#this could help if anyone is dealing with drought

[beardedmrbean]

Agigea, Tuzla, Costinesti, Eforie, Mangalia and Vama Veche have been the most affected with hundreds of homes flooded and many streets submerged.

There has been significant damage to property in a string of towns along Romania's eastern coast after torrential rain caused extensive flooding.

Agigea, Tuzla, Costinesti, Eforie, Mangalia and Vama Veche have been the most affected with hundreds of homes flooded and many streets submerged.

In Venus, tourists staying at one hotel found their cars full of water on Saturday morning.

And the popular tourist resort of Vama Veche is currently without electricity and an extensive cleanup operation is underway to repair the beach.

"Biblical flood! It started at about 1:00 am, a very powerful rain. You could not see one metre ahead," said one resident.

Local authorities say that despite the extensive property damage, there have been no reports of any casualties.

Firefighters in Dobruja received over 800 calls from people asking for help and since Friday night crews have been on the ground in 15 districts hardest hit by flooding.

Meteorologists say the cause of the downpours was a cyclone storm system that was stationary over the Black Sea, sucking up vast quantities of water. They say this phenomenon is rare and generally only happens once or twice a year.

A code orange rain warning will remain in place until at least Sunday and officials warn that the south of Constanta county is expected to see the highest level of flooding.

The cyclone is expected to move south to Greece and Turkey in the coming days.

[homo-house]

hey uh so I haven't seen anyone talking about this here yet, but

the amazon river, like the biggest river in the fucking world, in the middle of the amazon fucking rainforest, is currently going through its worst drought since the records began 121 years ago

picture from Folha PE

there's a lot going on but I haven't seen much international buzz around this like there was when the forest was on fire (maybe because it's harder to shift the narrative to blame brazil exclusively as if the rest of the world didn't have fault in this) so I wanted to bring this to tumblr's attention

I don't know too many details as I live in the other side of the country and we are suffering from the exact opposite (at least three cyclones this year, honestly have stopped counting - it's unusual for us to get hit by even one - floods, landslides, we have a death toll, people are losing everything to the water), but like, I as a brazilian have literally never seen pictures of the river like this before. every single city in the amazonas state is in a state of emergency as of november 1st.

pictures by Adriano Liziero (ig: geopanoramas)

we are used to seeing images of rio negro and solimões, the two main amazon river affluents, in all their grandiose and beauty and seeing these pictures is really fucking chilling. some of our news outlets are saying the solimões has turned to a sand desert... can you imagine this watery sight turning into a desert in the span of a year?

while down south we are seeing amounts of rain and hailstorms the likes of which our infrastructure is simply not built to deal with, up north people who have built everything around the river are at a loss of what to do.

the houses there that are built to float are just on the ground, people who depend on fishing for a living have to walk kilometers to find any fish that are still alive at all, the biodiversity there is at risk, and on an economic level it's hard to grasp how people from the northern states are getting by at all - the main means of transport for ANYTHING in that region is via the river water. this will impact the region for months to come. it doesnt make a lot of sense to build a lot of roads bc it's just better to use the waterway system, everything is built around or floats on the river after all. and like, the water level is so incomprehensibly low the boats are just STUCK. people are having a hard time getting from one place to another - keep in mind the widest parts of the river are over 10 km apart!!

this shit is really serious and i am trying not to think about it because we have a different kind of problem to worry about down south but it's really terrifying when I stop to think about it. you already know the climate crisis is real and the effects are beyond preventable now (we're past global warming, get used to calling it "global boiling"). we'll be switching strategies to damage control from now on and like, this is what it's come to.

I don't like to be alarmist but it's hard not to be alarmed. I'm sorry that I can't end this post with very clear intructions on how people overseas can help, there really isn't much to do except hope the water level rises soon, maybe pray if you believe in something. in that regard we just have to keep pressing for change at a global level; local conditions only would not, COULD NOT be causing this - the amazon river is a CONTINENTAL body of water, it spans across multiple countries. so my advice is spread the word, let your representatives know that you're worried and you want change towards sustainability, degrowth and reduced carbon emissions, support your local NGOs, maybe join a cause, I don't know? I recommend reading on ecological and feminist economics though

however, I know you can help the affected riverine families by donating to organizations dedicated to helping the region. keep in mind a single US dollar, pound or euro is worth over 5x more in our currency so anything you donate at all will certainly help those affected.

FAS - Sustainable Amazon Fundation

Idesam - Sustainable Developent and Preservation Institute of Amazonas

Greenpeace Brasil - I know Greenpeace isn't the best but they're one of the few options I can think of that have a bridge to the international world and they are helping directly

There are a lot of other smaller/local NGOs but I'm not sure how you could donate to them from overseas, I'll leave some of them here anyway:

Projeto Gari

Caritás Brasileira

If you know any other organizations please link them, I'll be sure to reblog though my reach isn't a lot

thank you so much for reading this to the end, don't feel obligated to share but please do if you can! even if you just read up to here it means a lot to me that someone out there knows

also as an afterthought, I wanted to expand on why I think this hasn't made big news yet: because unlike the case of the 2020 forest fires, other countries have to hold themselves accountable when looking at this situation. while in 2020 it was easier to pretend the fires were all our fault and people were talking about taking the amazon away from us like they wouldn't do much worse. global superpowers have no more forests to speak of so I guess they've been eyeing what latin america still has. so like this bit of the post is just to say if you're thinking of saying anything of the sort, maybe think of what your own country has done to contribute to this instead of blaming brazil exclusively and saying the amazon should be protected by force or whatever

[cosmica-galaxy]

ok but your PV and witch child! Reader is so adorable and I need to put my two cents in. When little witch reader gets sick, I bet all hell breaks loose for multiple reasons. I’ve babysat before, So it always breaks my heart when they get sick and stuff, especially when it’s that first scare for young children who haven’t been sick before. they’re just so pure and miserable but you can’t do anything :( PV would be so torn apart by their sad faces and being in pain. He probably wouldn’t heal the sickness immediately because he wants his kid to build immunity so he lets it run its course but it’s still like willingly touching hot metal for him :( and anyone else who’s there

number 2: the weather and stuff gets wonky from the little witch magic. Sunny days switch to flash floods or heavy thunderstorms turn into heatwaves. Even all in one day if it’s a you-should-check-with-a-hospital level kind of sickness. We all have that one hospital visit sickness as a kid(or maybe you’re lucky idk)

number 3: PV and the others are on edge because this is a human illness. Cookies getting sick versus a little witch is an entirely new experience. So they can only really use their knowledge of when they have gotten sick to help. Everyone is jumpy because they don’t know what could happen. Especially PV who is watching his kid with emotions that can be summed up as: :’( my baby…

Oh DEFINITELY! I think that the child would slowly get sick after playing a lot in the snow drifts with Caramel Arrow Cookie while PV visits the Dark Cacao kingdom for a bit to settle some business between the two kingdoms. But once they get home, the toddler looses their appetite and struggles to stay awake. PV, naturally thinking that they are tired after such a long trip, puts them down for a nice nap. However, citizens start coming into the kingdom's castle to tell PV about the sudden weather changes. PV literally stands in the doorway of the castle and watches the weather flick over from sunny, to drought-like conditions, to sudden rainfall, and to a small hail storm. He immediately knows that he needs to check on his little one and he finds them whimpering and tossing about in their bed with a look of extreme discomfort. The next few days would be a rough trial for Pure Vanilla, as he tries his best to keep them comfortable enough to lighten up the weather outside, but it still affects the way that the environment balances itself. He keeps them cool, comforted, and filled with yummy jam soup while they endure the sickness. But only when the little one feels like they could eat, as he doesn't force them otherwise. He may loose precious sleep while tending to them, but he tries his best to get them through such a rough patch. Then one day, the sun rises and all the weather phenomenon is normal and completely typical. He checks on his little one and is relieved that their fever finally broke and that their own immune system was able to fight off whatever was ailing them. When they wake up, they happily embrace their father and beg for a good meal after nothing but jam soup for the last few days. To which their relieved tired father is more than happy to oblige. Human illnesses are hard for cookies to deal with, especially ones that can only be fought off by the human's own immune system. But with a few trial and error methods, they eventually find some good remedies to help the tiny human cope with sicknesses while they grow up into a stronger adult. Pure Vanilla would definitely be sleeping like a rock after such an intense scare and exhausting acts of caring for the human while they recovered from their intense fever. He also thinks about getting them inoculated...but he doubts that anything that cookies made for vaccines would work for humans. Maybe he needs to reach out and see if there is an expert or a cookie with the perfect background for developing preventives? Who knows. He's just glad that it's over and that the weather finally has it's own will back.

[lint-beetle4]

Netflix Monkey King? I want to try. Of course when u get done with other requests😃

I would like to request a Monkey King x female celestial reader headcanons that contains fluff, slight angst and romance. Reader can be shy or any personality u want. If u do shy, they comfort Monkey King saying he doesnt need to be powerful or a god to fit in(trying to remember the plot from memory).

But I hope u do stay safe😊

Celestial Chaos (Netflix!Wukong X Fem!Celestial!Reader)

You hated the monkey that disrupted the celestial realm

Since its birth, the stone monkey had gained a name for itself, challenging gods, defying the heavens and terrifying spirits

The thing was clearly a force of chaos, a force of evil that refused to relent its tyraid

Despite it all, you couldn't help but feel pity for the poor Monkey King, the Sage that tried to fit in with heaven

It was clear his pride was merely protecting him, sending him whispers that he was enough, because he made himself be enough

The demons that fell to him proved his worth, but you knew the celestial realm wouldn't allow anyone of his nature in

Heaven only allowed obedience and order, traits the foolish sage could never have in his state

You weren't too different from him, if you could rationalize it too much

Your shy nature made you invisible, overlooked, excluded

People thought you were either uninteresting or too pompous to converse to the other gods

You never believed their words, but they still stung

You could only imagine how the sage felt when he fought his way to heaven only to be met with scorn

You did your best to soften the blows, acting in solidarity of someone who knew how the generals and gods could be

The foolish monkey became smitten, looking up to you like heaven didn't matter

In the back of your brain, you could say the same

A foolish monkey in your eyes transformed into an honest, proud man who was in over his head

His quest for power was a call for help, a plea that someone would accept him

You were briefly aware of the little mortal that followed him, ill intentions in the way she held herself, yet guilt consuming her

You could only hope that she would help the monkey

In the end, she revealed her true color, bound by a deal meant to bring the king to his knees

the foolish dragon didn't know the price he would pay, and neither did Wukong

With Wukong's revolt, you watched in horror, pleading to him, begging him to stop and calm himself

Yet, he was overcome with power, and the heavens did the only thing they could do: summon Buddha

In the end, Wukong was sealed, but a hidden blessing had been given to you: you were tasked with feeding him and ensuring he survived--something no other celestial wanted to do

You gave him snacks, peaches and all sorts of food that you could find, knowing the celestials wouldn't watch you--a lucky trait of being a doormat is that no one knows your small acts of defiance

As centuries passed by, the king had been freed, tasked with a journey

You had a recent mission to grant blessings to nearby village plagued by drought, and on your way there, you were met with a pair of arms hugging your from behind

There you saw him, your Wukong, the Sage Greater Than Heaven, freed at last

[cheeriecherrymain]

papa!Viktor blurb, anyone?

A/N: slowly, slowly, recovering from the creative drought ive been in

it's nowhere near a waterfall again, more like a frustrating dribble, BUT. It's something. But anyways, here is a Papa Viktor Thought Blurb (listen, my sister is almost three months old now, and I am so besotted with her, she's my favourite tiny person, and i am full of Caretaker Feelings)

Content Warning: 18+ MDNI (not explicit, but very very suggestive), afab!Reader, pregnancy, labour and birth (again, not explicit, but still with some depth), papa!Viktor, no beta no editing we simply die

Imagine Viktor, and him believing he'll be alone for his entire life - working so hard to make some kind of legacy for himself, putting everything he has into his creations and his machines. Every calculation, every experiment a labour of love.

This is how the world will remember his name.

At least, he hopes.

But then he meets you.

You're charming, he has to admit. You make friends wherever you go, and you have a weird habit of bringing people out of their shells. There's just...something about you that makes others want to bare their souls to you. Something that draws people in.

Like you have a tangible sort of gravity, and wherever you go, someone ends up in your orbit.

He won't mean much to you, he thinks, after conversing with you a couple times. You're creative, like he is, and you're enjoyable to talk to. But nothing more. Sooner or later, you'll continue on somewhere else, making waves and drawing attention. And in your wake, he will be left to sink. It's what expects.

Except...

You don't leave.

Your chats start out small. Short and sweet, a How are you today? wondered whenever you pass each other in the halls a couple times a month, curious about the goings-on of his life.

He never has anything interesting to tell you about. No adventures or tales to tell, nothing beyond the walls of a cramped and cluttered office.

You must be bored, he thinks.

But then you start seeking him out. Instead of just catching up for a couple minutes whenever you happen to walk past each other, you hunt him down in his office - and god, he wasn't lying when he'd told you it was cramped.

You're amazed he even has the space to think in there, with how tight it is. Yet you still shimmy yourself into the tiny room, careful not to disturb any piles of papers, and find a careful seat on a spot of open floor beside his desk. There's no room for a second chair, and you've always made it clear that you dislike standing when you're having a long conversation.

It's nice to sit down and rest somewhere together, you'd told him one time.

You grow closer after that. From seeing him a couple times a month, to a couple times a week, to literally every day. You don't seem to care that he never has anything 'exciting' to share with you, even going so far as to chastise him for calling himself uninteresting.

Your experiments are cool, you'd insisted, while leafing through one of his old journals. It's incredible to get to see how your mind works, and how creative and inventive you are. You have so many ideas, Viktor, and I really believe that they could help people.

Something changes in him, after that. He'd always been quieter around you, listening to your stories, and dutifully answering your questions: never quite letting you in.

Now he looks forward to seeing you.

His heart skips a beat every time he hears you knocking on his office door, a chipper little pattern reserved only for him. You know that he doesn't always like dealing with students after hours, so you'd come up with a way to let him know that it was you who was greeting him.

Things progress...surprisingly natural.

He's not subtle by any means, even if he thinks he is. The moment he realizes that he has feelings for you, all bets are off. His cheeks dust pink whenever you're around, his palms get sweaty and he fidgets, and the staring.

Looking at you with ill-contained admiration and affection.

You can't not kiss him.

You spend the next couple years having the time of your lives. Moving from classes and overbearing internships, to actively working on experiments. Collaborating with each other, drawing up ideas and debating functionality and form. The two of you get so heated when you're creating things together.

Neither of you are surprised when it devolves. Wide gestures and hasty chalkboard sketches, impassioned explanations and wild eyes - you bite your lip as you let your gaze trail over him, in all his dishevelled beauty. Hair a mess, tie crooked and loose, shirt partially unbuttoned, and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Many nights are spent like that, cooped up in his little laboratory, surrounded by sketches and blueprints and scribbles and stray notes. His fingertips digging into the soft of your skin as he kisses the breath out of you. The rhythmic clunking of his crooked desk most telling, as he draws forth your little squeaks and sighs of delight.

Absolutely ruining you, filling you, stretching you open. Feeling the way you tremble in his hands, held tight to his slender body as he reaches so deep into you that you'll feel him for days.

Sinking his teeth into the side of your neck when he finds his own release - to stay quiet, he tells you. But you both know it's his way of marking you.

Claiming you.

You're his. You're his person, his love, his partner. Your eyes only ever shine the way they do when you look at him.

Your body, splayed out and spread before him, quivering and gasping and covered in a thin sheen of sweat - his.

Your taste, sweet on his tongue - your mouth, your skin, your arousal that drips out of you whenever he so much as looks at you.

His.

And he knows, without a single atom of doubt, that he's also yours. So entirely entangled with each other, neither of you knowing how you'd managed to exist separately before now.

How had you possibly found beauty in every day, when you'd never heard his voice? Never caught a whiff of his sweet shampoo as he ambled past you? Never felt the warmth of his touch, or the puff of his sighs on your cheek? Never known the tickle of his hair on your bare skin as you slowly woke every morning to find him curled around you, his face smashed into your back and soft snores emanating from him?

No matter, you think. You have him now, and that's what's important.

...until everything changes.

You miss a period.

You tell him about it.

You're both on edge, but he tries to remain optimistic. Cycles can be upset sometimes, he tells you, as if you don't already know. (You're certain he's really just trying to reassure himself.)

But deep down, you know.

You can feel it in the all-encompassing tiredness you wake with every morning. In the random bouts of nausea, and the sudden food aversions. The back aches, and all the sudden new smells you can detect.

You know something is amiss.

And he knows, too, when he finds you one time in the middle of the night. Standing in your shared little kitchen, in the dark, illuminated only by the light of the open refrigerator.

Pulling pickles straight out of the jar, dipping them in mayonnaise, and sinking your teeth into them. Like they were to most delectable thing you'd ever ingested.

You're both terrified, of course.

You're not really surprised that you've managed to fall pregnant - not with the way you two lust after each other practically every night, and sometimes in the morning. Maybe even once or twice in between meetings, when you're both squished together in his compact office.

Neither of you ever thought you'd become parents.

And certainly not right now.

But...you want this, you realize. You want this with him. You want a family with him, you want the evidence of your love - you want a future with him, and you want to see what beautiful little person you'll make together.

Would they have his eyes? Yours? He hopes they have your smile, he tells you, eventually.

It takes you by surprise, his words, what with how quiet he'd been since you'd both figured everything out. You'd been worrying that he wasn't really on board with keeping the baby - with being a father. And you hadn't blamed him, really.

You'd been beyond stressed at the idea of raising a child alone. The thought of him leaving you, leaving behind something so intrinsically tied to him, had been slowly breaking your heart. You hadn't wanted him to stay simply out of obligation - you know you wouldn't be able to cope with the eventual resentment that such an action would breed.

But to know for certain now that he'd only been anxious?

That he wanted this with you, and was excited?

You're so happy that you immediately burst into tears, squeaking and sniffling and snotting uncontrollably while Viktor bites back a laugh and herds you into his embrace. Stroking your back and murmuring the sweetest things to you while you try to catch your breath, leaving gentle kisses all over your face.

Telling you all about what kind of person he hoped your little one would be.

Your smile, most certainly, he said, resolute. You have the most beautiful smile. You light up the room wherever you go. Maybe your sense of humour, too. And certainly your compassion.

Your tears slowly began to lessen, as you let yourself be lulled by the comfort of his arms around you.

Your hair, though, you insist, smushing your face into his shirt. You look so pretty in the mornings, all fluffed up and in disarray. It's the cutest shit I've ever seen.

That garners a laugh from him.

I want them to have your eyes, as well, you admit, albeit somewhat shyly. I've never seen a colour like yours, so intense and complex. Way back when we first met, and you looked at me for the very first time? I almost lost the ability to breathe. It was...it was like I knew, right then. That you were the person I wanted to spend my life with.

He squeezes you a little bit tighter, stooping down to tenderly slot your lips together. Slow, lazy, intimate. Sharing breath and warmth and love and-

He takes you again.

Right there, in the dim quiet of his office, not seeming to care if anyone passing by in the hallway might hear you. Spoiling you absolutely rotten, speaking praises against your skin as he brings you over the edge again and again and again.

Pupils blown wide as he sinks his fingers into you, crooking them perfectly as to reach the spots he knows will drive you mad. The papers strewn around the room don't matter - they don't even cross his mind, as you wriggle and squirm and quiver and cry out for him.

How could they, when all he can focus on is the way you look when your body tenses up, another wave of ecstasy coursing through your veins, culminating in your lovely little noises, and the addicting feeling of your pleasure dripping down his fingers and over his palm, soaking him thoroughly.

He would be happy to have you like this, as frequently as you would let him.

He knows how sensitive you must be by now, not only from his ministrations, but also from the way your body is changing. He's done his fair amount of reading since discovering your pregnancy - he's aware of all the ways you might be feeling.

The hunger, the exhaustion, the aches and pains.

The all-encompassing, single-minded lust you might go through.

He's ready to please you, however you might want - his fingers, his mouth. And whenever you might want. You could wake him up in the middle of the night, for all he cares. You could nudge him from the sleep that he so desperately needs, and he'd ask not a single question besides What do you need, darling? How would you like me?

What he doesn't expect is his own desire.

You're beautiful. You always have been beautiful. Even as things change, he was absolutely certain that you would never stop being beautiful.

It's you, so of course he's going to want you.

But seeing you now, whining and looking at him like he's hung the moon in the sky, specifically for you? Your tummy already growing round with the life that you've made together, visible proof of your love? Desperate whimpers falling past your lips, begging him for more, for him to fill you up again and again and again?

He can't resist you.

Even when he starts to ache, and his arms start shaking, and his throat is raw and dry from breathing hard and calling out for you.

He can't resist you.

You're insatiable.

So is he.

He's a little more careful as the months progress. Manhandling you less, digging his fingers into the soft fat of your hips a little gentler. He's cognizant of how you're most comfortable, watching in awe as you tremble on top of him, grinding down on him and taking his entire length into you like you were made specifically for him.

Nearly every day, you beg for him.

He loves you.

And when the time eventually comes for you to waddle carefully into the labour centre, meeting your midwife along the way, Viktor tries to keep his worrying quiet. Tries to stay by your side as a supportive pillar, regardless of how well or not he might actually be able to hold you up.

Holding your hand, kissing your knuckles. Trading his fingers for a stress ball when you squeeze a little too hard (and then another stress ball, stronger this time, when the first one explodes in your fist after a couple minutes. It shocks both of you, but to his surprise, you start laughing).

He tenderly dabs the sweat off your forehead as the hours go by, keeping your hairs from pasting themselves to your face and neck. Staying nearby as a source of comfort, but not so close that you feel smothered by him - allowing you the space you need to wiggle around as you see fit.

Telling you stories to distract you, listening to your complaints and observations as his words become unable to mask the pain of your contractions. Doing his absolute best to bite back a fond grin as you breathlessly curse him for doing this to you.

I didn't mean it, you tell him, as soon as the words leave your mouth, your eyes wide and tearful with sorrow.

I know, he promises, leaning forward to press his lips to your dewy skin.

You sigh happily.

It's not for another couple hours that your baby finally decides to enter the world.

You're beyond exhausted, and Viktor is starting to get fidgety with his worry. Is it supposed to be taking this long? he wonders internally, keeping his questions to himself so as not to stress you out even more.

The midwives, to their credit, are incredibly skilled. Staying by your side throughout the whole process, carefully monitoring everything they need to in order to make sure you're healthy. That the baby is healthy. He knows that they would say something, if anything was truly wrong.

And when the little one finally arrives, she does so kicking and screaming, making an absolute ruckus in the quiet room. The door is shut tight, keeping the sounds of the busy establishment at bay, and the curtain is drawn for your privacy so no one can see in when the staff come and go.

But when your girl begins shouting her absolute displeasure into the air, Viktor swears he can hear some quiet clapping and cheering from the hallway. He doesn't know if it's for your success, or for something and someone else entirely - but for a moment, he likes to believe that there are some strangers out there who are happy for him.

They don't know his story, and they don't know yours - but they've heard a great cry from somewhere hidden and full of struggle. An all-encompassing wail that confirms the presence of life, shouting to the world I am here, I am alive, and I have absolutely no idea what's going on!

He doesn't know when the tears start trailing down his cheeks.

Perhaps it's when he first lays eyes on your girl, pink and cranky and a little bit squished. Putting up a fuss on your base chest, scrunching her little face up as you speak softly and tenderly to her.

Perhaps it's when one of the midwives hands him a very soft towel, instructing him on how to carefully pat away the blood and fluid still clinging to your child. His eyes growing wide when he oh so gently cleans her off to reveal more of her tiny features.

She's still new, and needs time to decompress (so to speak), but he stares at her with such rapture. Taking in every inch of her, burning her face into his mind so that he might never forget her. Ever.

She's still new, and yet he can already tell that she has your nose. And your lips. Your smile, he realizes, with a palpable joy spreading through his chest.

His tears eventually dry, if only so he's able to better see you and the newest member of your family. Laying kiss after kiss to whatever part of your skin he can reach. Stroking the tips of his fingers over your girl's hair - her tiny arms and shoulders, her chubby cheeks, the bridge of her nose and over her brows.

But some two hours later, when you're finally allowed to rest in your comfortable hospital bed: when your baby is now dry and fed and swaddled up happily in Viktor's arms?

The tears begin again.

Privately, in the dim of the room, while you snooze a couple feet away from him, he weeps. Silently, and without so much as a sniffle. He cannot stop the wetness that rolls down his face, even if he wanted to.

Your girl is finally relaxed, after her grand, dramatic entrance. On the edge of sleep, warm and with a full tummy, making funny little expression while she dozes.

Much to Viktor's delight, she has a head of fuzzy brown hair - dishevelled and sticking in every direction, not matter how the midwives had tried to tame it. It'll settle down in a few days, they'd promised. But he didn't care.

The wild mop on top of her head rivalled the chaos of his own. The same shade of chestnut, though perhaps less coarse in texture. Maybe it will grow to the same thickness eventually, he thinks, a fond smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he imagines how much he's going to have to help her with it as she grows.

Brushing the inevitable tangles out with a soft brush. Pulling the strands back into braids so she can run around and play easier - or maybe little buns on the top of her head, he realizes, the image conjuring up in his mind.

All at once, pictures pop through his head, so vivid and bright that he can almost see them appearing in front of him.

Watching your daughter grow. Sleepless nights of taking care of her, catering to her every whim. Making sure she's fed, and comfortable - entertaining her with silly little toys that make silly little noises, bright colours painted across them. Reading her books with bright, enticing visuals for her to stare at, despite the fact that she doesn't know what words are.

Making trinkets for her as she gets a little older. Things that help her learn, but that also keep her excited and enticed, encouraging her exploration of the world around her. Teaching her to walk, by helping her strengthen her little legs. Sitting on a footstool, a wide smile on his face, as you hold her by her arms and support her as she figures out how to use her legs while upright. Leading her right over into his waiting arms.

Until she's able to balance on her own, after a number of weeks of practising together. Pushing herself up into a wobbly stance, doing her absolute best to try and balance. Maybe she stumbles a couple of times, but she's persistent -stubborn, like he is- and continuously rises back up until she's able to make it over to him on her own. Giggling and wiggling when he scoops her up and praises her and showers he in affection.

Teaching her about anything and everything, the bigger she gets. Answering every question she has, no matter how confusing or senseless - encouraging with his own suggestions, and prompting her to discover some answers for herself. Putting together little experiments for her, so they can learn together and so he can watch her eyes widen with the joy of new information.

Fixing her toys for her whenever they break, as she brings them to him with misty eyes and a wobbly bottom lip. Papa, it fell apart, she says sadly. To which he pulls her onto his lap, regardless of what work he was doing, and helps her repair the damage. Letting her watch and observe when she's still too small to hold a screwdriver, and carefully explaining things to her when her motor skills start to develop more.

And then helping her figure out in what way her toy broke, when she's a little bigger. Asking specific questions, so she can work to connect all the dots herself. Helping her gather the materials that she needs in order to fix things herself, and praising her to the high heavens when she presents the finished product to him.

The little thing is slightly lopsided, but he fully believes that it adds to its charm - tells her as such, when she sighs about it not being the same as before.

It's a little uneven, just like me, he says, with a laugh.

And, much to his complete shock, she wraps her little arms around him, and gives him her strongest possible squeeze.

It adds to your charm, she parrots back to him with complete honesty. I like you, Papa.

And once again, for the umpteenth time throughout his daughter's life, his eyes well with tears and he presses a kiss to the top of her head.

She could go anywhere she wanted, once she grew up. Learn anything, do anything, be anything. Perhaps she'd enjoy the sciences, like he does - machinery, and building, and designing, and inventing. Maybe she'd get into art, and spend her days painting or sketching, or writing, or making music - inspiring other people with the things she makes.

It doesn't matter, though. Because no matter what she ends up enjoying, or where she goes in her life, Viktor will support her with his entirety. Even when she grows all the way up, and inevitably leaves home to begin her own life, whatever that may be.

He knows he's going to cry then, too. So many years together, and yet it will still never be enough.

But for now, he sighs, staring adoringly down at the tiny infant in his arms. For now, they have time. He vows silently to never waste a single moment with her, and never pass up the opportunity to spend time with her. No matter how busy or frustrated or tired he gets, he won't let her grow up feeling unwanted or unloved or unimportant.

He'll give her a better life than he grew up with, and that is both a promise and a threat.

After all, he would do anything, for her.

His greatest creation.

[elphiej]

Be My Light: Chapter 11- Find Me and I'm Gonna live with you.

*Genre: Mafia, Angst, Slow burn, eventual smut

*Warnings: Mentions of illness, violence, kidnapping, and a little fluff

Authors Note: Hello again everyone. I have risen from the dead to bring you some back story of our favorite maknae. As before, I apologize for the delay but am always grateful for those who still read. I have copied and pasted the tag list from before and if you would like to be removed, please let me know. Feel free to drop a like, comment, or whatever you feel like. We are almost done with military drought, FIGHTING!! Also, posted on AO3 under the same name.

Tag list: @lolalalooo, @bangtan-sonyeonddaeng, @barbikatherine,  @mrsfortune1306, @lovesick-heart0, @iamnamjoonsbxtch, @deathkat657, @deeepvibes, @sugamonster22, @weiinihao, @hemmofluke, @rainbow-zebra-unicorns, @joyfullyobsessed-blog, @elvencantation, @thefreddieman, @whateveritis616, @crewzie-chan, @wyomingphantom, @killbillv1, @kyrah-williams, @utterlynutters, @ot7jellostan, @zahraaelamira, @shesaysweirdthings, @toriluvsfics, @emu007, @zae007live​

Chapter 11: Find Me and I’m Gonna Live With You

            As the morning sun streamed through your balcony window, you felt as if your head was going to split. The dull ache that had started the previous afternoon had intensified into the worse migraine you had had in a long time. Of course, you had concealed that pain while you were at the Magic Shop; you had assumed it was a simple headache brought on by the weather or stress, and it wasn’t anything you needed to worry about then. You were quite wrong. Once you had returned home and taken the last of your aspirin, which did absolutely nothing, you realized what was happening. The first time you had suffered from a migraine like this was when you had first stopped taking your medicine regularly. And then again when you started running low and skipping more than a day. Any long-prescribed medication would have some side effects when not taken on its routine. It just seemed worse now that you had stopped all together. That, and the stress of the last few weeks probably added to it. It was clear that you needed something stronger than an aspirin to deal with this. Your head pounded, every move you made to try and get comfortable made you feel like you would heave, and your body wouldn’t let you sleep to escape the situation. What time was it anyways? How long had you been laying there?

            One of the previous times you had suffered from a migraine, Amber had brought you some extra strength over the counter stuff that had helped. What was it called? You could barely form a single stream of thought, let alone what the name of something you had months ago was. You were pretty sure Amber had been put on the night shifts, based on her many complaints she had texted you. Maybe if you sent her a text, she could bring you some before Bangtan arrived. You groaned. You should texted them, too, and see if they just let you stay in your apartment. Would they even allow that? Surely, the scary Mafia must understand what a sick day is. You needed your phone. From under your cocoon of blankets, your hand slithered out-even that felt like too much- and grabbed it from its place on the side table. Once you hit the home button and the screen illuminated, you all but threw the phone as the blinding light cause the throbbing behind your eyes to intensify. And the loud ‘thud’ as the phone landed didn’t help either. You retreated back into the covers; you felt like you were going to throw up again. Maybe if you could force yourself to sleep for a few minutes, you could try again.

            There was a soft knock on your door. “Y/N, are you okay? I heard something fall.”

            Wait, was that Jimin? When had he gotten there? How late was it? You hadn’t heard the front door open or anyone come in. This migraine was really throwing everything off.

            There was a soft tap at your door again. “Is it okay if I come in?”

            You really wanted to say ‘no’. But you knew that wasn’t the polite option. Also, you hadn’t seen Jimin since the hospital. The first day at the Magic Shop, Hoseok had gone out to pick him up from whatever job he was up to. But when the rest of you had sat down for lunch, only Hobi had joined you all. He had claimed that Jimin wasn’t hungry and just wanted to rest. That was the last you had heard about him since. You wanted to ask the others when they were hanging around with you in the lounge or when you were wandering around the Magic Shop, but you figured it really wasn’t any of your business. But now that he was at your door, your curiosity was getting the better of you. You just wanted to see how he was feeling. Amber called it your fatal flaw; you were more concerned about everyone else’s wellbeing instead of your own. Trying to ignore the pulsing pain behind your eyes and the dizzying nausea that hit each time you moved even the smallest bit, you lifted the covers and called him in.

            Your bedroom door creaked open and Jimin, cautiously, looked around the corner as if he was worried he was walking into something he shouldn’t. But when he saw you peering out from the darkened blankets like a gremlin, he snorted out a laugh and pushed the door open. He leaned heavily against the door frame and took in the sight before him. He looked tired. From your viewpoint, you could see that he was quite pale and worn. His golden hair was messy and peeking out from under a black beaning that he threw on in place of trying to tame it into his normal well-kept style. He wore a pair of dark jeans, an oversized yellow plaid flannel shirt with a white undershirt, and a leather jacket that was much too large for him but still looked warm. Notably, a pair of rose-colored sunglasses were perched high on the bridge of his nose, casting his light eyes and skin in a blushing hue. Even unkempt- by his standards at least- he looked amazing. He pushed off of the doorframe and crossed to the side of the bed. He squatted down and peered into your darkened hiding spot with a bemused smile.

            “Good morning,” he said, voice cracking with a snicker. “Are we having a lie in?”

            “What time is it?” Your voice sounded so strained and pained.

            “Almost seven. Are you alright, Y/N? You don’t look so good.”

            You tugged the blankets tight around you to block out all the light. “No, I feel so awful. I’m having the worse migraine. I haven’t slept at all because the room won’t stop spinning. My head feels like it’s splitting behind my eyes. Each breath makes me feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

            You felt the mattress sag as he sat on the edge, a comforting hand landing on your shoulder. “Oh, poor thing. Did you try taking anything?”

            “It didn’t help. I need something stronger. I was hoping to call a friend of mine to bring me something on her way home. But the light from my phone made it worse. I’m really sorry but I don’t think I will be of any use today. I should just stay here. I don’t think I can even walk without feeling worse. Had I realized how late it was, you wouldn’t have had to come all this way for nothing.” You sounded so guilty and pitiful.

            You felt the mattress shift as Jimin moved. The edge of the covers lifted slightly and he peered down at you, his eyes penetrating yours from behind those rose-colored lenses. He kept his voice low so not to worsen your migraine further. “Don’t think like that. It’s not for nothing. I’m glad I’m here, otherwise you would be worse off. I can take care of things for you. I think I saw a pharmacy around the corner. We can go get what you need from there and do whatever you think you need to feel better. Just tell me what to do.”

            Then, as if the universe had some sick sense of humor, the quiet peace of your room was swallowed up by the loud intrusion of heavy truck motors and construction workers yelling. There had been posted notices up around your building for a month that there was going to be a demolition crew taking down a condemned building just down the way and there would be a lot of noise. Of course, you hadn’t remembered that, with all that had been happening as of late. The roar of a truck and its stabbing ‘beeps’ as it backed itself into position felt like the workers were taking their sledgehammer against your skull instead. The foreman’s loud whistle for attention and shouts of directions drove you to stuff your head under your pillow to try and find some solace. Sadly, life had it out for you in every single way.

            Jimin had rose up and crossed to the glass slider that overlooked the street. All the noise was draining his own ability to hide how he was truly feeling. These last few days have been hard, not that he wasn’t used to it by this point in his life; the body aches and pains, the headaches and fevers, the exhaustion and mood swings that he struggled with until he decided to take his medicine were all a part of his routine. Just a bit longer. I can make it, he kept telling himself. But the construction noises were starting to push him to his limits, more so than the bright sunlight he was staring against despite his shades. Though, the glasses were for other purposes than just protection from the light. He looked back towards the bed at the sound of your painful moans. It seemed pretty obvious what his next move needed to be.

            Jimin crossed back to the edge of the bed and slipped his head under the covers, trying to keep as much darkness as he could for both of your sake. You slipped from under your pillow to gaze at him with a teary expression.

            “Just kill me now.”

            He smiled sympathetically and tucked a stray bit of hair behind your ear. “I wouldn’t dream of doing that to you. I already like you very much. Look, I know you don’t want to go anywhere but I can’t see this being a good option for you in this state. Let me take you to the Magic Shop. You don’t have to do anything but rest, and we can just keep an eye on you until you feeling better. We have a lot of stuff back home that could help- nothing illegal. And Jin-hyung always knows what to do when I’m not feeling good. And we have a few spare rooms you can use. We always have them made up, just in the case of company. Theres not windows so the sun won’t hurt you like it is now, and it’s super quiet, especially since most of the guys won’t be there for most of the day. Come on, Y/N. It's gonna be much better than here. Please?”

            To be honest, you don’t think you would have turned down his offer at this point. But something about the pull of his voice and the pleading look in those eyes made it even more impossible. You nodded your head and let him help you into a sitting position. Your head throbbed and the room spun a bit, but his hands on your shoulders helped ground you. You pressed your palms against your eyes against the brightness of the room.

            “Here, eyes closed for a second.” You obeyed and felt something slide across your face and against your nose. “These help me.”

            You opened your eyes, and the world had gone pink. Jimin’s rose-colored glasses eased the pain against your eyes. You gave him a grateful smile. And he looked amazing in pink, less tired. And somehow, his eyes seemed clearer than before. You set to trying to focus on moving.

            Jimin moved quickly about the room, also feeling a sharp headache coming on from the roaring of machinery outside. As he turned, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Jimin refused to look himself in eyes, unhappy with the desperate looking person he saw. He spotted the backpack you always brought with you leaning against the foot of the bed. Quickly glancing inside, he was relieved to see a change of clothes already in the bag; you had started bringing some loungewear to change into if you felt like using their gym in between sessions with Yoongi or lunch with whoever else was hanging around with you. At least I don’t have to go through her drawers, Jimin bemused to himself. He zipped up the bag, then his eyes caught sight of a very familiar sight. Yoongi’s black jacket, the one he treasure so much yet gave to you, was hanging delicately on the back of the door. Instantly, he felt a comforting warmth spread through him. Memories of sliding his hands into the pockets when his hands were freezing, trying to slip inside despite Yoongi wearing it, and leaning his cheek into the collar when he would hug his hyung from behind surfaced and chased some of those sick feelings away. He reached over and took it from the hook. Before he could stop himself, he buried his nose into the fabric and inhaled deeply. Somehow, it stilled smelled like home. Only now, there was a hint of you in it to that seemed fitting. Jimin always found that when he didn’t feel so well, being surrounded by the scents of those who cared and loved him was just as good as any other medicine. Hence why he had stolen Jungkook’s beanie, Namjoon’s flannel, and Taehyung’s leather jacket. With a smile, he returned to your side and put the familiar jacket over your shoulders.

            You were still in your pajamas – a black long sleeve shirt and plaid pants- but it would do. If your brain could focus on anything other than the throbbing pain against your eyes, you would have made some comment about being thankful for being able to put on clothes before trying to sleep. You slid your arms into the coat and took your backpack from Jimin. Pulling it onto your back, you tried to stand up, only to stagger as your equilibrium was destroyed. Suddenly, you felt yourself being pressed into something warm and the calming smell of cologne and the Magic Shop filled your senses. Arms locked under your legs as Jimin hoisted you a bit higher on his back and your arms instinctually wrapped around his neck.

            “I got you, Y/N. Just relax, I promise we’ll take –..,” he stopped as one of your hands went moved up to press against his forehead. “Are you seriously checking my temperature right now?”

            “I can’t help it,” you said, burying your face into his shoulder so he couldn’t see the blush that had started to form. “You’re really warm. You have a fever. The others said that you were sick and you still are, aren’t you? You should really take something for that.”

            “Look who’s talking. I’m not so bad. I can make it a few more days,” he said, trying to hide his feelings behind a smile and an air of nonchalance.

            “No,” you whined and tightened your hold. “Please, you need to take care of yourself. Waiting will only make it worse. Promise me you’ll take care of yourself. Please, Jimin.”

            Jimin let out a sigh and turned his head to catch a glimpse of you over his shoulder. “Seriously? A minute ago, you were asking me to kill you, and now your more worried about my health than your own?”

            “It’s my fatal flaw. That’s why I ran into a building full of gunmen.” He laughed and you felt it all through your body. “Please promise me. I won’t be able to get well if I worry about you.”

            “Oh, blackmail. You sure you aren’t one of us?” You gave him a squeeze with your thighs in lieu of punching him in the arm. “Okay, okay. I promise I’ll take better care of myself. It’s gonna take a couple of days, but I’ll be good as new soon. Now, let’s forget about me and focus on you.”

            Satisfied, you allowed yourself to be lolled into a half-conscious state as the warmth and smell that was uniquely Jimin distracted you from everything. Before you knew it, you were being lowered into the backseat of a car and Jimin sliding in next to you. You leaned your head against his shoulder and barely heard him signal to the driver to go. The car was nice and dark. At some point in the ride, you could feel him shift as he brought his phone up to his ear. He instructed someone to get the spare room ready and find something to help you. You could hear a muffled voice of the other berating him on the other end. It didn’t last long because Jimin hung up his phone and tossed to the other side of the back seat. Jimin stretched out his legs and leaned his head against yours. Both of you relaxed as the car swayed through the traffic. It was nice; it reminded Jimin of the little moments he shared with the others when they didn’t have to be Mafia leaders. It was odd finding that same peace with someone that wasn’t Bangtan. But there was something about you that just clicked for him. Had he felt better, and not thrown his phone, he would have taken a picture to taunt Jungkook with. But for now, he just wanted to lose himself in this comfortable moment. You both needed rest and just having someone next to you felt so much better than sitting alone.

            Time slipped by oddly quickly, meaning you must have actually dozed off. You woke to Jimin whispering that you had arrived. He slipped out of the car and held out his hand for you. Once again, he pulled you on his back, silencing your protest with a simple ‘hush’. You were in the underground garage. And then, you were in the entrance hall and halfway up the stairs. Wait-had he just carried you up all those stairs and made it seem like this was nothing to him? How strong was he?

            “Jimin!” Seokjin’s annoyed voice announced his presence before you could spot him. “If you ever hang up on me again, I will ensure you will regret it.”

            “Sorry, Hyung. Must have lost you in a tunnel.”

            You could practically hear Jin roll his eyes. “Tunnel my glorious ass. You’re lucky I don’t bash your head in. Do you realize what you could have done? What could have happened?!”

            “Don’t yell at him,” you whined, waving you hand dismissively at Jin. “He doesn’t feel well still.”

            “Oh, I am very well aware of that, Darling. And if he would have just listened to me before, he probably would have been feeling better by now. But no, he has to be stubborn. He thinks he knows more than someone who spent half of his life learning medicine and taking care of him for the past decade.”

            “It’s my body, Hyung. I know my limits. And I am not an invalid. I can still do things around here.”

            “Says the one who couldn’t keep his food down last night or the day before. Or do I need to bring up how you would rather force yourself to sleep than actually dealing the with problem?”

            “I just wanted to help. I felt more alive this morning and just wanted a distraction.”

            “And turning off my alarm clock was your idea of helping?”

            “I knew you had a stressful day today and I just needed to get out of the house for a tiny bit. I figured it was the perfect distraction for me and you could use the rest before… well, your meeting. I didn’t even drive there. I had one of the drivers take me. Everyone was safe. We were there and back in no time and nothing was out of the ordinary. No big deal. I was careful; she didn’t see anything.” Were they still worried about you seeing how to get to the Magic Shop?

            “I can see that.” Jin leaned over towards you. He pressed the back of his hand against your forehead. “Poor Darling. May I?” He took the glasses from your face and placed them back on Jimin’s. The Magic Shop’s lights were lower than before. “I took the liberty of not turning on all the lights. Jimin told me what was going on. It would have been nice to have more time to set our spare room up better but it will do for now. Let’s get you more comfortable. Hopefully, you will be a better patient than this one.”

            “Be nice to him,” you pleaded. “He was only trying to help. And he did promise to take care of himself.”

            “Did he now?”

            “Yeah, I guilted him into taking some medicine.”

            “Is that true?”

            You felt Jimin shrug as he started back up the stairs. “What can I say? She is very good at blackmailing people.”

            “Oh, is that all it takes? A pretty face and big eyes for you to take your medicine? Then I should had have Jungkookie deal with you.”

            “As if that would have done much. I threw him out the first night he tried to make me. When do the others get back? We can deal with all of it when they get here.”

            “Not until dinner. But I’ll handle it. You just rest until then and we’ll come up with a plan. But for now, let’s deal with this Darling first.”

            Next thing you knew, you were being lowered onto the most comfortable bed you had ever felt. It took everything in you not to just sink into the mattress and the fluffy comforter. You looked about the spare room. How something this nice could be considered a spare room made you wondered how their actual bedroom looked. The room was decently sized with dark hardwood floors that matched the rest of the Magic Shop. The walls were high, leading up to beautiful crown molding lined ceiling. Behind the ornate crown molding were strips of lights the bathed the dark room in a soft green glow that eased the pains behind your eyes. Hmm, someone knows about light therapy, you mused.

            Jin gave Jimin a shove towards the door once you were more settled. The younger didn’t put up any fight, smiling over at you before leaving the room. Jin turned back to you. “Jimin means well. Seems like you two have something in common. You both care more about others than yourself. Here, I had my assistant go get these from the pharmacy. See, still in its sealed blister pack.”

            Jin held out the migraine medication for you to inspect. It was the best one on the market. “At this point,” you muttered as you held out your hand for it, “I’d even take whatever you create down in the basement of yours if it means feeling better.”

            Jin snickered as he placed the medicine in your hands with a glass of water. “You make me sound like a mad scientist. I’m just the disgraced son of the biggest pharmaceutical dynasty in the whole country. Which reminds me, I need to get going. It’s my annual meeting with the shareholders. My father, hopefully, will make his usual excuse so I don’t have to deal with him. But I will be able to talk with some of my good friends to see if we can figure out this mysterious medicine of yours. Quick tour before I leave though.  Jimin really didn’t give me much time to really prepare the room but I’m sure you’ll find all you need. The bathroom in just through there; feel free to use any you want. We always try to keep a good supply of things in the case of company. And there’s fresh towels if you want to take a bath. Your bag it just by the desk. And there is some water in the mini fridge just beside it, if you need some. I’m sure Yoongi has already seen us in the cameras, but I’ll go make sure he knows what’s happening. His studio is at the end of this hallway if you need him. And I’ll tell him to do his own treatments today without you. Don’t push it, Darling, I mean it. You’ve been working non-stop, it’s time to take care of you. Jungkookie is staying here today too. If you need anything, just let him know. Now, lay back and get comfortable. You look exhausted. Are the lights okay? They always help Namjoonie when he has a migraine.”

            You simply nodded as you leaned back against the pillows. Jin pulled your sneakers off and pulled the blankets up around you. You felt so warm and secure. You didn’t even notice when he slipped out the door and closed it behind him, leaving you in the soft emerald glow. Soon, you felt yourself falling deeper and deeper into the most comfortable sleep you had had in a very long time. It was safe. And that was the last thought before you fully surrendered to the pull of sleep.

            You really couldn’t tell how long you had been sleeping. A small creak of a door penetrated your deep slumber. You really couldn’t tell if it had really happened or was just part of a dream. Somewhere in the in-between, there were soft footsteps that came closer to the bed. Still, your eyes were heavy. You must have been dreaming, you decided, when you thought you felt someone’s hand touch your forehead. But only more so when that hand tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and traveled down your cheek. You, instinctively, turned into that warm hand, seeking the longing comfort it brought. It was a dream after all. It felt as if a thumb traced across your cheekbone before withdrawing. Then the door closed again.

            Soon, you pulled yourself from your slumber, feeling so rested. Your cellphone was set on a charging station on the bedside table. The home screen indicated that you had been asleep for almost four hours. And you felt great! Your headache had eased to only a dull annoyance, your nausea was gone, and you felt revitalized. You yawned and stretched as you sat up in bed, inhaling deeply. There was a lingering smell in the room that hadn’t been there before. It was familiar and soothing. Your eyes caught sight of the black jacket folded neatly on the bedside table. That had to be it. Maybe it just smelled stronger in the closed room than before.

            You remade the bed, grabbed your bag from where Jin had placed it, and crossed to the bathroom. Just like the rest of the Magic Shop, the bath was like walking into a grand resort. There grey tile across the floor, marble countertops with quartz sinks, a clawfoot tub, and a walk-shower. On the counter, there was a basket full of different products like face washes, shampoos and conditioners, body washes, and more. They were from high end brands and for many different body types and needs.. In one of the drawers there was some makeup wipes and removers. You wondered if that was more for if a girlfriend was over. Your mind flashed back to the hospital that first night when Hwasa has cornered Namjoon in the hallway. Despite his response to you, there seemed to be history there. And it with the type of products you were finding, it would make sense. Also, all of Bangtan were good looking guys; there was no way they were single.

            You filled the tub with hot water and plopped a eucalyptus bath bomb you found into the water. It had been a long time since you had taken a bath, mostly sticking with a shower since that’s all you had. You scrubbed your body and just let yourself relax for a bit before rinsing off and sampling some other products. Once your face was cleaned and moisturized, you brushed your teeth with a sealed toothbrush you found in a drawer and changed into a fresh pair of clothes. After hanging up the fluffy towels and tidying up the room, you slipped the familiar jacket on and ventured out into the hallway.

            Remember what Jin said about Yoongi’s studio helped orientate you. True to his word, Taehyung had made you a map and had helped you find your way when you wandered around alone. You walked down towards the studio; you wanted to let him know that you were feeling better so he would worry about you. Would he though, you wondered. You were friendly with them but was it to that extent? Maybe to Jimin and Jin. Either way, it would be the nice thing to do. You found yourself in front of his door and knocked. No response. You knocked again.  But still no answer. Maybe he was resting? You shrugged and moved back down the hall. You decided to try and find Jungkook. You tried to text him but he hadn’t responded. So, you decided to head towards the living room where you had spent most of your time. You figured that if they were looking for you, that would be a good place to look.

            “Fucking piece of shit,” you heard as you approached the door to that living room. Peering in, you found Jungkook. He was seated on the floor, back against the couch, staring intently at the television. He had connected his game system and was furiously smashing a series of button on his keyboard. On the screen, you recognized it as a game that Amber had play constantly when you were staying with her. She even played a mobile version on her phone while on break at work. You were never good at games, but you liked to watch. “Think you can snipe me? Think again,” Jungkook sneered at the character on the screen as positioned his avatar and fired a sniper shot. He smirked as the opponent disappeared.

            You entered the room and crossed to the couch as the screen flashed with the end of the round. “Did you win?”

            Jungkook jump, clearly so engrossed in his game that he hadn’t heard you approach him. “Noona, when did you get here? Are you feeling okay? Was I too loud?”

            “No, it’s fine. I just got here. I’m feeling much better. Did you win? Looks pretty tough.”

            “Oh, yeah. Just some practice rounds with some online friends. I haven’t played them in a while and decided to remind them why am I the best in the region,” he grinned a cocky smile before starting up another round.

            You settled on the couch and watched as he moved across the map in search of his opponent. On the side of the screen, there was a chat going with the online friends he had mentioned. He explained that they were, essentially, playing a game of hide and seek that would end in a shootout. Which is how Amber explained it too. You smiled. Clearly, Jungkook had the advantage of having real life experience as he reacted quicker than you could ever to the slightest movement on the screen. All while also replying to the chat. Two opponents were dispatched within the first five minutes of game play, and they were ranting all through the chat. One was left. An avatar in colorful raver gear swung across the screen and disappeared with some advantage she had. A smoke grenade covered the screen and she used that to sneak attack and take five hit points. Jungkook seemed to get more annoyed as he chase after her, but she was good at avoiding him. He talked about how this person was usually the last one he had to get when they played this version of the game. How she was good at quick movements and gathering advantage items while he just used what he started with. You watched him analyze the game, bemused with the way he wrinkled his nose and narrowed his eyes, or the way he jumped and tried not to swear too much with you in the room. His status as youngest member was definitely showing. It reminded you how young he still was.

            You turned back to the screen and your eyes widened as you caught the name of the opponent as she taunted him in the chat: ElectricLlama. That was Amber! Which meant-

            “Are you Seagull-eye97?”

            He froze, clearly not expecting that. Sadly, for him, it cause him to freeze long enough for ElectricLlama to throw a bomb at him and end the round, leaving the score tied between them.

            “How’d you know my screen name?”

            “That’s my best friend Amber! She plays you all the time. She’s always talking about you! You and her are in some kind of feud.”

            “Your friend is ElectricLlama?”

            “Oh my god, how did I not realize that was her until now? It looks just like her. She says you’re really good.”

            “She’s good too. I’m just better.” He started the final round to determine the winner.

            “If only I could tell her I’m working for her mortal enemy. She’d be busting down the door to get to you.”

            You watched as he moved across the screen, him being the hider this round. Amber kept taunting through the chat and in game but Jungkook didn’t take the bait. He had something to prove now. This friendly game had turned now that he knew you were watching. He slinked through the terrain and aimed his weapon. ElectricLlama moved into view, not seeing him. Jungkook had her in his scope, ready to snipe her. But then, he switched weapons. No more guns, now it was a knife. He ran up on her and started close combat. He could have ended it so quickly but he wanted to draw it out, to prove a point. His fingers flew across the keyboard. Amber put up a good fight. But in the end, she was no match for Jungkook and her avatar fell to the floor and the game ended.

            “She’s pissed,” you said as she watched Amber’s blow up the chat. “I’m gonna hear about that later.”

            “She should be used to it. But she’s still one of the best one’s I play against.”

            Jungkook sent some replies before signing off and disconnecting his game system. He was wearing a short sleeve shirt and you got to see all his tattoos on display. All up his arm were intertwining images from symbols and words, all combining in a unique way that flowed nicely. When he turned back to ask if you wanted to watch something, you asked him about his tattoos. At first, he shyly shrugged at the question. But when you leaned forward to admire the Tigerlily he had, he started explaining them to you. It amazed you the amount of care and work he had put into it. He explained why he got it, what it meant to him, and even if it hurt. You noticed the way his eyes sparked as he continued to speak. It was nice to see how much he had become more comfortable with you around him, remembering the first day when he could barely make eye contact with you. He started animatedly explaining about some of his first tattoos that were covered up with some more meaningful imaging, stuttering and tripping over his own words as his mouth moved quicker than his brain. It was kind of cute, you confessed. Through the tour of his ink, one that you didn’t see was his Gang tattoo. You squinted your eyes and tried to trace all the images like it was a hiding game.

            Jungkook noticed your studious face and snorted. “What are you doing, Noona?”

            “So, I know Yoongi’s Bangtan tattoo is on his shoulder. And Namjoon showed me his is on his wrist. Is yours, also, on your arm? Hidden among this menagerie?”

            Again, he snorted a laugh. “No, mine is..” He started to tug down the loose collar of his shirt only to realize, quickly, what he was doing. His cheeks flushed and he cleared his throat. Jungkook placed his hand over his heart instead. “Mine is here. Some families will have them in similar body placements. There are some that will have them in the exact same place to show that they are all the same. And others just put it wherever. But there are a few families, like ours, that put them in places that have a deeper meaning.”

            “Really? That’s very insightful. What does it mean, if you don’t mind me asking.”

            Jungkook shrugged. “I think it’s okay, Noona. I don’t see any real issue telling you what I can. Let’s see. Yoongi-hyung’s tattoo is on his shoulder because he’s always placing himself in front of us, protecting us. And we always have his back to support him. Jimin-hyung’s is on his ribcage because it’s one of the most painful places to get inked. And he says he would go through great pains for Bangtan. Hobi-hyung’s in on his ankle so we are always with him every step of the way. Jin-hyung’s is on his hip and Taehyungie’s in on his inner thigh. Umm…” he stumbled, coughing back a laugh. “Those are for more private reasons that I don’t think I should get into right now. But Namjoon-hyung and mine are for the same reasons. Bangtan is our heartbeat, our bloodline. Without it, I don’t really know what we would do. Bangtan is much more than a gang to us. It’s our everything.”

            “Yoongi has described it like that, too.”

            “Well, it’s true,” Jungkook said with pride. “People look at Bangtan and just see a dangerous group of guys. I mean, we are but that depends on what side you’re on. But we do so much more than that. We do a lot of good, and not just for the community or the free people who need us. But for each other. We’ve been there through rough times, scary events, all of it. We’re a family. They are so much of why I am the person I am today. Without them, I don’t know who I’d become. I’d never want to be anything else. If someone gave me the opportunity to do life over again, I’d still choose them.”

            You could only nod, taking in all he said. He would choose to be apart of this life? Or was that more that he would choose to be with them? You leaned back into the couch cushion and tried to wrap your head around his confession. From what Yoongi had told you, he didn’t have a choice, being sold out by his parents to an evil society leader. And he had gotten so angry at you when you had assumed he had made the others join his lifestyle. But Jungkook would willingly be with them again and again. Yoongi had repeated that he gave the others a choice. But who would choose this life? Being at the center of violence by choice seemed so odd to you. But then, again, some people join the military or become a police officer like your father had. Was it so different? And it wasn’t like they were like Choi and his men, just wanting to spread chaos and fear.

            Jungkook plopped down beside you on the couch and started trying to find something to watch. You kept glancing at him out of the corner of your eyes. He looked so young. Thinking back to your introduction back at the hospital and what you had learned since. Bangtan had been together for many years and the final battle with Ji was five years ago. Yoongi had said that he had escaped from the Royals when he was eighteen and Namjoon was about seventeen. And they must have formed Bangtan around that time. Now Jin was a year older than Yoongi, and Jungkook was the youngest of them all. You studied Jungkook more, doing calculations in your head. But you must be off. There was no way someone that young would willingly join up.

            “Noona,” Jungkook waved his hand in front of your eyes, snapping you out of your mental acrobatics. “You’re staring at me. It’s kind of creepy.”

            “Sorry, I just,” you turned your body towards him to give him your full attention. “Can I ask you something? I’m really trying to understand all this. How long have you been with Bangtan?”

            “Since the beginning,” Kookie said with a grin. “I mean, technically that’s when the Hyungs escaped the Royals and started running little jobs here and there. They didn’t really consider themselves a gang then. They say Bangtan was fully completed when I showed up.”

            “I guess what I’m really asking- and you don’t have to go into details if you don’t want to- how old were you?”

            “Oh, thirteen.”

            “Thirteen?! I may not remember what I did when I was thirteen, but I can say that most thirteen-year-olds are more focused on after-school programs, getting ready for high school. Not running around with people trying to shoot them.”

            “It’s not that young,” he replied, sheepishly.

            “How does a thirteen-year-old decided they want to join a gang? I know that Yoongi was taken when he was fifteen, but he said his story is different than the rest. That the rest of you had a choice.”

            “I’m still shocked that he told you that story. When I came along, only Namjoon-hyung and Hobi-hyung knew, and that’s because they were there. He didn’t open up about that to the rest of us until a year after we came out as a group. And he was incredibly drunk that night. It’s not an easy thing for him to remember. You must be something special, Noona.”

            “So, I’ve been told. I’m just trying to understand better. Can you tell me your story? I can’t wrap my head around someone so young joining up, let alone choosing to over again. I mean, if you don’t want to, you don’t have too.”

            Kookie smiled and leaned back into the sofa, getting comfortable. “Oh sure, I don’t mind. Its no where near as bad as Yoongi-hyung’s. The worst was me having to practically beg them to let me join. Don’t look at me like that. It’ll make sense.”

                                                            ******************

            The Jeon family lived in a small fishing village a few hours outside of Central. In fact, Jungkook wasn’t aware of Central or the issues that were happening in it. He lived with his parents in a single room apartment, helped on their boat, and spent time at the village community center learning taekwondo from a local teacher who watched children while the parents were working late. That had been his routine since he was three. And while his parents were just barely making ends meet, they were a happy family. It wasn’t until he got older that he started to realize how little they could afford. He tried to want for nothing and his folks were thankful for such a good kid. But they, also, wanted better for him. So, they worked longer hours to be able to afford a better life for their son. When he was thirteen, he knew he would have to travel to the next town for high school and that was going to be expensive for his family. And his free coach had recommended to his father that he would benefit from enrolling in an after-school taekwondo class if they wanted to further his future endeavors. Which would add more to their already stretch finances. He tried to tell his father that he could do without and not to worry, but his father still wanted better for him. It was a lot of weight to add to his shoulders without his parents realizing. He would hear them discussing how they would swing it and he couldn’t really see a good solution. And it got more worrisome when his mother announce she was expecting his little brother.

            He wanted to do more for his family’s sake, help them save up to a better life for all of them and not just him. There were plenty of kids his age working in their village or leaving town for work. While he was playing an online game with a friend, he found out about a taekwondo tournament that would be happening in this city his friend moved to called Central. Winners got prize money, and for certain age groups, they would receive scholarships. His friend encouraged him to come for a visit and compete because he was sure Jungkook would win something. And while they were together, they could earn some money around Central; there were opportunities on every corner. It was tempting. And to a thirteen-year-old who wanted to help his family financially, that’s all it took.

            He told his folks he was going for a summer visit, at least then they could just focus on saving money without trying to feed him. He met his friend at a bus terminal and they started going about the city. His friend told him about the fighting that had been taking place in the city and pointing out who he suspected was apart of the gangs. There were bad gangs and a few good, if you could call it that. The Royals were the tops, a product of the Big 3 that once ruled. 2NE1 was a sister group of theirs that mostly kept to jewel heist and smashing things. SHINee was from a different family, and they dealt with underground seizures up north. But the one that really caught Jungkook’s attention was a small up and coming group named Bangtan Sonyeondan. Apparently, they were made up of some defectors from the Royals and would do anything to stop their plans. One day, while running deliveries for his friend’s uncle, they were able to see a few members of Bangtan as they jumped a known Royal rally point. And they were so cool in Jungkook’s eyes. Especially, the leader known as Rap Monster. Anytime anyone was talking about them, Jungkook could help but listen and idolize them. There was one time, when a Suit had held up a convenience store that Rap Monster and Jungkook happen to be in. The Suit ran with Bangtan’s leader on his tail. Now, a normal person would stay out of the way. But Jungkook was always wanting to help. As if on autopilot, the young kid grab bigger guy and executed an over the shoulder throw. The next thing he knew, Rap Monster was next to him and ruffled his hair. ‘Thanks kid,’ he said before throwing the money back towards the owner and dragging the Suit into the alleyway.

            After showing off his very basic skills, Jungkook’s friend got an idea. Since the competition was coming up soon, and Jungkook should be practicing, they would do some busking on the street. And take on any drunk wannabe for some extra cash. If his parents knew what he had been doing, they would have locked him up in seconds. But it did help them raise up the funds. By time the competition had come around, he had more than enough money for the entrance fee and enough to send home for his folks. From the practice he got from his busking escapades, he was surprisingly well equipped for the unknown opponents. By the end of the day, he had made it into the final round. And he had, also, caught the attention of a few predatory eyes.

            When Jungkook and his friend were walking back home for the night, they were cornered by a big black van. Before either could react, the back door flew open and hands dragged them inside before it sped off again. They were gagged and had their hands tied with zip ties. And that was where he came face to face with the Crime Boss, Ji, for the first time. Jungkook would never forget that face for the rest of his life. They had been selected for the next round of recruits. Ji grinned as he threatened that if anyone tried to resist, their families would be shot in front of them. No one tried to run. In the van were four other teens, just like him, kidnapped and about to go through hell. Ji moved back into the front of the vehicle, leaving them all in the dark. His friend was hyperventilating, and Jungkook was trying to use his strength to snap the bindings. But a hard hit came from the side of the van and sent everyone flying. Over the muffled screams from the others, Jungkook heard the Royals swear on a name that gave him a bit of hope: Bangtan. Another hit came on the back bumper, and the van rolled onto its side and slid to a stop. Someone had landed on top of Jungkook, knocking the wind out of him, but everyone was alright. Screams and sounds of a fight broke out around the van.

            Next thing the captives knew was the lock on the back door was being bashed in and the door fell open. But instead of Ji or one of the Suits, stood the leader of Bangtan with a bat covered in barbwire. Run or you’re gonna die, he had screamed at them. Five bodies scrambled out into the darkness. But Jungkook was stuck, trying to gather his wits about him. Where did his friend go? He didn’t know where he was or how to get back to the house. Rap Monster swung his bat with his whole body at an oncoming Suit trying to get at one of the escapees, yelling orders at someone named Agust to cover the new guy and Hope to watch out. That’s when the leader noticed Jungkook still huddled in the back of the van. Quickly, he rushed in and hauled him to his feet and out the vehicle. The streets was covering in broken glass and car parts, the smell of gas leaking on the streets filled his lungs, and flames ignited the fighting like a scene from a war movie. Rap Monster gave him a shove towards a direction. Go, before they see you! Get out of here kid! Go home!  Home? But how could he get home? He didn’t know where he was and had no way to get back. Besides, Ji had threatened to kill their families which meant that he would find them if he could find his way home. He’d later learn that his friend he had been staying with had fled the city with his family that night and didn’t even think about looking for Jungkook out of fear.

            But he did as he was told and just ran, hands still tied. And he didn’t stop running, even when the sounds of the van he was just in exploded when the flames finally found the gas leak. He ran into the night with no real direction. He knew he was fast; he had always had enough energy and stamina to outlast the best of them. The fear that someone would be following behind him kept his feet going. He weaved through alley ways and tunnels. As he rounded a corner, a familiar black truck flew past and a voice he recalled from the fight whooping in celebration into the silence of the night. That was Hope! He needed to catch up with them; they could help. His muscles screamed and his heart pounded against his ribs. It was a stupid idea but the only one that the thirteen could cling to in that moment of panic and fear.

            He didn’t know how he managed but he ran to the outskirts of the city and found an abandoned gas station that was boarded. He could hide in there for the time being, he concluded. Then he saw the black truck tucked behind trash and debris. If he believed in angels, he would have dropped down to his knees and thanked them. He stumbled to the door, adrenaline finally waning fast. His feet shuffled in the dirt and knocked into a trash can, breaking the silence. The last thing he saw before he collapsed to the ground was Rap Monster coming from around the corner with his bat, before those dragon eyes went wide with worry.

                                                            **************

            “Oh my god, you ran across the city? And somehow found them?” You were sure that your mouth was hanging open.

            “Crazy right? It was like fate knew we were meant to be together. Yoongi-hyung and Jimin-hyung were suspicious of me then. I mean, it makes sense; a kid just captured by Ji somehow stalked them to their hideout? When I woke up, I was locked in a back room with a note taped to my shirt telling me not to panic and once they determined I was safe, they’d let me out or I’d be left there to rot. But Namjoon-hyung and Jin-hyung figured I wasn’t anything to worry about after a couple days. Ji had marked me ever since I had help hyung at the store. They knew he was planning on hand picking some kids from the competition to strengthen his ranks. Namjoon-hyung took me back to the city to find my friend. But my friend and his parents were gone. They had moved in between our capture and my rescue. They offered to drive me back to my parents. But I was too scared to go back home in case Ji was being truthful. They would ask me my address but I wouldn’t speak. I completely shut up, unless I was begging them to let me stay. I’m a bit ashamed to admit that I was on my knees and possibly crying a few of those times. Pretty sure they felt sorry for me because they decided to keep me with them for a little bit, kinda like how we’re doing with you. For protection until I could see that my family would be safe and I’d tell them where I lived. But I’m really stubborn. Despite the fact that they thought I was too young to do much, I would just try to be as helpful as I could, to earn my keep. Suga-hyung wasn’t too keen on having someone so young with them, especially since they already had Taehyungie hang around now and then. But we all just clicked.”

            “And that’s when they asked you to join?”

            Jungkook laughed. “I begged them to let me join them. I saw the good they were doing, saw how they were helping. And now that I had first experience with Ji’s intentions, I knew it would be hard for me to go back out there alone. Ji had hand-picked me after seeing my skills. I was a target and anyone I was around would be at risk. But Bangtan was already so strong, kept me safe, even before they knew just how strong I could get. They were worried I was too young. But my mind had been made up.  I started slow, helping Jin with escape routes, listening for them. But the more I showed them how serious I was, the more it just seemed to fall into place. I had to wait a while to do any dangerous stuff, and even longer for some fun stuff. But in the end, it made sense and it proved a lot to everyone involved.”

            “But if Ji hand picked you, weren’t you worried he could find you again?”

            “At first, I was concerned. But then I realized. Anytime I had been out with my friend in Central, I had been wearing a face mask because I was worried about getting sick before the competition. And at the competition, my friend thought it would be a cool idea to keep it on. Ji never saw my face. I don’t think they noticed I was wearing it when they jumped me. That’s why I was able to walk around like a normal person while the hyungs had to cover up. I still cover up when we fight the Suits so I can still have anonymity when I game online.”

            “So that’s why when you fought with Choi back at the hospital I saw you wearing it,” you said, realization dawning on you. “Do you still talk with your family?”

            “Of course I do! I call home a couple times a week. Jin-hyung made sure that once I was sure about this life, that I could still see my folks and my brother. Ji was using scare tactics back then when he took me. But we made sure that they were save in our little village. And they came up with this great lie to make sure my parents didn’t know what I was really up to. Namjoon-hyung made it seem like I had won a full scholarship to a top school up north somewhere. Even made some fake documents to sign. Every month, he or Jin-hung would call with a progress report on my studies and behavior. Which was actually true. They ended up home-schooling me. Jin-hyung said that just because I wanted to join the gang didn’t mean I had the right to be an idiot. Now, my folks think I graduated and got a side job as security for Jin-hyung’s company, while also doing my streaming on the side. I send them money every so often.”

            “Wow, that’s incredible. I never would have guessed any of that.”

            “Told you I’d never force them into this,” came a deep voice from the door.

            Yoongi was leaning against the door frame, clearly letting the story finish before he had stepped in. His red hair was messy, like he had ran his good hand through it multiple times. His arm was still in its sling. But in his other hand was a steaming bowl that smelled incredible. He pushed off the door frame and crossed over to the couch.

            “Here,” he said, holding out the bowl for you. “I made lunch. Figured you might be hungry after what I heard from Jin-hyung. Since you weren’t in the guest room, I figured here was the next best choice.”

            You took the bowl from him and gazed at it’s contents. It was the most delicious looking stew you had ever smelled. Instantly, your stomach rumbled at the sight of it. You dug in and a sense of warmth and calm settled over you. You could have sworn you saw a smirk flash across his face as he watch you enjoy his food.

            “No way,” Jungkook exclaimed with wide doe eyes and watering mouth. “Hyung, you made galbitang? It’s been so long since you made that for any of us. Did you make some for me too?”

            “You are not sick,” Yoongi said, matter-of-factly, giving the youngest his signature stone face. After a second of letting Jungkook’s face drop into a pout, he rolled his eyes and smirk. “Of course, I made enough for everyone. I only have one hand, buns. Go bring ours up.”

            Like a kid at Christmas, Jungkook scrambled to his feet and flew out the door. Yoongi shook his head with a soft chuckle before turning his head back to you. He knelt down so not to keep looking down at you.

            “How are you feeling? Jin-hyung said you weren’t so good this morning.”

            You nodded between mouthfuls. “I’m feeling much better now. I think the stress of everything and the withdrawal from my old anti-anxiety medication caught up with me. But you guys are really helping me feel so much better. I’m sorry we have to cancel your treatment this morning. We can try after we eat.”

            He waved you off and sat down next to you. “I think I’ll survive. Besides, its almost time for us to take this fucking thing off.” His lips made a tight line. “Sorry.”

            “It’s okay. I’ve heard worse. Thank you for the stew. It’s amazing. You guys are really taking just a good care of me as I am of you.”

            “It’s about time you had something nice done in return.” He tilted his head towards you, hair spilling into his eyes. “You’re more relaxed. Still think we’re not to be trusted?”

            You wanted to roll your eyes. “I think I’m starting to get a better picture. Now that I know how much of a softie you all can be.”

            “Alright,” he sneered, reaching for your bowl, “no more nice gestures from me. I’ll show you who’s a softie.”

            You curled into a ball trying to protect your bowl of food from him as both your laughter’s filled the room.

[aestherians]

do you ever wish you could go hero and save people?

I do.

All the goddamn time.

I was watching a random episode last night (Blukic and Driba Go To Mr Smoothys, like I said, random). I've watched every episode a million times, I know every story beat and everything that's gonna happen. And yet. In the fight with Trumbipulor, when Rook and the redspots joined, my first thought wasn't "great, here comes the backup." It was "fuck, they're gonna get hurt, I have to stop them."

I can't stand to see people other than me get hurt.

I often think about what I'd do if I had the Omnitrix in the present world. How I'd realistically use it. I'm a hero, but I'm not the classical hero who slays the Minotaur. I'm a boring goody-goody modern superhero. I'm not judge, jury, or executioner.

Like, I understand that sometimes, in this world, there's very little you can do except kill people in power. I can't fault the Claims Adjuster for what he did last year. But I don't have it in me to be gleeful when things like that happens. Most I can manage is a sigh of relief.

You saw what I did when I had the Omnitrix, Dagon, and Ascalon's power all at once. You saw what I did when I made Bellicus and Serena recreate the universe. You saw what I did to Vilgax, Aggregor, the Forever Knights, and the Flame Keepers when I beat them. I did nothing. I've had the power to rewrite the entire universe in my image, and I've never used it. I've held people's lives in my hands, and I've never taken it, no matter how much I hate them. It's not my job to dish out punishments or vengeance. All I've ever wanted is harm reduction as far as is possible.

(And before anyone comes at me about the "Plumber Panopticon," I've done what I can to fix that situation in my canon. It's an uphill battle, and I have a million other things on my plate, and sometimes throwing Torturer Joe in the Torture Dungeon is a better solution than letting him run around torturing random civilians. But I'm still working hard to reform the Plumber prison system. No matter how little the people in there might deserve it. It's the right thing to do. I can't fucking stand Albedo, and I even managed to be somewhat kind to him.) (As a fan of the show, I think Albedo is a great character, but as Ben Tennyson, I loathe him and I never wanna see him again if I can help it)

But that world is so different from our present world. Our present world doesn't get invaded by alien warlords every couple months. The worst our world has to deal with (aside from war, capitalism, and pandemics) is like... natural disasters.

If I had the Omnitrix now, I think I'd use it for disaster relief and peacekeeping, however possible. Like when I had the Ascalon, I'd be afraid of becoming a tyrant, so I wouldn't meddle directly in war or politics. But I could make sure aid got into war zones. I could prevent refugees from drowning. I could find people buried under rubble. I could end droughts. I could do the impossible a dozens times a day.

I wish I could go hero. Most I can do right now is like, give money to the homeless and have a talk with them. Share gofundmes. Speak up when I overhear racism. Go to the occasional protest. It never feels like I enough, when I know what I could do if I had superpowers. I wish I had the Omnnitrix.

[3416]

be so serious, why are we putting stock in what marchand or tkachuk have to say like they're not known for being shitstirrers? and tkachuk himself couldn't take playing in a canadian market and had to demand a trade so duh he would be biased? why not look at someone like draisaitl in a market more comparable to toronto's with annoying media and high expectations from the fans, and when he gets asked about it he says he can handle the pressure and proves it with his play. it's just insane to act like the attention is responsible for this team flopping like you don't think mcdavid feels just as much pressure every day just for being mcdavid? but he can actually elevate and rise to the occasion.

first of all, edmonton and toronto are not even the same markets, but neither have a cup in decades so..... okay, lol. canadian cup drought is also real, and i hope it goes on forever if it can't be the leafs tbh. no one is saying that's the exclusive and sole reason the leafs don't win, but it sure as shit does not help anything or make the market more appetizing for guys who could easily choose to go places with lower taxes and less expectation. like. it's a shitty place with shitty media that other teams don't like to be bombarded by even when they just visit for games. and it's been compounded over time in the specific context of this team that's not very hard to see when all the so-called journalists are salivating hitting publish on their little articles disparaging players and their legacies like 2 hrs after a playoff loss and before we know anyone's actual future.

how is it shit-stirring to actually give the other team you just beat the benefit of anything??? i keep seeing obtuse ass fans being like 'they just want toronto to run it back' like sorry i actually don't think it's some grand scheme to try to beat the leafs in the future or that anything they say has an impact on the plans of this org. they're not thinking like that mid stanley cup playoffs for THIS year. the leafs have a history of this. it's not a made up phenomenon that the pressure is excessive and it impacts players. remember ryan o'reilly just 2 years ago fully declining to come back bc he didn't want to deal with that. but bc people want to pretend it doesn't exist, we had to make up some reason about how he was actually a locker room cancer. lol.

you can gladly go root for the oilers if you think they're just so much more impressive. no one is stopping you. in fact, the leafs fanbase would be a better place without you in it, and i can say that with lots of confidence based on your annoying tone lmaooo.

[redladydeath]

Okay, this post got me thinking about Proto Vox's relationship with his sexuality and whoops, now there's 700 words.

On Earth, Vox was your typical insecure narcissist. He felt a great deal of shame about his attraction to men and always felt like any threat to his masculinity would cause his identity to crumble, so he overcompensated by taking refuge in the parts of masculinity that he was "good at." Vox was a very handsome, charismatic man, and he used those tools to his advantage. He'd flirt with women at his station and, once he was in a position of influence, was no stranger to using sex/sex acts as a bargaining chip. Suck his dick, and he'll put in a good word for you with the producers. Vox loved the respect and attention he got from being a successful, good-looking white man in the 1950s– he fed off it, using it to keep his insecurities at bay.

In Hell, he's no longer able to do that. The three traits he used to build his whole identity around– his masculinity, status, and charisma– are all gone. He looks and sounds like an adorable child, he's treated like a pet by his boss, and no one takes him seriously because of these things. No one cares that he used to be rich and successful, or even that he's actually an adult; all they see is someone weak that they can belittle in order to make themselves feel more powerful.

Vox had no choice but to surrender his dignity, although he still tries to hold onto bits of it in private. He knows that he's an intelligent adult man, even if nobody else knows or cares. However, that's not enough for someone as self-conscious as Vox. There's not a day that goes by without him feeling ashamed or embarrassed in some capacity, even as he grins and bares it externally and desperately clings to his old identity internally. It all comes together to completely obliterate his self-esteem. He can't even take comfort in the simple fact that he's male, because he knows that privilege could be taken away at a moment's notice due to his lack of any traits that people of the time would call "male." Put Vox in a dress or even stop affording him a gender at all and the only person who'll know the difference is him.

Vox can't have sex, and even if he could, he can't imagine anyone ever wanting him unless it was for explicitly fetishistic purposes. He has no genitals, no asshole, and no mouth. His body is made of smooth, featureless wood and metal. He might as well be a doll with an overly large head. Vox can't think of a single aspect of his body that would be sexually appealing to anyone who's not a complete freak. Even if he could pay for sex, he hates himself so much that the thought of getting with another person is just as humiliating as it is tantalizing. He doesn't want anyone to look at him, even though being seen is everything to him. And yet, he has no choice but to let people look. He's an entertainer, and now it seems like that's all he'll ever be.

All of this may have played a role in why he eventually gravitated towards Valentino. It'd been fifteen years since Vox last felt like a sexual being, and the last person he'd been attracted to had laughed in his face when he tried to confess to him. Val made him feel desirable– powerful, even. He treated him like a man, and that was like a rainstorm after a drought for Vox. It barely even mattered that Val was very openly queer; Vox gladly threw his once precious mask of heterosexuality to the winds in order to once more have a partner who actually respected him. Val helped him build functioning genitals for his new body. He helped him gain power so they could build their empire. Valentino is inexorably tied to Vox's new/restored identity, which makes him willing to put up with Val's more unappealing traits. Vox doesn't think he'd be nothing without Valentino by any means– he knows he could've achieved all this even if he never crossed paths with Val– but he'll always be the cornerstone that everything about his new life is built on.

[ryin-silverfish]

You said that the execution of S4 failed, so how should it have been or what were the steps that should be followed? Genuine interest. Might help anyone who is writing about Jttw.

Basically: Extraordinary twist requires extraordinarily good explanations, and the big honcho of the Celestial Realm getting killed by a Bodhisattva's cat is one such twists. Yet it isn't explained properly other than JE's vague statement that "his time is up".

(Is this an attempt at alluding to the concept of "Peril" (劫), something even immortals and celestials must endure in order to continue existing, and the Buddhist idea that beings of the Path of Heaven are still not free from the cycle of life and death, however near-infinite their lifespan is?)

(If so, then SAY IT.)

But my biggest issue is the huge Show-not-Tell problem regarding the corruption of the Celestial Realm.

Like, due to the influence of 1961 Havoc in Heaven and the "SWK as peasant rebel" reading that became the dominant narrative during the Maoist era, the Celestial Realm ("feudal" regime), as well as the Buddha and the Buddhist pantheon (religion), get demonized a lot in Chinese JTTW media.

Through that lens, Havoc in Heaven is the story of a grassroot hero fighting against a huge, ancient, corrupt institution, and either winning or losing, and even when he loses, it's the crushing of a revolutionary martyr by the old reactionaries: tragic, but the nobleness and righetousness of his goal is never in doubt.

(I dislike the "class warfare" reading too. A lot, in fact. But that's a story for another day.)

Which is what LMK S4 seems to be going for…and where it flounders.

Like, a Chinese viewer has that context, because most of our popular JTTW adapations dial up the Celestial Realm's prejudice against SWK and its corruption to some extent, as a justification for Havoc in Heaven.

A western viewer who hasn't watched the '61 film, or the '86 TV show, or the '99 cartoon, doesn't have that context, and LMK's oddly empty Celestial Realm that seemed to be populated entirely by Nezha, JE and nameless NPC soldiers doesn't help in the slighest.

(As a JTTW novel liker, my personal opinion is that book!Celestial Realm, even though it is not cartoonishly evil, still sucks ass, and the JE is a typical, mediocre dynastic ruler who's good at upholding the status quo, but extremely petty and vicious to subjects who have personally offended him, like Sha Wujing or the governor of Fengxian Prefecture.)

(They did show more leniency to SWK pre-Havoc in the book than in most modern adaptations, however, despite their fuck-ups.)

And that's how you get fans claiming "SWK never wants the Havoc in Heaven!"

After all, we haven't seen the Celestial Realm being assholes, or, y'know, subjecting a prefecture to an eternal-in-all-but-name drought until people sold their children for three bushels of grains and were driven to cannibalism, because the governor spilled JE's offerings and fed them to the dogs (novel canon, btw), and Nezha seems like a nice guy! How bad could the regime be, really?

Like, you can absolutely show a rebellion falling apart, becoming corrupted from the inside, causing just as much damage to the commoners as the regime they are fighting, and rebels who are far from heroic.

Or how popular rebellions like these were against the corrupt officials and laws, but seldom the emperor himself, and even those that did aim at deposing an emperor were about putting their guy of choice on the dragon chair, instead of dealing away with the dynastic system itself.

Yet the grievances behind those rebellions were also 100% real. The corruption, the abuse of power, the massive human sufferings that led to armed uprisings thoroughout Chinese history, many of which failed while others became the last straw that toppled a dynasty.

And that part, I feel, is neither shown well nor explored properly.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

could you do an alligator hybrid reader with water magic and platonic yan Wolverine? I imagine they’d be kinda sleepy but really sweet, and just look scary on the outside

Yes, an alligator witch! Reader! And you can bet platonic yandere Wolverine would be trying to dad them so much! Guy just wants Reader as his kid😊 Let's do it like this:

• You didn't choose to be a witch. You didn't even choose to be an alligator hybrid. But you were here, and you were you, and that wasn't changing anytime soon.

• Being an alligator hybrid and having water magic made you a pretty valuable witch. Especially if it involved dangerous aquatic animals or helping the environment. You took a different jobs, ranging from moving actual alligator and snakes and turtles and fish to safer, not-people's-homes places, helping farmers and florists water their fields and crops and flowers, forming lakes and pools and rivers, even causing small rainstorms if an area had experienced a drought or bad fire.

• This new person was... not what you expected for a teacher/guardian who needed you to fix a fountain. The guy had sharp, long claws, fluffy ears, a fluffy, short tail, and patches of fluff and fuzz in different areas. Yep. The guy was a wolverine hybrid. And his name was Logan.

• According to him, one of the kids of his coven had frozen the water in the pipes, then another kid set fire to the lawn, then their resident rain weather witch had stopped the fire but wasn't able to unfreeze the what was in the pipes... So, he was told to call you.

• Thawing the water didn't take long, nor was removing any caught coins or jewelry or wands that had made their way in as well. By the time you'd finished, there was a small pile of items that'd been lost or stuck, and you had a few pipes to replace. Yet-

• You didn't have the pipes needed for it.

• Logan offered to drive you to the nearest parts shop/market, where the two of you could pick out replacements, so you went with it. Which led to the best three hours of your week, as you got to joke around with someone who understood looking a bit scary, and having others look down on you for that, as well as being a hybrid. (Not to mention getting seafood with him. Eating some fish and shrimp and fries with someone was pretty nice, since you tended to be left alone). By the time the two of you had gotten back, you had enough time to set the new pipes in and to test the water pressure before you had to go.

• But before you left, you were slipped the address of the place, as well as a ring shaped like an alligator. You couldn't help but smile smile yourself, and making plans to check in on your favorite wolverine...

• And Logan was happy to have met a sweet kid, one who looked a bit rough and tough, but had a good heart and fun laugh and funny sense of humor...

• If anyone gave his new kid trouble... they'd have to deal with him and his coven knocking at their door...

• Now he just needs to set up a few lunch dates with his kid, and figure out what meals he should cook for them once he gets them into the coven... Hopefully they don't fight him too much on being brought into it...

[moongothic]

You know people often talk about how Crocodile is a "mafia boss who has tons of connections to other criminals in the underworld for running all his criminal businesses" and like

Does he???

Because like??? Yes, he did run ONE secret criminal organization, and he did need at least ONE connection to acquire the Dance Powder for causing the drought in Alabasta, but like

Crocodile's whole deal is that he doesn't trust anyone and thus he doesn't interact with anyone. Like his funny little criminal organization was functionally ran by Robin since she was the one doing All The Interacting and the Actual Working, Crocodile was just giving out orders for Robin to pass on (though yes people did know the Mysterious Mr 0 was The Real Boss of BW, not All Sunday). So to me it sounds so unlikely if he actually had like tons of personal connections, because surely he wouldn't actually trust anyone for doing any criminal business with them, right??

Not to mention, being an underground crime boss with a massive network is like. Doflamingo's thing. Like that is literally Doflamingo's whole deal, he was the one running a ton of criminal activies across the globe ranging from slavery and drugs to the SMILE production. So it'd just be weird if Crocodile was also meant to be a crime lord of similar caliber when at best he'd be a Budget Mingo. Like Doflamingo already occupies that role in the story, would we have needed two former Shichibukai to be crime lords?? (Yes you could argue Crocodile could've become Doflamingo 2 had he gotten away with his plans (and thus Doflamingo could've been like, a way for Oda to show what the Strawhats helped stop from happening to Alabasta), but again, his goal is and has always been to gain military power, so?? Why bother with dealing with other criminals??)

Like I just genuinely don't remember the idea that Crocodile has connections ever being brought up in canon? Like, I could be just forgetting something, but the closest thing I can remember was Chapter 1058 mentioning Cross Guild was "getting funding from shady organizations", but keep in mind, this is probably more due to Buggy's own fame than Crocodile's new involvement. Like Buggy's Delivery was already doing mercenary work all over the place, so while the mercenary work changed into marine hunting with different branding, it doesn't mean whatever connections Buggy already had made suddenly vanished, just that they now have more

And the one last thing is that like. In Punk Hazard we see Ceasar Clown show off his new weapon of mass destruction, Land of Death, to a ton of crime lords all over the world. Amongst the people there's plenty of randos we can't recognize, but then there were also Pekoms and Tamago, as well as Kid, just tuning in to the show. Considdering Crocodile is supposed to be interested in weapons of mass destruction (unless he lost interest in them), if he had any criminal connections then surely he would've also been amongst the people watching Ceasar's presentation, right? And if he was, surely Oda would've shown him to us, right?? But no, he's not there

So like???

Is there something I'm forgetting, some canon lore drop that does actually confirm Crocodile has tons of criminal connections???

Or is this just. Fanon that people don't realize is fanon?? Somekind of a fandom mandela effect??

[lostcol]

Sunday Six 2.18.24

Tagged by @violetbaudelaire-quagmire but it's not letting me tag you help somebody please!! 💚 (Nvm I got it to work ignore me 😂)

I got on a bit of a roll yesterday (thanks to my fellow sprinters and cheerleaders and those with way more boat knowledge than I have!), so I've finally got something to share after the complete drought last week. Thank you to everyone who tagged me last week, but it just wasn't happening, please continue to tag/harass me 😘

From, as always, my tknp lakehouse summer vibes fic:

“How do you feel?” he suddenly thought to ask, mentally smacking himself on the forehead for only thinking of it now. He gently placed his hands on either side of TK’s jaw, his fingers wrapping around the back of his neck and his thumbs cradling his cheeks so he could tip his head back and forth a little, look into his eyes and check over his face for any sign that he wasn’t okay. Physically that is; fucking obviously he wasn’t okay mentally right now, but they’d deal with that later.     “I’m,” TK rasped, “I’m…” He petered out, seemingly not knowing how to answer that.

You get 5 sentences, because the sentences immediately before and after this are massive spoilers 👀😁

Tagging @eusuntgratie @bigassbowlingballhead @getmehighonmagic @madsworld15 @matriaya @winderlylandchime and anyone else with words to share!

[breathe2-fr]

Eye of the Storm (pt 2)

(part 1)

The next morning, the clan got to work gathering food. The night had been uneventful and the travel plans needed to be discussed. After breakfast was had, she called a meeting to order.

"My brothers and sisters. Please forgive my naivety, but I have never made such a journey, and I have no idea what is in store once we enter the Expanse. If anyone has any sort of experience with the lands of Stormcatcher, please say so."

SnowyMorning spoke up, "I've never been there, but I've talked to drakes who have. Kip's right that it's not going to be easy to cross. Sandstorms rage across the Charged Barrens, which we'll need to cross to get to the Spire. Not just that, but lightning runs across the surface of the sands."

Kiptalon frowned. "That can't be possible." Snow shot him a look of irritation, so Kip continued. "The sand should stop the lightning's current."

"How would you know?"

"I'm an Earth dragon." Kip lifted a claw of sand and let it slip through his talons. "I know a thing or two about sand."

Snow shifted uncomfortably. "Well it's what I've heard, just sharing in case it's helpful."

"Thank you, Snow. We'll keep it in mind, whether or not it's just a rumor." Spelldancer knew the two didn't get along, and she hoped to steer them away from a pointless argument now. "What else do we think might be there?"

Kip became more aloof as the conversation continued, "Storms. Drought. Beastclan and wild beasts."

"Beasts and beastclan will not be an issue with our defenders." Spelldancer nodded to Venomous and her crew, and the guardian gave a stern nod back. "It's unfortunate we do not have a Water dragon in our clan. Perhaps we should find some way to carry water with us on our journey."

Snow stood up and made a sweeping gesture with a wing toward the ocean. "Well, why don't we find a Water dragon?" At this, Kip scoffed. "No, really! Maybe someone's nearby who's looking to do some traveling!"

Kip shook his head. "Why don't you go find them then, hm?"

Snow defiantly kicked the sand with his back foot. "Maybe I will!" And before Spelldancer could call to him, Snow lept into the air and took off for the coastline a mile away.

"Kiptalon! Why are you pushing him?!" Spelldancer glared at the skydancer, who looked surprised at the callout.

"I'm not doing anything--"

"My tail, you aren't! This will cease now! We need to work together and you're giving me a headache by squabbling with him!" As she scolded him, Spelldancer looked around. Her clan was exhausted, dirty, and injured from their journey. She could see in their eyes that some were losing faith in her ability to lead - was this yelling really helping anything?

"M-my apologies, your highness." Kiptalon bowed meagerly. "It won't happen again."

Spelldancer took a deep breath. Why were these dragons following her, anyway? What made them think in the first place that she was worthy of leading them, or being "queen"? She exhaled, and when she did, she could almost feel Baerka at her back. His massive arm like a small tree trunk behind her, supporting her, lending his strength to her voice. It wasn't just her that they followed, it was the two of them, and that two was now one. No, by herself, she wasn't worthy of her clan. And she was putting them in danger by leading them into the desert, to plea to a strange god for protection.

"... Mother." Gloam tugged at Spelldancer's wing, and she turned to her son. She realized Gloam was imitating his father, seeming to think her silence was her drifting off again - and she supposed she was. She stroked his forehead, then turned to Kiptalon.

"No more squabbles. We focus. Serious answers only." She would deal with her conflictions later. For now, she owed it to her clan to give this all of her focus as well.

The discussion that followed lasted hours. From the air, they had seen a canyon that had some sort of activity there. It was a decent first stop and perhaps they could ask for the safest route across the desert. They discussed food, electing hunters and gatherers to help stock the clan as they traveled. They created protocols for how to react to an attack, should one happen. Gloam recorded these and a slew of backup plans and other notes, furiously writing into his scrolls.

Once the conversation ended, SnowyMorning flew in, beaming with a smile. "I told you I'd find someone! Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to Shimmer!"

A young imperial glided up behind the pearlcatcher, his white and silver scales still wet from the ocean, almost blinding the other dragons in their reflections. He gave a modest head-bow.

Shimmer explained he'd been through the Expanse a handful of times and would be happy to lead the way. "It's dangerous, yeah, but there's a way through. Lightning has these pylons littered throughout the place. They're lightning rods. As long as you travel along the pylons, you'll be protected from the storms."

Snow was clearly proud of himself for finding the now-popular Shimmer, shooting grins to Kip, who simply turned away. As everyone began asking the new drake questions, Spelldancer couldn't help but wonder if Snow had told him what they were running from. Would he be so willing to travel with them when the Shade is on their tails? If there's a chance he'd leave when he found out, is it wrong to keep this information from him? Does her clan's need for water during their travel outweigh his right to know?

As the moral dilemma played through Spelldancer's mind, Gloam actually broached the question, standing tall before the large dragon. "Imperial! You do understand the severity of our quest, yes? We seek the Stormcatcher at the end of the desert, to protect us from the Shade attacks that have driven us out of our home. Are you prepared to fight in the event of such attacks during our journey?"

"Yeah bro," Shimmer answered with a relaxed smile.

Spelldancer was taken aback.

"Are you sure?" Gloam pressed.

"Yeah! I've never seen the Shade before! I want a go at them!" Shimmer raked his claw through the air. "Isn't that why the gods made us? To protect this world from the Shade? I'd be honored!"

Spelldancer felt a twinge of shame in that she was too afraid to even ask this dragon, but her son wasn't. Again, she felt she should be leading, but she was falling behind.

[starsbegantofall]

Not that you should listen to a stranger on the internet for advice, but here is my thought on pirates in this age of extreme inequality and injustice.

As long as it's the classic definition of piracy ("I offer you a clearly illegal shaky cam footage of a movie with incorrect subtitles, you offer me an extremely low amount of money that is much less than a movie ticket or probably even nothing, we do not speak to each other about this after"), piracy can be essentially not bad. People are so quick to defend themselves pirating stuff; they're living in a war-torn third world country, no one they know owns anything legally obtained because of their colonizer-oppressors, they would have never been able to import dvd/books in even if they did have money and freedom because of customs, they're archiving this old videogame for future generations (like there will be any future for humanity at this point), many other reasonable explanations... but it's not needed. The fact is, as long as no one is deceiving each other, it's a fact of life, not a crime. Trying to justify morality in piracy when there are much more evil people in charge of the government is kinda laughable. I'm not saying humans have a free pass to crime of their choice, but when the crime is piracy or genocide, just sail the high seas.

The problem is when someone sells you fraudulent, tampered goods as the real deal. Or when they plagiarize an artist and sell as the real thing at full price, no credit, no collaboration. That's malicious.

I come from a poor immigrant background, pirated stuff was basically the norm, I rarely felt bad about being poor, unless it was extremely inconvenient for school events or something. My mom also had other options, like going to the library, Xmas or birthday gifts, hand me downs from other families, actual things to look forward to, so it wasn't all stuff sold out of the back of someone's car in Chinatown.

When I did have money, I would buy whatever I could through proper channels, to get the best quality, get the extra goodies and benefits that pirated goods won't have, and support the artist if possible so they can continue to stay in business. But always buying new stuff is kinda wasteful and harmful to the planet, so I also thrift and buy other people's unwanted stuff even if that's not exactly helpful to the company or artist. To me, as long as no one was being deceived and everyone knows what they're getting at the correct value, it's better than having nothing at all.

Was this going to be about fashion replicas or A.I.? I already forgot... Well, to me, both fashion replicas and generated imagery cause extreme harm to the planet, much more than a dvd or hard drive with pirated books and games, so even if you could convince me they are both victimless crimes in regards to intellectual copyright, I'd still say... surely... surely there is another way to get what you want that doesn't enslave children and pollute the water and ground and increase the temperature to unlivable degrees causing mass extinction and potential drought and famines.

Anyway, in case anyone ever wanted to know my childhood was like.

[glitchlight]

(to preface, i'm aware of the irony of a scientist telling history to a historian, and I had some trouble verifying but here's the story)

Something that is easily missed in the 21st century to non experts is how much of 20th century american infrastructure was obsessed with flood control. Outside of the arid west, most major communities that aren't on a natural water body is next to a reservoir or major dam, the majority of which were constructed for flood control. Even a cursory understanding of the great cataclysms of history reveals the cyclical and predictable nature of disastrous floods along major rivers, which are simply too economically valuable to most cultures around the world to leave behind. That disastrous floods in the modern US are almost exclusively the results of rainfall, hurricanes, or dam failures is something of a miracle of public engineering.

(leaving aside all the ecological reasons why dams are ruinous; which are well worth discussing and arguably more important than flood control in an era of reliable weather forecasting but outside the scope of this discussion!)

so what the hell does this have to do with soil and prop comedy.

one of the main factors that created the dust bowl was outdated traditional farming practices which were tolerable in the humid south and temperate midwest, but ineffective in the semi-arid great plains. Practices such as constant tillage, removing buffer plants, and the transition from the fibrous roots of grasses to the more tap like roots of corn and wheat mean that the soil that previously was anchored in place by roots was now constantly being turned over, with nothing to break the winds howling across the plains.

Combined with a drought, you could not create more perfect situations for wind erosion to occur. That windstorms became black blizzards was only an inevitability.

And so, the precursor to the modern federal agency which advises farmers and regulators, the Soil Conservation Service (later renamed to the Natural Resource Conservation Service--which is more apt but less catchy) was proposed out in Washington, with several main goals: focused on stopping wind and water erosion of arable cropland, helping farmers manage cropland in more sustainable ways, and developing better farming practices via the extension service.

(Which is itself a weird legacy thing worth discussing more, and which kind of does and doesn't exist -- there's no federal agency under the USDA that is called the extension service, and it's actually administered by each States' land grant universities, but from a practical perspective a significant proportion of USDA is involved intimately with the extension service, and the NRCS is deeply interwoven with it).

OKAY enough detours: Prop comedy time. And where the loose facts become apocryphal.

Supposedly, Congress, even in the New Deal era, was uncertain about passing the bills that would create the soil conservation service; especially as far away as Oklahoma was from Washington in that era. So the gentleman spearheading the intiative for soil conservation (who as best I can tell is Hugh Hammond Bennet) goes to Congress and frames good soil conservation as a matter of flood control to them, because being from the east and south and midwest, they are living in an era where floods have wiped out communities in the night with no warning their entire lives.

To do this, he takes a pitcher of water, and walks up to the desk where the congressmen are sitting, and pours it out onto the table in front of them, splashing everyone with water. Before anyone can start to yell and scream at him however, he takes a towel and places it on the table, and repeats the demonstration. The towel, naturally, soaks up all the existing water, and the added water just soaks into it gently instead of running off everywhere. And then the congressmen CLAPPED.

So that's how, allegedly, prop comedy ended the dust bowl.

we're going to have to rework the u.s. economy so it has a greater focus on prop comedy