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mariacallous · 2 years ago

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Russia’s State Duma is preparing to pass legislation to fully ban gender-affirming healthcare as well as gender marker changes in official documents. Lawmakers say this will “save Russia for future generations, with its cultural and familial values and traditional foundations, while putting up a barrier against Western anti-family ideology.” Meduza spoke with Russians who are currently undergoing gender transitions about what it’s like to go through this experience in today’s Russia and what they expect the future to look like for people like them.

Nate

24-year-old transgender man

Changing your gender from female to male is tough — it brings with it the threat of getting drafted into the army. And for me, as a trans activist, it also carries the threat of being put in the male ward of a prison. That’s why I decided only to change my name to a gender-neutral one rather than changing the gender marker in my passport.

There’s a practice particular to St. Petersburg*: you’re not allowed** to change your patronymic, just your first and last names. This is because the bureaucrats want people to be defined strictly in accordance with the gender indicated in their passport. That’s why I ended up not changing my documents: to avoid ending up in that comical situation.

In 2019, I passed a medical screening and received a certificate with the diagnosis “transsexualism.” In 2020, I began hormone therapy. Some trans people buy testosterone illegally, on the black market. Since I was already at risk of winding up in prison [for my activism], I decided to do everything by the books. For that, I brought the certificate from the medical screening to the district medical center, where I was given a prescription to buy my medication at the pharmacy.

Thanks to the testosterone, I grew a beard and started growing more hair on my legs and my body. My waist disappeared, my shoulders and legs got bigger, my mammary glands shrunk, and my voice became more masculine. I’m not planning on getting surgery; I’m satisfied with my body the way it is now. Plus there’s the fact that post-op recovery takes time; you have to go on leave from work and find someone to take care of you. Also, I don’t want to rush the decision just because it’s my last chance; if I end up deciding to get surgery, I’ll find other options.

Since deciding to transition, I’ve encountered a lot of people [in government agencies] who simply didn’t know what to do with me. But I had previously sifted through a huge amount of legal information so that I’d be well-versed in it all myself. I had to fight tooth and nail to get all [the legal documents] from the various agencies, with no guarantee that anything would come of it.

Everything is highly dependent on what person you happen to talk to [in each institution]: sometimes people are sympathetic and try to help, [though that’s far from guaranteed]. Most of the people I encountered were understanding. The older women in the bureaucracies didn’t ask how to address me, but they didn’t use my passport name either. It seemed to me like they understood: if you’ve taken this step, there must be a good reason.

But no matter what kind of people you run into, all of these processes are fairly humiliating. Every person you meet tries to get in your pants to figure out who you really are. It’s really strange when people try to insist to a person with a deep voice and a beard that he’s a girl, making arguments about chromosomes, usually with no understanding of what role these chromosomes play in the formation of sex.

The law against trans people is genocide. It will make [society] fear and hate trans people more. This will cause the number of people who die by suicide to rise, despite it already being massive***.

*Is this really exclusive to St. Petersburg?

According to Nate, he hasn’t heard of this happening in Moscow. Nef Tsellarius, the coordinator of a peer counseling program for trans people from the Russian LGBTQ+ rights group Vykhod (“Way out”) told Meduza that attempts by trans people to change their patronymics are regularly denied by officials throughout the country.

**Why?

Nef Tsellarius, the coordinator of a peer counseling program for trans people from the Russian LGBTQ+ rights group Vykhod (“Way out”) told Meduza that officials who refuse to let LGBTQ+ people change their patronymics often use excuses such as that patronymics are an important component of “family values.” “You can appeal the refusal in court, but given the state of Russian judicial proceedings, the odds aren’t in the applicants’ favor,” Tsellarius said.

***Is this true?

According to a study from the U.S. National Center for Transgender Equality, 40 percent of transgender people in the U.S. have attempted suicide at least once in their lives, which is nine times higher than the average rate. No analogous study has been conducted in Russia.

Sasha

19 years old, non-binary, name changed at their own request

I had long felt that my gender was different [from the one assigned to me at birth], but the final realization didn’t come until 2020. And I only began transitioning in the fall of 2022. The announcement of the “partial” mobilization was an indication that things were about to get very bad. That’s how I ended up having to make an extremely important decision, which changed my entire life.

I borrowed some money and went to Moscow for a medical screening. (I’m from St. Petersburg.) At the end, the psychiatrist gave me diagnosis F64.0 [“transsexualism”] and issued me a “certificate of gender reassignment.”

I didn’t plan to get surgery, but I wanted to undergo hormone therapy and even started taking the necessary medical tests. But I had to stop because of threats from my family. They tried to make me feel guilty and scare me, saying my elderly relatives would find out about this and it would kill them. I don’t live with my parents, but the emotional power they have over me is enormous.

In May 2023, I began urgently trying to change my documents after the news about the government wanting to ban it. I went to the civil registration office, where they changed my name and my gender marker on my birth certificate. I plan to apply for an updated passport in the next few days.

At the registration office, there was a guy who was also transitioning, and he and I whispered back and forth a little bit while waiting [in line]. A random woman who was also waiting in line suddenly realized what we were there for and said she’d let us go in front of her, because it was more important. That gives me hope that things aren’t so bad in society and that there are understanding people.

I didn’t open up to everyone at my university, but the people I did tell [about my transition] were understanding. [The university administration] even let me take academic leave. But I had to leave the dorm, because the rules are fairly strict. My transition is still in its early stages, so they couldn’t assign me to the women’s dorms because of the high likelihood of people’s misunderstanding, violence, and complaints from neighbors. And since my passport still says female, they couldn’t put me in the men’s dorms.

I only came out to a small circle of people at work, too, and they were understanding; I’m lucky. But for everyone else, I’m going to keep using my old name — it’s safer that way.

The law [banning legal gender transitions and gender-affirming surgery] will effectively prevent people who haven’t managed to undergo a medical screening and change their documents from having a future. I’ve already seen a lot of people saying they simply don’t know how to go on after this.

I managed to change the gender marker in my documents to female, but [if the law is passed], I’ll be banned from the [hormone therapy] I need to align with my new gender. What am I supposed to do then? It’s not clear.

Marena

19 years old, transgender woman

At 17, I realized I was a trans person, and I found the medication I needed for hormone therapy online. Buying it without a prescription is illegal, but I couldn’t go to an endocrinologist because I was a minor and I had problems with my parents.

In mid-May, the project Center-T [which helps transgender people in Russia] paid for me to undergo a medical screening in Moscow as part of an initiative it was putting on (I live in Yekaterinburg). I received two certificates: one for the civil registration office and one for doctors, so that I could begin hormone therapy. On May 30, I applied for a new passport. Everything went fine; there were no problems.

The bill [against trans people] is very scary. It’s a violation of people’s human rights. I want to get a vaginoplasty, but if the law is passed, that will become impossible. In the future, I plan to emigrate.

Konstantin

45 years old, transgender man

I’m from Adygea, and I began my transition at 37 years old in 2015; I started acting in society the way I was comfortable. Before, I had tried to fit into my assigned role — a recipe for depression. I came to the conclusion that I could either lose my mind or start doing something different.

Changing my documents and undergoing medical interventions is something that concerns me and my own body — it doesn’t affect others, so why should I have to get somebody’s permission? Why should anybody else have the right to control my life?

I contacted a clinic about getting a medical screening done so that I could get a certificate of diagnosis and start the hormone therapy. The specialists on the commission were kind to me, but I nonetheless felt as humiliated as I ever had been in my life.

In 2018, I wanted to change my gender marker in my documents at the civil registration office, but I was refused. So I took the issue to court and won. After that, I changed my gender marker and name, first on my birth certificate and then in all my other documents. The court hearings were the only difficulty; everything else with my document changes went smoothly. I had to face quite a few shocked bureaucrats, but there wasn’t any aggression, nor any refusals, which is just one more sign that there’s no need to protect society from trans people.

I got top surgery — a mastectomy. I decided not to get bottom surgery. […] A mastectomy and hormone therapy are enough for me to feel comfortable.

A gender transition isn’t something abstract. It’s a way to get rid of the dissonance and start living in harmony with oneself, to make life more fulfilling. Nobody transitions for entertainment or to avoid their obligations. It might seem to some people like it’s not an especially important issue, since people can be who they want in private and don’t need to change their documents or their external characteristics for that. But living that way is much harder.

The way lawmakers have embraced the issue of LGBTQ+ people in recent months is a sign that the bill [against trans people] might take the worst possible form: a total ban on everything, including document changes and medical interventions. What worries me is that I’ve been on hormones for several years already and I feel wonderful, but if they ban it, it will be harmful to my health.

In the past, when they’ve discussed or passed similar laws, my friends and I have written letters to [State Duma] deputies. Maybe I’m a pessimist, but I don’t think there’s any point in doing that this time. We should probably do something, but it’s hard for me to think of anything that would be useful right now.

If the law is passed, it will ruin a lot of people’s lives. They’re taking our futures away day after day, and now they’re going to take practically the last thing we have. There are people for whom this amounts to taking away their entire lives. I can’t abstract away from this, and that’s hard for me. But until the law is passed, I want to advise everyone not to despair. Nothing is forever, and the situation will change. The important thing is to have an image of the future you dream of and to work towards it.

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treadmilltreats · 8 months ago

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Florida is heading back to the 50s

So recently the governor of our state of Florida, Deathsantisis, decided that Florida wasn't fucked up enough. So let's really take it back to the 50's and so he did with these new laws he had passed.

And if the other laws weren't bad enough, no…now he is really pushing his back to the 50’s campaign. Some of the previous laws started taking us back there.

He has signed laws that restrict voting by mail and at drop boxes and deter eligible voters with criminal convictions from casting ballots.

He passed several bills restricting LGBTQ rights, including by expanding the “Don’t Say Gay” law, banning gender-affirming care, barring trans people from using public facilities of their choosing, and restricting drag performances.

He passed a bill letting residents carry a concealed loaded weapon without a permit.

And now according to Florida.gov, less than a year after signing a law that led to the removal of hundreds of books from public school shelves, Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis signed a bill Tuesday that amends the state’s law to limit the number of books and classroom materials that can be challenged in school districts.

The bill, which goes into effect on July 1, states that Florida residents without children in a school district “may not object to more than one material per month” and instructs the state’s Board of Education to adopt changes to implement the decision.

Another new law bans colleges from using state or federal funding for diversity, equity and inclusion programs, a consistent target of DeSantis.

That law included students like my daughter who took black history as part of her major and now found out that that class no longer counted and that she would have to take and pay for another class. Seriously?? Bad enough you want to ban schools for telling what we did to Native Americans, Black's and Jewish people but now if you did learn about it, it doesn't count. Can you say class action lawsuit?

And as if that isn't bad enough, it gets worse. Can that even be possible? Yes, with this Police Oversight.

Separately, DeSantis signed a bill Friday that would ban local policy advisory commissions from initiating disciplinary actions against officers, instead limiting the citizens boards to making recommendations on policy.

So that means no one is policing the police in Florida.

As if Florida couldn't get any worse, welcome to the wild, wild west. Great people running around without gun permits and with the stand your ground law and now the police won't be policed.

Yes, I know the trolls will say “Well if you don't like Florida just leave” and believe me I would be gone if my daughters weren't finishing their school here. In the meantime I am stuck in this backwards state.

So today my friends, we need to take a stand, we need to vote, we need to speak out, we need more people who want justice for all to run for office. We need change because if no one speaks out, it's just a matter of time when they will come for you.

We need to stop Florida from going back to the 50's when books were banned, where gays were in the closets, women had no rights and Black people needed to sit on the back of the bus. We all need to be the change we want to see.

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sunnyuto · 1 year ago

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I can’t believe this still has to be said but if you’re a “blue” voter who thinks like this, you’re fash trash. The above image is literally only one step away from saying that blue state money shouldn’t be funding red state welfare. Newsflash, asshole, that’s textbook authoritarianism and it’s not cute. You don’t just get to penalize people for not voting the way you want them to, especially because states are not monoliths.

I’ll say that louder.

STATES ARE NOT MONOLITHS.

And this is especially true in “red” states where gerrymandering is more prominent and where corruption and voter suppression is more prominent. Texas was literally trying to close polling places in predominantly black districts on Election Day in 2020 and you want to blame the people in those districts for that? Nah.

“Blue” states are not the paradises that they’re made out to be. The governor of California just vetoed a bill to protect trans kids in custody disputes. A city in Delaware is trying to allow businesses to actually literally cast ballots in elections. The Secretary of Education that just decided to push forward with restarting student loan repayment even if the government shuts down tomorrow is a proud native of Connecticut, a state that cannot seem to actually pass common sense gun control laws despite having one of the worst school shootings of the last decade. The horror stories about school districts banning books? That’s not just happening in deeply conservative states. It’s happening here, in Greenwich, in Darien, in Norwalk.

Honestly, the idea of red and blue states is a lie anyway.

The two top maps are how CT’s towns voted in the 2016 and 2020 presidential races. The bottom map is how they voted in the 2021 municipal elections. Notice how much of that need blue becomes red when it comes to policymakers that actually impact the townspeople on a daily basis. Notice how many of those towns were incumbent red (transparent) and how many were gained red (opaque) compared to blue.

The reason that Connecticut is considered a “blue” state is because we have a lot of cities in comparison to how many voters we have. Hartford and New Haven by themselves reliably turn us blue in every federal and statewide race. But when you get into the nitty gritty and break it all the way down to municipalities, it serves as a very good visual reminder of just how varied political attitudes are even in states that reliably vote one way or the other in national elections.

You can’t judge a book by its cover and you can’t judge a state by its federal swing.

#poli sci major #I should make a different tag since I actually have the degree now and then some #ct politics #electoral politics

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queenmuzz · 4 years ago

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A Seed of Truth

A Fluffy Vergil x Reader One Shot

Life went on as usual in the peaceful island city of Fortuna. Lord Sparda ruled with a benevolent hand over the people with his wife, Lady Eva, nurturing the arts and culture of the populace. They were the perfect couple, each combining their strengths and abilities, to lead the island into a golden age.

And then there were their sons, the twins Vergil and Dante. While the Lord and Lady were quite too busy to make regular appearances to the common folk, the Princes were not that restrained. Prince Dante was regularly seen chatting at the market, buying up lots of strawberries, while slipping the kids little chocolates and candies when he thought their parents weren’t looking, before racing off on his custom built bike.

Prince Vergil, on the other hand, was a bit more reserved. You’d seen him at your place of work, the library, deep in a book, or in the Fortuna Gardens, admiring the flowers, giving off an aura that he didn’t want to be disturbed. But when someone mustered up the courage to talk to him, he was kind and courteous, especially when the subject turned to his interests, such as literature, or gardening. He was a man of few words, unlike his brother, but he never minced words, always preferring to speak the truth over flattering speech.

What both men had in common though, was they were both devilishly handsome. With their father’s bone white hair, and their mother’s elegant facial features, the two men could look good in anything, whether it was formal outfits, as well their casual clothes (Usually a red leather motorcycle jacket for Dante, and a dark blue turtleneck for Vergil). And with both of them single and available, there was a large part of the city gossiping on who they might choose to settle down with.

So it happened you were in the market with your friend, Sarah, one beautiful spring day when you heard the sound of trumpets, and the clanging of the City Herald’s bell, signaling an announcement. The crowds began to converge to the centre of the piazzo. Ripples of excitement fluttered rapidly as everyone realized that the herald was not alone. There, standing behind the man were the twin Princes, both in their formal royal attire. Dante beamed like the cat that caught the canary, while Vergil...looked more like the canary that had been caught. You almost felt bad at how uncomfortable he looked, surrounded by so many people, but if he was here despite how much he disliked crowds, this meant whatever was about to be announced was very important.

“HEAR YE! HEAR YE!” the herald announced, clanging his bell one last time, and the crowd was silenced. Satisfied that he would not be interrupted, the herald continued.

“A ROYAL ANNOUNCEMENT! PRINCE VERGIL HAS DECIDED IT IS TIME FOR HIM TO MARRY!” A gasp came from the crowd, then cheers, which Vergil did his best to ignore. The herald rang his bell again.

“HE HAS DECIDED TO CHOOSE A LADY FROM AMONG THE YOUNG WOMEN OF THIS FAIR CITY!” Another sharp gasp, but everyone was so flabbergasted, the herald didn’t have to settle them down. “IN ORDER TO HELP HIM DECIDE, ANY YOUNG LADY WISHING TO PROVE HERSELF IS TO TAKE A TEST!” Two servants carried a sheet covered wicker basket, placing it in front of the herald, and then they carefully removed the linen “IN THIS BASKET, ARE SEEDS OF THE WHITE CHRYTHANSEUM FLOWER! ALL…” the herald attempted to form a word that didn’t sound so awkward, but failed, “APPLICANTS ARE INSTRUCTED TO TAKE AND PLANT ONE PINCH OF SEEDS. WHEN THE FALL MARKET FAIR ARRIVES, ALL LADIES ARE TO BRING THEIR PLANTS TO BE JUDGED, AND PRINCE VERGIL WILL PICK THE ONE WHO HAS GROWN THE MOST BEAUTIFUL ONE! A WOMAN WHO CAN GROW SOMETHING EXTRAORDINARY, WILL PROVE THAT SHE HAS THE QUALITIES THE PRINCE LOOKS FOR!”

“That seems rather...shallow,” Sarah muttered as already, every young eligible woman pushed aside the crowds to make a beeline to the basket, “but who am I to judge? Besides…” she grinned, “he’s pretty good looking.” “Yes, Prince Vergil is rather handsome,” you admitted.

Sarah did a double-take, “Nah, I meant prince Dante, I wouldn’t mind if he bent me over his motorcycle and-”

“They’re twins! They’re virtually identical!”

“In looks, yeah...but personality, they’re night and day… and I prefer the day.” She looked at you expectedly, “Well, what are you waiting for? Go get in line!” “I couldn’t…” you protested.

“Oh come on...it’ll be fiiine, you’re a pretty good gardener, I’ve seen the plants you keep in your rooftop garden, you’ll grow the best fricken’ chryth- chrythan…”

“Chrysthanthemums,” you clarified…”You can call them ‘mums’, that’s what a lot of people do. And…” you stared at the ever growing line of women. “Well, I suppose, worst case scenario, I’ll have a pretty flower for the autumn season”, and so, you went to the end of the line, ready to get your chance to spend your life with the handsome, aloof, but intelligent prince. As you took your place, you heard Sarah murmur, “I hope Prince Dante has a motorcycle race as a contest….”

Eventually, you got to the front of the line, and were given a pinch of seeds. You tried to keep your eyes averted from the two princes, as you wrapped them in a handkerchief, but you couldn’t help but glance up, to see the younger prince, still beaming, while his older brother stood stiffly, his brows furrowed, his arms crossed.

“This is a terrible idea, brother.” You heard Vergil mutter.

“Nah, this,” Dante spread his arm out, “this is the perfect way to find the lady of your dreams.” “None of these women seem to possess the qualities I desire…” “Well, leave your pessimism until the fall...you can beat my ass if you don’t find what you’re looking for.”

*******

You got home, and quickly brought out a shallow glazed blue pot out from your shed. It would be the perfect starter pot for it to sprout, before you could transplant into a flower pot proper. And then, you carefully poured a layer of sandy soil, before gently unwrapping the handkerchief and sprinkling the seeds onto the moist dirt. There was something...off about the seeds...like they were too clean, but you paid it no mind. These were most likely from the Fortuna Castle Gardens, so they were top quality, so even if you didn’t pay attention to the plant, you would most likely grow better than the average flower. But you weren’t just going to neglect this chance of a lifetime.

Measuring out precise amounts of fertilizer, and a bit of water, not too much, not too little, you were going to put your life and soul into this plant. So much so, that the Prince would feel your love and care radiating out of each and every petal.

******* Ten days passed, with you constantly making sure that the soil wasn’t too moist, to discourage mildew, and keeping it under a fluorescent light, and yet no bright green sprouts poked out. That was alright, the flower had a variable growing period, you had a nearly two week span for it to begin to sprout. Every Morning, you had a routine. You’d wake up, and while your breakfast toast browned, you’d check on the pot, giving it a sprinkle of water, and when needed, a dusting of fertilizer, before setting it back up to face the light. And each night, you’d give it a final check, occasionally singing it a lullaby. Yes, it was silly, but you couldn’t help but do everything to help it grow

But nearly a month later, still nothing. You bit your knuckle as you paced your rooftop garden, the pot now being placed in the sunshine during the day, some netting to protect it from birds and rodents, trying to figure out why there hadn’t been any sprouts. Perhaps the breed was a slow growing one, saving up energy for a robust bloom in the fall. Yes, that would be the reason. But, to ease your mind, you decided to check out with some of your acquaintances that had participated in the competition. Nothing too intrusive, not spying, just to see how everything was going for them.

Your downstairs neighbor, a young woman who worked at the corner cafe, smiled when you asked how progress was going. “It’s going wonderful!” she exclaimed, and quickly showed off her pot. To your dismay, the healthy shoots spiked out two inches out of the soil, a good week and half of growth. “Yours must be twice this size!” your neighbor gushed, “you’re such a good person with all types of plants! Do you mind showing me?” “I uh..” you scrambled to find an excuse, “I don’t want to disturb the growing plants more than necessary at this stage,” which was true, if your plant had a chance of growing healthy at this point, it couldn’t be put under any stress.

“Ah, understandable...well,” she looked back at her plant like a loving mother looking proudly at her baby, “May the best gardener win!”

The door shut in your face, as you glumly went up the stairs to your apartment…

Yes, may the best gardener win…

*********

Summer came with a flash of heat, and even though your flowers hadn’t even so much peeked out of the soil, you continually did your routine of watering, fertilizing, and caring for the apparently lifeless pot. You still had hope...you HAD to keep up hope. One of those seeds had to be viable, just waiting to burst out like one of those prank snakes in a can….but nothing.

It didn’t help that everywhere you went, from your work at the library, to the market, all you could hear was women bragging about how healthy, how large, and how vibrant their budding plants were. In fact, some of the ladies would go in public, either carrying their plants to show them off, with glossy green leaves, or if they were upper class, have a servant follow behind them, lugging the pot around, like a governess watching over their child.

Unfortunately, a new law had to be passed, after a half dozen women got into a full out brawl in the piazza, each fighting for the right to having the ‘best’ chrysanthemum, to ban the carrying of plants in the marketplace, except for the purposes of sale. Thankfully, the only casualties of the savage fight was several pots and their unfortunate occupants….and the hopes and dreams of their owners.

And yet, seeing all these plants, hearing the boasts about how well they grew, just depressed you. You had worked so, so hard… and nothing. How could you show up with a pot of dirt, while surrounded by such wonderful specimens? You might as well drop out of the contest, and save yourself the humiliation.

Two weeks before the Fall market fair was set to begin, Sarah came over to your house. You hadn’t let anyone in, ashamed at your failure, terrified you’d be laughed out of town for not being able to raise a plant as hardy and simple to grow as a Chrysanthemum. But...Sarah was different, she didn’t have a stake in the whole contest.

“How’s the Chryth- I mean the Mum growing business?” She innocently asked, unaware of your summer of troubles “it’s gotta be, like six feet tall, with your skills. Prince Vergil’s gonna be knocked out of his royal pants when he sees yours, eh?”

It was time to break the truth, both to your friend… and yourself. “I’m… I’m not going to the fair.”

It took Sarah a moment, while she blinked, once, twice...three times.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE NOT GOING?!”

You led her up to the rooftop, the sun of a late afternoon warming the nape of your neck, to show her the shallow blue pot, without a hint of green. “Nothing grew...I did everything I was supposed to, I watered, I fertilized, I made sure it wasn’t too cold or too hot...and still...nothing” Even now, you tried to make sure the tears that dribbled down your cheeks didn’t splash into the soil, salt water would be bad for the seeds. “I can’t go...can’t show everyone what a failure I was. Everyone else will have beautiful flowers, and all I’ll have...is this.”

Sarah rubbed your shoulder in support, but her voice was firm. “You should still bring it. I know you, I know you put a heart and soul into raising those seeds, I can feel it. Bring it to the fair, and if Prince Vergil can’t sense about how much love you shoved into every seed, then fuck him, he ain’t worth your time.” She wiped your tears with a tissue, helping you calm down. Perhaps she had a point. You had done everything you could, you couldn’t be blamed for neglect. “Honestly, your mum is personally my favourite all this year.”

Perplexed, you looked at your friend.

“Everyone is growing these damn things. I think I’m gonna puke if I get another whiff of a mum. Yours smells the nicest.”

At least, Sarah’s sense of humour lightened your spirits, if only a little.

*******

Sarah wasn’t wrong. The overpowering smell of hundreds of white blooms blotted over the traditional scents of the autumn fair, such as apple pie or roast pork. And instead of the the mooing and baaing of prizewinning cows and sheep, all you could hear were the titterings and gossip of the young women of the city, each bragging about how hard they worked to grow their flowers, how much love and care they’d placed into each glossy leaf, on how it was a certainty that they’d catch the Prince’s eye.

You tried to stay as inconspicuous as possible, and mostly you succeeded, as everyone was more focused on their own plant, or giving out disapproving looks at their nearby rival’s. But every so often, a lady would look down confused at your pot, before giving a small pitying smile. You could even tell your otherwise perfectly nice downstairs neighbor was secretly relieved that she didn’t have any competition from you.

The only one who paid attention to you, without judgement, was Sarah, who gave you an encouraging smile.

“After this, let’s go to the bar and get so plastered you forget this entire summer, my treat!” she chirped, and you couldn’t help but smile. In truth, you really wanted to wipe this whole debacle out of your memory for the rest of your life. Just a few more minutes to go….

The sound of the herald’s bell silenced the crowd, and all the contestants stood up a bit straighter, some checking both their dresses and plants one last time, ready to present their best. Even you couldn’t help doing the same.

“HEAR YE! HEAR YE!” The stiff man called out, ringing his bell one last time. “THE JUDGMENT WILL NOW BEGIN,” a group of finely dressed people, apparently the judges, stood up, but the Herald continued, “WITH BOTH PRINCE DANTE AND PRINCE VERGIL AS THE FINAL ARBITRATORS.” Everyone, including yourself, did a collective gulp as the familiar colours of Crimson and Azure appeared on the platform. Both men were dressed to perfection, their gold tasseled lapels shining in the fall sunlight, their black pants perfectly pressed. But their looks on their faces seemed cold...almost upset. Even the usually jovial smile on the younger twin was gone, replaced by a worried frown. But that was nothing in comparison with Vergil’s face. He looked...disgusted. Surrounded by some of the most gorgeous flowers you had ever seen, and he yet, seemed to be repulsed by them all as his eyes scanned the crowd. If these plants weren’t up to his high standards, your pot didn’t have a chance.

“I told you this was a terrible idea…” you heard him mutter, presumably to his brother, “Not a single woman has what I am looking for...the dishonesty of it all. When we get home, I don’t care how much mother protests, you will regret ever suggestin-” he stopped. His eyes were fixed at one point, and everyone followed his line of sight…

that led to you and your little barren pot.

Without warning, Prince Vergil quickly stepped down the wooden stairs, his footsteps steady but his frantic pace betraying something more. Even now, as he approached, you thought that maybe he was looking at the lady beside you, a smaller than average plant, but one with many, many healthy white blooms. That MUST be who he was interested in. His face wasn’t as upset as before, but you couldn’t tell what his exact feelings were. But as he got closer, now a few paces away, his eyes never left you, and you couldn’t help it, you averted your eyes, partially out of deference, partially out of fear. Was he offended that you had dared bring this failure to be judged? Your heart pounded so loud, you could barely make out the sound of his footsteps stopping before you, the only reason you could tell he was there, was his shiny black leather shoes halting in front of you.

“Your name?” he demanded, but not as harshly as you had feared. You gave it out, your voice trembling.

“And this…” his long, elegant fingers grazed against the edge of the blue glaze, “is your attempt at growing a White Chrysanthemum?” Strange, you’d expected him to be dismissive, but there was a sense of earnestness in the questition. You nodded, trying to get the words out. “Y-yes, My Lord. I did...I did everything I could...I watered, I fertilized, I gave the seeds all the sunlight it could ever need, but…” You couldn’t keep back the sob that burst from your throat, and tears dribbled down your cheeks. You were so ashamed at your failure.

Unexpectedly, you felt warm fingers on your chin, gently lifting your face up, to finally look up at him. You’d never been so close to the Prince before, and he was even more handsome up close. And that hard expression that once there, was gone, replaced by something that confused you. It looked like...admiration? But for what?

“You were the only one, out of everyone here,” he spoke softly, for your ears alone, “who didn’t hide behind lies...you did all you could, and didn’t hide your supposed ‘failure.’” The way he emphasised that last word puzzled you and you gave him a quizzical look. He smiled softly and pulled out a silk blue handkerchief to wipe your tears away.

“Ladies and Gentleman!” Dante strode up to front of the platform, temporarily ripping everyone’s attention from you and the Prince. He had a grin that looked like he had been keeping it in for weeks, or even months. “I’d like to make a VERY IMPORTANT announcement.” He took a breath, obviously savouring the moment. “You see, when we gave out those seeds...well, before we brought them out...we boiled them, the entire batch. Therefore…” he trailed off allowing the quicker members assembled to place the pieces together. “None of the seeds should be growing anything, you might as well used them for bug spray”

Panicked gasps came from the women, each rapidly looking at each other, and then down at the pots they held. A sound of shattering clay as several pots smashed from being dropped by some of the shocked ladies, who quickly ran for the exit of the fair, the crowds parting away for them.

Dante yanked the bell out of the Herald’s hand, and rang it, signalling everyone to settle down. “See, what my dear brother wanted in a woman wasn’t a good gardener, although there’s nothing wrong with that. Verg’s pretty handy at growing stuff…” his grin softened to genuine pride, “No, what he wanted was a woman who could be truthful to him, not try to flatter him with lies to soothe his pride and ego… And trust me, his ego is as big as it is....”

Vergil swung his head over to his younger brother, scowling momentarily, cutting the speech off. But, slowly, he turned back to you, his fingers stroking the rapidly dry tear tracks on your cheeks. “I..know this… whole turn of events is rather sudden and unexpected...but...will,” he struggled with the words, the first time you had ever seen him this nervous, “will you take me?”

Your eyes watered up with tears, but not out of grief, but of happiness. You smiled, and nodded, not trusting your voice to say anything. He almost seemed surprised at your assent, standing stock still momentarily, before his smile blossomed fully as he took your hand and led you through the quickly parting crowds, as a large amount of cheers erupted in congratulations, celebrating Fortuna’s newest Princess.

You felt a brush against your shoulder, and heard the voice of Sarah’s at your ear. “I knew you could do it!” She was barely audible above the crowd, “Now...would Your Royal Highness mind putting a good word for me with Prince Dante?...”

Tagging�� mandyvc (won’t let me tag you for some reason)

#Devil May Cry #Vergil x Reader #Fluff #Fairytale AU #Thank you to the discord chat for suggesting suitable flowers!

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stillness-in-green · 4 years ago

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The MLA(/PLF) Headcanon Post (1/2)

In response to this nice ask about whether I have any headcanon or thoughts about the current members of the MLA/PLF, I spent two weeks blithering 16.5K words of exactly that into a Word file, because when it comes to underappreciated characters I love, I do not understand restraint. This post and its follow-up will cover all ranked ex-MLA members of the PLF, as well as Original Flavor Destro and Curious, since I wasn't going to leave them out of a project like this even if they aren't "current."

The ask only mentioned having previously read The Lore Post, the last exercise in ridiculousness that I wrote at the tail end of MLA Week, so I wrote this to summarize everything that doesn't appear there—which is to say that a lot of the material in these two posts will look familiar to anyone who's read my fanfic about the MLA cast. There’s still plenty of new material to go around too, though!

So, I don't have much in the vein of askblog-style headcanons where I can randomly tell you stray trivia about a character’s favorite foods or their love languages or what have you; that stuff either comes up when I'm writing fanfic or it doesn't. That said, below, please find a mix of thoughts I keep in mind when writing characters, facts that have only turned up in my fanfic/notes so far and not the Lore Post meta, and a selection of lightning round headcanon provided by cross-referencing a random number generator with some old questionnaires I keep around for OCs and tabletop characters.

In this post: Destro, Re-Destro and his advisors, and Geten.

Destro—

General Thoughts The whole "revolutionary leader" thing came very naturally to him. He was committed, charismatic, very willing to risk his life and safety for the cause, and he cared about his people. All that said, he absolutely had a pompous, prideful streak, especially where it came to his justification for terrorism. You only have to read his own words to see that. Still, he was in large part reacting to the world he lived in, one of greater violence and danger than the current day.

I like to think that—because he was genuine in wanting freedom for all—he would not approve of what became of his Army. He'd be able to see how they got there, and he would probably have made much the same choices if he'd been there with them, but while he would have agreed that his role should be remembered—that's just Due Credit—he would never have wanted to become the nigh-on religious figure his followers turned him into. Continuing to fight the good fight for his ideals is one thing, but secret salutes and isolated villages and being raised from infancy to know your life has only as much worth as it can contribute to Liberation… Well, it's just not what he would have wanted for his people, much less his descendants.

Family Situation Chikara was only around 7 when his mother was killed, the event that would shape the rest of his life. He wasn't hiding in the closet from the mob, either; he was kicking and punching and biting, his motivation to save her overflowing—but he was still only 7, and eventually overwhelmed. His own life might well have ended there with hers, but for a group of neighborhood vigilante types (at least one of whom probably went on to a career as a hero, after legalization).

He went most of his adolescence without getting involved with anything more sinister than student newspapers, founding a secret meta-rights "club," and attending the odd larger protest, but when the government started talking about passing laws restricting the use of meta-abilities, he started getting very radical very quickly, and when some absolute snake started to use his martyred mother's words to bang the drum for banning quirk use outside the home outright, he went off the deep end.

Lightning Round (Randomly Selected Headcanons)

Favorite book genre? Memoirs and biographies—he wouldn't have written his own if he didn't appreciate their value. The intimacy of the personal juxtaposed against the broad scope of history appeals to both his regard for individuality and his revolutionary mindset.

Most prized possession? Thoughts on material possessions in general? He doesn’t generally prize material possessions—in fact, he’s something of a skinflint. His most prized possession is an old pair of gloves that belonged to his mother, which he'd been wearing at the time of her murder. He didn't come from money to begin with, but his mother’s story made enough of a splash that his financial situation was improved by well-meaning sorts sending along donations and contributions and the like, as well as government officials knowing they needed to be sure that he wound up somewhere at least semi-reasonable lest they court further outrage by mishandling the son of a martyred woman. The money all went towards school and living expenses, though, leaving him quite experienced at balancing a budget, which would come in handy for that whole ‘leading a violent uprising against the state’ thing later on.

Academic Background: Got all the way through college! Was involved in student groups as far back as middle school, and only got moreso the further in school he got. Majored in Human Development; he was intending to go into the public health and policy sphere before the appropriation of his mother's language pissed him off so much he got into terrorism instead.

THE MODERN MLA

Re-Destro—

General Thoughts A huge amount of the way I write him is influenced by one single thing—his characterization as described in the second data book. His personality is summed up there as "sokoshirenai yami"—bottomless darkness, or, as a friend translated it for me, "unfathomable gloominess." That really, really stuck with me, because on the one hand, it's so opposed to virtually all of what we see of him on the page, where he's being cheerful or scornful or sycophantic; the closest he ever gets are his brief tears for Miyashita, Curious, and his other followers.

On the other hand, it makes so much sense that the man we see—the man who talks about the heavy burdens of his legacy, who was handed that legacy when he couldn't possibly have been any older than 6 or so, who willingly straps on a self-designed torture device to wring out more power, who all but worships the ground Shigaraki walks on even though Shigaraki is the reason Re-Destro no longer has legs to walk that same ground with—should be "unfathomably gloomy." Of course he's gloomy! He was never allowed to be his own person! He has never in his life known true freedom, only existed as a vessel to bring that freedom to others! And he can't really even talk to his closest friends about it, because his closest friends are still his followers, and he wouldn't want to weigh them down!

With that context, it makes all the sense in the world that he'd be so devoted to the man who relieved him of that burden.

Family Situation He loved his mother Yukie a great deal, despite knowing from early on that he was carrying the weight of the title because she believed she couldn’t. (Perhaps growing up hearing about the martyrdom of Destro’s mother left him wanting to ensure the happiness of his own, for her happiness was very rare.) He was 10 when she was killed in a Villain attack; she’d been on a daytrip over to a neighboring city to visit some of her erstwhile school friends. The requisite mourning period was 49 days, and as the only surviving family member, quite a lot fell to him even before considerations of his role as Re-Destro. it was perceived as better—for both the Army’s morale and for his own stability—for him to be involved with as much of the work of transition as possible, but obviously he couldn’t do it completely alone, nor should he. Thus, for two months after Yukie’s death, the previous generation's Sanctum[i] stayed with him in his family home. Afterward, he moved in with Anchor (one of his grandfather's advisors), where he would spend the rest of his young adulthood until moving away for college.

Claustrophobia The name of that literal-iron-maiden deathtrap he brings to bear against Shigaraki is no coincidence: Rikiya developed claustrophobia over the course of a stint of abusive training when he was thirteen. He generally has a pretty good handle on disguising it, thanks to a combination of people being unwilling to ask him questions they don’t actually want the answers to and the fact that he had to learn how to operate through it in order to complete the training at all. He has never told anyone, largely because he’s never been able to recognize that it was abuse, and so his abuser remains a figure of some influence.

Education He was largely taught by private tutors, in his home and in theirs, rather than attending school, but I think he probably wasn't completely home-schooled. Particularly once he'd decided that he did want to attend university—and not just some little local technical program, but a major school in a proper city—he probably attended classes a few times a week at his local high school just to get a feel for being around other people his own age. He'd been friends with Koku for several years by that point, otherwise he probably would have been pretty hopeless, but he was still a pretty odd duck by the time he got to university.

This, incidentally, is why he never pushed Geten too hard about school—his own experience of it was so weird and piecemeal that he mostly thinks of school as relevant only for the education it provides, and less so the crash course in social dynamics. Since Geten doesn't care about getting an education (nor, indeed, about learning how not to be a rude little troll), and has a strong enough quirk that he'll never lack for a position in the Army even without a formal education, Rikiya is perfectly happy to let Geten have his way and just be minimally learnèd.

Stress His powers operate by infusing his body with the characteristic black matter of his manifested stress; he can increase his size with this (his so-called Liberated Form isn't just armored up; he becomes physically taller and bulkier), as well as throw handfuls of the materialized power. A side effect of this is that his stress can also infuse itself into his bodily fluids. The stress matter is a highly dense particulate, so if Rikiya is not in proper control of himself, his proverbial blood, sweat and tears can be literally heavy with the weight of his power.

The Value of Life He cares very much about the lives of his followers, but those genuine feelings are filtered through both the mental compartmentalization required by an emotion-based quirk, and an upbringing that taught him to care about his underlings in the same way one would rare goods. Valuable goods, certainly, goods worth being proud of, goods to be maintained with care, but still, ultimately, things that can be sold or traded or bartered off as necessary to further one's goals. Even his own life, while "objectively" the most valuable of them all, isn't an exception to that policy—the Great Cause is more important than any individual life, up to and including his own.

On a Personal Note He’s something of an obvious weirdo to outsiders—his enthusiasm comes off as strident, his smiles overly polished—but despite that, he's bizarrely hard to dislike once they start spending real time with him. He's not anywhere near as prideful about himself as he is the legacy of the MLA, for a start; he's actually pretty self-deprecating when he's not performing the whole Heir of Destro's Great Bloodline routine at people. He's also happy to go along with other people sharing their hobbies (because he doesn't have any of his own). The more you get to know him, the more obvious it becomes that he's a total basket case, but “total basket case” is still an improvement over “self-absorbed 1%-er CEO” that people like Spinner come in expecting.

What Are Boundaries? He has very little understanding of how to enforce boundaries around his private life, or, indeed, of why such boundaries might ever be necessary. Oh, he can do the double life thing, keep the CEO of Detnerat separate from the Grand Commander of the Metahuman Liberation Army, but when it comes to the MLA itself, he's so groomed to devote himself to the cause that he doesn't really distinguish between the responsibilities of Re-Destro and the needs of Yotsubashi Rikiya. Rather than being the egomaniac you might expect of a man with the absolute power over others he has, he instead struggles to assert himself as his own person at all.

Issues with boundaries are not uncommon with the MLA—they're all raised to see themselves as warriors to advance the cause before they are, like, “human beings”—but Rikiya’s are particularly exacerbated because he was raised by adults who were getting pretty paranoid about his bloodline's tendency to die young, and thus were always checking in on how he was doing, dictating his schedule, weighing in on his plans, and so on. He just wasn’t raised with reasonable expectations for privacy. Even as an adult, he'll give his apartment door code to pretty much anyone in the MLA who has even a semi-plausible reason to want it—certainly quite a few of the elders know it! And it isn’t only the elders, either; Rikiya's phone and several of his accessories carry tracking chips courtesy of Skeptic, which Rikiya knows about and doesn't think is at all untoward.

While his experience dating Koku definitely taught him some hard lessons about how much he could allow himself to ask of people who would obey him without question (they broke up over Rikiya’s realization that Koku would never deny him anything, thanks to a cracked rib Koku didn’t see fit to tell Rikiya about until Rikiya hugged him a little too hard), he never learned how to value his own autonomy in turn. Oh, he's the Grand Commander, and everyone around him has been raised to venerate his bloodline, so most of them would never even think about trying to take advantage of him as such, but it's absolutely the case that people who are bold or familiar enough to try can basically run right over him with minimal efforts made at obscuring the fact. His life is full of people who do and have done exactly that, some to a net positive effect, and some—well. See again the entry about his claustrophobia.

The abjectly terrible state of his sense of self-worth is also the reason the Claustro exists. While he was relatively capable of trying to work around his phobia when he was younger, the older he got, the more it started to feel like leaving doors cracked behind him or only working in offices with big spacious floor plans and oversized windows was, in some way, Letting Down The Cause by allowing his fear to control him, rather than embracing it so he could properly stockpile it for later use. A dinnertime chat with Curious about turning one’s trauma into a weapon for the good of others catalyzed this, leading to the development of the “burden-enhancing steel pressure mechanism,” Claustro.

(It also means the clone of him made by Twice to handle Detnerat after Deika is bizarrely okay with its circumstances, which I will almost certainly write more about one of these days, but I’m still kind of reeling from that reveal, so more on that another time.)

Lightning Round

Religion? He doesn't identify as being of a religious faith, but he was brought up in the same peaceful marriage of Shinto and Buddhism that the majority of Japanese people are, and like many, he adheres to a number of traditional practices more out of habit than devout faith. There are two celebrations that demand significant emotional investment from him. First comes the New Year's celebrations, important because the MLA prides itself on looking to a brighter, freer future, and it's a period when he can let himself think that maybe he'll be just that little bit closer to Liberation by the end of the year than he was at the start. Second is Obon, a summer festival for honoring one's departed ancestors. Since his authority and his life's work derive entirely from his bloodline, he's obligated to care about this one, though in practice, he tends to shy away from thinking much about Destro (who he has very twisted-up feelings about indeed) in favor of less emotionally fraught waters.

What did he dream of being or doing as a child? Did that dream come true? He never really had a significant period where he thought about being e.g. an astronaut or a doctor or a hero; in fact, it came as something of a surprise to him the first time Koku asked him what he was planning to do when he grew up. He always just had the nebulous expectation of, "Be the Grand Commander," and the elders were happy to leave it at that until he brought it up on his own.[ii]

How does he behave around children? He likes kids! He’s wistful about the freedom enjoyed by happy children while also being sympathetic to ones that seem overly burdened. He’s not the most natural person in the world with them, but most of them can tell that the awkwardness comes from a well-intentioned place, and will treat him as a funny-looking man who’ll let them bother him at length without getting mean. It turns out he’s actually pretty good with them, then, if only by virtue of being easily bullied. (This, notably, goes for non-MLA-affiliated children. Everything’s much more formal within the cult, though it didn’t Geten long to suss out the “easily-bullied” part, either.)

Trumpet—

General Thoughts The largest factor in how I write Koku is, of course, the headcanon that he and Rikiya are ex-lovers, and neither of them is 100% over it even all these years later. Beyond that, though, Koku is the most temperate of the group, the one with the most easy charisma (MLA members are more swayed by Re-Destro, but Koku does better with outsiders who aren't predisposed to hanging on Rikiya's every word). He strives to come off as The Sensible One, and given the extremes the rest of the inner circle are capable of, it's not hard for him to maintain that title. He's as messed up as any of them, though, second only to Rikiya in levels of childhood grooming. He thinks of himself as a practical man, but he is deeply indoctrinated, the boundaries of his expectations very much defined by his upbringing, so he never really sees it coming when he gets clobbered by something from out of left field.

Family Situation: Koku has the largest family of the identified members. Aside from his grandfather (called Old Man Hanabata, the founder of the Hearts & Minds Party, and passed away by the canon era), Koku has cousins, nieces, nephews and more, courtesy of his uncle, his older sister and her husband, and other extended family.

He’s also the member most accustomed to wealth, power and influence. He's from a rural area, certainly, but being in a family of hereditary politicians (and with that family not suffering a string of untimely deaths and disappearances like Rikiya's did), he was raised from the start with ready access to money and nice things. Still, for all his family's sway in a major branch of the MLA's operations, they're not First Families, and thus don't have any elders in their ranks, making them still somewhat subordinate to said elders when it comes to orders about the Great Cause. (He’s working on it.)

Meeting Re-Destro Koku and Rikiya met at 12 and 10 respectively, when Koku tagged along with Old Man Hanabata for a meeting RD was likewise accompanying Anchor for. It had been the better part of a year since Rikiya's mother passed away, but he was still strikingly melancholy for a boy that age, which—along with all the weight given to the importance of the meeting—left quite an impression on Koku. Koku thus became Rikiya's first real friend in his own age group, a friendship heartily encouraged by everyone around them. Koku was well-behaved, intelligent, a little older but not too much so, and set to become influential without a danger of becoming too influential; he was seen as a good choice for a friend.[iii]

The Break-Up Painful as it was at the time, there was a silver lining to his and RD's post-college break-up: it got Koku out of the elders' pocket. He’s been groomed for one thing or another all his life, but after he became friends with Rikiya, he was always getting leaned on to report back to the First Families about how Re-Destro was doing, and to try to influence him towards actions the First Families approved of. In a very real sense, Koku was part of the apparatus keeping Rikiya from any real freedom. Their break-up and subsequent estrangement meant that the elders had far less to breathe down Koku's neck about, and by the time they reconciled, Trumpet had gotten his feet under him, as had Re-Destro, and they were both better able to fend off such background meddling.

This doesn't mean Trumpet's not still carrying a torch, however. He thought he was handling his long-banked feelings pretty well—being Professional, being the advisor Re-Destro needed and as much a friend as Rikiya would allow—right up until Rikiya scared the life out of him by nearly dying in Deika. He's all but glued himself to Rikiya since, as much as he can get away with given their respective responsibilities.

As an Advisor Other than leading the HMP, he does some work with internal politics and reputation. It's not, strictly speaking, his actual job as advisor—Re-Destro or the elders would probably be sought for more formal or critical mediations—but he and the people who report directly to him do enough travelling around to see constituents that they're often in a position to field those tensions before they get big enough to require attention from higher up. Koku's happy to do so, in fact—not because he just loves handling petty arguments about resources, but because the HMP is a faction of the MLA in and of itself, and mediating is a boost to that faction's standing and autonomy. (Also, it's that much less on Rikiya's ever-overburdened plate.)

Lightning Round

What would he do if he needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?Ahahahahaha, “make dinner but the kitchen was busy,” please. Any time there could feasibly be someone else occupying a kitchen he has any business being in himself, it would be a housekeeper, and s/he would be making food for him/his family. It’s not as though Trumpet has never cooked—he did live alone for some years after school—but outside of a scant few years in university, there’s never really been a time that kitchen use overlap would have been a problem for him.

Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging. Probably gourmet cuisine, especially imported stuff. He’s had tailored clothes all his life; they’re just part of the job. Expensive alcohol also doesn’t wow him; it wouldn’t be strange to find some sake maker whose family has been doing it for sixteen generations in the village he grew up in. It’s a lot harder to cultivate a true gourmand’s palate out in the sticks, though, no matter how rich your family is. Living in actual civilization affords a great deal more variety—and anyway, nice dinners are one of the few things he can reliably tempt Rikiya into accepting. As to his feelings about indulging in general, he’s broadly For It. He works very hard, he seldom gets real time off, and it doesn’t help the Great Cause for him to deny himself nice things, unlike some people. (He’s maybe a bit bitter.)

Does he like to be the center of attention all of the time? Not especially. Oh, he’s very good at it, certainly, and he doesn’t dislike it, but being the center of attention is practically always going to be tied up in The Great Work, so he desperately needs to get out of the spotlight from time to time, if only to be able to turn off the persona.

Curious—

General Thoughts There are two main factors in how I write Chitose: her practicality and her rapaciousness. I write her as having an appreciation for good moral character in other people, especially when it makes a good story, but not considering herself particularly bound by conventional morality: her moral compass is Liberation, and she follows it unswervingly. I also write her as predatory, lusty about a lot of things, often to the point of overstepping. It doesn't hurt anyone that she likes hearty foods and strong alcohol, but she also doesn't have much regard for peoples' boundaries, and even less so when she thinks they have something to offer the Great Cause.

While that trait isn't without its benefits, it can get pretty ugly, too, as we see in how she treats, and talks to, Toga. Even with Rikiya, the only person she thinks of as 'above' her in any meaningful sense, she's not at all above manipulation. She's respectful of him, but knows him too well to always take him at his word. He plainly can't always see what's best for him, but what's best for him is best for Liberation, and therefore, as a Liberation warrior, it's her responsibility to sometimes make decisions for him. He'll appreciate it in the long run—he always does. (Skeptic and Geten have similar views—Rikiya makes it easy.)

Family Situation She probably has the best actual relationship with her family of the group—her mothers are removed enough from the heart of MLA politics that her relationship with Rikiya doesn't color her family life the way Koku's does his, and she's much more sociable than Skeptic or Geten. She doesn't get home much—just the major holidays, work permitting—but she's in frequent enough communication for a grown woman, and chats with her younger sister more often than that.

Meeting Re-Destro She met Rikiya properly when they were 21 and 27 respectively. They were living in the same city at the time (him running Detnerat, her in university), so of course she'd seen him at the odd MLA event he turned up at, but when she landed an internship in her junior year, she cheekily turned up one day in her reporter capacity to interview him as “a local rising star of industry.” It was the first chance they'd had to talk one-on-one, and would not be the last, as she frankly elbowed her way into his life and gradually sussed out that here was a man with Problems. He and Koku were still in a distant patch at the time; she is largely responsible for getting them back on friendly terms as a way of showing her Pure Intentions.

The fact that her Pure Intentions both land her a square position as one of RD's advisors herself and get Rikiya to a better place emotionally is calculated, but not, therefore, untrue. Ironically, while she was concerned about looking like a gold-digger, the MLA elders were probably thrilled and relieved to hear rumors that Rikiya was getting romantically involved again. And with a lovely young MLA woman! They wouldn't even need to worry about surrogacy arrangements! (Not having grown up around the Yotsubashis, Chitose is unaware of exactly how pointed an interest the elders take in the matter of securing that bloodline.)

Feelings Today She loves Rikiya dearly, and prizes his regard more highly than anything in her life, but has not devoted much thought to the idea of being in love with him. She's married to her work, as they say, but she's also keenly aware that Rikiya would, for a great many reasons, be a lot of work to be in love with. She's decided it's generally better for his mental well-being, and therefore also better for the Great Cause (she’s much more capable of reading that relationship reciprocally than Rikiya is), to make sure he's eating at least one good meal a week and getting some proper socialization in outside of MLA meet-and-greets.

As an Advisor She handles external politics and reputation--it's her job to prime Japan culturally for the Liberation agenda in ways more wide-reaching than Trumpet (he's head of a political party, and that's not nothing, but that party is still a small minority on the floor of the Diet). She pulls attention to stories that benefit the MLA, and diverts attention from stories that don't. This is far broader than just publishing Destro's memoir; it also means poking holes in the broader Hero Society narrative. She does this by providing as broad a platform possible for stories about the tragedies of excessive regulation, the evils of quirk-related bias, the abuses of power heroes are capable of, and so on.

Lightning Round

Does she remember names or faces easier? She’s quite good with both, actually, but I’d give names the advantage because she works primarily with written rather than visual mediums. (Also, BNHA names being the ridiculous puns that they are, you can probably tell more about a person in HeroAca Land by analyzing their name than their face anyway.)

Is she more concerned with defending her honor, or protecting her status? Her status, absolutely. Impugning her honor hurts no one but her; she can laugh that off because honor is a silly social construct anyway. Threatening her status is a much more dangerous prospect—her status is long-cultivated to enable the advancement of Liberation ideology; it lets her keep an eye on Re-Destro, who needs as many people looking out for him as he can get; it’s what she’s worked for all her life. Curious will fuck you up if you threaten her status.

In what situation was she the most afraid she’d ever been? The time she got in trouble for nearly exploding some dude’s face off for stealing her purse. She was 17, had spent very little time in non-Liberated territory before, and was not raised to wait on heroes to solve her problems. She wasn’t afraid of the thief or the hero, really, but she was completely terrified that she might have just blown over half a century of secrecy by not performing Helpless Civilian well enough. The terror was pretty convincing to the police interviewing her about it, anyway. On the whole, it was a very valuable learning experience!

Skeptic—

General Thoughts Tomoyasu is a character I haven't written extensively yet, but what I think is most interesting about him so far is the contrast of his hyper-modern methods with the bone-deep zealotry for the cause. See, Rikiya, Koku and Chitose all grew up in the sticks; Rikiya and Koku had money from a young age, but it was old money, tied up in trusts. (Geten didn't have any of those, but Geten's a different story for other reasons.) Tomoyasu grew up in a major city from the start; he was a technological prodigy from practically as soon as he could hold a tablet. He has very little respect for the old ways of doing things when he knows there are newer, better ways of advancing the Cause. However, none of that makes him more likely to break from the MLA's ranks—if anything, his idiosyncratic approach just causes him to approach Liberation in really weird ways, ways no one else would ever come up with.

Pressganging Bubaigawara Jin based on a plan to clone Re-Destro? Who else would that ever even occur to, much less such that it became the basis for an elaborate psychological assault? But that's Skeptic in a nutshell—respect the old for what it did at the time, but don't think that means you have to use the same methods they did forever as you pick up the torch to carry it forward.

Family Situation He has an amicable but not intimate relationship with his family. His parents are very proud of what he's done for the cause and how he won the confidence of Re-Destro, but they don't make much claim to understand how his mind works. In turn, he recognizes the value of their support over the years—he certainly made a lot of waves with his unabashed venom for the MLA leadership's hidebound traditionalism, and his parents' staunch backing meant a lot for him being able to take the stands he did—but is not very emotionally close with them. Might find himself with an older brother, if I ever occasion to write about his family situation in more depth.

Education He graduated a four-year university program for getting his computer science degree in two very intense years, during which he did virtually nothing for the Great Cause, his intention being to better position himself for maximum ability to advance Liberation afterward. See above re: battles his parents fought for him while he was busy modernizing.

Meeting Re-Destro He met Re-Destro via Curious. He was 22, just a year out of university and already climbing the chain of command at a young telecommunications company. Rikiya was 33, working on the Claustro, and needed proprietary comms built to a higher standard of security than Detnerat was focused on. Curious, who was always better positioned to be keeping up with the local personalities, introduced them.

Tomoyasu attempted to keep a civil tongue in his head the first few times he and RD met, but he'd been running on bile and energy drinks for years by that point and was hard-pressed to stop just because he was meeting his Grand Commander. If anything, finding out that Rikiya was okay with his direction and his mouth eventually helped him chill the fuck out, marginally.

On that note, Skeptic is absolutely the advisor most willing to backtalk Rikiya right to his face. (Rikiya loves him for it.) Oh, he'll still accede to Rikiya's wishes, and Re-Destro's orders are his highest priority, but that doesn't mean he feels obligated to be diffident about it. Like Curious, he has a highly developed sense of, "It's fine if it's for the greater good," which will and has led to him taking things into his own hands when he thinks he knows best (which is always). He's not going to explicitly disobey orders, but he will creatively interpret them if he feels strongly about them, and he will try to "anticipate" orders before anyone has time to give him specific ones, the better to tailor his efforts towards proving his methods and goals correct rather than being stuck with orders he hates.

On Names I’ve definitely evolved some in my approach on this since I started writing the MLA cast, but at current, Skeptic and Geten are the only ones I consistently write as using and thinking mainly in terms of code names rather than given names. Trumpet is too familiar with the public/private divide, and has too much intimate history with Rikya-the-person, to default to Re-Destro; Curious is too trained to look for The Human Heart of the Story. Re-Destro himself, ever since breaking up with Koku, has always tried to use code names for people (himself excluded, because he has enormous self-confidence issues about measuring himself up to the original Destro), but can slip into given names when he’s vulnerable. To Skeptic and Geten, though, the code name is the real name, for all intents and purposes. The cover identity is a fake; the whole point of the code name is that you’re proving yourself worthy of taking up your proper place in the Army. Of course the name you win for yourself is the name that counts.

Lightning Round

Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen? You’d pretty much have to lock him in a room with nothing but paper and pencil in it for that to be his first resort rather than whatever item of personal electronics he’d otherwise have on his person. But assuming some actual plausible scenario—couldn’t bring his electronics into a government building, let’s say—he would find trying to do something productive on paper and pencil rather beneath him, and he’s an inveterate fidgeter. I mostly see him folding that ludicrously tall frame of his into a chair and setting to using the pencil to poke about three hundred holes in the sheet of paper, meticulous and orderly, while muttering complaints to himself the whole time until something annoys him a bit too much and he jabs the whole pencil through the page.

Who does he see as his best friend? His worst enemy? I headcanon him having a very reasonable, functional, productive relationship with his No. 1 advisor, Red, and being reasonable, functional, and productive probably goes a lot farther on making you Skeptic’s “friend” than any amount of emotional intimacy. But “best friend” is not really the kind of language Skeptic uses for his relationships; if you were to ask him who his best friend is, he’d probably tell you, “Iced coffee.” As to his worst enemy, that’s just whoever is annoying him most on any given day, from difficult clients, to people annoying Re-Destro, stodgy elders, that hero grinning like a tool, that couple walking too slow in front of him on the sidewalk, etc. And Skeptic is pretty proactive about dealing with enemies, as much as he can be.

Has he ever been bitten by an animal? How was he affected (or unaffected)? lol he is a city boy and always has been. He probably tried to pet a stray cat once out of curiosity, and because it seemed like the sort of thing people did, and then has never forgiven Animals In General when it bit him and then ran off.

Geten—

General Thoughts Another one I haven’t written a great deal about yet, particularly in the present day, though I’m looking for that to change soonish. One thing I’d like to explore is Geten when he’s not seething with rage and shame because he failed to bring Re-Destro a victory in Deika. The fandom tends to write Geten as an always-angry attack dog barely contained beneath a chilly veneer, and that’s fair—ever since we got the face reveal, ever since the MLA’s defeat at Shigaraki’s hands, Geten has been an always-angry attack dog barely contained beneath a chilly veneer.

But if you look at Geten from before we knew what was under the hood, you find a different story. “Chilly and angry all the time” is not at all how he acted when he was fighting Dabi! At that point, he was talkative, even chatty. He engaged in a lot of snide smack-talk; he was obviously confident in himself and he spoke very proudly of the MLA as a collective.

He was still quiet at the dinner he attended with Rikiya and his advisors, yes, so I don’t think Geten’s done some kind of full 180 on characterization. I do, however, think that Geten has a sense of humor in there, has a sense of camaraderie with the MLA rooted in more than just his relationship with Re-Destro, even if Re-Destro is obviously his most important person. I don’t know if we’ll ever see that in the manga proper, given everything that’s happened, but it’s worth remembering in terms of what Geten is like when he’s solely among allies.

Family Situation Orphaned at a young age, and a problem child from then on. He passed through a series of foster parents and state facilities before eventually crossing paths with the leader of the local MLA branch in Kesseru, Beacon (more on him next time). This encounter would lead to him being sent to a group home with a reputation for being good with such difficult cases, giving them Structure and Companionship and Meaningful Work. (Spoilers: It’s Liberation.)

Despite evening out considerably after a significant meeting with Re-Destro when he was 7[iv], Geten never got particularly close to his adopted family/the other kids at the group home. He's very favored by the Grand Commander, for one thing, and he has the strongest quirk in the home for another—and since he learned the quirk supremacist stuff from them, that’s a pretty significant part of the dynamic! Both of these factors mean there's some distance between him and the rest. Still, he's not on bad terms with them—indeed, his foster parents are quite proud of him—and he would probably tear out someone's throat with his teeth for threatening them, if only as a matter of pride.

There are 4-6 other kids there at any given time; for the bulk of his young adulthood, there were two older than him, the others younger. He doesn't have much time for Big Brother Pastimes, but is not completely immune to them, either, particularly where the youngest kids are concerned. His tolerance for Little Brother Antics, however, is nonexistent—if the older kids think they can ruffle his hair and treat him like a kid, they can square the fuck up; he is Number One around here and don’t forget it.

Education Geten never went to school, but he's not completely uneducated. He had some tutoring in the group home, some more from Re-Destro personally, and has a pile of books he keeps at his bedside, mostly strategic in nature. He finds them vexing at times, but is slowly reading through them anyway because Re-Destro asked him to. He’s been a bit more diligent about it since he was made a regiment leader, because lord knows Dabi isn't contributing much.

On Re-Destro Re-Destro became fond of Geten for the same reason he became fond of Skeptic and Curious—Geten was willing to push back. He really did make some attempts early on to keep Geten at a proper distance, mindful of anything that would look too much like favoritism. And Geten knew, in the hard-headed way of a child, that Re-Destro was being a grown-up about things, trying to be mature, trying to be impartial. Geten just didn’t care about any of those things. Every time, he would listen very seriously to the things Rikiya told him, nod attentively, repeat back what he’d been told, and then go on about doing his own thing anyway. And his own thing was, typically, to keep coming back.

Of course, if there’s anything we can tell about Re-Destro from the way he treats Shigaraki, it’s that Re-Destro loves people who take the choice away from him.

Eventually, of course, Geten grew up (mostly; I peg him at 19 now), joined the MLA officially, and had to settle into the structure of the Army. It began to lead to trouble for Re-Destro, when Geten blatantly disobeyed him; it stopped being cute. Still, the sense that he Knows What’s Best lingers, so Geten works himself very, very hard to be everything Re-Destro needs him to be and more, so that maybe Re-Destro’s burden will be just that little bit lighter.

On Quirk Supremacy (and Re-Destro, still) Here’s the thing about Geten and the whole, “A life without a strong meta-ability has no value,” line, and this continues to drive me mad because of how people getting it wrong influences the bad takes on the MLA in this fandom: Geten is not a reliable witness. He is not one of the leaders of the MLA, nor does he speak for its rank and file. Even if you assume the absolute worst about his implications there, far worse than is justified by the text, Geten’s very name, Apocrypha, means that he cannot be presumed to be aligned with MLA orthodoxy.

The only one of the people close to Re-Destro who wasn't born and raised MLA, he still manages to come off, in some ways, as the most zealous of the lot of them. But really, it’s very noticeable that Geten—unlike Re-Destro himself, and unlike even Re-Destro’s close cohort—never talks about the original Destro, never even mentions him. When he thinks about his leader, he only ever thinks about Rikiya. Geten doesn’t follow Re-Destro because of his bloodline, because of the tenets; he follows Re-Destro because of personal loyalty.[v]

So how best to do that? Well, think about it: Geten is not terribly intelligent, nor wealthy, nor well-connected. He and Trumpet are the ones most influenced by the quirk supremacist line of thought, Trumpet because his relatively weak quirk comes off as exponentially stronger the more he can surround himself in people it works on, and Geten because his strong quirk lets him mentally justify Re-Destro's investment in him despite his other insufficiencies.

Compare this with Re-Destro, who only ever talks about quirks in terms of freedom. Even more prominently, look at Skeptic and Curious, who are not at all defined by their quirks and how strong or weak said quirks may be. Indeed, those two devote scarcely a thought to the matter because they contribute to the cause in much more important ways and seem to be perfectly comfortable with where that leaves them.

Geten may not be very smart or influential, but he’s very capable of looking at what strengths he does have and focusing hard on those. That, I think, is what really lead to his embracing quirk supremacy, even in the face of evidence that he doesn’t have the whole picture: the search for a way to measure himself up to the movers and shakers Rikiya is otherwise surrounded with, and not come up drastically wanting.

“Apocrypha” Geten has been Geten for a long time, since long before the MLA types usually take up their code names. He’s also an outlier in the MLA for having a name in Japanese instead of in English—the only one who does! My headcanon, unless and until we get some other members with Japanese code names, is that he got the name directly from Re-Destro—possibly even in the conversation that lead to him imprinting so hard on the man when he was 7—and insisted on keeping it before any other code name that was suggested to him in later years.

But yes, he does have a normal Japanese name on file at the group home, which he’s obligated to answer to on the rare occasions that someone from Child Services is checking in or he and Re-Destro are out in public. I don’t plan to bother coming up with it unless I need to, as I expect we’ll get it in a character profile one of these days.

His Quirk While a lot of people like the vibe of Geten and Dabi being somewhat equivalently vulnerable to their own quirks, and I agree it makes for good fanart, in truth, Geten is only as vulnerable to his ice as Endeavor is his flames. Which is to say, he isn't immune, but he's certainly more resistant to it than the average person would be! There’s already plenty of good material to contrast Dabi and Geten without pretending their quirks are more mirrored than is actually the case.

Lightning Round

How does he treat people in service jobs? He doesn’t, because he’s never in a position to interact with people in service jobs. There have been times he’s gone out with Re-Destro, but in those cases he’s mostly let Re-Destro handle the human interaction.

What does he dislike in other people? Laziness; the lack of a higher purpose of some kind. (It’s possible he’d thaw out on his disdain for Dabi considerably if he knew more about Dabi’s plans to undermine the whole of the Hero System than Dabi is inclined to tell him.)

Is he always there for a friend in need? Sure, as long as by “friend” you mean “fellow Liberation warrior” and by “need” you mean “in need of an icicle punched through one of someone else’s desperately fleshy body parts.”

Footnotes

[i] Sanctum II's tastes being what they are, this probably means Rikiya is the MLA member most likely to be able to perform traditional Japanese tea ceremony.

[ii] And there were elders who would have been happy to leave it at that permanently, I'm sure. There are always going to be those regents who have trouble relinquishing power back to the boy prince when he grows up and becomes king, you know?

[iii] And, when it eventually got out that they were dating, a relatively solid match, give or take the surrogacy arrangements that would eventually need to be made.

[iv] I’m hoping canon gives us some details on this eventually, so I’m not planning to iron out more headcanon on the matter unless I absolutely have to.

[v] This, incidentally, is a large part of why Rikiya does keep him around—it’s soothing to have someone around who never brings up his ancestor. Anyway, after Geten evolved his quirk, people stopped complaining so much, even though RD never did get around to, like, giving Geten any formal responsibilities. Geten, who knows very well that Re-Destro’s real advisors have real jobs, mostly took this as reason to be all the stronger, in hopes that he’d eventually be given one.

#boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #yotsubashi chikara #yotsubashi rikiya #hanabata koku #kizuki chitose #chikazoku tomoyasu #geten #destro bnha #re-destro #trumpet bnha #curious bnha #skeptic bnha #meta liberation army #my writing

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 11 months ago

Text

Mike Luckovich

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

JAN 22, 2024

Last night, Florida governor Ron DeSantis dropped out of the race for the 2024 Republican presidential nomination and promptly endorsed former president Trump. DeSantis had tried to present himself as the alternative to Trump, but he put so little daylight between himself and the former president that he could never get traction.

DeSantis appeared to use his power as the governor of Florida to push measures he thought would boost his candidacy, many of which followed the pattern of Hungary’s Viktor Orbán, who has used his government to destroy democracy and assume autocratic powers. DeSantis pushed anti-LGBTQ+ laws, book bans, and the idea that businesses like Disney must answer to the moral positions of the government rather than market forces, and he flew migrants who were in the U.S. legally to Martha’s Vineyard in an apparent attempt to stand out as an anti-immigrant crusader.

But DeSantis never broke free of Trump’s orbit.

The Miami Herald editorial board noted that while DeSantis’s presidential bid had ended, “the damage of the laws he has pushed through in Florida, as he landed more appearances on Fox News, will live on. Without his political ambitions, there likely wouldn’t be ‘Don’t say gay,’ woke wars and the waste of state resources to fight meaningless battles against drag queen bars. These were efforts to appeal to Trump’s base but his supporters refused to leave the former president, especially after he was indicted.”

The New Hampshire primary is tomorrow, with former South Carolina governor Nikki Haley squaring off against Trump. It is not at all clear what daylight exists between the two of them, either, although Haley is perceived as the representative of the pre-Trump corporate Republican Party. Still, the contest is revealing the future in at least one way: today, New Hampshire voters are reporting that they have received robocalls with a deepfake of President Joe Biden’s voice telling them not to vote.

Republican party officials worry that while Trump is taking up tons of oxygen, the party itself has nothing to run on. Since taking control of the House in 2023, Republicans have very little to show for it except a lot of infighting. The last congressional session was “historically unproductive,” as Sahil Kapur of NBC News put it today. House Republicans’ investigations of President Joe Biden, hyped before the media, have fizzled, and now, after insisting that they would not pass funding for Ukraine, Israel, or Taiwan until the “crisis” at the border was addressed, they have backed off and now say they will not pass border legislation.

Meanwhile, radicals appear to be manufacturing a crisis on the border. On January 11, Michael Scherer and Dylan Wells of the Washington Post reported that political ads had used the word “border” 1,319 times since the start of the year, more than any other word including “approve” and “message,” standard disclaimer terms for political ads.

On Wednesday, January 17, state authorities began to arrest migrants at Shelby Park in Eagle Pass, Texas, as part of Governor Greg Abbott’s attempt to take control of immigration away from the federal government. When the government told Texas to stop blocking federal officials from the stretch of the Rio Grande where three migrants died last week, Texas attorney general Ken Paxton’s office responded: “Texas will not surrender.”

Today the U.S. Supreme Court decided that the federal government is authorized to remove the razor wire Texas has installed across the U.S.-Mexico border, although considering the federal government’s authority over border security is very well established, the fact that the vote was 5–4 is surprising. Far-right lawmakers were outraged nonetheless. Representative Chip Roy of Texas urged his House colleagues to defund the Department of Homeland Security, and Louisiana representative Clay Higgins said on social media that the federal government was “staging a civil war” and that “Texas should stand their ground.”

Meanwhile, on Friday, Secretary of State Antony Blinken hosted Mexican Foreign Secretary Alicia Bárcena to follow up on migration discussions the two countries had in meetings on December 27, 2023, in Mexico. In September 2023, Mexico eclipsed China as the largest trading partner of the U.S., and in the December meeting, Blinken, Secretary of Homeland Security Alejandro Mayorkas, Homeland Security Advisor Elizabeth Sherwood-Randall, U.S. ambassador to Mexico Ken Salazar, and National Security Council Coordinator for the Los Angeles Declaration Katie Tobin discussed cooperation to manage the border safely and humanely while also combating the drug smuggling and conditions that have been driving migration.

On January 8, Julia Ainsley of NBC News explained that the Biden administration has been pressuring Mexico to increase enforcement on its own southern border with Guatemala, deport more migrants from within Mexico, and take in more non-Mexican migrants back across the U.S. southern border. In exchange, Ainsley says, Mexico’s president—who is on the defensive at home because of corruption charges—has proposed that the U.S. invest more money in Latin America and Caribbean countries, suspend its blockade of Cuba, ease sanctions against Venezuela, and make it easier for migrants to work legally in the U.S.

On Friday, in Washington, D.C., the U.S. said that the coordinated efforts were having a positive effect on migration as officials have cracked down on smuggling networks, trains, and bus routes. “Migration is a hemispheric challenge,” State Department spokesperson Matthew Miller said. “The United States is committed to work hand in hand with Mexico and countries across the region to address the root causes of migration and advance economic opportunities in the spirit of Los Angeles Declaration for Migration and Protection,” a landmark 2022 agreement in which the heads of twenty of the countries in the Americas agreed to embrace a regional approach to managing migration.

Today, on the anniversary of the 1973 Roe v. Wade decision recognizing the constitutional right to abortion, Vice President Kamala Harris, who has made protecting reproductive rights key to her portfolio, and President Joe Biden noted that thanks to the “extreme decision” of today’s Supreme Court to overturn that decision has left tens of millions of American women “in states with extreme and dangerous abortion bans.”

“Because of Republican elected officials,” Biden said in a statement, “women’s health and lives are at risk…. Even as Americans…have resoundingly rejected attempts to limit reproductive freedom, Republican elected officials continue to push for a national ban and devastating new restrictions across the country.” He and Vice President Harris “are fighting to protect women’s reproductive freedom against Republicans officials’ dangerous, extreme, and out-of-touch agenda,” he said. “We stand with the vast majority of Americans who support a woman’s right to choose, and continue to call on Congress to restore the protections of Roe in federal law once and for all.”

This is a position embraced by 69% of Americans, and the Biden campaign has run videos with Trump bragging that he overturned Roe v. Wade and suggesting that women who obtain abortions should be punished.

Recently, the campaign released an ad in which a Texas woman who is herself an OBGYN talks about being unable to obtain an abortion for a planned pregnancy after a routine ultrasound revealed that the fetus could not survive. “Because of Donald Trump overturning Roe v. Wade,” she says, Texas “completely” took her choice away and put her life in danger. “It’s every woman’s worst nightmare and it was absolutely unbearable. We need leaders that will protect our rights and not take them away,” she says.

Finally, today, a historical moment: the Dow Jones Industrial Average, an average of the value of 30 leading companies, passed 38,000 for the first time.

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#Letters from An American #Heather cox Richardson #border #US House of Representatives #corrupt GOP #Roe v Wade #women's health #DeSantis #Texas

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writeyouin · 4 years ago

Note

OOOOOO could you bless us with Medical!Reader?!?!? Like V comes back - ALSO COULD IT BE FOR V?!? sO V comes back to the gallery all limping and shit and like reader rushes to get a first aid kit and it’s all sweet and nice and a lil angsty cause V doesn’t wanna show his body and I’m rambling. YOU GET JAZZY WIT IT I LOVE YOU BYE.

V X Reader - Medic

A/N – I hope you find this jazzy enough. I had a lot of fun writing it.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

You sat on the floor where the Shadow Gallery met the abandoned London underground which V had spent years digging out. Although your voice had long since left you, you still managed to sob. You had begged V not to leave but he had been unable to end his vendetta against Chancellor Sutler who was supposedly going to be delivered to V for execution by Creedy.

You knew Creedy was going to kill V. Even V knew, yet he still went anyway, leaving you instructions on how to work the train laden with explosives should he not be back by midnight. Now, parliament was in flames, you were alone, and V was probably dead. Before he had left, you had told him that you loved him. V had warned you once before that he didn’t have room in his heart for anything more than vengeance, but still you had dared to hope and as usual, hope was the cruellest player that fate had to offer.

Why did V have to kill Sutler? Wasn’t blowing up parliament enough? Weren’t you enough? Your logical mind knew why V had to have Sutler; he would not be able to rest without killing him. However, your heart remained stubbornly illogical; you didn’t want V to go.

Nearby, you heard an awful sound, like a body being dragged against the concrete. You supposed that must be Creedy, or perhaps one of the Fingermen. It seemed that even with parliament in shambles, they would want to find the Shadow Gallery and destroy any trace of V’s existence.

‘Let them come,’ you thought bitterly. Without V, what was there left to live for anyway? You had been his prisoner, his victim, his redemption, and maybe even his love. What were you without him?

You glanced morosely to your left where the sound was coming from, expecting to see a member of the militia. Instead, you saw V slowly limping towards you, leaning against the wall for support.

“V,” You cried out hoarsely, running to grab him.

“Oh my God,” You exclaimed while pulling his arm over your shoulder so you could walk him closer to the Shadow Gallery. “You came back… How? I-”

“You-” V groaned in pain. “You gave me something to live for. I’d forgotten what that felt like- ARGH!”

V held his ribs and even through the black material you could see blood seeping out from under his hand.

“Oh God,” You sat V down against the wall where you had been only moments ago. “Wait here.”

Without explaining further, you ran off to fetch your medical bag. Before you lived in the Shadow Gallery, you were in training to become a surgeon. In the Shadow Gallery, with access to hundreds of banned books pertaining to medicine, you had actually learnt more than you ever would have under normal circumstances; it was awful to think that the government wanted to hide such valuable information in their attempt at totalitarian control.

Running back to V with your bag and a pillow in hand, you laid him down. Placing the pillow under his head, you asked if he was injured anywhere else. Without waiting for the response, you reached down to unbutton V’s shirt. He grabbed your hands with the little strength he had left.

“(Y/N),” He breathed raggedly, “Don’t. That skin is not me. You shouldn’t see it. I just- I just came back to say- to say goodbye.”

“No,” You growled. “You are not leaving me. I won’t let you.”

“Please. Please don’t- Ah-”

“I get it, the flesh isn’t the man, but it does hold you together and I will not lose you again. Now shut the hell up and let me work.”

V would have continued to fight you but he was too weak. He could barely breathe, and any movement now only caused more pain. If only you knew he had so much to say to you, and not enough time left on Earth to say it. He was wrong when he said that he had only room in his heart for vengeance. As it turned out, even someone as warped as him could find love, and apparently have it returned; it was more than he deserved.

You gasped as you removed V’s shirt. It wasn’t the burns which disturbed you, but rather the sheer amount of bullet wounds which he had survived. You were relieved to find that none of the bullets had hit major organs, but horrified to find that most of the bullets remained inside of V instead of passing through him. Removing the bullets could cause irreparable damage to V’s nervous system if you weren’t careful, and that was only if he didn’t die of blood loss first.

You used all of the medical kits adhesive bandages to cover the bullet wounds and stem the bleeding. Then, you set about taking just one bullet out from the only uncovered wound and then cauterising it with a flare you had found. V screamed and you had to fight of tears that threatened your resolve. If only it was anyone else… but it wasn’t; it was V and if you didn’t pull yourself together quickly, he would die.

So, that was how you continued to work. Remove a bandage, extract the bullet, cauterise the wound, listen to the screaming, repeat. If you had counted, you would have found that you had removed twenty-three bullets from V’s torso, but you didn’t count. Instead, you spent the time muttering instructions to yourself and occasionally lapsing into brief monologues to V. You didn’t really care if he was listening or not, just so long as he knew you were there, working ceaselessly to save his life.

“Careful,” You warned yourself. “Take it nice and slow- We should go up top and see the weather after- No, no, don’t hit that or he’ll bleed more and- We could watch a movie together if we- Got to fix that.”

Although your monologue made little sense, it did calm you and help steady your hand.

Finally, all the bullets were out and most of the wounds cauterised. Your work was far from complete however, for some of the wounds were too large to burn shut. Fortunately, V had passed out from the pain which meant you didn’t have to hear him suffering as you set about stitching the remaining injuries shut.

“Careful with the Lembert stitch,” You warned yourself. “Can’t be sloppy.”

While V was still unconscious, you searched the rest of his body for injuries you might have missed. It was hard to tell without an X-Ray but you thought that V had around five broken ribs. Using the non-adhesive bandages, you bound his torso tightly.

Too afraid to move him in case any complications arose, you laid down next to him, listening to his shallow breathing. You wondered whether you ought to remove his mask to aid his air intake, but decided against it, leaving him with the face he had chosen; you could always change your mind if he took a turn for the worst. With a heavy heart, you waited to see if V would survive his trip to Limbo.

Normally, you wouldn’t have expected anyone to awake from such a traumatic event for days, if at all. V however, was a law unto himself and regained consciousness mid-day on the sixth of November, just as you were wondering whether you ought to search the Shadow Gallery for an IV drip.

The first thing he did was slowly reach up to check that his mask was still on. With a sigh of relief, he lowered his hand.

“Try not to move too much,” You said quietly.

V turned his head just enough to see you squatted next to him. “You really did it,” He rasped. “I didn’t deserve to live and yet I was granted you.”

You ignored the self-depreciating comment, instead choosing to ask V how he was feeling.

“Under your care, I feel protected. A little sore perhaps, but nothing that I cannot handle without you to help me… That is, if you still feel the same way about me.”

Gently, you held V’s hand in your own. “Of course I do. I love you. I will always love you.”

“Always is an awfully long time. I could disappoint you yet,” V replied, thinking of how callously he had left you to chase down Sutler.

As if sensing his thoughts, you caressed V’s mask. “You came back for me.”

“I had to. I never got to tell you… I love you too. I didn’t think it was possible and yet I have found that you have warmed my heart. (Y/N), you brought me back to life long before now.”

You took a deep breath, thinking about the future, “V, where do we go from here? We changed the world by sending that train to Parliament.”

V honestly didn’t know what the future held, but he felt that as long as you were by his side, he could brave anything. “I’m afraid I don’t know what is in store for us. Nothing will be the same as before. The world will attempt to find a new normal, I suppose. I would like you to stay with me through that, if that is your desire.”

You lightly kissed V’s mask, knowing that even if it was just metal, it was still his lips.

“I can’t thing of anywhere I would rather be.”

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#v #v x reader #V for Vendetta #v for vendetta x reader #reader #reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic #medic

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hedwigstalons · 4 years ago

Text

High Expectations - Ch23

Yes, this fic is still being written. No, it is not abandoned despite the *gulps* month since that last chapter went out.

@willow-salix has been her usual amazing self with the editing (and extra amazing for helping me through the stuff that has contributed to the huge gap in writing).

Earlier parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Twenty-One , Twenty-Two

AO3 chapter link

Chapter Twenty-Three

Thwack

Virgil’s eyes tracked the arc of the baseball as it made another short journey up towards the ceiling before landing in Alan’s waiting hands.

Thwack

He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the teen sprawled on his back on the couch. He knew Alan was only doing it to annoy him having been told he couldn’t start another game with the arrival of John imminent but it was taking all his willpower not to snap, he didn’t have the energy for the argument Alan was obviously spoiling for. As soon as the missing sibling turned up they would be settling down for dinner and Virgil had decided he would rather deal with a bored Alan than try and drag him away from whatever virtual world he was immersed in when the time came to eat. Except the expected ten minutes had already ticked closer to an hour and John still hadn’t appeared.

Thwack

It didn’t make the actions of his brother any less annoying in the meantime. It certainly didn’t help that he had a test to study for. Where had Alan even managed to get a baseball from in the first place?

Thwack

The door to the small apartment he shared with John clicked open and Virgil audibly sighed with relief as his immediate younger brother finally showed up. He closed up his books, giving the page a baleful glance as he did so; he hadn’t taken in a word in the last half hour and knew time was running out.

“Fiiiiiinally.” Alan caught the ball with one last thwack and sat up, popping the ball on the seat next to him. “Virg said you would be back by six.”

“Sorry,” John looked sheepishly at the clock that was now ticking closer to 7pm, “I got held up on campus but I treated us to take out take out to make up for it.”

Alan’s eyes lit up at the prospect of food. Delicious smells were wafting from the paper bag John carried and his stomach rumbled. Take out was a rare treat, hell, even eating in company was a rare treat; their father was increasingly slipping back into bad habits and didn’t often make it back in time for dinner. Since his shift to online school he could sometimes go three or four days without seeing another human being unless he ventured out of the apartment, it was one of the reasons he could be found so frequently on John and Virgil’s couch.

“What have we got, Chinese?” Alan asked.

“No, Thai. There is a nice little place two blocks away that does an amazing spicy shrimp soup and their pad thai is pretty decent too.”

“You went to the Mango Tree?” Virgil’s mood lifted at the prospect.

“Yes, I went to Mango Tree. Don’t expect me to do this every time, I just thought you could do with a pick me up seeing as exams are on the horizon and I don’t think we’ve introduced Alan to it yet. Plus, I’m late.” he said, placing the bag on the table on his way past to the kitchen.

The Thai place, a little gem they had discovered within their first month at Tracy College, had become a firm favourite but one reserved for special occasions, or apologies in the case of tonight. Virgil was quick to clear away his files to make space on the table that was currently doubling up as a desk and by the time John returned with an assortment of spoons, forks and chopsticks, the containers were already laid out.

Alan wandered over to claim his place between his two siblings, feeling guilty at the reminder that Virgil was meant to be studying for exams. He knew his actions had been irritating, he’d even been deliberately varying the gaps between his throws so Virgil couldn’t get used to the rhythm, but he was bored and it hurt that yet another person couldn’t be bothered to show up when they were meant to.

"So how are you getting on with freight transport law?" John asked between slurps of his soup.

"Slowly," Virgil growled, casting a frown towards Alan who at least had the good grace to look shamefaced.

The interaction didn’t pass unnoticed by John who directed his own frown at Alan. While the other brothers had, in turn, taken on the holistic care of Alan, John was more focussed on his education, especially knowing Alan’s determination to head into space one day. Finding out that Alan had transferred to online school had been a surprise but to find out it had followed a bout of truancy had left him furious. He wasn’t prepared to let Alan screw up his education and he certainly wasn’t going to let him drag Virgil down either, he knew this exam had been weighing heavily on his brother’s mind and the last thing he needed was unnecessary distractions.

“Didn’t you have any work to be getting on with?” John asked the recalcitrant teen.

Alan tried to stare John down but found that his most introverted sibling had learnt to hold his own under scrutiny, at least where family were concerned. He dropped his gaze on the pretext of picking a piece of chicken out of his pad thai and tried to sound nonchalant. “I’m ahead of myself so I took the day off.”

“That’s no reason to disturb others, Virgil and I both have some key exams coming up and you need to respect that if you want to keep coming here. And anyway, there’s no such thing as being ahead of yourself on your study programme, I know you picked one that lets you submit work at any time and complete your diploma at whatever pace you want.”

“Was hoping you’d be here,” the voice was small and dejected, all the fight gone before it could properly build. He didn’t really want to argue with his brothers but sometimes it felt like the only way to be noticed was by challenging authority. He was never going to win a gold medal, unlikely to win a scholarship and certainly wasn’t going to get military honours. With those more admirable routes to gaining attention taken away from him that just left being a problem; he had to remember that his brothers were not like his father and he could actually talk to them without needing to be summoned first.

John watched Alan visibly wilt under his gaze, crushed by the force of his disapproval and it took a moment for the words to sink in. The others had occasionally joked about Alan being his shadow or asked what it was like to be up on a pedestal but he usually shrugged it off. Now, hearing that simple hope voiced with such longing John was reminded that it wasn’t entirely a joke, that of all of them Alan strived for his attention and approval the most and with that came great responsibility.

“I know and I’m really sorry. The guy leading the seminar today was an expert in broad spectrum communication arrays and I wanted to run some ideas by him. I’ve been working on some theories on multi-frequency monitoring and didn’t know when I would get another chance to talk to him.” He paused, realising he was babbling in his attempt to make Alan see that this had been important, that he hadn’t wanted to be late and really did care. But Alan didn’t need his excuses, what he needed was his brothers. He took a sip of water and refocused his attentions. “Look, I don’t have any classes until 12 tomorrow so we can do something together in the morning. In the afternoon you can either stay here and do your own work or come with me and sit in on my lectures.”

“It’s not freight law is it? Cos that stuff sounds dull as anything.” He knew John was trying to make up for being late home and ordinarily he would have jumped at the chance to gatecrash some lectures but he was still hurting and not ready to forgive him so quickly. “I really don’t get why Virgil is even getting his space licence anyway, let alone for transport pilot.”

Both John and Virgil decided to ignore that comment. Alan had grown up a lot lately but they both knew he had always viewed space as the personal domain of himself and John and was still prone to the occasional flare of jealousy that Virgil was getting space rated too, seemingly on a whim. The news of Virgil’s first trip into orbit had been greeted with a flare of temper that saw Alan rejecting all calls for a week.

“I don’t have to take that one, although I do have a few units of my own I could do without. No, tomorrow is nutrition and physiology.” He noted the eye roll that suggested Alan wasn’t enthused with those topics either. “There’s no need to decide now, just see how you feel tomorrow, but you can’t spend all afternoon on video games , if you stay home you’ll need to get some school work done or Dad might stop you from staying over.”

Alan knew that was an empty threat. As long as he kept turning in grade cards at regular intervals and was on track to finish his diploma no later than if he had been in school then he was fairly confident their father wouldn’t even think of banning the trips to Kansas. If anything he seemed to be keen to have Alan out of town as much as possible as his overseas business trips became more frequent.

The prospect of getting to spend at least the following morning with John lifted Alan’s mood considerably and the rest of the meal passed without incident.

xoxoxox

John quietly pushed open Virgil’s door. The light spilled out, momentarily lighting up the tousle haired figure on the couch before it was blocked by John as he quickly slipped inside, leaving the door ajar behind him. He took in the piles of notes on the desk and the bucket sized mug beside them, now empty of the coffee he knew it would have contained.

“Anything I can help with?” he asked, perching on the edge of the bed that really ought to be occupied already.

Virgil spun his chair around. “No, thanks, it’s not difficult, just tedious.”

This was something John could empathise with. While they each had a different specialism and focus to their course, both had encountered topics that less than thrilled them; for Virgil freight transport law was a topic he was unable to feel enthusiastic about but it was a necessary component to his studies.

“Working through the night isn’t going to help.”

“I need to make up the time, I didn’t get much studying done earlier.”

“Alan?” John rolled his eyes in a way that suggested this was a statement rather than a question. The attitude over dinner had shown that Alan had been in a bad mood and he knew that Virgil was too soft to just put the teen in his place.

Virgil nodded then yawned, space law wasn’t a thrilling topic at the best of times and his focus was distinctly wavering. The effects of the coffee were wearing off and, much as he would like another, the coffee maker was loud and he didn’t want to risk waking the teenager currently sleeping in their living area.

“Why didn’t you just work in here?” To John it made absolutely no sense that his brother had set up at the dining table when he had a perfectly good desk in his own room where he could have gotten on with his work in peace as he was doing now.

“Couldn't you feel how much he wants our attention? He may have been a pain in the ass but I couldn’t disappear and ignore him when he’s only just got here. I’ve got time. The exam isn’t ‘til Thursday, I can study once he’s asleep.”

“Not tonight you aren't ,” John frowned as yet another yawn escaped his sibling, “and you haven’t been ignoring him, Alan said you took him flying this morning. Have you gotten any studying done today?”

“Not enough,” Virgil groaned, casting another glance at the scribbles on permitted loads and which cargoes needed to be registered with the Space Authority prior to launch. While his study time may have taken a hit he didn’t regret taking his youngest brother flying, the pure joy Alan exhibited while in the air was a world away from the loneliness he had confessed to on the ride back from the airfield. “But at least Alan still wants to talk to me.”

“Still nothing from Scott?” John sighed. He could see how much the growing distance between his two oldest brothers was preying on Virgil’s mind; freight transport law really didn’t stand a chance.

“Nothing worth mentioning.” He raked a hand through his hair in an action that had John raising an eyebrow. Virgil squirmed slightly under the gaze that suddenly seemed far too knowing and he was reminded that, while John might be guarded about his own emotions, that didn’t mean he wasn’t observant to the moods of others. He really didn’t want to be unloading all his concerns onto John, it was part of the unwritten code of older brothers to not burden the younger ones, but with his usual outlet and sounding board going awol being one of his issues he found himself leaning on his next in line.

“I’m worried about him,” Virgil confided, “we used to talk all the time but now I’m lucky if I can keep him on the line for three minutes at a time and my messages go unanswered for days.”

“Perhaps he’s just talking to Gordon more, ever since the whole WASP thing those two have been a lot closer.”

“Maybe, but since Gordon started on the bathyscape he’s been pretty busy. That’s one of the things Alan was telling me ; Gordon used to check in with him every couple of days but since taking command and starting his course he’s really cut back on contact. I’m worried that Scott isn’t talking to any of us. There is something going on and I don’t like it; you know how he can be when something’s bothering him.”

John had never had the kind of bond with Scott that Virgil had but he knew well enough that Virgil’s instincts for these things were generally to be trusted. It was almost uncanny how Virgil was able to sense upset and tension in his brothers and more than once during his time at Harvard John had found himself on the receiving end of a well timed holo-call or care package.

“Do you think it’s Dad?” While John might not have been explicitly confided in before he certainly wasn’t stupid, he’d picked up on the tone of his brothers’ calls before the topic of the future had become verboten. Even if he hadn’t there was no ignoring that fact that Scott hadn’t been attending the scheduled group calls with their father and the ire this raised despite Jeff’s thinly veiled attempts to brush Scott’s absences off as down to unavoidable Air Force commitments. It didn’t take a genius to work out that relations between Scott and their father had become strained.

“Could be. You know well enough that Dad still won’t even consider a plan that doesn’t have Scott as field commander, he talks like it’s a done deal and I know Scott hates that, he feels like he’s had all free will stripped away. If Dad has been getting at him again that would certainly be getting him down.” Virgil picked up his mug and tipped it back, grimacing when it only yielded a few cold and bitter drips, before setting it back down heavily. God he needed more caffeine but he wasn’t quite ready to resort to the emergency energy drink stashed in his desk and he had a suspicious feeling John wouldn’t let him have it anyway. He turned back to the problem in hand; now he’d started confiding in John he may as well keep going. “Thing is, that doesn’t explain why Scott has started avoiding me. I’ve been careful not to mention the whole business to him, I’ve had my head chewed off too many times and since Scott made it perfectly clear he isn’t joining we just agreed to not talk about it. No, I think there is something else going on, something more than just Dad, but he keeps shutting me out.”

“Try not to worry about Scott for now, or at least not until after Thursday. At the moment all you need to focus on is that exam.”

Virgil cast a rueful glance at the hated notes. He knew John was right, once the freight law was out of the way he could throw his energies at distant siblings a lot more freely, or at least he could until the next exam came along. The problem was, without Scott on the team, he wasn’t wholly convinced that the exam was going to mean anything. .

“Do you think we can do it? I mean really make it work. Cos with only the three of us I just can’t see how it'll be possible. Even with Scott it would be a stretch but without him…” he tailed off, unwilling to say out loud what he was really feeling, that the whole thing was a fool's errand. No amount of good intentions and determination would be enough to run the outfit successfully with just him, John and their father.

John could understand his doubts. He had plenty of them himself, none of which had been dispelled by the many calculations he had run, trying to find some tiny shred of evidence that said the dream could indeed be made reality. Looking at it logically he knew their father’s vision was an impossible fantasy but it was a fantasy he wanted to believe in. He wanted to live among the stars and the venture was nothing if not noble.

The notes on freight law lay abandoned on the desk as the brothers continued to talk through their fears, hopes and dreams, unaware that the figure in the next room wasn’t quite as asleep as they thought.

Xoxoxox

“So, what’s International Rescue?”

There was a splutter as John half choked on a spoonful of granola. Virgil set the coffee pot down on the counter and carefully schooled his features to a neutral expression before turning to face his brother.

“What was that, Al?”

“You heard me,” the nonchalance of the original question now gone, Alan’s voice was aggressive and challenging. “International Rescue.”

Virgil darted a look at John but found no help there, the latter was still wiping tears from his eyes having finally dislodged the clump of oats. Any hope of passing it off as nothing had been dashed by John’s unfortunate and very obvious reaction to the question. He sighed, reclaimed the coffee pot, and brought the whole jug over to the table. There was no way he was facing this conversation without caffeine and he had a feeling he was going to need more than one cup.

“You want me to get you some water?”

John gave another cough and shook his head. “No, I’m good, thanks.”

“Are either of you going to answer me or are you just going to ignore me like Dad does?” Alan was bristling with indignation which was coming across with a brattish pout.

“I’m not ignoring you, I just...you threw me, that all. How did you find out?”

“I heard you two talking last night.”

Virgil poured himself a mug of coffee and quickly drained half of it, despite it still being scalding hot. The thought that this was a problem of his own making settled like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach. He tried to remember just what he and John had talked about, he knew there had been a lot both about International Rescue and the family in general, and he wondered how much Alan had overheard. “We thought you were asleep.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t.”

“Look, it’s not that we don’t want to tell you it’s just Dad forbade us from talking about it.” Indecision and worry played out across Virgil’s features at the prospect of defying a direct order.

“Gordon made you promise you would tell him.” John cut in, a little unhelpfully in Virgil’s opinion. “If he heard us talking last night he may as well hear the full story, now is as good a time as any.”

Alan had heard Scott’s name crop up last night but Gordon hadn’t been mentioned in relation to whatever this mysterious plan was. Discussions on Gordon had been limited to WASP and the course he was doing with CalTech from what he had heard. The knowledge that the entire family was hiding something from him, including the brother he thought he could trust the most, came as a bitter blow, resentment that had been building for some time came crashing out.

“Gordon knows too?" he clarified, not wanting to believe it. "I hate this family sometimes, I hate that I’m just some afterthought. I thought Gordon was different, I thought he cared. Guess I was wrong.” Alan could see the hurt he was causing as the words hit Virgil like a whip, but he was too angry to care., if anything it felt good to see his brother feeling the same pain that he was.

“That’s not true, Alan, ” Virgil assured him, trying to soothe some of the hurt that was bubbling out of his youngest brother. “Gordon does care, we all do.”

“Yeah, well you’ve got a funny way of showing it. I’m always the last to know everything, it’s like I’m some massive inconvenience. I might as well just pack my stuff and get out of your hair.”

Alan pushed his chair back from the table with a scrape and started grabbing the belongings he had discarded around the room over the course of his short visit, shoving them into the open duffel bag at the end of the couch. He could deal with the others knowing stuff but Gordon was different. It had hurt so much that Gordon hadn’t confided in him about WASP and now it seemed that he had been betrayed again. Gordon had made that transition into adulthood, someone worth telling stuff to, and he was still some kid to be kept in the dark. Alone.

“Alan, please, it’s really not like that.” Virgil was after him like a shot, grabbing his brother’s arm in an attempt to halt the furious packing. The blue eyes that spun to face him contained a mix of tears and venom.

Alan tried to pull away, embarrassed at the emotion he couldn’t control, but hearing that Gordon had been keeping secrets again had stabbed him in the heart. The hand on his arm became a full on bear hug and Alan found himself wrapped in solid muscle with no hope of escape. He struggled for a moment then stilled, giving up on his attempt to get free.

Virgil never loosened his hold, warm and comforting, and Alan soon found himself returning the hug; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually been held like this and hadn’t realised how much he missed the human contact. He became vaguely aware of an extra hand on his shoulder and unburied his head enough to see that John had joined them.

“Believe me, Alan, we’ve wanted to tell you. Gordon especially made it quite clear you shouldn’t be frozen out of all this but Dad was adamant that you weren’t to be told. No matter what Dad says we were going to tell you once Virgil qualified but I think we need to bring that forward.” There was total honesty in John’s eyes as he held his brother’s gaze.

Alan was slightly mollified that there had at least been a plan among his brothers to bring him into the loop and he could feel the sincerity in his brother's words. He was increasingly quick to anger at the injustices of being the youngest, more so now that he didn’t have Gordon around to share in the same treatment, but he knew deep down that his main antagonist was their father with his draconian rules. If their father had expressly forbidden something, rather than just choosing not to mention it, then he knew he was putting Virgil and John in an incredibly difficult position; witnessing Gordon’s defiance and their father’s reaction to it had shown that he wasn’t beyond making life intensely difficult for those who dared to disobey.

Feeling that the tension had at least partially ebbed out of his youngest brother’s body Virgil loosened his grip and sat down on the couch, inviting Alan to take the seat next to him. Ever thoughtful, John reclaimed the coffee pot and mugs from the table and set them up on the coffee table before grabbing a spare seat.

“I think it’s time we brought you up to speed. There are some big changes ahead although even we don’t know when anything is going to happen. And John’s right, Gordon isn’t to blame for this at all. We were shocked when he said you guys never got warned before the move to LA and we promised you’d never get another upheaval like that.”

“I’ve gotta move again?” As much as Alan had no great fondness for LA he also wasn’t keen on the idea of uprooting yet again, setting up goodness knows where, which sounded very much like where this conversation was headed. At least this time he wouldn’t have to worry about integrating into a new school.

“WE are going to move. I’m not sure when, but yeah, Dad’s setting up somewhere new. Once I get my space rating I’ll be moving back to LA then, a year later, when he’s finished his course, John’s going to be joining us, wherever we happen to be at the time.”

Alan looked across at John and received a slight nod of confirmation. “Yeah, I’ll be coming home too, at least until my space station is ready.”

Alan’s eyes widened.

“John, are you sure…?”

John just rolled his eyes at Virgil. “Believe me, it’s better to tell him everything than have him guessing, or worse hunting for the information himself.”

Virgil still looked unconvinced but decided to follow John’s lead. When the news had come out about Alan hacking the school administration systems he had been shocked at the youngest Tracy’s disregard for rules but John had merely shrugged and commented that he would probably have done the same. John had been more disappointed that Alan had been skipping school, the rest of the duplicitous behaviour hadn’t phased him and Virgil had received a surprising and uncomfortable insight into a shared characteristic of the two brothers currently sat with him. If John thought unanswered questions would lead to Alan seeking out the details for himself then he would much rather tell all. If their father found out this conversation was happening they would all be in serious trouble but if Alan was caught attempting to go through their father’s files, well, Virgil didn’t want to imagine the consequences of that.

“I guess you’re right, I mean the whole idea can only work if we trust each other and that means total honesty.”

The coffee went cold as Virgil, aided by John, told Alan all he could about their father’s vision for a rescue organisation with global capabilities, the aircraft currently being designed and the supporting vehicles and equipment that would be used on site to help those in need, and of course the need to relocate to a suitable base.

The conversation became decidedly trickier when it came to detailing the role each brother was expected to take in the organisation. Much as Virgil would have preferred to leave out the growing rift that was opening up between Scott and their father, there was no escaping the fact that the plans were not progressing smoothly.

He reached the end and waited, unsure how Alan would react.

“So this is why you’re doing this course , so you can help get John get to his monitoring station or whatever it is?”

“Yeah, and to help take stuff up there before things go operational.” Trust Alan to latch on to the space flight parts of the whole set-up, Virgil just hoped Alan would be less jealous of him getting space rated now he knew why it was happening. Until now he had never been able to give a decent answer for his sudden change in direction away from engineering. Despite Alan trying to hide it if it meant he could escape LA and come visit, he knew his brother resented what he saw as an intrusion on the domain he viewed as his and John’s alone. “Beyond supply runs I doubt I’ll be heading into space much. Life on the comms satellite doesn’t appeal to me so I’m hoping I won’t have to do too many rotations.”

“But Scott doesn’t want in?”

“Uh huh. John and I have been trying to figure out how it could work without him because Dad is just ploughing on regardless. He’s convinced Scott’s going to just resign his commission and fall into line the moment he gives the order.”

“I think I’ll make myself scarce when that showdown happens.” Alan hadn’t often witnessed Scott and their father butt heads, those sorts of disagreements tended to happen firmly behind closed doors, but he could easily imagine the two clashing, each as stubborn and determined as the other.

“Probably wise,” replied John. “And you can't let Dad know we’ve been speaking about this or we’ll all be on the receiving end of those fireworks.”

“Don’t worry about that, that would involve Dad actually talking to me and he barely even registers that I exist.”

That earned a frown from Virgil who was suddenly even more glad that he only had a couple more months left at Tracy College. With Gordon forging a new life in WASP he’d made a solemn promise to look out for Alan but what with the demands of his course and his worries over Scott, he realised he hadn’t been paying as much attention as he should. He certainly hadn’t realised their father had gotten quite so distant and aloof with the teen again. Still, in two months time he would be back in LA where he could give his brother some proper attention. In the meantime his freight law notes were beckoning; if he failed the exam and didn’t achieve his space rating then International Rescue would be even more of an impossible pipedream.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #high expectations #John Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Alan Tracy

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disappearinginq · 4 years ago

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top 5 true stories about yourself

I feel like I set myself up for this:

1. I dressed up, with my three closest horse-y friends, as the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. I went as War, given the gingery-ness, but also because I wanted to ride the Red Mare. We were dressed up in full on movie costume - masks and weapons and even the horses were decked out, and rode in tandem at one of the old battlefields where they were doing haunted hayrides/walks in the woods. They weren’t the “sexy” version, either - we looked like color coded ring wraiths. Death had a half scull mask and we painted a skeleton on her horse with glow in the dark paint. Conveniently, the humidity was up, so all of the horses (and us, I would guess) had the cool ‘steamy breath’ look going on as we came out of the shadows to chase people down (we didn’t really, we just loped along and people ran). We caused two accidents, a minor coronary event, and had a lot of people screaming the end is nigh aaaaaaaaaaaand got banned from Halloween in the town in Virginia we were in.

And not. ONE. GODDAMN. PICTURE.

2. I passed the bar exam in Virginia on a whim when I was trying to get out of work at the Navy shipyard and they told me I had to have a good excuse for needing the day off. Apparently, that meant I could legally practice law in the commonwealth if I had spent a year working in a law office.

3. I willed my not-nephew into existence (they call me auntie, they’re technically my godchildren, but I’m not Catholic, and I have a bio sister who has no kids, so we just...roll with it). My friend told me she was expecting, and everyone told her it was going to be another girl, and I said it was going to be a boy. Even the first scan/test to find out, the doctor thought it was a girl. Nope. Boy, I demanded. I want one of each. Friend told me that’s not how it works, and BAM. SHE HAD A BOY. And the best part? That kid looks just like me. It’s awesome. If I decided to kidnap him in public, people would think he was my kid before they would believe he belonged to his biological parents. He’s huge (just like I was) for his age. His hair color is the same. Shit, he even acts the same as I did when I was his age. People who know I don’t have children look at pictures of us and ask when I had a son.

Though him being a boy did rob me of the opportunity of calling him my little Athena. C’est la vie.

4. I was declared legally dead. Twice. And not because of a medical miracle or anomaly - not medically dead. I was just legally dead. And you can’t just show up un-dead in the military and expect them to buy it. You actually have to go through a physical. More than once. I had to prove I was physically alive and it was some dumbass paperwork error, and after the second time of jumping through some bullshit hoops, I informed the Navy that if it happened a third time, I wasn’t going to correct them and I was just going to take my half-million dollar life insurance policy and go home.

5. To prove a point, I ran away for two weeks on a boat. Aircraft carriers are 4 1/2 acres of living space, and I had been on the boat longer than most people who were in charge. More importantly, I had jobs that required me to go all over, so I knew all the secret hidey holes. When we were being tasked with tagging out and working on highly energized equipment, we legally had to use the blueprints in order to determine what switches to turn off to keep us from getting electrocuted. Except the blueprints were wrong. They never matched up, and we got shocked like 6 times - with 440 volts - and got in trouble for it every time. But we weren’t allowed to not follow the blueprints, because according to our Navy Boss, it was our fault, not the blueprints. So in a fit of self-preservation fueled rage, I decided I wasn’t coming into work. Keep in mind, we were at sea, so literally, there was nowhere for me to go (except that one time I actually got flown off without them knowing about it, but...different story.) My boss knew I was on the boat somewhere. Except they couldn’t find me. I wasn’t even sleeping in my supposed rack because I had been ranked kicked out of it some days prior, and I had found my own living space at the back end of the ship where no one went and I don’t think anyone knew about, which was great because it was quiet and I had the bathroom and a room that was meant for 70 people to myself. Anyway. During the day, I hid out in the chapel. No one questioned what I was doing there. My last name lends itself to credibility in a church setting. Even the Chaplin thought I worked for him, because attached to the chapel was the library and the movie theater (yep. We had those on a Navy vessel), and I would organize the books, help check things out, provide legal counseling (other separate story). I showed up to “work” at the right hours, I sat through every service, I was practically nocturnal at this point - I had to be to avoid running into my chain of command. I used ‘illegal’ stairwells to get around that were meant for officers only, and I was a lowly enlisted - but if you carry a clipboard with you, no one questions you. Anyway - the reason of hiding in the chapel was because according to the fucking blueprints, it was on the other side of the ship, four decks down and fifty frames forward. That’s like...half a mile difference. And the doors weren’t easy to find, either, because they’d put it there by accident. You had to go either across a flight deck (BAD IDEA), come up through an officer’s stairwell, OR - you had to go down two decks, over one, back up a single stairwell and then through an improperly marked Z scuttle. The other part is that the chapel, movie theater, and library weren’t obviously in the same space - they took up three frames, and had a door that no one noticed in the back of each one. Basically - who the fuck designed this place, besides crackheads.

Here’s where the point I was trying to prove comes in: I called the office from the library because they were threatening a court martial. The conversation went along the lines of:

Chief: Get your ass back here or I’ll see to it your Navy career is over! Me: Promises, promises. Tell you what. If you can find me, I’ll come back to work. Chief: Fine - where the fuck are you? Me: The library. Chief:....we have a library? Me: Mmmmmhmmmmm.....if you check the blueprints, you’ll see exactly where I am. Come and get me, fat man.

Three weeks later, he had to call a truce and agree to not make us use the blueprints and let us just line trace from equipment back to the power sources so we could stop getting zapped.

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halothenthehorns · 3 years ago

Text

TLTNL- EDUCATIONAL DECREE NUMBER TWENTY-FOUR

Harry felt as if it had been ages that he'd taken the book so lightheartedly. His godfather still weighed heavily on his mind, he could not erase the fear that their last argument wasn't going to be the end of things and Harry still worried deeply for the end results of that, but finally something was going right in school! He couldn't wait to learn what all became of that!

Harry was happier the rest of that weekend than he had been all term. He still had some pretty late hours with all his homework, but the sunshine prevailed and they spent it out under the shade of some trees instead which made the work more bearable. Hermione, who of course was up to date on her work,

Sirius chuckled as he told Harry, "you manage to say that with such perfect exasperation."

"It never fails to boggle the mind," Harry grinned.

"Well compared to her third year, I imagine even seventh won't feel as bad as taking all the classes at once," Lily shrugged.

brought knitting needles and more wool to knit themselves while she happily edited their work.

The idea of now actively doing something to resist Umbridge and the Ministry was finally giving Harry the satisfaction he'd been needing.

"Is that all you needed?" James grinned in relief his son was finally starting to sound and clearly feel more normal again. "Didn't the Order help with that?"

"I wasn't actually doing anything of use on that front," Harry shrugged, "knowing someone's out there helping and my actually helping are two very different things for me."

No one argued that point, they all felt the same.

He kept reliving the moment where he realized all those people had been there because they believed him, respected him, their looks when Cho had praised his accomplishments about the Tournament.

"Which bit was your favorite part again?" Sirius smirked, to which Harry ignored him.

That so many people didn't find him a weirdo still left him smiling Monday morning, despite the prospect of all his least favorite classes.

"I still want to see someone hung for that, it truly sounds like yet more torture for you this year," Remus said in disgust.

He and Ron came down the stairs, but were distracted from leaving the common room by a very large sign covering up the normal flyers on the board, including the school rules Filch kept up to date, Quidditch practices, who would trade what Chocolate Cards, lost and found, dates of Hogsmeade visits, and the Weasley's advertisement.

"They're still hanging those up! I thought Hermione would have a cow on them if she saw?" Lily yelped in concern for the twins health.

"This one wasn't nearly so big or as flamboyant," Harry shrugged, "she may not have even noticed it a second time." It was truly depressing that the second Harry had locked in on this new thing, his face had gone right back to that unhappy, sour look he'd carried through most of this book.

Instead in great big unable to miss letters was the notice of Educational Decree Number twenty-four, signed by the High Inquisitor. All organizations, societies, teams, groups, or clubs were hereby banned unless approved by the High Inquisitor. This consisted of a group of more than three people. Any students found in any of the above without permission by the High Inquisitor would be expelled.

Harry looked up, surprised no one had interrupted him during that to state their disgust, and found four stunned stupid faces. James even had his mouth hanging open in shock.

"That is the most ridiculous thing, I have ever heard, in my life," Remus struggled to even get this out.

"Are you kidding me!" Lily screeched in outrage. "You must be absolutely joking. Of all the stupid, I mean she didn't really, no one could have let her-"

"But Quidditch!" James and Sirius broke in with unison disgust.

"Priorities men," Remus scowled at them, "how about, even we couldn't have hung out at school! Group's of three or more, bloody hell, just walking down the corridor is banned in that stupidity!"

"Would you lot focus," Lily snapped. "I can't imagine how this was passed, she is literally just putting up laws now that fit her own need, how on Earth is this being passed! I am absolutely disgusted anyone could be part of this."

"I think you're all missing the big picture," Harry kept scowling at nothing, "which is, how did she know?"

That did catch them off their own problem, as each ran through the list of all who were in the Hog's Head that day.

"Must have been one of the students, none of the other customers care enough to say anything about this." Remus reasoned out.

"Harry did keep noticing that one shifty person," Lily reminded.

"So there was a shifty person, they still wouldn't have a reason to go darting to Umbridge," Sirius brushed off.

"So the best idea is that arsehole Zacharia, everyone else there never showed any problem with this," James decided.

"That friend of Cho's," Lily said uneasily.

Harry's stomach twisted in pain even as his eyes lit on her for some understanding he got from that, but then Sirius dismissed at once, "loyalty to her friend would keep her mouth shut I'm sure, Zacharia didn't have that with Ernie or that other chick," and Harry was no longer sure what he'd been thinking of.

"Great, now that that's decided, I can't wait to hear what the twins do about this," Remus sneered.

"But Quidditch!" James was not going to let that point go. "That means Harry's team has to be reinstated by that toad! I can't go a whole other year without hearing about him in the Championship!"

Lily smacked him upside the head while Harry kept going with much less enthusiasm now. He'd had all of one page to enjoy himself and that had already been taken away.

Harry and Ron read the notice over the heads of a couple of second-years, who began talking to each other in concern about their Gobstones Club.

"Youthful innocence," Remus sighed.

Harry turned with forming fists to Ron as he hissed that she knew.

Ron at once said she can't have, but Harry insisted she still could have been there, or anyone who had been could have ratted to her. He'd thought they'd believed in him...

"Oh Harry they do," Lily promised at once. "I've realized time and again what a beacon of hope you are for your generation, how so many look to you-"

"Usually not in a good way," Harry interrupted with a scowl, clearly refusing any kind of comfort.

James wouldn't give in that easily as he tisked at Harry, "remember what Dumbledore said last year? If you're striving for universal popularity you're going to be waiting forever. You've hardly ever looked past the bad people are saying of you, try for some optimism a good twenty something people are on your side that you know of, not counting the ones I'm sure are still in that school."

Harry thought about this for a moment before he really did smile. Somehow, he just knew, before all this was up he'd realize his parents were right and that was enough for now even if he didn't feel it currently.

Ron at once said it could have been that Zacharias bloke, or that Michael Corner, he'd been shifty.

All of them at least got a small laugh out of Ron's one track mind, but at least he'd said the main suspect first, he wasn't entirely acting like an overprotective brother.

Harry looked around and didn't yet spot Hermione, so decided they should go up to her room to tell her about this. Ron at once took off for the stairs.

"I can't believe it took you this long to get in this one!" James snorted with glee.

"I found that out during my second year, and it was for a much better reason than visiting a friend," Sirius agreed with a wicked grin.

Harry gazed bemusedly at them, realized they weren't going to elaborate, and kept going curiously what the problem with this was.

He didn't make it past the sixth step when the stone beneath him vanished, turning into one long smooth slide, and Ron was left to tumble backwards and land at Harry's feet.

Harry offered him a hand up as he gazed at the new type of passage, mentioning he no longer thought they could go up to the girls dormitories.

"No, that mustn't be it!" Remus made his eyes go as wide as possible. "What on earth gave you that idea!"

Harry just rolled his eyes at the sarcasm while still grinning at the mental image Ron had provided.

Two fourth years came sliding down, giggling at the ride, while Ron turned an affronted look on Harry and demanded why not, Hermione had been in their room.

Hermione managed that moment to come sliding down, already explaining it was an old- fashioned kind of rule,

"That timing," Lily rolled her eyes.

"I'd have been much more impressed if she'd been coming down headfirst," Remus snickered at the thought.

that Hogwarts: A History said the founders thought boys less trustworthy.

"That is entirely insulting," James pouted.

"What about in the Slytherin common room?" Harry asked in surprise. "They don't even have stairs, how do they stop there?"

"Temporary dirt funnel over you," Sirius grinned. "Any time you try to step pass the barrier, a wall of dirt circles you, though girls around you still come and go, it leaves you pinned like that till you turn around and then it opens again for you to leave."

"Same two things happen for the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws," Remus agreed.

"Why am I the only one insulted by this?" James protested of them.

"Because it's a fairly pointless rule considering most couples don't enjoy spending time in their rooms considering all the, err, shared space, so most find other places to...interact." Remus rolled his eyes at him. "You just get mad because when you tried to fly your broom up there an intruder alert went off and McGonagall showed up and nearly cursed you before realizing what you'd done."

"She never did let that one go, gave him a month of detentions and threatened he'd be in her office for life if he ever set off another alarm like that again," Sirius chuckled.

Harry wouldn't let himself be distracted by this as he dragged Hermione over to the notice and waited impatiently for her to reach it. She'd hardly looked back at them when Ron snapped about someone blabbing, but she began protesting at once no one could have done.

Ron told her she was being naïve,

"Ron just said the same thing before Hermione showed up," Lily rolled her eyes.

"But now of course he realizes he's wrong and he's correcting her as well," Sirius shrugged.

but Hermione insisted that if anyone had done so, they'd now be jinxed because of the spell she put on the parchment everyone had signed.

Harry had hardly paused for breath upon realizing this before he startled at the burst of laughter from all sides. He looked around with his own amused smile to see that even his mum was giggling like mad that Hermione had done something so, underhanded, to ensure silence for this group.

"Hermione is a girl of many talents," James calmed down first as he fixed his glasses.

"She really is something when it comes to protecting her own," Lily agreed fondly.

Ron now looked on, impressed as he asked what this jinx was, and Hermione said it would make the person who blabbed regret it, they would have more blemishes on their face than actual face.

The boys lost it all over again, cackling like idiots, and Harry joined in this time to help relieve some of the tension living in him of how sure he was this was going to be happening at some point.

She beckoned them to head down to breakfast, wondering if this had been put up in the other houses yet.

"I can't imagine why they wouldn't be," Remus shook his head at the idea, his grin still stuck in place for Hermione's curse.

The three of them found the twins, Ginny, Dean, and Neville chatting uneasily as they approached, and they all looked to Harry asking what they were going to do about this.

Harry said do it anyways of course.

"I never thought anything otherwise," Sirius smirked.

George beamed and said he wasn't surprised, though Fred looked suspiciously at the two prefects as he asked if everyone would be in?

"They knew what they were getting into before this stupid, I don't even want to call it a law it's so sad it's a thing," Lily scowled.

Hermione said of course at once, while Ron pointed over his shoulder and said the two prefects from Hufflepuff plus some Ravenclaws were headed over here now, and he still couldn't spot anyone spotty.

Hermione turned around in surprise as she hissed that wasn't the point, they couldn't come over here now, it would be too suspicious.

"No it won't," James said in confusion. "People chat with other people from different houses all the time."

"Still not best to have it clear and obvious who's coming up to talk to me right now," Harry shrugged.

Remus was biting his tongue to hold in the sarcastic comment that even the Great Hall was technically now falling under the more than three people in one group rule.

Hermione began waving frantically at them all to go sit down, while Ginny huffed she'd tell her boyfriend while calling him a fool.

"I already sense true love," Lily giggled as she nestled in a bit to James' pleased smile, both parents missing the stricken look Harry seemed to get for no reason because of that.

She hurried off to the Ravenclaw table, while Harry watched Cho chatting uneasily with the same friend. He wondered if that notice would scare her off from future meetings.

"You could still offer her private lessons, those still even fall under-"

Remus smacked Sirius for Harry this time just so Harry could keep going.

They were leaving the Great Hall when Angelina caught up to them, and informed them this new decree also meant the Quidditch team.

"I can't believe you were more concerned over this group you just made up than your Quidditch team!" James was still stuck on that one.

Harry and Ron were just as shocked to realize this as Angelina turned pleading eyes on him not to have any more outbursts with Umbridge or she'd never let them reform their team.

"I'm getting a really bad feeling about this," Sirius said uneasily, already imagining that toad excluding the Gryffindor's from playing ever again just because Harry was on the team! Surely Dumbledore wouldn't really let that happen though!

"She can't stop Quidditch," James said flatly. He didn't look quite as dangerous as when he'd heard about that quill being used on his son, but this was a good second. "There'd be a true revolt, even the other houses would go barmy if she stopped one team because it would ruin the whole year's structure."

"Breathe you two," Remus tried for comfort even as he shifted uneasily in place at the idea of this. "Prongs said it himself, there's no way this is going to last, I'm sure."

"Least someone is," Harry sighed, he couldn't get rid of this pit of nausea telling him he should have enjoyed Quidditch while he still had it.

Harry quickly agreed to this, mostly because Angelina looked ready to burst into tears.

"Is that all it took, for her to start crying to get you to stop," Lily at least grinned for that.

They walked off then towards History of Magic, Ron saying he was positive Umbridge would be here for this lesson.

"Could she even get rid of him?" Remus asked, clearly looking to think on something else before his friends blew a gasket over their topic. "I feel like even if she did fire him he wouldn't even take notice and he'd just keep showing up."

"I actually agree," Lily nodded. "You'd have to designate a new classroom and put a teacher in there, and then Binns would just show up and keep talking to an empty room."

"The worst part is, Umbridge would probably consider him a good teacher if she doesn't fall asleep in the back like everyone else," Remus sighed.

None of the boys laughed like the two had been hoping.

She however was not, and class began as normal, Harry doodling rather than actually taking notes, and it took several hard prods from Hermione before he looked up. She however was not gesturing for him to pay attention in class, but to the window, where Hedwig was.

"What on Earth?" James began in confusion, that had finally caught everyone's attention onto one subject, and it wasn't History of Magic.

"What's Hedwig up to?" Sirius tried to lean over in concern to look at the book. "Either she could have dropped off her reply with breakfast or she should have waited till you were alone."

Harry had no answer, all he knew was the powerful burning protection rising in him as he gazed at the memory of his owl and hurried quickly on.

Harry took a quick look to the teacher, who was droning on as ever, but still kept low as he went to the window and let her in. Instead of holding out her leg as usual, she hopped inside, hooting dully. Harry quickly moved her to his shoulder and went back to his seat, placing her on his lap instead before he saw the true problem, her feathers were ruffled oddly, and a wing was bent out unnaturally.

"Someone attacked Hedwig!" Harry snarled in outrage.

"Oh the poor dear," Lily crooned in concern, "I can't even imagine what."

"I really can't either," Remus shifted uneasily, remembering clearly who that letter was from...nothing could have happened to Sirius right?!

Harry hissed in surprise she was hurt, while Ron leaned over and Hermione put down her quill to look.

"There's a miracle in itself," Sirius said as he jittered uneasily.

Hedwig was shaking slightly on Harry's knees, and when he tried to touch her wing, she puffed up and tried snapping at him for it.

"Bird bones aren't exactly easy to break, despite being hollow," Remus began prattling off as he pictured it in his mind's eye. "It must have taken some very great effort to bend it out of shape, I can imagine Hedwig fought back-"

"Remus," Harry all but begged, shutting him up instantly as Harry kept hastily going.

Harry waited no longer to take to his feet and call to the professor he was not feeling well.

"Honestly Harry, you could have just walked out and he wouldn't have noticed," Lily told him with a straight face, she knew she would have if her pet had shown up injured.

Professor Binns raised his eyes from his notes, looking amazed as always to find people present.

No one could even crack a smile for this display.

Harry was already walking towards the door, his owl stashed behind him as he declared he was going to the hospital wing.

Binns hardly acknowledged his own dismissal of Perkins as he returned to his notes.

"First time in my life someone called me wrong, and I can't even enjoy the moment," Harry muttered sourly, his eyes flickering to his father's owl and away with longing, he wanted to know right now his owl was okay, he couldn't get rid of this terrible premonition something could be very wrong with her.

When he left the room however, he dithered on where to actually go. His first thought would be Hagrid, but failing that, he decided he had no one to ask but Grubbly-Plank.

"That's so sad," Lily groaned as she twisted up some of her hair with worry, "but I'm positive Grubbly-Plank will help her, she's been nothing but decent so far."

Looking through the nearest window, he did not spot her with a class on the grounds, so decided the best place to start looking was the staff room.

That made Sirius question for the first time where the woman was even staying. It's not as if Hogwarts had an abundance of guest rooms set up, though he supposed one would obviously be provided for her, and entirely not the point right now.

When Harry bolted there, he was met with two talking stone gargoyles who tried to discourage him from knocking, though Harry ignored them as he said it was urgent. It was McGonagall who answered the door, taking one flashing look at him and demanding if he'd been given another detention.

"Must love her faith in you," James continued shifting in unease as they all watched Harry read with panic over his poor pet. They were sure she was fine, it more than likely wasn't a critical injury, but it put them all on the edge something like this had happened so randomly.

The gargoyle interrupted to remind it was urgent as snidely as it could.

"That's not helping," Sirius said through gritted teeth.

Harry quickly showed his owl and told who he was looking for, and was relieved to see the woman was in fact inside. She began inspecting Hedwig at once, talking to herself about how a Thestral was capable of doing this, but Hagrid had the ones on grounds well trained not to attack owls so this wasn't likely.

Remus nodded absently, he'd worked all that out silently himself, and had been hoping for some other answer while Harry absently noted his question of those winged horses had just been answered and he hadn't even realized it.

Harry neither knew nor cared what Thestrals were;

"Oh the irony," Sirius couldn't help but mutter.

as Grubbly-Plank asked how far she'd traveled?

Harry just said to London, and by the look on McGonagall's face, it was clear she understood who the recipient was.

"She's never been slow on the uptake," James began fidgeting all the more, now fingers crossed she'd pull Harry aside so the two could go check on Sirius. What on earth had happened here?

Grubbly-Plank noticed nothing as she asked Harry for him to leave Hedwig with her for a few days, she could take care of this.

Harry gave an uneasy thanks, but before Harry left McGonagall gave Harry the letter Hedwig had been carrying this whole time. Harry took it with one last pitiful look at his owl, who was watching reproachfully as he left as if abandoning her.

Harry shifted guiltily, wishing he could have done more for his owl or at least stayed with her. Remus and James tried to draw comfort from the fact that Harry was more worried for Hedwig than Sirius, surely if he thought something had gone wrong with his godfather he'd be even more upset.

McGonagall escorted him to the door where the bell had been rung and students were starting to swarm from both sides. McGonagall just had time to warn the message that channels of communication in and out of Hogwarts were being watched, before he was swept away.

"The worst part is we already guessed as much," Lily said with grim disgust.

Harry made his way to the courtyard to find his friends talking in low mutters. They both at once asked how Hedwig was, and Harry explained where he'd gone and what McGonagall had passed along.

Neither looked surprised, as Hermione began to say this was the first time Hedwig had ever been intercepted, or had she ever been hurt in flight before?

"Not even to wherever the bloody hell Sirius was hiding before, but now at the safest place on earth," Harry snarled in disgust, still shifting restlessly and knowing he was going to feel off until he knew his owl was back to one hundred percent.

Ron asked about the letter then, and Harry opened it to find Sirius' writing and the simple sentence; same time, same place.

Ron hissed in surprise if that meant he was planning another visit tonight?

"Can't imagine what else it would mean," James said dryly to cover up his heart thudding harder every second. If Sirius didn't make an appearance tonight, than he'd know something was wrong. Surely though it was just Hedwig's response being intercepted, and not the fact that someone had attacked her and Sirius while he'd been putting the letter on the owl. Harry would have been told if something like that had happened, right?

Hermione said that part was obvious, and she just hoped no one else had read this.

Harry said it had still been sealed when he'd got it, plus no one could even understand what this meant.

"That bit is impossible at least," Sirius said with conviction, "no one else was around for last time, I'm sure it'll be fine."

Hermione wasn't as convinced, saying it was possible to reseal things with magic, and if anyone had been watching the Floo Network recently...

They all paled as they realized that, but Lily jostled herself back into thinking right. "That falls under Dumbledore's job to keep that monitored for the school on behalf of the Ministry..." but she trailed off right there, as even before this latest stupid decree it had been made clear Dumbledore's powers were quickly being stripped away. What if someone in the Ministry had noted when this had happened? Could it be possible they'd somehow traced it back to Grimmauld place? The amount of magical protection around that house should have made this impossible...but something had happened to Hedwig, and none of them could stop their stream of worries until they got an answer.

The problem was they couldn't warn him of anything without that being intercepted too.

"There must be some other forms of communication," Harry said through gritted teeth, something even more fearful rearing up inside of him at just the hint of the idea he couldn't get into contact with Sirius because of this, and something was going to go terribly wrong because of it.

Sirius and James exchanged a significant look before James said, "well yes there is, but usually those are private and preset up things that you and Sirius just haven't established yet."

Harry looked on at him in confusion, waiting for that to be explained more, and Sirius did just that. "A few items can be enchanted so that you can have conversations one on one, but like Prongs just said, you have to individually set them up and you and I haven't yet."

Harry still felt like they weren't saying something, but pressed on anyways as he just wanted this nasty feeling to go away. He tried to even remember that happy feeling he'd felt only at the beginning of this chapter, and already that felt like a foreign concept.

They trudged off to potions in silence, which didn't last long as the moment the room was in sight they also heard Malfoy speaking clearly for all to hear.

"I was under the impression that was always how he talked," Remus sneered, more than tired of hearing of this little prat near constantly.

Boasting about how Umbridge had signed off right away for the Slytherin team to continue, of course it was all thanks to his father's influence in the Ministry.

"Nothing should ever be a question of influence inside that rat hole!" Lily snapped in disgust.

The Gryffindor's certainly had no chance this way, as the Ministry had been looking for an excuse to sack Arthur Weasley for years.

"I wish they would," Sirius said nastily, "then half the Ministry would quit in protest and the other half would quit because the place couldn't even run anymore, then Fudge would be forced out of office and we could put someone with a brain in place."

"That was extremely elaborate," Harry told him conversationally.

"That's Sirius," James agreed.

Potter was no use of course, it was just a matter of time before St. Mungo's caught him and put him in the ward for the ones with brain damage.

"Considering that room isn't housing the whole of your family, I don't consider them that reliable," James sneered.

Malfoy began making grotesque faces at Harry, who had no time to react as someone forced past his shoulder, Neville.

"Uh oh," Lily sat straight up in concern.

"I hadn't realized Neville was around," James winced in concern.

"This could be..." Sirius trailed off as he couldn't decide how this was going to be. Neville would get a few good licks in, more from shock on Malfoy's part than anything, but now everyone in the area would question why this had affected Neville so bad, clearly something the boy was against as he'd never brought it up himself.

Harry leapt forward to try and stop him, to the stunned faces of everyone around them.

All five of them remained grim faced, the boys for once not even cheering this fight on. Neville deserved whatever he was going to do to Malfoy for that crack, but glory the motivation for it was the most terrible thing any of them could put into words.

Ron quickly joined in restraining their dorm mate, while Neville inarticulately shouted at Malfoy about not funny, Mungo's-

Snape arrived then, at once taking ten points away from the three struggling boys.

Harry only released Neville once Malfoy was inside, apologizing by saying Crabbe and Goyle would have torn him in half.

"Not if you'd backed him up rather than stopping him," Remus said under his breath.

"As you always say Moony, time and place," Sirius gave him the absent reminder, wishing he could go start his own fight with the twisted beings passing as people walking around with the intent to do this to their friends.

Neville said nothing as he stalked inside and set well away from them as class got started.

They were all still shifting uneasily in here for that distressing moment, each wishing they could do something, say anything to make that even remotely better, but words weren't enough.

Snape began class by saying they had a guest today.

Harry looked back around in surprise and was amazed he'd missed the pink amongst the black background, Umbridge was present, clipboard in hand.

James's mouth opened with a little pop, before he exaggeratedly clutched at his throat and began pantomiming distress.

"Honestly, I'm with Prongs," Sirius nodded along while Lily watched him with mild concern for the show. "I've never been more torn who I want to see come on top on this one."

Harry exchanged a look with Ron and Hermione, all of them feeling the same. It was hard to decide who to root for in this moment.

"Why can't I have normal friends who just say something like that, instead of you two idiots?" Remus gave a small smile as Sirius had switched to raising both hands and clearly weighing both sides, and James had only slightly calmed down by now making exaggerated faces every few seconds.

"Oh hush Remus, you know full well you want to go get the camera right now," Lily said with mild indulgence at the display.

"Well I can't tell them that, then they'd think I approve or something," he smirked.

Snape gave this no more attention as the told them all to begin today's work, but Harry was so interested in watching Umbridge shadow Snape Hermione stopped him three consecutive times from adding the wrong ingredient to his potion.

"I knew that conviction of not letting Snape get the better of you wouldn't last long," Sirius sighed.

"You're going to blow that potion up in your face if you don't pay more attention," Lily couldn't help but scold him.

Harry hardly gave her notice as Umbridge began her usual line of questioning, saying that while the class was clearly well handled, perhaps today's potion was too advanced and should be taken off the syllabus.

"I'm confident they'd want everything removed from the syllabus that doesn't involve brain washing," Remus snarked.

Snape gave no response to this as she switched to asking how long he'd been here, to which he curtly replied fourteen years.

"Oh how I long for the days of Slughorn, who'd have thought," Sirius grumbled in disgust.

"I will pay that man whatever it takes to never go into retirement and keep this from happening," James vowed.

Harry was frowning lightly to himself, wondering at that time frame, though surely it couldn't be anything too significant...

Harry was watching his expression, and so looked down in surprise to find his potion had gone from the turquoise it was supposed to be, to orange.

Lily shook her head, now completely giving up on the idea Harry's potion was going anywhere this lesson.

Umbridge and Snape kept his attention though as she asked that Snape had first asked for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post? When he gave a one worded answer, she affirmed he was unsuccessful?

"You know at some point, I almost wish he would be," Sirius groaned. "Then he'd be gone after that year."

Harry gave an odd little laugh of agreement he was sure shouldn't feel as significant as it did.

Snape's lip curled as he stated obviously.

Remus snorted in surprise, and then at once was affronted he'd done any such thing, and covered his face with shame.

"There, there, Moony, we all lapse in sanity sometimes," Sirius grinned as he patted his shoulder with comfort.

"Now what was this about me being dramatic again?" James smirked. "I would never deny when anyone made a good comeback."

"Shut up Prongs," Remus huffed as he scowled at him instead.

Umbridge just made a little note before asking he regularly applied for the job?

Snape gave another yes, clearly growing angrier by the moment.

"It is actually hurting my soul to be enjoying this so much," Sirius was watching the book with an intense feeling even he couldn't quite read. It wasn't quite pleasure, but far more understanding than he'd ever given Snape in his life.

She then asked why Dumbledore denied him the job?

"He's afraid to let him into a classroom with daylight, he might melt," James smirked.

"Wrong myth dear," Lily muttered without explanation to his confused look. She was sitting far back in her seat with her arms crossed. She still couldn't quite bring herself to the level of mocking him like the boys were doing, but for once in their life, they all seemed to be of the same mind when it came to Snape right now.

When Snape did not give a satisfying answer, she decided she'd have to ask the headmaster herself then. She walked off to begin questioning the students, and Snape stalked straight over to Harry, noted the way his potion was frothing, and then vanished it again with no grade for this class while also assigning him the homework of the correct way to brew this potion.

"Merlin's pants, you congratulate the man for one second on doing something right and he turns around and does even more bull loaded nonsense!" Sirius groaned in disgust.

"Snape reached his limit of my liking for him and then shattered it all in the same stretch, I'd be impressed if I wasn't pissed," James huffed in agreement.

Harry glared hatefully at him as he walked away. Snape had already assigned one lesson today, now Harry had two. There goes another sleepless night.

"I found it cathartic to try breaking something, like his nose," Remus said so only Sirius could hear, causing him to at least giggle a bit, but the two kept that one to themselves.

Harry trudged off to lunch glumly, considering skipping Divination so he could spend the time starting that new assignment from Snape.

Hermione disagreed at once for the idea,

"I really can't see how it makes too much of a difference honestly," Lily said grudgingly. "That's a waste of a class, you're prioritizing."

"There are many reasons I fell in love with you dear," James grinned at her, "this is one of them."

Lily just grinned as she waved on her surprised son.

Ron told her she was one to talk, she'd walked out on the class.

Hermione defended she found the subject a waste, but Harry had already missed History of Magic this morning, he couldn't afford to keep skipping all his classes.

"He was doodling during that class, I hardly think he missed out on something riveting," Sirius snorted.

"Hermione is a terrible conscience if she can't even tell you how to sort your day out," Remus sighed.

Harry grudgingly agreed to this logic as he went off, but found he wasn't the only one having a bad day. Trelawney was stamping around the class placing the books down as usual, but was muttering tersely under her breath and did not stop as more students entered. She dropped the book loudly on Harry and Ron's little table, nearly took Seamus' nose off as she thrusted the book at them, and actually pushed Neville off his pouffe as she put the book in his arms.

"I know Monday's are terrible, but this is getting ridiculous for all parties," James said in confusion.

When all eyes watched her with worry, she snapped at them briskly to get a move on, or was she such a substandard teacher they didn't even know how to open a book?

"Ouch," Remus winced, all of them at once understanding what must have happened.

"Is it of some comfort she wasn't outright fired?" Lily sighed, none of them particularly liked her, but that didn't mean they wanted her under Umbridge's thumb either, which seemed to be what had happened.

"Not much," James groaned.

Harry leaned in and whispered to Ron it looked like Trelawney had gotten her inspection results back.

Parvati raised a tentative hand and asked in genuine concern if something was wrong?

Trelawney said in a throbbing voice of course there was nothing wrong! She'd been insulted, accused, but there was nothing wrong!

"As if she doesn't contradict herself enough with her predictions, now she's doing it in real time," Sirius tried for his old mocking tone, but even he didn't hate Trelawney enough to poke fun at this.

The class watched as a few tears spilled from her eyes while Lavender asked who'd insulted her?

"If she really can't piece that together logically than she could at least consult a crystal ball," Lily muttered without any real heat.

Trelawney got some of her old dramatics back as she stated the establishment! Her kind had always been persecuted.

She spent the rest of the class striding about wiping away tears, muttering threats under her breath about how dare they put her on probation and she may well quit from the indignity of it.

"Of all the teachers to go on probation, she wasn't exactly number one on my list," Remus sighed.

"Even she didn't deserve this," Harry grudgingly agreed past all his annoyance at her.

Harry arrived at his final class to find Hermione waiting for them, as Harry told her and Umbridge both had something in common, they both found Trelawney a fraud, and he explained about her probation.

"That was insulting Harry, a fact does not give two people anything in common," Lily said flatly.

Umbridge entered with the usual standard and for all wands to be put away. There was no flurry of movement this time, no one had bothered to take their wand out.

"I'd be worried for their mental health if they had by this point," Sirius snapped, then winced at the careless comment as he imagined Neville's reaction again.

She instructed them which chapter they were to be reading today and finished as always there was no need to talk, coupled with the trio under their breaths.

"No need to think, more like," Remus sneered in disgust.

Harry came back to the common room that night to find Angelina in a state, she hadn't been given her permission for their team.

Harry at once promised he hadn't done anything today-

"You already have though Harry," James sighed. "That first day you asked to go to tryouts told her all she needed to know about the best way to get to you."

Harry looked horror struck he could be the reason his team didn't get set back up, so Lily quickly soothed, "oh I'm sure you're all exaggerating this, Quidditch is a set Hogwarts tradition, even Umbridge can't be stupid enough to think she can go on without letting the team play forever, someone will step in." Even she didn't look very convinced by the end, that woman had already gotten away with far too much.

Angelina assured she knew it wasn't Harry's fault this time, the woman had said she just needed time to consider.

Ron told in a temper she hadn't had to think about anything in regards to the Slytherins, but Angelina just shook her head pitifully as she walked away.

Hermione tried to point out the bright side, at least now he had more time to do Snape's essay.

"That's not the bright side I was looking for," Lily groaned, even she wouldn't put that in the good column.

Harry demanded of her how no Quidditch but extra potions was a good thing?

Still, he had no choice but to begin on his work, proven extra difficult tonight by the amount of noise in the room. Fred and George had apparently perfected their Puking Pastel, and were demonstrating it to a cheering crowd. The twins took turns eating the orange bit, and vomiting spectacularly until they got down the purple pill. Lee was assisting by making the bucket they were vomiting into randomly disappear.

At least the Marauder's looked entertained at this display, while Lily found the whole thing rather sad this was getting such a show. Could watching someone vomit really be so entertaining?

Nothing was helped by Hermione tisking in disgust, and as Harry scratched out the wrong information for the fourth time in frustration, he demanded she go yell at them and get it over with if that's what she wanted.

Hermione was just as frustrated she technically couldn't, as none of this was against the rules.

Ron was watching the show with some surprise, asking how they hadn't got more than three OWLs each? They clearly knew their stuff.

Hermione scoffed they only knew flashy things that were of no real use.

"No real use!" Sirius looked stricken.

"This is the most valuable thing I've ever seen invented, far more useful than a dozen spells I could name that have only one purpose! This is a multipurpose gift!" James agreed.

"Would you lot calm down," Lily rolled her eyes at them. "So they make you vomit, Sirius' socks can do that."

"Not stop on command though," Remus reminded, "think about it Lily, this could even have some real world applications for spies, slipping this into someone's food and they couldn't stop unless you promised them the antidote."

Lily pursed her lips even as her mind did begin spinning past the trouble it caused. Satisfied that everyone at least appreciated these things on some level, Harry did keep going with a small smile in place now.

Ron pointed out one use the twins were already prospering in, they'd made more than twenty-six Galleons tonight alone.

"And there's that," Remus agreed absently.

Finally though the crowd stopped shouting, orders were taken, and the room began to quiet down. Harry still wasn't even halfway through his work though when Ron shouted in surprise at Sirius.

James and Remus finally felt themselves relax since the news of Hedwig's arrival. They wouldn't even admit to themselves how worried they'd been for him about the attack on Harry's owl during this delivery, but clearly he was just fine and it had been some other thing to happen to Hedwig completely unrelated to Harry's godfather.

Harry happily slid from his chair to greet him, Ron and Hermione joining him on the hearth along with Crookshanks, who tried nestling up to the fire.

Lily giggled happily at the idea, eyeing her cat whose tail was just being spotted hanging from the staircase banister.

Sirius grinned as he saw them, asking how things were?

James felt the same grin appear on his face and he wasn't even beside his mate, it was just natural even when he wasn't in on the joke, though he did wonder what Sirius knew and was eager to hear.

Harry grumbled not that good, how the Ministry was forcing them to have Quidditch teams approved-

and secret Defence groups? Sirius inserted.

Harry stared in stunned disbelief at the words before turning wide eyed to his godfather, who at once put his own baffled hands up in surrender. "Don't look at me, even I'm not that good."

"And it takes a lot for him to admit to that," Remus said off hand even as they kept watching the book for this explanation. Maybe Padfoot had showed up after all but not even been seen by Harry just to prove a point, that seemed the kind of thing their friend would likely do.

There was a pause before Harry demanded how he knew about that?

Sirius kept grinning as he said the Hog's Head was a terrible choice.

Hermione defended it was better than the Three Broomsticks, always packed with people-

which would have made them harder to overhear, Sirius pointed out.

"At least some things about you never change," Remus grinned.

Telling Hermione she had a lot to learn.

"And I'm sure he'd be happy to teach you," Lily shook her head for him.

Harry wouldn't be distracted and demanded how he knew, and Sirius explained Mundungus had told them, he'd been the witch under the veil.

Harry's mouth flopped open, outraged that he was still being followed, before he glanced up and saw all of them not trying very hard to stifle giggling at the thought of Mundungus dressing up like this. James pushed the idea further by getting out around a shaking voice, "wonder if that was Sirius' idea for the disguise, and Dung was too afraid to say anything otherwise?"

Harry did crack a grin for that at least, though it didn't at all make him feel better as he still hadn't been told about this, this time not even by Sirius.

Harry was outraged he was still being followed.

That did make the others realize as well Sirius had been fully aware of this and had not passed this information on, but James defended his mate on this one. "Firstly Harry, when exactly was he supposed to tell you this? Maybe Sirius didn't even know you still were until Mundungus showed back up to say what you'd done." His face soured for his own explanation though, as Sirius should get first say in what happened around Harry.

"Besides that, maybe Sirius just assumed you still knew. Followed outside of school, why not while in it too," Remus rolled his eyes at the absurdity of this even while he explained it.

Harry just sighed but decided against butting heads with Sirius over this when it more than likely still wasn't his decision.

Sirius just chuckled it was a good idea if the first thing he was going to do was go out and create illegal defence groups. He in no way looked angry or worried, on the contrary, Harry found pride as he kept gazing at them.

"I swear you are the worst influence on his life," Lily didn't even bother trying for a stern tone as she grinned at him. "Can't you at least pretend to scold him before congratulating this idea."

"I'm not even going to bother to apologize," Sirius kept snickering.

Ron asked why Dung had been hiding, but Sirius explained he'd been banned from the Hog's Head twenty years ago.

Harry had felt some growing unease since he'd read Sirius' letter, so he tried to ignore why for a moment and asked, "what's the story there?"

"Sadly we've only ever heard some garbage from the man himself," Remus sighed.

"We tried to get him to meet us there for an Order meeting one day and he wouldn't go," James pouted, "only said he hadn't been there in ages. When we asked the barman, he told us when he'd been banned but wouldn't say more."

"Maybe he showed up without covering his face and ruined the motif," Lily rolled her eyes at all of their disappointment at not learning something.

"Considering how off that barman is, my best guess is it was something personal though," Sirius grumbled, wishing he did know what had happened.

Then he switched by turning to Ron,

"I still think this Dung in a dress thing warrants far more commentary," James chuckled.

"Keep it to your own head then," Lily rolled her eyes at him.

and said he'd promised to pass along a message.

Ron asked what that could be with clear apprehension.

"I am to," James' face at once tightened in concern of what that woman had to say about this.

Molly had said under no circumstances was he to be involved in any illegal Defence groups, she did not need to hear of him being expelled. There would be plenty of time later for him to learn to defend himself, and he was still too young to be worrying about this.

"Merlin's pants, she sounds like Umbridge!" Remus protested in disgust.

"That's a bit extreme," Lily frowned at him. "She doesn't want to hear of Ron in trouble."

"Why didn't I ask the other three Weasley's to be in attendance for them to hear about this as well?" Sirius rolled his eyes.

"How exactly would you have secretly phrased that?" Harry chuckled, "I'm sure Ron'll just pass it along to them, for all the good it'll do."

Sirius then looked at all three of them and finished he hoped Harry and Hermione followed this advice as well, but she accepted she had no control of this and just had their best interests at heart.

"Would love to have been there for that bit," James huffed, wondering what Sirius had said to remind Molly that's all she could say on the subject.

She'd have made an appearance tonight to say this herself if she hadn't been on guard duty.

Ron asked guarding what, and Sirius just said Order stuff.

That gave them all a moment of interest. This guard duty got more interesting the more they heard about it, though it was still infuriating just hints kept being dropped about it instead of actually being told what it was, especially by Sirius himself.

He then asked Ron to make sure his mother knew he'd at least gotten the message, he didn't think she trusted him to pass it along.

"Honesty I'm a bit impressed you did," Lily snorted.

Then Sirius went back to watching Harry with a grin, who asked with defeat if Sirius was going to ask him to stop?

"As if," they all scoffed at once that's the conclusion anyone could draw. Sirius saying something like that would be akin to him declaring undying love for Snape.

Sirius looked surprised this was his conclusion, he found this a great idea!

"There's my Padfoot," James chuckled.

Harry felt his heart lifting at once as Sirius said he and James would never have lain down and taken orders from Umbridge.

"Not a chance on the Map," James' grin turned wolfish, Sirius at once agreeing while Remus looked a touch offended. He could understand why Sirius wouldn't have said the whole of the Marauders, that would hurt his heart too much to possibly ever say again, but he'd have liked to at least been acknowledged as well during that. Clearly even his name being passed along by Sirius was too much to ask for anymore, and this somehow continued to get more depressing the less he was mentioned.

Harry was still surprised, as all last year Sirius had told him to do was not take risks- but Sirius brushed that off that last year they'd been concerned about Voldemort coming back. Now he was, and Harry needed to do everything in his power to keep himself up on defences, this was a great idea!

"I notice you've yet to ask us how we'll be learning?" Harry smiled at him. "I'd have liked to know what you thought of me teaching the lot of them."

"I'm sure pride, amusement, and a list of other good things," Sirius smiled fondly at Harry who couldn't help but beam.

Hermione asked and if they were expelled?

"I'd thought she'd sorted out her priorities by now?" Remus sighed.

"Then you'll have less homework and more time to practice," Sirius snorted at her oddly.

"This was her idea, why's she suddenly the one bringing this up," James rolled his eyes in agreement.

Harry protested this had been Hermione's idea, but Hermione said she still wanted to hear what Sirius had to say about that.

Sirius just said better kicked out of school knowing than inside without a clue.

"Why do you seem to be the only person thinking like that," Remus agreed with an unfocused gaze, Sirius turned to look curiously at him for the tone and not understanding the put out look still on his face.

Sirius happily switched to asking where this was going to be taking place?

Harry said he'd love some ideas, because they hadn't a clue.

Sirius at once suggested the Shrieking Shack.

"You'd think you'd realize same as Remus did, that's not big enough for almost thirty of them," Lily looked at him in confusion.

"I might not know how many of them there were," Sirius shrugged, "if it had been ten or less it may have worked better."

Hermione didn't think so, saying there was no way they could all sneak down there like they had, one Invisibility Cloak wasn't going to cover it.

"I don't see why that's her problem," James said in confusion. "Sure the cloak helps to sneak onto the grounds, but so long as they don't do it after school hours while taking turns sneaking down there, that wasn't really the issue."

Sirius didn't argue and instead offered a space behind a mirror on the fourth floor, that had always been roomy.

"That one could have been big enough," Sirius pouted, "if it hadn't caved in."

"I'm really coming up with nothing short of a classroom, which is ridiculous when you consider how big that school is but nothing outside of the classrooms hold that many people," James ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

Harry said Fred and George had told him ages ago it had caved in.

Sirius strained to think of something else, but then froze, looked sideways into the brick wall, and suddenly looked alarmed.

Harry's voice spiked in concern at once, James nearly startling out of his seat at such an abrupt change, and Remus leaning in protectively close to Sirius as he watched the book dangerously for what that face could mean. Sirius was at Grimmauld, and Harry was at school, surely nothing could be happening at either end or they would have realized it before now...

Harry anxiously asked what was wrong, but Sirius had already vanished.

James couldn't help jumping out of his seat then, his face stark white with concern as he fought back the impulse to snatch the book away from Harry's stuttering, fear filled voice.

Harry turned puzzled eyes on his friends, trying to ask them what that could have been about, but then Hermione let out a horrified shriek and leapt away, followed by the boys as they spotted a hand groping through the fire, with short stubby fingers covered in ugly old rings.

Lily began swearing violently as her mind raced to realize what, how this had happened!

The three raced off for the stairs, Harry looking back one last time to see Umbridge's hand still snatching at the flames where Sirius' hair had just been, determined to snatch him.

"No, no, no!" Harry shouted in outrage. "How could she! There's no way she could have known you were there, how could she even manage to do that to you! What did she almost do?"

"Pulled him right out of his fireplace into her's," Lily answered through numb lips.

Sirius didn't realize that pressure was Remus' hand curled so tight on his arm, prepared to wrench him out of the way of something any second, until he tried to move towards Harry and reassure him everything was alright, he'd escaped. He looked back at Remus steadily, who had to concentrate to unfurl his hand, before Sirius promised Harry and everyone, "relax, I bolted, she didn't grab me or you'd have realized it. You've never done this before, but you can still sense what's going on at your end as well as the place you're visiting. You can also still feel the Floo Network working around you. I'd have sensed someone else trying to jump in and I bolted, there's no way she could tell where, everything's fine."

No one looked remotely reassured. Too much adrenaline still pumping in them, too close a shave that Sirius was once again trying to blow off. He hardly even looked ruffled, if his eyes were a little wider than usual than that was more mild surprise than anything someone had gotten so close to him.

James was still shaking and too white from fear as he kept a steady eye on his brother, that had been the most fear inducing moment yet and it had happened while he'd been chatting with Harry! What was wrong with this world Sirius couldn't have one actual conversation with his son lately without something happening to someone!?

#The Life that Never Lived #Harry Potter #HP #Fanfiction #reading the books #ootp #The Marauders #Jilly #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter

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jay-me-says · 4 years ago

Text

Things Were Different Back Then

CHAPTER ONE: The Protagonist Returns

Masterpost w/ more info on the fic | Note: all SBI-related relationships here are platonic!

Tubbo fidgets with the buttons on his suit jacket, the shiny gold a pretty contrast to the forest green fabric. The notion seems utterly laughable to him, but he’s nervous to see Tommy.

It’s been a while since the blond was last in L’manburg. A few weeks after Tubbo became president, Tommy had left. “I just need to clear my head for a while. I’ll be back,” he had said. Nearly a month had passed with no Tommy and no word from him. Until a few days ago, when Tubbo had received a message via carrier parrot. It was from Tommy, saying he was okay and would be home in a few days.

Tubbo had felt happy at first, but now he was nervous out of his mind. The past few days had been spent making preparations for Tommy’s return. Everyone wanted to make his homecoming special, so the whole nation had pitched in to decorate and prep food to welcome Tommy back with a feast. The entire time he was helping prep, Tubbo had felt like a blob. A wobbly, wiggly version of himself that had no solid shape and was made only of nerves and worry.

He was terrified that something might go wrong, or that he hadn’t done enough to welcome his dear friend back home. Even with the entire nation covered in banners and candles and lanterns, Tubbo kept wondering what else he could do. He’d even been tempted to temporarily lift the ban on explosives to allow fireworks, but in the end decided it wouldn’t look good for a president to go around breaking his own laws.

Presently, Tubbo is standing about ten feet from the gates of L’manburg. One of the first things the country had done after the revolution against Schlatt (after tearing down and replacing the hideous obsidian flag of Manburg) was build a wall around their territory to prevent attackers from waltzing in freely. Along with that project had come a large gate. It was made of spruce wood and opened with a pulley on either side, requiring two people to lift it.

Watchtowers dot the wall, where people often take turns scanning the terrain beyond. Mainly, they watch for invaders from the Dream SMP. In the short time Tubbo has been president, there hasn’t been much activity. Just a scout every now and again. They keep watch anyways, on edge after a history full of war. Fundy is sitting in one of the towers closest to the gate, keeping an eye out for Tommy. Eret and Puffy each stand by one of the pulleys, talking. Everyone else mills around, staying close to the gate while talking to one another.

The air in the nation has been filling up with anticipation since Tubbo made the announcement about Tommy’s return. It feels like electricity, energizing the clusters of people, making them more alert. Every slight noise from outside the gate turns heads.

Tubbo, zoned out while worrying his mind and his button, doesn’t notice Niki approach. When she places her hand on the president’s shoulder, he startles, drawing in a sharp breath and snapping his head to look at her. Seeing that it’s just his fellow council member, the tension drops from his shoulders and he slowly exhales. After the Second Revolution, Tubbo had decided to alter the way L’manburg’s executive branch ran. Instead of a single president, he wanted there to be multiple leaders. Soon after the coup, before Tommy left, there was an election that voted himself, Niki, and Tommy in. Fundy has been acting as a stand-in for Tommy since he left.

Niki’s brow is creased slightly in concern. “Are you alright, Tubbo? You look nervous.”

He doesn’t try to hide it. “I am, Niki. I really am. It’s just,” he pauses for a moment and sighs, “it’s been so long since I’ve seen him. What if he’s changed a lot- what if I've changed- and we don’t get along?” Tubbo keeps fidgeting with his button, eyes locked on Niki’s.

Niki uses her hand on Tubbo’s shoulder to gently turn him to face her fully. She puts her free hand on his other shoulder and squeezes. Tubbo catches the sparkle of her promise ring to Puffy in his peripheral vision. “I can understand your worry, Tubbo, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. Even if he has changed, you’re Tommy and Tubbo, L’manburg’s favorite dream duo. You’ll work it out, I’m sure of it.”

The way Niki’s gaze locks onto Tubbo comforts him. She looks so certain. Like she’s telling Tubbo that the sky is blue. It settles him some, but he still grips the button on his jacket. His fingers have stilled, though.

“Thank you, Niki.”

“Anytime, Tubbo.”

Right as Niki finishes speaking, Fundy hollers from his tower. They both glance over as he yells, “Tommy’s back!”

Tubbo looks back to Niki, eyes wide with excitement. The other council member is grinning. She squeezes his shoulders again, then gives him a soft shove towards the gate. “Go! Go meet him!”

Nerves temporarily forgotten, the brunette takes off. The built-up electricity crackles through the air and into his body, making his limbs lighter. In that moment, Tubbo is sure that he has never run faster.

Eret and Puffy have started pulling up the gate and Fundy is scrambling down from the tower, rushing to join the crowd that has gathered a few feet away from the wooden bars. They are packed in tightly, already calling hellos to Tommy. When they notice Tubbo, though, they move and let him barrel through.

When he gets to the front of the crowd, stumbling to a stop, Tubbo’s eyes finally land on Tommy. His hair is ruffled and he’s smiling, eyes lit up as he scans over the crowd of his friends. When his gaze falls on Tubbo, he grins even wider. At the same moment, they take off running.

Now, Tubbo is sure, he’s never run faster. The boys nearly bowl each other over as they crash into a hug. They grip each other tightly. An observer would swear they’d never let go.

Relief and affection pools up inside of Tubbo, filling him to the brim and making him feel warm. Tommy is safe. Tommy is here, in L’manburg, in his arms. No more wondering where he is or if he’s okay.

“I missed you so much,” Tommy breathes, the hint of a laugh tangled in his syllables.

Tubbo sinks deeper into the hug. “I missed you, too. I’m so glad you’re back.” He grips the other boy tighter, if possible.

Their words are muffled, faces buried in each other’s shoulders. Tubbo could stay like this for hours and not mind.

But they do break apart. Tubbo tries not to feel a little sad and grins up at the taller boy, who grins back. He’s not sure he would ever admit this out loud, but Tubbo had missed those bright blue eyes of Tommy’s.

The taller boy grabs Tubbo’s right hand in his own and squeezes. The look he gives him sinks into the brunette’s soul, conveying words he hasn’t said aloud. We'll finish this later.

Tubbo nods and gently lets his friend’s hand go. As he walks away, it feels like something is missing. Like Tubbo has taken his hands off a warm mug and the cold is seeping into his skin. He can practically hear Tommy saying, “Clingy bitch.”

Tommy is greeted like a hero returning from slaying some vexatious beast. The crowd jumps on him, each person gripping him close in turn and welcoming him home.

As Quackity is greeted with a yell of “Big Q!” Tubbo finally notices the dog. Really, he’s unsure how he missed it in the first place. It’s about as large as a small bench and fluffy beyond belief, with fur the same color as the quartz blocks that make up the Prime church. Tubbo’s heart melts a little when he sees the familiar green bandana tied around the dog’s neck.

The dog barks in excitement, running around, picking up the crowd’s energy. Many L’manburgians are already dishing out pets. It’s a challenge, though. The dog only stays still for a few seconds before running more laps around the group.

Tubbo also notices the parrot, then, flapping around nearby Tommy’s head. It’s mostly green with just a little smudge of a lemony yellow on its forehead and wings. It’s the same parrot that delivered Tommy’s message. Tubbo had sent the bird back to Tommy afterwards, bearing a response letter and a little pouch with a few cookies made by Niki.

The light, energetic feeling vanishes from Tubbo’s limbs when he sees Tommy stood in front of Wilbur. The tall brunette looks uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot and picking at the hem of his gray sweater. For a few seconds, they do nothing but stand across from each other, staring. The scene sucks the electricity out of the air, hoarding it all and turning the pair into a greedy storm cloud.

Finally, Tommy reaches out a tentative hand. Wilbur glances between the hand and Tommy’s face, then carefully takes it. They shake and Tommy moves on quickly, finishing his greetings. The stolen electricity slowly leaks back into the atmosphere.

The group had moved outside of the wall earlier, following Tubbo after he booked it out to meet Tommy. Now, they lead the blond into L’manburg, towards the spruce platforms where the podium once stood. A long table has been set up and covered in food and dishware. Tubbo snags a seat next to Tommy and lets himself get swept away in the energy of the group. They loudly tell stories, taking turns updating Tommy on what’s happened since he left and listening as the blond regales them with tales from his time away. Being around everyone like this, eating together and talking about anything and everything, warms Tubbo’s heart. He feels happy. By the time the sun sets, his cheeks are aching from so much smiling.

The L’manburgians stay at the table well into the night, orange light cast from lanterns keeping the mobs at bay. But as the moon traces a path through the sky, the group slowly thins out and people return to their homes for the night. Eventually, there are only a few people left at the table.

After Quackity leaves, clapping his hand on Tommy’s shoulder when he walks by, the blond nudges Tubbo to get his attention. “Do you want to head back up to your house? I’m pretty tired.”

Tubbo agrees and the two say their goodbyes, leaving Eret, Philza, and Fundy as the final three at the table. Tubbo privately wonders where Wilbur has gone, figuring he would’ve stayed with his father and son, but thinks better than to ask. It seems like a charged question, and he’d rather not ruin the mood.

As Tubbo and Tommy make the short walk home, the dog and the parrot trailing along behind them, there isn’t a single quiet moment. They chatter back and forth about everything and nothing. Tubbo once again feels warm. He’s missed this, all of it. Everything that he couldn’t do with Tommy while he was gone.

When they reach his house, Tubbo opens the door and gestures for Tommy to go in first. The dog follows, parrot sitting atop his fluffy head, then Tubbo enters. Tommy, of course, has his own home in L’manburg to stay in. He was around long enough after the revolution against Schlatt to build one. But they had decided via carrier parrot that he would stay with Tubbo for a few days, giving the pair time to catch up and see each other more.

While Tommy gets settled in the guest room, Tubbo sits in a wooden chair near the bed and they keep talking. Tubbo never seems to run out of words with Tommy around.

“So, what’s up with the dog?” Tubbo inquires as the great, fluffy wolf sits in front of him. It places a large paw on his lap, so Tubbo scratches its head.

Tommy flits between his bag and the wardrobe, putting away his armor and spare clothes. “That’s Walter. I had set up camp for a bit in some woods and he came to check it out. I gave him some steaks and when I went to leave, he followed. He’s been with me for about half the time I’ve been away, I think.”

“He’s massive.”

Tommy cracks a smile. “Seriously. A child could use him as a pony.”

Still petting the dog, Tubbo turns his gaze to the parrot sitting on the headrest of the bed. He makes a mental note to bring Tommy some things for it tomorrow. “Did you name the parrot?”

“Yeah, Henry II. What’s up with the parrots anyways?” He pauses in putting away his things and looks at Tubbo, brow creased in confusion.

“It was Ponk’s idea. He figured it would be nice to have a way to send messages, so he’s been training up parrots. He runs a little mail building where most of them are kept. Got built a week or so after you left.”

“Has it actually been helpful?” An edge of doubt creeps into Tommy’s voice, but he seems rather curious.

“I mean, it was helpful to get some warning before you got back, so we could prepare to give you a big welcoming. Besides that, it has been pretty convenient. I’ve been using the system to send people notes. It’s sort of nice to not have to go to peoples’ houses to communicate with them.”

Tommy hums in response as he resumes putting away his things. As he finishes, shutting the wardrobe, he says, “That was really nice, by the way. Thank you, you guys didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course we did. We all wanted to. Although, the decorations were mostly Wilbur. Man barely stopped working on them since we got word you were coming.”

Tubbo realizes too late that he probably shouldn’t have brought up Wilbur, especially after how tense Tommy had been back at the gate with him. Kicking himself, he hurries on, “By the way, Tommy, you’re still invited to take back your council seat. I’m sure Fundy will be thrilled to be relieved of his post. He’s been working really hard, but he doesn’t enjoy it all that much.”

Tommy pushes the tip of his shoe into the floor and glances off to the side. “Er, yeah, about that, do you think he could stay on just a little while longer? I- I don’t know if I’m feeling up for that yet. Everything is so different, and I just need some time to adjust if…if that’s alright.” He looks at Tubbo again on the last sentence. Tubbo is a little surprised but understands. “I’m sure you could ask him about it. I was planning to show you around tomorrow anyway, so we could stop by his and Phil’s and Wilbur’s house and speak with him. We could invite Niki along, as well.”

If asked, Tubbo would say he wants to invite Niki because she’s also on the council, and conversations about the council should involve her. And that is partly true, but he also wants another buffer in case they end up talking to Wilbur.

Tubbo tries to start up the conversation properly again, but it’s not quite the same. Tommy still seems somewhat tense, and sort of withdrawn. The brunette wishes he hadn’t brought up Wilbur like that. The comment had turned the air thick- it almost felt hard to breathe.

When he thinks he might suffocate by staying in the room any longer, Tubbo says goodnight, wanting out before his tongue can dig him a deeper hole. “I’m just down the hall if you need me,” he adds as he gets up from the chair.

Before he can leave, Tommy crosses the room and grabs his friend’s arm, tugging him into a hug. Tubbo squeezes back, again glad that the boy is in L’manburg and within his reach once more. A small smile tugs at his features.

“I really did miss you, Tubbo. Thank you for the party,” Tommy murmurs against Tubbo’s shoulder.

“Of course, Tommy. We were glad to do it.”

The boys break apart and say a final goodnight before Tubbo goes to his room. As he gets ready for bed, he thinks about how Tommy is acting about Wilbur; he sort of shut down after the mention of him. It worries the brunette, but he tries to brush it off. Surely, it’ll be fine in a few days. Tommy just needs to get used to being back and sort things out with his brother.

‘

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semiotexte · 5 years ago

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As the years passed, I learned to think of dreams as an integral part of life. There are dreams that, because of their sensory intensity, their realism or precisely their lack of realism, deserve to be introduced into autobiography, just as much as events that were actually lived through. Life begins and ends in the unconscious; the actions we carry out while fully lucid are only little islands in an archipelago of dreams. No existence can be completely rendered in its happiness or its madness without taking into account oneiric experiences. It’s Calderón de la Barca’s maxim reversed: it’s not a matter of thinking that life is a dream, but rather of realizing that dreams are also a form of life. It is just as strange to think, like the Egyptians, that dreams are cosmic channels through which the souls of ancestors pass in order to communicate with us, as to claim, as some of the neurosciences do, that dreams are a “cut-and-paste” of elements experienced by the brain during waking life, elements that return in the dream’s REM phase, while our eyes move beneath our eyelids, as if they were watching. Closed and sleeping, eyes continue to see. Therefore, it is more appropriate to say that the human psyche never stops creating and dealing with reality, sometimes in dreams, sometimes in waking life.

Whereas over the course of the past few months my waking life has been, to use the euphemistic Catalan expression, “good, so long as we don’t go into details,” my oneiric life has had the power of a novel by Ursula K. Le Guin. During one of my recent dreams, I was talking with the artist Dominique González-Foerster about my problem of geographic dislocation: after years of a nomadic life, it is hard for me to decide on a place to live in the world. While we were having this conversation, we were watching the planets spin slowly in their orbits, as if we were two giant children and the solar system were a Calder mobile. I was explaining to her that, for now, in order to avoid the conflict that the decision entailed, I had rented an apartment on each planet, but that I didn’t spend more than a month on any one of them, and that this situation was economically and physically unsustainable. Probably because she is the creator of the Exotourisme project, Dominique in this dream was an expert on extraterrestrial real-estate management. “If I were you, I’d have an apartment on Mars and I’d keep a pied-à-terre on Saturn,” she was saying, showing a great deal of pragmatism, “but I’d get rid of the Uranus apartment. It’s much too far away.”

Awake, I don’t know much about astronomy; I don’t have the slightest idea of the positions or distances of the different planets in the solar system. But I consulted the Wikipedia page on Uranus: it is in fact one of the most distant planets from Earth. Only Neptune, Pluto, and the dwarf planets Haumea, Makemake, and Eris are farther away. I read that Uranus was the first planet discovered with the help of a telescope, eight years before the French Revolution. With the help of a lens he himself had made, the astronomer and musician William Herschel observed it one night in March in a clear sky, from the garden of his house at 19 New King Street, in the city of Bath. Since he didn’t yet know if it was a huge star or a tailless comet, they say that Herschel called it “Georgium Sidus,” the Georgian Star, to console King George III for the loss of the British colonies in America: England had lost a continent, but the King had gained a planet. Thanks to Uranus, Herschel was able to live on a generous royal pension of two hundred pounds a year. Because of Uranus, he abandoned both music and the city of Bath, where he was a chapel organist and director of public concerts, and settled in Windsor so that the King could be sure of his new conquest by observing it through a telescope. Because of Uranus, they say, Herschel went mad, and spent the rest of his life building the largest telescope of the eighteenth century, which the English called “the monster.” Because of Uranus, they say, Herschel never played the oboe again. He died at the age of eighty-four: the number of years it takes for Uranus to go around the sun. They say that the tube of his telescope was so wide that the family used it as a dining hall at his funeral.

Uranus is what astrophysicists call a “gas giant.” Made up of ice, methane, and ammonia, it is the coldest planet in the solar system, with winds that can exceed nine hundred kilometers per hour. In short, the living conditions are not especially suitable. So Dominique was right: I should leave the Uranus apartment.

But dream functions like a virus. From that night forward, while I’m awake, the sensation of having an apartment on Uranus increases, and I am more and more convinced that the place I should live is over there.

For the Greeks, as for me in this dream, Uranus was the solid roof of the world, the limit of the celestial vault. Uranus was regarded as the house of the gods in many Greek invocation rituals. In mythology, Uranus is the son that Gaia, the Earth, conceived alone, without insemination or coition. Greek mythology is at once a kind of retro sci-fi story anticipating in a do-it-yourself way the technologies of reproduction and bodily transformation that will appear throughout the twentieth and twenty-first centuries; and at the same time a kitschy TV series in which the characters give themselves over to an unimaginable number of relationships outside the law. Thus Gaia married her son Uranus, a Titan often represented in the middle of a cloud of stars, like a sort of Tom of Finland dancing with other muscle-bound guys in a techno club on Mount Olympus. From the incestuous and ultimately not very heterosexual relationships between heaven and earth, the first generation of Titans were born, including Oceanus (Water), Chronos (Time), and Mnemosyne (Memory) … Uranus was both the son of the Earth and the father of all the others. We don’t quite know what Uranus’s problem was, but the truth is that he was not a good father: either he forced his children to remain in Gaia’s womb, or he threw them into Tartarus as soon as they were born. So Gaia convinced one of her children to carry out a contraceptive operation. You can see in the Palazzo Vecchio in Florence the representation that Giorgio Vasari made in the sixteenth century of Chronos castrating his father Uranus with a scythe. Aphrodite, the goddess of love, emerged from Uranus’s amputated genital organs … which could imply that love comes from the disjunction of the body’s genital organs, from the displacement and externalization of genital force.

This form of nonheterosexual conception, cited in Plato’s Symposium, was the inspiration for the German lawyer Karl Heinrich Ulrichs to come up with the word Uranian [Urning] in 1864 to designate what he called relations of the “third sex.” In order to explain men’s attraction to other men, Ulrichs, after Plato, cut subjectivity in half, separated the soul from the body, and imagined a combination of souls and bodies that authorized him to reclaim dignity for those who loved against the law. The segmentation of soul and body reproduces in the domain of experience the binary epistemology of sexual difference: there are only two options. Uranians are not, Ulrich writes, sick or criminal, but feminine souls enclosed in masculine bodies attracted to masculine souls.

This is not a bad idea to legitimize a form of love that, at the time, could get you hanged in England or in Prussia, and that, today, remains illegal in seventy-four countries and is subject to the death penalty in thirteen, including Nigeria, Pakistan, Iran, and Qatar; a form of love that constitutes a common motive for violence in family, society, and police in most Western democracies.

Ulrichs does not make this statement as a lawyer or scientist: he is speaking in the first person. He does not say “there are Uranians,” but “I am a Uranian.” He asserts this, in Latin, on August 18, 1867, after having been condemned to prison and after his books have been banned by an assembly of five hundred jurists, members of the German Parliament, and a Bavarian prince—an ideal audience for such confessions. Until then, Ulrichs had hidden behind the pseudonym “Numa Numantius.” But from that day on, he speaks in his own name, he dares to taint the name of his father. In his diary, Ulrichs confesses he was terrified, and that, just before walking onto the stage of the Grand Hall of the Odeon Theater in Munich, he had been thinking about running away, never to return. But he says he suddenly remembered the words of the Swiss writer Heinrich Hössli, who a few years before had defended sodomites (though not, however, speaking in his own name): “Two ways lie before me,” Hössli wrote, “to write this book and expose myself to persecution, or not to write it and be full of guilt until the day I am buried. Of course I have encountered the temptation to stop writing … But before my eyes appeared the images of the persecuted and the wretched prospect of such children who have not yet been born, and I thought of the unhappy mothers at their cradles, rocking their cursed yet innocent children! And then I saw our judges with their eyes blindfolded. Finally, I imagined my gravedigger slipping the cover of my coffin over my cold face. Then, before I submitted, the imperious desire to stand up and defend the oppressed truth possessed me … And so I continued to write with my eyes resolutely averted from those who have worked for my destruction. I do not have to choose between remaining silent or speaking. I say to myself: speak or be judged!”

Ulrichs writes in his journal that the judges and Parliamentarians seated in Munich’s Odeon Hall cried out, as they listened to his speech, like an angry crowd: End the meeting! End the meeting! But he also notes that one or two voices were raised to say: Let him continue! In the midst of a chaotic tumult, the President left the theater, but some Parliamentarians remained. Ulrichs’s voice trembled. They listened.

But what does it mean to speak for those who have been refused access to reason and knowledge, for us who have been regarded as mentally ill? With what voice can we speak? Can the jaguar or the cyborg lend us their voices? To speak is to invent the language of the crossing, to project one’s voice into an interstellar expedition: to translate our difference into the language of the norm; while we continue, in secret, to practice a strange lingo that the law does not understand.

So Ulrichs was the first European citizen to declare publicly that he wanted to have an apartment on Uranus. He was the first mentally ill person, the first sexual criminal to stand up and denounce the categories that labeled him as sexually and criminally diseased.

He did not say, “I am not a sodomite.” On the contrary, he defended the right to practice sodomy between men, calling for a reorganization of the systems of signs, for a change of the political rituals that defined the social recognition of a body as healthy or sick, legal or illegal. He invented a new language and a new scene of enunciation. In each of Ulrichs’s words addressed from Uranus to the Munich jurists resounds the violence generated by the dualist epistemology of the West. The entire universe cut in half and solely in half. Everything is heads or tails in this system of knowledge. We are human or animal. Man or woman. Living or dead. We are the colonizer or the colonized. Living organism or machine. We have been divided by the norm. Cut in half and forced to remain on one side or the other of the rift. What we call “subjectivity” is only the scar that, over the multiplicity of all that we could have been, covers the wound of this fracture. It is over this scar that property, family, and inheritance were founded. Over this scar, names are written and sexual identities asserted.

On May 6, 1868, Karl Maria Kertbeny, an activist and defender of the rights of sexual minorities, sent a handwritten letter to Ulrichs in which for the first time he used the word homosexual to refer to what his friend called “Uranians.” Against the antisodomy law promulgated in Prussia, Kertbeny defended the idea that sexual practices between people of the same sex were as “natural” as the practices of those he calls—also for the first time—“heterosexuals.” For Kertbeny, homosexuality and heterosexuality were just two natural ways of loving. For medical jurisprudence at the end of the nineteenth century, however, homosexuality would be reclassified as a disease, a deviation, and a crime.

I am not speaking of history here. I am speaking to you of your lives, of mine, of today. While the notion of Uranianism has gone somewhat astray in the archives of literature, Kertbeny’s concepts would become authentic biopolitical techniques of dealing with sexuality and reproduction over the course of the twentieth century, to such an extent that most of you continue to use them to refer to your own identity, as if they were descriptive categories. Homosexuality would remain listed until 1975 in Western psychiatric manuals as a sexual disease. This remains a central notion, not only in the discourse of clinical psychology, but also in the political languages of Western democracies.

When the notion of homosexuality disappeared from psychiatric manuals, the notions of intersexuality and transsexuality appear as new pathologies for which medicine, pharmacology, and law suggest remedies. Each body born in a hospital in the West is examined and subjected to the protocols of evaluation of gender normality invented in the fifties in the United States by the doctors John Money and John and Joan Hampson: if the baby’s body does not comply with the visual criteria of sexual difference, it will be submitted to a battery of operations of “sexual reassignment.” In the same way, with a few minor exceptions, neither scientific discourse nor the law in most Western democracies recognizes the possibility of inscribing a body as a member of human society unless it is assigned either masculine or feminine gender. Transsexuality and intersexuality are described as psychosomatic pathologies, and not as the symptoms of the inadequacy of the politico-visual system of sexual differentiation when faced with the complexity of life.

How can you, how can we, organize an entire system of visibility, representation, right of self-determination, and political recognition if we follow such categories? Do you really believe you are male or female, that we are homosexual or heterosexual, intersexed or transsexual? Do these distinctions worry you? Do you trust them? Does the very meaning of your human identity depend on them? If you feel your throat constricting when you hear one of these words, do not silence it. It’s the multiplicity of the cosmos that is trying to pierce through your chest, as if it were the tube of a Herschel telescope.

Let me tell you that homosexuality and heterosexuality do not exist outside of a dualistic, hierarchical epistemology that aims at preserving the domination of the paterfamilias over the reproduction of life. Homosexuality and heterosexuality, intersexuality and transsexuality do not exist outside of a colonial, capitalist epistemology, which privileges the sexual practices of reproduction as a strategy for managing the population and the reproduction of labor, but also the reproduction of the population of consumers. It is capital, not life, that is being reproduced. These categories are the map imposed by authority, not the territory of life. But if homosexuality and heterosexuality, intersexuality and transsexuality, do not exist, then who are we? How do we love? Imagine it.

Then, I remember my dream and I understand that my trans condition is a new form of Uranism. I am not a man and I am not a woman and I am not heterosexual I am not homosexual I am not bisexual. I am a dissident of the sex-gender system. I am the multiplicity of the cosmos trapped in a binary political and epistemological system, shouting in front of you. I am a Uranian confined inside the limits of techno-scientific capitalism.

Like Ulrichs, I am bringing no news from the margins; instead, I bring you a piece of horizon. I come with news of Uranus, which is neither the realm of God nor the sewer. Quite the contrary. I was assigned a female sex at birth. They said I was lesbian. I decided to self-administer regular doses of testosterone. I never thought I was a man. I never thought I was a woman. I was several. I didn’t think of myself as transsexual. I wanted to experiment with testosterone. I love its viscosity, the unpredictability of the changes it causes, the intensity of the emotions it provokes forty-eight hours after taking it. And, if the injections are regular, its ability to undo your identity, to make organic layers of the body emerge that otherwise would have remained invisible. Here as everywhere, what matters is the measure: the dosage, the rhythm of injections, the order of them, the cadence. I wanted to become unrecognizable. I wasn’t asking medical institutions for testosterone as hormone therapy to cure “gender dysphoria.” I wanted to function with testosterone, to experience the intensity of my desire through it, to multiply my faces by metamorphosing my subjectivity, creating a body that was a revolutionary machine. I undid the mask of femininity that society had plastered onto my face until my identity documents became ridiculous, obsolete. Then, with no way out, I agreed to identify myself as a transsexual, as a “mentally ill person,” so that the medico-legal system would acknowledge me as a living human body. I paid with my body for the name I bear.

By making the decision to construct my subjectivity with testosterone, the way the shaman constructs his with plants, I take on the negativity of my time, a negativity I am forced to represent and against which I can fight only from this paradoxical incarnation, which is to be a trans man in the twenty-first century, a feminist bearing the name of a man in the #MeToo movement, an atheist of the hetero-patriarchal system turned into a consumer of the pharmacopornographic industry. My existence as a trans man constitutes at once the acme of the sexual ancien régime and the beginning of its collapse, the climax of its normative progression and the signal of a proliferation still to come.

I have come to talk to you—to you and to the dead, or rather, to those who live as if they were already dead—but I have come especially to talk to the cursed, innocent children who are yet to be born. Uranians are the survivors of a systematic, political attempt at infanticide: we have survived the attempt to kill in us, while we were not yet adults, and while we could not defend ourselves, the radical multiplicity of life and the desire to change the names of all things. Are you dead? Will they be born tomorrow? I congratulate you, belatedly or in advance.

I bring you news of the crossing, which is the realm of neither God nor the sewer. Quite the contrary. Do not be afraid, do not be excited, I have not come to explain anything morbid. I have not come to tell you what a transsexual is, or how to change your sex, or at what precise instant a transition is good or bad. Because none of that would be true, no truer than the ray of afternoon sun falling on a certain spot on the planet and changing according to the place from which it is seen. No truer than that the slow orbit described by Uranus as it revolves above the Earth is yellow. I cannot tell you everything that goes on when you take testosterone, or what that does in your body. Take the trouble to administer the necessary doses of knowledge to yourself, as many as your taste for risk allows you.

I have not come for that. As my indigenous Chilean mother Pedro Lemebel said, I do not know why I come, but I am here. In this Uranian apartment that overlooks the gardens of Athens. And I’ll stay a while. At the crossroads. Because intersection is the only place that exists. There are no opposite shores. We are always at the crossing of paths. And it is from this crossroad that I address you, like the monster who has learned the language of humans.

I no longer need, like Ulrichs, to assert that I am a masculine soul enclosed in a woman’s body. I have no soul and no body. I have an apartment on Uranus, which certainly places me far from most earthlings, but not so far that you can’t come see me. Even if only in dream …

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