worked for a hot minute before Marrina started turning into a monster again.

Thor and Captain Marvel shocked the transforming Marrina with electricity to try to stop her from transforming. But when it didn’t work, Namor took Black Knight’s extremely cursed sword the Ebony Blade and killed Marrina. With disastrous, to be revealed consequences for Black Knight because the extremely cursed sword had a blood curse on it and whoops slicing Marrina’s head open got blood on the blade.

Only after the fact does Dr Druid notice that Monica disappeared after she tried to shock Marrina.

Where could she beeeeee?

And what will happen to Black Knight?

This will happen.

So, at the end of last issue, he passed out on his Atomic Steed flying device. So when they brought him into the Quinjet, why did they put him near the controls? Don’t they have a medical bed or something in the back?

Anyway, Black Knight is freaking out and thrashing so hard that even Thor and She-Hulk - who can probably throw buildings - are having trouble holding him down.

Cough cough bullshit cough.

He calls out for this sword so Thor being Thor decides nothing wrong with giving a man a sharp object when he’s having a fit.

AND THOR IS RIGHT.

How dare you doubt Thor!

Dane immediately calms down once he has the blade in his hand. So he’s able to explain to the Avengers (who at least knew that the Ebony Blade was extremely cursed) that despite not being the one who did the deed, the curse is upon him as the owner of the sword.

And the first part of the curse is that he feels like his blood is on fire if he’s not holding the extremely cursed sword.

So, that’s going to be a little awkward. Carrying it around everywhere. At least he’s shown in the past that he can magically summon the sword to his hand. Buuut I’m pretty sure the pain of not holding it is so severe that he can’t focus to do that. He couldn’t even focus to pull it from its scabbard at his waist.

Yeah, this is going to suck. You should just go ahead and get one of those locking gauntlets or tie your hand to the hilt. Otherwise, you’re just asking for it to get knocked from your hand to incapacitate you during fights.

Now that he’s not writhing in pain, Black Knight remembers that Monica is missing.

She-Hulk proclaims that Monica has got to be alive! And they really have no reason to jump to the assumption that she’s dead.

Dr Druid, proving himself the worst, thinks to himself: “And good riddance, if she’s not [alive], She-Hulk. Captain Marvel was too soft to have been an effective leader of the Avengers. And her departure from the active ranks couldn’t have been more timely for me.”

I hate you, you fuckboy.

Anyway, Druid proclaims he’s laying in a course so She-Hulk interrupts to insist that they not leave until they find Monica.

Dr Druid: “Please, Jennifer. Don’t let your emotions run away with you. I was about to say I’ve already laid in search pattern coordinates... and calibrated our instruments for a total electromagnetic spectrum and radiation scan. If there’s... anything left of her to find, we’ll find it.”

This reminds me when that future Captain Marvel, Carol Danvers, was on the Avengers as Ms Marvel. When a writer change brought with it disdain for Carol’s feminist roots. So she started taking things people said the wrong way and blowing up at them when really they hadn’t meant it that way at all.

But since Dr Druid is secretly hoping Monica is dead and because he changes his wording from laying out a course to laying out a search pattern, he’s probably just gaslighting She-Hulk.

The Avengers search the Atlantic for hours for a sign of Monica but can’t find anything. With the Quinjet quinfuel running low, She-Hulk finally agrees they’ve done all they could.

Can’t believe Monica is gone forever. And yet Dr Druid is still here for some reason.

Boo.

Back at Hydrobase, She-Hulk and Thor discuss Monica’s disappearance. She-Hulk argues that energy can’t be destroyed so Monica has to be somewhere, right? And Thor don’t know. She just vanished after the big electricity attack.

Meanwhile, Dr Druid excuses himself because, remember, he doesn’t give a fuck and hopes Monica is dead.

Plus, it’s Sex Dream O’Clock.

Dr Druid sits down in an uncomfortable looking chair and immediately feels like someone is calling out to him.

Nebula Kang appears saying she’s the one calling him “for danger threatens at every hand and you are needed.”

Dr Druid goes hey wait you look different from the other sex dream and Nebula realizes, shit, she forgot to turn on the generic blonde filter.

So she does and Dr Druid doesn’t ask follow up questions.

Possibly because Not-Godzilla is attacking.

I should contextualize.

That’s actually Destructikon. He’s come to destroy this ancient sex dream civilization.

And only Super Druid can stop him.

Because this crisis has brought out his Real True Power and given him a slightly better costume.

Super Doctor Druid: “Mine is almost the power of a god! And why not? Is Dr Druid not a man gifted above other men? Older? Wiser? Stronger of spirit? Is it any wonder that ultimate power must be mine?”

Destructikon doesn’t go down in just one punch. And starts smashing up the city.

Super Dr Druid angrily shouts that Destructikon is threatening his people and smashes the beast in the chin.

Sex dream Nebula Kang tells Dr Druid to wrap this up already.

Pfft.

Like, okay. Jumping ahead a little, this whole thing is playing to Dr Druid’s ego. It’s working like a charm. Just scroll up a little and see his speech about how he’s the best dude of all dudes and deserves to be the best.

Consider how as a newbie to the Avengers, he was already thinking “if I ran the zoo!”

Dr Druid is soooo vulnerable to flattery and Nebula Kang is playing him like a fiddle with this savior of the world scenario.

And no surprise that she feeds him a scenario where its good and right to kill a giant monster menacing a world considering he’s just been through the Leviathan Marrina stuff. It doesn’t just play to his ego in a general sense, it’s affirming how he acted recently.

But even she can only take so much before going ‘lets move this along.’

So Druid punches Destructikon’s teeth in and then uses the eye beams that he totally has to explode the beast like a parade float.

Super Doctor Druid: “It is over! Virtue has triumphed over evil. Let those who would enslave humanity in bondage tremble. For the vigilance of Dr Druid is unrelenting... and he shall crush the serpent beneath his heel!”

And after the victory parade, Blonde Nebula Kang waggles her ass at him for him to finally get to the sex part of these ominous power fantasy sex dreams.

I hate this storyline but I do love this extended sequence of Dr Druid turning into Superman and fighting Godzilla. Its so dumb that its great. And the sucker fully buys into the fantasy.

Blonde Nebula Kang tells Dr Druid that he’s now king of whatever place this is because he’s won the right to rule by trial of combat. And suggests not just this world, you’re going to save Earth too and be the big sexy ruler of that planet too.

Once again, he eagerly buys into this.

Dr Druid: “Finally I understand. This is the realm of precognition and I have been granted foreknowledge denied lesser men. You’re right. It is time for Dr Druid to step forward.”

He’s so dumb.

Later, at Hydrobase, She-Hulk bemoans what has happened to the team.

Marrina is dead. Namor is off somewhere chasing monster babies. Captain Marvel is missing. And Black Knight is super cursed.

With bad fashion.

Also with curses.

Holding the Ebony Blade stops Dane from feeling all the cursed agony but his body is slowly paralyzing.

To work around this, he’s built an exoskeleton he can wear over his armor.

It looks bad.

The light purple of whatever its made of messes up his color palette and hides his tunic or whatever with his crest. It looks baaaaaaaaad.

Why not build an exoskeleton that can fit under his armor so he doesn’t look so bad?

His armor is fused to his body and can’t be taken off.

Truly, this is a lot of curse.

Also, the curse gives him a bad attitude.

When She-Hulk suggests calling reserve members since they’re down to four people, Black Knight explodes in a torrent of insults at everyone who isn’t him.

Black Knight: “The Waspis no brain surgeon, Hercules was an airhead, Mantis became a cosmic valley girl, the Black Widow was always a waste... Starfox a mincing fop, and the rest of them weren’t worth a tinker’s dam! Not a decent warrior among the lot! Would Good King Richard have countenanced such wastrels in his legions? Aargh!”

How dare you speak ill of the Wasp!

Go to your room and think about what you’ve done!

(Oh, and he’s back to thinking he’s from Crusade times. Except now its explicitly something happening because the curse is fucking his brain, and not because Simonson didn’t get the character.)

The curse also apparently gives Black Knight A SIXTH SENSE OOOOooooOoooOOO spooky. Because he senses an intruder in the building when none of the security systems do.

This curse sure does a lot.

But Black Knight is insistent that there’s an intruder so the Avengers decide to form a search party and go room by room.

(Also, Jarvis is here. He delivers the exposition about Black Knight being fused to his armor. He doesn’t do a lot else so I wanted to just say Hi Jarvis! I appreciate you!)

It doesn’t take long before the Avengers find the “intruder” that Black Knight sensed.

A plume of energy erupts from the floor and forms into the shape of... Captain Marvel!

Hi Monica! I appreciate you!

But she’s not looking food. She looks emaciated and is at death’s door from exhaustion.

What could have happened to her??

Bad writing? Web MD says these are the symptoms of bad writing!

The Avengers call the hospital and Thor personally flies her there. Very alarmed that she feels lighter than a feather in his arms.

But have you considered Thor that your arms are massive? You’re really strong. Maybe that’s why she feels so light?

But now we look into the Kang subplot.

Nebula Kang is preparing to ditch.

She changes out of her Kang armor and into a casual outfit. Casual but just loaded with cleverly hidden technology. Perfect for the modern terrible lady on the go.

Nebula Kang: “Farewell, Kangs great and small. You may all be masters of temporality, able to travel at will through and across time without limit... But your collective times are running out! When next we meet... it shall be without compassion, without compromise, without facemasks!”

Her only regret is that she didn’t find the time to give Fred Kang a fuck but doesn’t think he has any information or technology that would be helpful to her.

Then she disguises herself as Blonde Sex Dream Lady again and gets in the warp hatch.

Where she selects the Far Out option.

... That seems way too whimsical to be Kang technology. They all hate whimsy.

But as she warps, Fred Kang (Kang-123488.23497) is spying on her. He didn’t trust the way she flirted with him so he watched her change clothes and go to use the warp hatch.

He’s very confused that she’s going to Earth and specifically the Earth of his own time stream. (Fred Kang is from the current Avengers time stream? Huh. But she specifically goes to the current day and to Hydrobase.

But while Fred Kang has been spying on Nebula Kang, Beard Kang and Yellow Mask Kang have been spying on him.

TOO MANY KANGS!

Beard Kang is apparently called Lord Kang and Yellow Mask Kang is apparently called Kang Cobra but we’ll see if I use those names instead of Beard Kang and Yellow Mask Kang.

Beard Kang has a beard and its coming out of his mask somehow. Why wouldn’t I call him Beard Kang?

Anyway, Beard Kang and Yellow Mask Kang have been spying on Fred Kang, as the newest Kang in their Kangllective. I can’t believe they went with the name Council of Cross-Time Kangs when Kangllective was right there. They could do Kangllective Action.

Anyway again. Fred Kang seemed like any other Kang, except for taking a shorter time to adjust than usual. But when Yellow Mask Kang was spying on him, he became unable to pinpoint Fred Kang’s actual physical location because Fred Kang is “jumping randomly back and forth through nanoseconds of time.”

Y’know, as ya do.

But the result is, Yellow Mask Kang isn’t able to figure out what Fred Kang is up to.

Beard Kang decides that its time to have a talk with their new pal Fred Kang.

Meanwhile, AT THE ACTUAL PLOT,She-Hulk and Grumpy Black Knight have gone to pick up Monica’s parents to take them to the hospital.

Did Monica ever mention that her parents were in on the secret? Because this would be really presumptive if she didn’t.

She-Hulk gives the explanation for what happened with Monica, giving the poor woman one last kick while she’s down.

As I said last East Coast Avengers post, when Captain Monica tried to electrocute Leviathan Marrina the same way Thor did, Monica fucked up because god forbid she do anything right ever. She somehow managed to electrify the entire Atlantic Ocean, vaporized trillions of tons of water which will surely do something to the climate, and dissipating her energy so that when she managed to reform she was all emaciated.

IN FAIRNESS, this is following up on an established downside of Monica’s powers. If she overuses them, she loses some of her own mass. This happened when she overexerted herself to knock down the shields of the Sanctuary II.

In unfairness, she did that to help take out an enemy that was willing to and capable of blowing up planets. This recent happening happens because by editorial mandate, she’s a dipshit who can’t even tie her shoes, one imagines.

Sigh.

Thor greets the Rambeaus before they see Monica and tries to set expectations for what kind of shape she’s in.

Because she looks like she’s terminally ill.

Maria declares Monica should come home with them so they can nurse her back to health. With home cooking.

Monica admits that she’s not capable of Avengersing right now so that’s probably a good idea.

Leading Dr Druid to smoothly butt into this family conversation to insist that a new chairman be selected right now. I mean, they’re all already here, right?

Then he kicks the Rambeaus out of the room so the Avengers can talk shop.

She-Hulk: “For crying out loud, doc.”

For real.

As soon as the concerned parents have been booted from the room, Dr Druid nominates himself.

Why shouldn’t the newest person on the team not lead?

Okay, I’m being very critical. Monica was newish to the team but not the newest. This is not like that.

But as Dr Druid argues:

“The Black Knight is partially incapacitated, Thor has other concerns than just the Avengers... and the SHe-Hulk, with all due respect, fails to project the proper image of leadership while wearing purple leotards.”

... GET HIS ASS JEN.

Fucker in his feetie pajamas thinks he can throw stones about someone’s costume!

I CANNOT believe.

Black Knight chimes in to say that he admires the image She-Hulk projects.

So some people in this room have taste.

Thor privately wonders if any of the people on the team can handle the responsibility of leadership.

And Dr Druid starts panicking when Thor asks Monica her opinion.

Generic Blonde Nebula Kang pops into his thoughts to tell him not to let his dreams be dreams so Dr Druid decides to be like every other Marvel psychic. An invasive asshole.

He uses his powers to force Monica to say that Dr Druid would be a wise choice. When a skeptical She-Hulk asks Thor what he thinks, Dr Druid uses his powers again.

I can’t tell if Druid fails or succeeds in this attempt. Thor somewhat suspects that his thoughts are being manipulated and shouts NO! unprompted. And then says that as the most experienced person still on the team, he’d make the best choice. But: he’ll agree with the majority decision.

Democracy! It’s good! When the votes aren’t manipulated!

Dr Druid makes She-Hulk says that he’s the best man for the job. Black Knight seems about to go into one of his Crusades adjacent rants about Dr Druid but a little bit of the ol’ psychic razzle dazzle and Black Knight is instead saying Dr Druid is the best candidate for chairman and in fact, Richard the Lionheart would think he was really cool.

So that’s four votes for Dr Druid and one for Thor.

Thor is suspicious about the way things played out but doesn’t seem willing to call it out.

(I will say that having Druid’s thought bubble merged with the speech balloons is a good way to show psychic manipulation.)

New Chairman of the Avengers Dr Druid arranges for the Rambeaus to be sent back to Atlanta. By public plane, not by Quinjet. Pssh, sure Monica was the former chairwoman but she doesn’t require the Avengers’ personal attention any more!

Dr Druid: “But the Avengers must prepare themselves for battle! The cosmos reverberates with the approach of unseen foes. Our enemies are gathering and the time is coming when we must face them together as a team. All of us! For the Avengers have a new leader. And the future is going to be much different than anyone expects!”

I wish him a very stub his toe.

Follow @essential-avengers​ and you too can wish bad occurrences on Dr Druid. Like and reblog and maybe comment. I’m lonely down here in the italics.

[zipperzoo]

FIGHT TO MAKE IT UP

The Batman (2022) bruce wayne x f!reader Word count: - 2259 Masterlist / AO3 / Playlist Themes: Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Crime Family, Thriller, Nior, Heist, Action, Comedy, Crime. A/N: howdy! I took a um a hiatus HA- I needed a break due to life stuff but I really wanna finish this! and I did some research into stuff >.>

Chapter Eight:

Helping solve the crime you’d need many of these, a particular way of viewing things to bring justice to its knees

“Name?” “Oliver Caddel” “Okay Oliver, Occupation?”

“Circus staff… Is this going to take long?” He murmured, scratching his jaw with his thumb.

Rubbing his eyes, Exhausted already. Gordon pressed on. “Could you describe the events that took place here- what did you see or hear?”

Seated inside one of the many tents around the outskirts of the crime scene, outstretched a long line of partially injured civilians. Witnesses holding papers. Awaiting their turn to share their own statements of their experiences. 

Unkempt appearances could already tell their own personal experiences of the night. Injuries as well as haunting distant empty stares into space. Lined up one by one behind one another. There was no discrimination of person, the victims were diverse among age, gender and race.

In an attempt to evacuate the camp site of the circus that was now taped off to the public while forensic officers would use their magic along with the help of the 'CID' (Criminal Investigation Department). It didn't stop news anchors or news broadcasters from attempting to get in through sky or ground for any latest scoop or raw footage of the damage. 

Swirling around, capturing the long queues and the smoke trailing up above the main tent into a cloud of green and yellow mystery gas that just settled.

The tent that Gordon sat in, was small, cramped practically and opposite him was a singular witness who was nervous, worse for wear. 

Oliver was the tenth or maybe the eleventh witness that Gordon had spoken too so far, and all he had to show for it was either vague descriptions of evocative unique descriptions per person of the events. Nothing was the same, they were all like different accounts of different events stitched together. Making a hazy similarities.

Nothing was drawing him closer to any answers to why, why this circus, why these people, why this specific method and importantly who would have the motive? What was the motive?

Was it a display of power? 

Was it just so they could? 

Was it a test? Was it a test? 

What was the reason?

What is that mysterious gas?

“I wasn't inside the tent when It happened, I was… around.” The hesitation in his voice caused Gordon to drop the pen he held. 

“Around?”

“You know, like around the tent.”

“But not inside?”

“No.”

“What part of the team did you work a part of?” With a deep sigh through his nose, Gordon picked his pen back up and jotted down everything the witness was sharing onto his witness form. Maybe this should have been something for Rivers to work on. Gordon wasn't getting anywhere and some fresh eyes on this would actually get him somewhere. He was beginning to regret putting them on the Wayne tower case.

That case feels like a distant dream now.

I worked on the electrics, ya know the lights. To make sure everything was-” “Hmm hm-” Gordon cut him off, lacing his hum with attitude. He knew what a tech did, he didn't need a recap. He just wanted to know what the man's experience of the evening was. “-I had a hard time focusing but when I finally did they were red, beet red i mean red!!”

Looking up at the witness through his brows, stopping his notes for a second Gordon asked “What was? The lights?”

“Like the worst sunburn you’ve ever seen!”

“Yes I’ve gotten the colour- what exactly was red though?”

Oliver’s face scrunched up, trying to recall exactly what then realization washed over him. His face stretched as his brows frowned. His gears were moving and Gordon was captivated by it. 

Then, as if an alarm went off in his mind, he shot up and looked at Gordon, confused. “I’m sorry, what was the question again?” “You said something was red?”

“Hm? I’m sorry I-” He paused, looking down at his lap “I don't really remember?”

Leaning back on his chair, pushing aside the witness form which was half way filled in. Gordon looked at the witness. This was getting nowhere. Again they all had different descriptions of the events that might as well have been about different incidents.

One witness stated she was in the middle of an airplane on fire and about to crash, she remembered running through the cabins when pieces of the walls flew off. Vacuuming out civilians on the flight with her to then find herself standing in the middle of a field having others crash into her, fleeing. 

Another stated he lost the ability to speak while everyones face morphed into empty sockets. His instinct was to fight back. Upon the realization that he could have very possibly hurt someone made him hysterical and had to be escorted out by officers.

Moving things along, Gordon quickly signed off the sheet, shuffling it to the growing pile beside him. If anything was to come from this maybe one hell of a book with all these testimonies. Some of these would make one hell of a horror novel.

“That's alright.” Gordon spoke. “We’re done, could you let in the next person in the line?” 

Without a word, the witness Oliver pushed back his chair to then exit, letting the next person in through the tent’s flimsy waterproof door. 

The next witness meekly made her way to the chair opposite Gordon. She looked extremely exhausted, eyebags fresh and sharp. Her hair knotted and fried. She was cradling her arm which was in a sling. “Name?” “Is this going to take long?” “It depends on the information you’ll be able to provide- name?” Gordon licked his thumb to then pluck a fresh form from the immaculate pile besides the ruffled one. “Abigail Williams. But I’m known as Dizzy on the staff”

“Okay, Dizzy, Occupation?” when pronouncing her nickname, he raised his eyebrows. Wasn't the first one of the evening preferring their stage name he heard. He had jotted down her name with Dizzy alongside it in quotation marks.

“Circus staff. I work closely with the performers.”

“So you were inside the tent?”

“I didn't know where I was or what time it was, let alone what was happening.”

“Could you try.” He leaned back on his chair, the wood squeaked under his weight. He had nothing but time right now. 

It's all he could really do. 

By the books he had nothing but time.

A very uneasy nod bloomed from her still state. Dropping her arm that cradled her sling to her lap, to then fiddle around with nervousness, an attempt to try and jog her foggy memory of a very traumatizing evening.

“I remember just my body feeling a sense of urgency, like something wasn't right. And the smell mostly.”

“A smell?”

“Um- A very sweet smell, kind of like honeysuckle-like?” she scrunched her brows together. “Yeah! Honeysuckle! Like a flower but it was kind of sour, burning at the back of the nose.”

Gordon pulled his eyes away from her to jot down exactly what she was saying. Pulling out a notebook from his pocket, completely separate from any of the paperwork scattered on the makeshift table.

Taking note, he scribbled ‘Honeysuckle smell- sour???’ 

“Then um.”

“Then what?”

Looking down, frowning, trying my best to remember. “I… I remember- oh god.” she gasped covering her mouth, panic eroded as she looked up at Gordon with a sudden realization. “Are the Grayson's okay?”

“The Grayson's?”

“The Grayson's?! The performers of the circus. They were the leading performers and they are a family. Two parents and one child. But I saw- I swear on my life I saw the two fall and crash into the ground.”

“Fall and crash like-”

“Like, fall and crash! Falling to the ground and just kind of a thud.” Lowing her hand revealing her mouth agape, worry lines forming beside it. “Then after that I- I just remember like everyone acting frantic and not normal.”

“Wait, you mentioned a child? Was the child a part of the two bodies you saw?”

“Huh? No, oh god no? The child wasn't there. I have no idea where the child was.”

“Did you see the child before or after the incident?”

“Uh.” her eyes frantically moving around the room, searching. “I haven't seen him since maybe this morning? With his parents? Besides that-” she shook her head.

“So the child wasn't there at the show?”

She pulled a face and shook her head again. “He was planning to be there but he wasn't. I just assumed it was a last minute change? Is… Is he not with the officers?”

“What's the child's name?”

“Dick Grayson.”

A moment Gordon’s thoughts raced, staring at Dizzy the Witness to then suddenly reach over the messy pile of paperwork flipping through all of them. Looking for any witnesses that matched the name of the child. Flipping through once, nothing. He blinked then flipped through again.

He hadn’t spoken to a Dick Grayson.

“Does the child have a stage name? What's his description?”

“Um, short boy. Dark hair, kind of an innocent look but he has a know it all attitude of sorts- Hard to miss.” She shifted in the chair slightly. “I’m sorry, is the questioning over?-” She asked, cocking her head with an inquisitive brow, concerned.

Dropping the paper he was holding, he scooted out of his chair. “Excuse me for a moment.” Swinging around the table to then dash out of the tent, leaving her there, turning around to look at the exit where he left. Confused.

Welcomed by harsh on sight lighting of the powerful The Nomad tripod lights scattered across the field illuminating the field. Gordon was momentarily blinded. 

Blinking, adjusting his eyes to the lighting, he looked at the long line of witnesses.

Gordon turned to the first person in front of him who was covered head to toe in mud and blood- no clue where the source of the bleeding was from or if it was even their blood. “Where's the officers?”

The person stared hard at Gordon, startled by Gordons urgency. Shaking their head frantically to then turn to the person next to them. They too shook their heads.

They didn't know where they could be.

With a huff, Gordon looked around. Police standing by taped off areas bantering among themselves, one even laughing. Several forensic teams built recreational mysterious tools, while others carried bags of evidence. 

Even several paramedic teams were attending to some civilians close by. 

Gordon Marched towards the police Officers.

Grabbing an officer by the shoulder, turning him to Gordons attention. “I need you to locate a child for me, goes by the name Dick Grayson.”

“Sir?”

“It's urgent.”

One of the officers laughed, “Good luck with that.”

“You think this is funny?”

The officer coughed, changing his entire demeanour. “No sir.” he panicked.

“Dick Grayson, A young boy- meant to be one of the events mainline acts with the parents. Any information on him?”

“Dick Greyson? Yeah the kid, he is on the missing list.” 

Gordon frowned in response. The officer looked to his colleagues to then pull up a clipboard of names that had red dashes next to them. 

Below two dashes that were two Greyson's was a Dick Greyson that had a blank space.

“We are still searching the wreckage, there are alot of bodies sir but so far from what we have accounted for, no Dick Greyson has been found that we can formally account for. He is either dead or missing.”

“The red marks?” Gordon pointed at the clipboard. “What do the red marks mean?”

“Deceased. His parents have been identified. But again-” The words failed to leave the officer, he didn't need to say anything; it was in between the words he had spoken.

Gordon ran a hand down his face. A defeated sigh slipped through his tired lips. 

There was no doubt about it that there was an ever growing number of missing people and children. But to know one thing was out of place before the actual events could be a crucial key to this mystery.

Cutting short the brief haunting thought of a child and his parents- A crowd of people started running, dashing out of the way to either side. 

The officers by Gordon jumped besides him, all turning their attention towards a loud pipe like noise that was vastly approaching.

With mud flying it was hard to make out what was heading their way. Gordon took a few dragged steps back and squinted, hoping to focus on any details betrayed between the specks of mud flying.

He saw the red lights of a vehicle flooding the field and painted the tents with its harsh light. 

A monster that looked like a car screamed life so much so that a few civilians flinched and cowered.

Slowing down as it spun around to turn then coming to a halt.

The engine dying down like a beast just suddenly being tamed to rest. 

Steam coming from its exhaust fogging the ground. Tendrils of smoke swarming around the site, invading the tents. Entrapping the residents who stood idle in its mist.

Bursting open the steel doors from the vehicle, black boots emerge from its inner shadow.

A tall dark figure lurked out, with its piercing blue eyes looming over the people that stood around him and his beast. 

A watchful gargoyle that breathed life as his chest heaved with vengeance as his eyes met with Gordons.

A few heads turn to face Gordon, with fear residing in their expressions.

“Batman.” Gordon whispered, relieved. “Finally.”