#yes i want 2 factor safety shit

[4kadhd]

not to be old and go "back in my day" but back in my day we didnt need an authenticator app for two factor authorization, why do I need an app.

[darklight572]

"Catradora is Toxic"

Is a claim i've seen spread...heavily here, now, obviously this is disproportionate compared to the actual number of SPoP fans. This is, even if its Tumblr, social media.

Despite that, I think even folks who don't buy this interesting take could use a reminder- why exactly is Catradora not toxic?

Before we do that, we should look into: what makes a relationship toxic, how that can change, and how exactly abuse factors into all of this. Let's be clear, toxic and abusive aren't the same thing, they mean different things.

Usually "toxic" in regards to a relationships is talking about unhealthy and, sometimes, dangerous actions between folks in an relationship. For example, repeated mischaracterization. [1]

"Abuse" then speaks about when unhealthy behaviors occurs repeatedly, usually with an intent to harm the other person, and is much more actively dangerous. [1]

TOXICITY (EARLY) So then, do Catra and Adora have a toxic, or even abusive, relationship in She-Ra Princess of Power? Yes! Just not in all the instances people like to claim they do. They begin with a toxic relationship, and would delve into an abusive one toward the end of season 1 (Promise imo), then their relationship dissolves from Adora's perspective.

It starts as toxic for a number of reasons, but being brief, Adora does not fully see Catra as a person with her own autunomy but as something to protect and derive her value from. This is very much not intentional on Adora's end, but imo, Adora starts the series with a mindset with the belief that she must do acts of service to derive any value. A lot of this is expressed in her actions in the first couple of interactions she has with Catra and Shadow Weaver.

For example, choosing to leave Catra behind to find the sword even as Catra asks her to bring her. She is either: not taking Catra's abuse seriously enough, or being naive in regards to the chance of Shadow Weaver harming her for something not her fault.

Catra shows fewer troubling behaviors at this early in the case, but there are a couple- for example- when Adora asks her to come back Catra seems to disproportionately blame Adora for the violence inflicted on her. Adora is responsible for her own actions, not for Shadow Weaver's she is still a child. I want to be clear, Catra is not inherently in the wrong for being mad at Adora for not realizing Shadow Weaver was a piece of abusive shit, but shifting the blame of the abuse itself is.

If you wanna learn more about that early dynamic, I recomend Five by Five's [2] "Trilogy", "Why Adora Matters", and "Why Catra Matters". Some of my points and ideas are informed by those videos.

ABUSE (STILL EARLY) So, when and how does this become abusive? A lot of people might point out that Catra harms Adora physically pretty early in the series- I would like to point some mitigating factors in this. Catra is a CHILD, 18 at oldest, who is being repeatedly physically and mentally abused and probably violated (See: Shadow Weaver's ability to mind wipe people). It is impossible to say that Catra's seeming agreement in bringing Adora back is uncoerced.

Especially since she showed signs of leaving the Horde until she recieved seemingly safety from Shadow Weaver in some small part by becoming a Force Captain. So, in my mind, a lot of Early Catra is easily explained. We see this most clearly, imo, in No Princess Left Behind. Not only does Catra give Adora her sword back when she could: have attacked the weakened princess, pulled more alarms, etc- and it would have- at least in her mind- given her validation from Shadow Weaver.

Yet she doesn't, because while their relationship is toxic, it is not abusive at this point in time.

I think the tipping point of abuse (as mentioned previously) is Promise. This is where we see, again imo, undisputable evidence of Catra intentionally harming Adora with no seeming coercion. Letting go of her at the crevisse. Maybe she thought Adora would be fine with She-Ra, but that absolutely doesn't excuse her here. Then, the physical harm she continually perpetuates against Adora is at least- in part- uncoerced, as we see here.

MIDPOINT (ALL THE OTHER SHIT) We have to look further into Catra's abuse against Adora- and to what extent it is Catra. I think a point that too many people miss is that throughout the majority of the series Catra is in a system which repeatedly abuses her specifically, she is not just a child soldier who grew into a commander, she is one targeted uniquely by multiple of the higher ups. This does not excuse Catra's behavior, but it makes it A) more understandable, and B) less reprehensible.

So, what does she do? Mostly attacking Catra and mentally manipulating her while in battle- some of this is her trying to survive against She-Ra's enormous physical stature- but she seems to gain some amount of satisfaction from it all. Despite this, even though she has multiple opportunities to have killed Adora, she never does. This is, to be clear, a very low bar- but it does demonstrate that some claims of Catra "leaving Adora to die" are extremely overexaggerated. Adora doesn't fight particularly well in a lot of scenes, and Catra could have very easily chosen to slash her throat instead of kicking her. Catra does not want Adora to die.

One of her greatest harms is when she pulled the lever for the portal. Although, there are several mitigating factors which makes it not quite comparable to Glimmer's actions a season later. First of all, after Shadow Weaver's escape, Catra assumes Shadow Weaver's place- and Shadow Weaver is replaced by Hordak as an abuser. Second, Catra is not working on perfect knowledge, she is told it could destroy everything- by who exactly? Adora. Who she has seen consistently not recognize threats properly in the past, and has been able to outwit consistently. What she actually knows is that pulling this will hurt Adora because she didn't listen to her, to me, its unclear how much of the situation actually dawned on her.

This, again, does not excuse the situation- but it explains it. While Catra shows self-harming behavior, I don't think its at all consistent with her character to want to destroy everything- we see her contradict that with her literal every action. No, this action is much better explained as a judgement call of Adora. One of the worst actions she actually does is send Entrapta to Beast Island. While Entrapta percieves this as a "positive" later on, to Catra, Beast island is a death trap and that is her intent when she does this. This action is mitigated at least slightly by the fact that Entrapta was directly standing in her way of doing what Hordak wants. Catra knows how that ends, pain or death (through suffocation or beast island itself).

While its more than possible Entrapta could have convinced Hordak not to pull the lever (this is contentious), Catra is very clearly not thinking here. Some like to use Catra's manipulation of Hordak later on as proof she has some massive plan but uh- her plan was to nearly destroy the world then lose to Adora, and then manipulate Hordak? No- clearly she wasn't thinking, and was trying to justify herself to someone that could harm her, keeping her security. Does that make any of this right? No. But again, it provides context.

ANALYSIS (WHEN IS IT OKAY TO FORGIVE?) So, looking at ALL of this, how could there be any doubt? Catradora is toxic and abusive, the claim is correct, no? No.

Because while toxic, and further abusive, describes Catra throughout most of the series, it does not describe her throughout the ENTIRE series. And, her acts of abuse have consistently been muddled with manipulation. Earlier, I left out a small detail, even during Promise- Catra was being actively manipulated by Light Hope. Her memories were being changed, Catra is being violated. That changes a lot doesn't it? Throughout the series Catra's safety is conflated with an end-goal. Taking over the Horde with Adora, retrieving Adora for Shadow Weaver, being a Commander for Hordak.

This does not change the fact that she was abusive, but it puts Catra into a context as someone who is not necessarily doing so of her own will. Of course she grows more and more angry at Adora, in her mind, Adora is actively refusing Catra's safety. This is still a very toxic mindset, but it is a deeply understandable one considering Catra's childhood. This changes the entire dynamic Adora and Catra have. We see everything from Adora's perspective, we understand thats not her intent, and not even what she's doing. But Catra doesn't. The abuse, fundamentally, comes from a lack of perspective. [2]

So, Season 5, the biggie in the room. This is what most critics of Catradora seem to either ignore entirely or dismiss without thorough examination. Well, they also ignore all of the context of seasons 1 through 4 but i've already discussed that. Its notable that here, for the first time in a long time, Catra's power is something she knows not does not protect her. It allows her to consider her own perspective as unbiased as she has ever been able to. She is isolated from most anyone she could abuse, and the one chance she does have she chooses not to.

Here, she finally recognizes that her own perspective is rooted in a flawed understanding of their childhood. Not just from Shadow Weaver, or even from Light Hope- but from herself. This is extremely important, Catra- in realizing this- is not just taking accountability for her actions but the mindset that lead to it- and immediately takes action to correct herself. She rescues Glimmer, and in the process is violated again, this time even more severely- and is mind controlled by Prime. Adora saves her anyway. Because even abusive as Catra was, Adora understands the context that Catra was abusive in, and through her action to save Glimmer, see's the goodness in her return. As Catra couldn't kill Adora, Adora can't let Catra die.

So, Adora rescues her, Catra reacts negatively at first- but of course she does- her mind was just taken from her without her consent. But even then, Catra wants distance, asks Adora to drop her off- to isolate her. Adora refuses. This is important, too often people outside of a situation or even the perpetuator try to claim ownership of how to help the people they harmed- thats not up to them- its up to the person harmed. Adora doesn't want Catra gone, because she see's the context which shackled Catra has been- literally- eradicated. Catra proves to us that Adora isn't just being optimistic here.

As they move around, Catra ceases her violent actions against her, she barely even bickers- when she raises her voice she immediately apologizes and displays accountability for her anger. She helps save the world from Horde Prime. I think looking at Shadow Weaver's behavior creates a nice dichotomy between what someone actually changing looks like versus someone who wants to appear as changed. Shadow Weaver is still manipulative, still actively trying to get Adora to do everything she wants- and Catra- doesn't take her shit. She calls Shadow Weaver out, repeatedly sticks her own neck out against her former abuser in order to save Adora.

Catra does eventually get emotional with Adora, but there is not manipulation happening in "Heart Part 1", Catra is correct- Adora will die if she does this herself- Catra doesn't want Adora to die. Is this the most healthy way of doing this? Absolutely not, but again, they are fighting an evil space empreror. When she realizes Adora is going to die, she immediately course corrects and goes to find her, attempting to and successfully rescuing Adora from herself and Prime.

Does this make what happened before, okay? No. It doesn't. None of what I've explained here should make you dismiss what Catra did, Catra certainly doesn't, but I want you all to think about what creates the abuse and toxicity in the first place. Is Catra actually the origin? Or is she a tool for a system of perpetual power to inflict violence through. She isn't completely cleared of her part in her actions, she has choices, but in such a system your choices are limited and often coerced. Catra was actively coerced at literally every step, and had her options limited from day one. She was different, and Shadow Weaver didn't like the, even toxic, relationship she had with Adora.

Highlighting that a lot of the initial toxcitiy is from Adora helps illustrate my point more clearly, it is not Adora being a "bad person" it is the oppression of the Horde using Adora as a tool. Adora has the privilege (through the Sword and her lack of physical danger) to escape it, Catra- at least, in a safe way, didn't. Catra didn't have the power to fight off the Horde when they came looking for her, at least, she didn't think she did. What we see throughout the series is Catra trying in vein to reclaim some small amount of safety she had when she was with Adora and failing because she was playing the system's game.

Adora knows this, of course she does, thats why she's so quick to go back after Catra once she see's the glimmer of goodness in her (heh). What makes Catradora so good in my opinion, is that it doesn't just show how people who were abused can move on, but it shows how systemic oppression differs from individual abuse. Is their relationship going to be perfect at the end of the series? Absolutely not. Will it abusive? No. Not from the context we see in Season 5. Is it okay for Adora to forgive Catra? That depends on the person. Fundamentally, Catra's situation is extremely complicated, with no real analog to our real world in its entirity. We have to understand that metaphors can only go so far, I've tried to explain as much as I can, but there's absolutely nuance missing here because Etheria isn't Earth, and the Horde isn't like any massive corporation or even military on Earth.

I think, given all the context, and Catra's later repeated displays of growth and goodness- that Adora can forgive Catra. I feel, for a lot of reasons, a lot of relation to Adora. I can say, at least from my current understanding, that I would forgive Catra.

That doesnt mean my take is automatically correct, but, the continued insistence that Catradora is toxic has largely ignored a massive portion of context and development on Catra's side and seemingly completely missed the fact that some of the toxicity came from Adora before it came from Catra, and therefore missed the system ultimately responsible.

[1] "What is a Toxic Relationship." Elizabeth Scott, 2023 https://www.verywellmind.com/toxic-relationships-4174665

[2] "Five by Five Takes" Youtube Channel, Sar (Specifically Trilogy, Why Catra Mattesrs, and Why Adora Matters)

One Little last note: I have absolutely missed a LOT of things, Glimmer's actions in comparisons, some of the specifics, Catra's toxic (platonic) relationship with Scorpia- but - most of that isn't necessarily relevant to this anaylsis. What happens with Scorpia is much more complicated than Catra just abusing Scorpia, but I think the situation with Entrapta is much more poignant and relevant for what we're discussing here.

[ghostly-penumbra]

Seven Ways to Summon the Ghost King

Chapter Seven: Family Call

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [here]

Ao3

Summary: How can you say no to such a pressing call?

... no, really, Danny would love to know.

Notes: There are big spoilers for The Sandman comics. And I mean HUGE. As in, the culmination of the comic HUGE. Ye be warned!

- - -

“Brother, I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil. Please come through.”

“I am –ha!– in the middle of something right now.”

The being dressed all in white blinked, unimpressed, “I am worried about your safety, please come through.”

“Just… need… to kill them all…”

Dream of the Endless, no longer known as Daniel Hall, sighed in exasperation.

“Twin brother I am in my gallery holding your sigil, and I summon you.”

“Don’t you- stop that! Shit! You, kid, if you win this match in my name, I’ll make ya my apprentice!”

There was a fervid screech, and finally, his brother passed through where his portal portrait was.

Death of the Endless, pretty much still Daniel James Fenton, was spat out of his portrait and landed headfirst on the floor of the Dream Lord’s gallery.

“Hello there, twinsie dearest.” Danny deadpanned, crossing his arms as he glared up at his twin brother.

It was a curious thing, their twinship. Daniel Hall and Daniel James Fenton had both been born the 3rd of April of 1990, effectively making them the same age, but Daniel Hall had been in the womb for almost two years, making him technically older in existence, and Danny Fenton had been born premature.

Now, Death had already been there when Dream had first come to exist, because everyone had the potential to die long before they could even dream for the first time, so that Death had been Dream’s senior. But, this was a different Dream and a different Death, and the current Dream had taken his position in 1993, whilst the current Death had done so in 2023, giving this Dream work seniority.

Then again, this Dream had been a toddler when the position was given to him, and this Death had already been thirty-three, a whole adult by that point.

In the end there were too many factors to tell who was older than whom but since Desire and Despair had chosen to be twins, why couldn’t they?

“Hello, little brother.” Dream smiled down at him.

Knowing they wouldn’t reach a definite conclusion didn’t stop them from bantering over who was the older brother, however.

“I saw you had been summoned to the Waking world and through the eyes of one of your invokers, noticed you were nonplussed. I’m worried, brother.”

Ah, yeah, he might have knocked a kid out cold with his presence. It happened. And- she got better!

“That was two hours ago, baby bro. Having trouble measuring time in the Living world again?” He teased even as he held up a hand to be helped up.

“Au contraire, Death. I know just fine how long it’s been but I also know you can take care of yourself amongst a crowd of teenagers, powered or not. Alas, you took your time, and I grew restless.”

Dream lifted his brother up and got a snort and a friendly shoulder shove as a reward.

- - -

The brothers stood next to each other on Dream’s balcony, overlooking his Kingdom. Well, Dream stood, whilst Death sat on the railing, with his feet hanging down, back in his human living form as a 33 years old adult.

(He was already dead long before he became Death, so there was no need to kill him a second time. The fact that he was alive and could choose to be so whenever he wanted was of no consequence. It was more likely one of the reasons he had been a perfect pick for it.)

Danny broke the silence, “They couldn’t have done anything to me, even if they had tried. You know that.” He threw a pebble at the far-off lake and saw it skip endlessly.

Dream didn’t look at him. He didn’t need to have his predecessor’s memories of his entrapment to know what it had done to him. Even after the incident with the Dream Vortex, he had been proud and unyielding. Arrogant.

A human lifetime of imprisonment later, and as soon as he was free, he started planning his demise.

“Poorly done?” He asked instead.

“No, not at all,” Was his twin’s answer, “The circle was perfect, so was the chanting, and if there weren’t any trapping mechanism that was there on purpose. This one kid had a journal, the one who had the idea to summon the concept of Death to their dorm, filled with the knowledge we took with us when we left.”

He wasn’t talking about Dream, because Dream still walked the Waking world and interacted with humans in a more regular basis than his predecessor. It had been Death who, tired and grieving, had chosen to step away from the living, and only show himself to collect them and guide them to their next step; and as the King of Ghosts, he had taken all ghosts, spirits and shades with him, freeing them if they were trapped, helping them move on if they were still hesitant, and forcibly dragging them if they refused to stop wreaking havoc.

And he hadn’t been the only one; Heaven had finally stopped it’s wayward angels from going to Earth and, as Death would put it, “fucking shit up”, and the souls that resided there could no longer be summoned either.

Same thing with Hell; the gates had been closed so that the damned could only enter, not leave. There were no more demons making deals and messing with humanity anymore.

“That shouldn’t be possible. You made sure to kill all that knowledge in the Waking world.

Death sent a glare to his brother. He had not ‘killed the knowledge’, he had just taken it to his castle in the Ghost Zone, where only the dead resided. Shut up.

“And they won’t see it in their dreams, either.” He chose to say.

“Never.” his brother reassured quickly. The Dreaming would not inspire anyone in ways that could harm any of his siblings.

“Yeah, I thought as much,” Death huffed with a smile, “There was a…” He continued, knowing better than to use the word ‘thing’ when referring to someone that could think and feel. “… a being attached to this kid’s soul. It- he is something neither Didi nor I had ever seen.”

He let his words remain in the space between them, and knew his twin was seeing them written out in the air in front of him. (Much likely in comic sans, the asshole.)

“Not in a physical shape, at least.”

His brother said nothing, and only watched him reach revelation on his own even if it still was in his realm. He could be an ass patient like that.

Danny thought about it, looking for the words to explain his mind to the collective subconscious of the multiverse.

“That being is a bridge, for knowledge on us, not just us Endless, but many non-mortals, on our realms, how to call us, how to find us, how to appease us… how to trap us.”

This time he did see the words hanging between them –and it was comic-fucking-sans–, a bright toxic green that read trap. He put a hand on Dream’s shoulder, squeezing reassuringly.

“He didn’t put the trapping sigils, and they wouldn’t have stopped me in this form.” Even after becoming an Endless, that little trick of his didn’t stop working. Things meant to contain the dead had no power on him when he chose to be alive, and vice-versa. He could get his siblings out, too, should they need it.

He wouldn’t sit idly whilst he knew he could help. He could protect.

And, if anyone tried to go and tell him of rules and limitations, he could kindly point them to his Obsession and how it predated his duty as an Endless, how it had been part of him for almost a decade, and how the change in his nature had not managed to override it from him, no matter how much it tried.

Not wanting to continue with that topic, Dream said instead, “Did you have fun? Annoying or not, it’s been a while since you spoke with someone your age who still had a heartbeat.”

On cue, rings of light swept Danny up and down, turning him back to his ghost form, looking fourteen years old, right before his growth spur, with baby fat still on his cheeks and, if he lowered his guard long enough, sometimes he still moved like that hunched, awkward teen still discovering who he was.

“It was cool, actually! Most ‘these kids were nice, and they had  a bunch of cool video games; is not like any of them were a real challenge, but new competence is always welcome. Their universe didn’t have DOOMED, though, even if they are three centuries after the game was invented, but I fixed that, so I think they’ll be okay.” He said, knowing damn well he would be going back soon as the war started, to collect several of the people they loved and admired. “I may have won at DDR, but that girl sure got the Spirit Award.” He turned a mischievous smirk at his brother and found him grimacing and holding back a sigh, which only got Danny to laugh out loud at him, his smile so wide his eyes were half-closed in joy.

- - -

“Things are changing.” Danny said as they stared at the night sky, this time from the Waking, Living world where they had been born, four thousand and fourteen years ago.

“They always do.” Dream was a prime example of that.

“You know I fuckin’ hate chess analogies-” And he did, so much that the last time he had touched a chess board had been to throw it at Vlad’s annoying face. “-but… ugh, the pieces are being set, something’s gonna make a move, and we’ll have to face this new… board.” Danny scrunched up his nose in distaste. Fucking analogies. “And we need to move, too,” he continued nonetheless, “we gotta be ready, ‘cause if what’s coming next is what I think…” He didn’t finish his sentence, because he genuinely didn’t know how it’d all turn out. People would die, but they always did, as for the rest…

“Brother, please speak plainly.”

But Death couldn’t, he didn’t dare voice his concern here in the presence of both Father Time and Mother Night and speak it into reality. He wouldn’t fuck it all up again, when it was the ones he loved whom suffered the consequences. It had always been that way.

So he chose his words carefully.

“… the mascaraed will fall, there is now a bridge between what we tried to hide, and them. I don’t doubt there are others across the multiverse-” connected, drawing the others to themselves, “-it’s just that-” I haven’t been there, I haven’t paid attention, I stopped protecting them, “I didn’t notice before.”

“And when the game board is changed,” Dream continued in his brother’s stead, knowing how his thoughts spiralled, “if we don’t adapt to the new rules-”

“We adapt.”

Dream blinked, and turned to fully look at his twin brother.

Even still in his ghostly, Endless form his eyes were their icy blue, and they didn’t have that bright ethereal shine of their own, but instead reflected the street lamp next to their bench, the full moon above them, the stars in their mother’s body and the stars on Dream’s own eyes. Danny’s blue eyes shone with the world around them, alive.

There was no question in those eyes, no hesitation. This was something he was willing to speak into fact, into truth, unshakable.

They would adapt, because the other option was the end, everything and everyone leaving, everywhere. Danny locking the door with key and-

Being left behind, alone and Endless, please don’t, I don’t wanna, don’t make me-

“We adapt.” His brother echoed, his eyes human and green, a sign of affection, an oath of support, with their parents and anyone that cared to see as witness.

Danny breathed in again, not needing but wanting to, and rested his forehead on his twin’s shoulder.

“We got preparations to make. I may have already started. Let’s go, bro.”

Under their Father’s watchful gaze, two Daniels stood and left the quiet park of Amity and prepared for the future.

FIN

- - -

And so ends my first multi-chaptered fic written outside an event! Thank y'all for being with me these days and for all your lovely comments I haven't gotten around to replying!

Whatever they are, I would love to read your thoughts on this, because it was this chapter I wanted to write all along. There is a heartbreaking lack of Danny Phantom/The Sandman crossovers, and I feel it.

Real life is awful right now, so I don't think I'll get to write more of this concept, of Danny being Death of the Endless, but do feel free to come yell at me in my ask box anytime!

Also, a sidenote I can finally say: Something funny I'm noticing in the DPxDC area is that people are giving Danny the "all souls will be mine in the end" role as part of being the King of the Infinite Realms, and I'm like "uh, no, that's Death's bit, a canonical DC character. you guys are trying to make Danny Death" WHICH IS WHAT I JUST DID LMFAO

Anyway, thanks for reading ❤️

[rametarin]

The 'man or bear' thing is deliberate shit stirring, yall.

They used to pull shit like this all the time back in the day. The ultimatum is deliberately skewed, because the entire conversation is a stupid illusion of choice. It's the sort of bullshit that gets passed along the Babby Radfem chain because it sounds clever as a meme.

The sort of radfem meme where eventually it culminates in some adult talking to them about it, and it ends with the radfem pouting and going, "I just wanted to have a convuhsayshun about important social issues. :C :C :C :C"

Because if you haven't noticed, Phase #2 has been "UH, TMI. WOMEN ARE ACTUALLY CHOOSING THE BEAR-" (allegedly) "- BECAUSE RAPE CULTURE AND PATRIARCHY."

And there it is. Boom goes the dynamite. You've been lead into a shitty, ideologically slanted conversation that has the same flavor as some ethnosupremacist trying to, "make a point," about how The Jews control everything. Just, switch out Jews for, "white people and capitalism."

The premise is that some random dude in the woods is an unknown and the woman is justified in thinking the statistical probability that she'll be beaten, killed or raped just for being a woman around a strange man, and then not believed, means they're somehow safer with the bear. That they're justified in thinking that way, allegedly, because of the consequences.

And then that absolutely stupid, pathetic "Gotcha" permutation that has come out recently, where they swell up with air and puff, "HAHA, ISN'T IT FUNNY HOW THEY NEVER EVEN TRY TO DEFEND THE MAN!? ALMOST LIKE THEY'RE TELLING ON THEMSELVES!"

There's nothing to tell. Statistically some dude in the woods isn't going to be a fucking rapist or murderer. Just, straight up facts. Statistically, that dude in the woods won't be a rapist or murderer. They exist, yes, and it's always a possibility, but just from the get-go we're taking this conversation from the perspective of a sheltered, gynocentrist perspective where a woman's safety and security is the only factor that matters, and a man's life and worth is entirely disposable.

Statistically, that dude in the woods, if a single father, is still roughly only 25% as likely to murder his own children to get out of the responsibility of taking care of them, as a single mother. And what, 40 times less likely to do it as a single father with a girlfriend, than a single mother. So take that statistic and blow it out your ass.

And a funny thing happens to rape statistics when you consider a strapon or dildo to be synonymous with rape, or list rape as violent sexual assault the equal of just using a strapon. Suddenly women take up a vast amount more of the % of rape statistics, instead of what their behavior is called being different because it doesn't involve a biological penis. Suddenly even coming on a strange WOMAN in the woods approaches the supposedly overbearing risk of STRANGE MAN.

It's a scenario deliberately cooked up from that snide gynocentrist position that puts a woman's safety and humanity many notches higher on the valid ladder than a mans. It argues that you should always listen and believe a woman when she makes accusations, always, in all circumstances, no matter how improbable, above and beyond when men accuse others (falsely or not), that women do not lie or exaggerate about rape or violence accusations, that society should automatically treat what they say as truth or they just hate women, and the expectation should be any accusation made sticks regardless of evidence or due process or trial, or society just hates women.

It creates an unreasonable expectation of security and protection that no one, especially not capital S society, can ensure. You cannot police peoples thoughts or actions proactively, you cannot indoctrinate out the desire to rape or hurt from someone that is already broken and bent on doing that, and this stupid conversation or some variation on it crops up every few years to pose these stupid questions and make foregone conclusions based on how they perceive thing.

Inevitably it tangents into the conversation about rape, where the people that whine about bears or men in the woods will makesome soapbox speech about how rape only happens, not because people are mentally broken and monstrous individually, but that rape is a societal problem. Caused, "because we live in a PATRIARCHY that says this is okay!"Offering women this ridiculous, romantic delusion to grasp onto and feed, because it gives them both an explanation they hope to be true because it offers what seems like an obvious "solution." Clearly, "men aren't being taught not to rape!" So they willingly engage in this fiction that the only reason rape happens is because those evil men allow other men to do it or nobody told them it's bad, because, "women are hated and feared in this society."

So they entertain the stupid idea the only reason rapists exist is because they, "aren't taught about consent," and then order more fucking teachers and propaganda courses to do their little songs and dances about it. Which helps about as much as high priests ordering people be sacrificed to a volcano to stop an unpleasant, dangerous natural process. It doesn't help at all, and the mental salve of trying to project a problem onto something else you can control doesn't work to resolve it, but it may give the Volcano Priesthood more power in society.

And that's what this is. The people that stand to gain by more women fearing men screaming for what sounds preferable as a reality and to have people magically fix the problem. Clearly, the solution is to "fix Men" (capital M. The platonic, abstract concept of Men. The collective demographic Men.) so they don't or can't rape. They're told "destroying the Patriarchy" will do that, so they're incentivized to share that delusion.

They genuinely appeal to women that already have suspicions and distrust of males and men and give it a rationalization on why that's okay and "the truth, actually." A whole platform and mythology on and for it, the how and why. Women eat that shit up, then they decide to treat men based on this. And those women repeat their fictions as truth to try to MAKE it normalized and true. And it's no different than when it happens to anybody else, be it forms of racism or bigotry.

The people that study this kind of shit for a living or a hobby just decided that it fits their goals if men are made open season acceptable targets for the same treatment they would consider to be prejudiced and bigoted towards any other demographic, because it suits their ideological and political needs. The same technique of social infiltration that people like the Nazis (and Soviet communists, but that's less important righjt now) used to badmouth and scapegoat the Jews for everything. Little jokey-jokes and stupid conversation openers like this stupid scenario of bear or man.

See it for what it is, and treat it like the bad faith method for results that it is. But remember it, and what it was used to do. It'll be back from the exact same people under another form in as few as 20 years.

[progeniterror]

okay since i'm on my bullshit and people seem at least intellectually interested in the idea here's what i've got for tatum prescott-loomis:

sidney opts to keep the baby despite everything really bc she's just so sick of death and she hopes this can be like, a silver lining and such you know?

for max chaos we use my base set up for billy-- just enough about the end is changes to put some reasonable doubt on him being the killer but you know..... you know....... but it does mean he's alive and well to demand access to the kid and Be Insane (derogatory) with sidney about this. the kid is a factor in why on EARTH they'd go to the same college considering everything.

tatum is about 2ish when scream 2 happens. gets kidnapped on the night of the Big Climax by grandma who plans to kill sidney, take the kid and recoop her image by being like "the good grandmother". Deeply Cursed. tatum doesn't super remember all this outside of it being a Core Memory and an underlying mental vibe that plants fears in her.

scream 3, tatum 2 is about 4 and living with her mom in the middle of fucking nowhere. sometimes she lives with dad or he comes and stays with them. it's very insane. sid and billy are both maniacs about safety considering everything tho for different reasons. she's with sidney for the chase scene on the set which is what really puts the fear of god into her. didn't need to see the knife to know he was Evil Bad bc the Core Memory vibes had kicked in lol. for like basically all of scream 3 tho she's pm off screen except for that one bit since you know.... she's fucking 4. that was just bad luck and timing.

Gets shown stab at a sleepover she was invited to EXPLICITLY so the other girls could bully her with this and the whole "your dad's an axe murderer thing" it's honestly so fucking unhinge and experience she doesn't even feel attacked. like when a burn is so bad you don't feel it. mostly just doesn't recover from seeing people pretending to be her parents bone. the mom came in around then and mclost it on the kids and she Went Home. Haunting.

she DOES get the occasional shit at school about who her parents are. this IS a thing.

sid and billy with the most ACCURSED joint custody set up. his wife is the real GOAT here in managing all this drama lol.

scream 4, she's roughly jill's age, a few years younger i think? but like An Teen™. Bleached her hair for a buffy costume for halloween which billy FUCKING HATES SOOOOOO BAD. but sets her up to be marked as "the tatum" of the "remake" jill and charlie are making. went with her mom on the woodsboro book signing trip to visit relatives, see her hometown etc. Mistake. Billy is also here but for his dad's funeral which tatum also probably attends i guess since that's her grandpa rip. ends up brawling with jill at the end to protect her mom. is likely the one who kills her in the hospital too. tells jill to eat shit bc if ANYONE is gonna be the protag of the remake it's THE FRANCHISE BABY. likely after having had some convo at SOME point in the film bit in the hospital or earlier with her dad about killing and you know Just Doing It bc Fuck Em.

Likely has had at least one ghostface solo run. like a ghostface or 2 who gunned for her EXPLICITLY between 4 and 5. by this point she's just really come to accept this is just How Her Life Is and does like martial arts, self defense, weapons training etc. like just full on laurie stro.de/becky mode and prepares to be attacked at any time. naturally she survives this ghostface attack. mom horrified and glad she's safe dad proud about how beast mode she went. tatum just wants a nap.

in her 20s has a go bag that includes a bullet proof vest. basically has her own variation of the "ghostface fit" for when this shit goes down, which is a black track suit with white details. goes for this bc it's made for exercise and gives her some baggyness to obfuscate the vest. kinda makes her look like a prick but hey, it works. yes she has THOUGHT A LOT ABOUT WHAT TO DO WHEN GHOSTFACES CROP UP. IT'S AN EVER PRESENT FEAR IN HER LIFE. AND SHE'S CONSISTENTLY PROVEN TO BE VALID IN HER PARANOIA.

scream 5 and 6. basically kinda go the same as usual but there's EVEN MORE FAMILY DRAMA since she's there and billy's alive and sam's sam. tatum likes sam a lot and has no issues with her but it does cause the first real serious blow out between her and billy. the murder??? she could get past that (insane statement) but cHeAtInG oN mOm?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!1/!??!?!?!? WHAT THE FUCK DAD!!!!!!! 6 includes them reconciling and joining forces to beat the baileys to death with rocks alongside sam and tara. you know family bonding shit.

[hederskrans]

hey guys. so. this is.. fucked up!

now, we all know about the heritage foundation right? the famously anti-gay, anti-trans, all around bad organization right?

well uh. they're trying to make it illegal for people to be like, visibly gay in public. this "project" they're doing is called "project 2025", and if you were to go on the site for project 2025, you'd be able to see all the vile shit they want to do. they think that adult content is inexplicably linked to trans people, and they want to eradicate both.

the aim of the project is to make it illegal to be visibly gay by 2025. and like, hey. the heritage foundation has the money and the time to lobby lawmakers into doing this. it's not impossible. so what can we do?

absolutely blast the heritage foundation on all platforms. if they think that we're trying to get kids gender-reassignment surgery, tell them that 1. thats literally an exception 2. its rare for minors to even get it. tell them hormone blockers do not damage kids at all- and route people to studies that say so.

if they're mad about people being gay in public, hit em with the statistics of people who have done nasty shit to kids, and what their jobs are. tell them that drag queens are only around kids that much because they are literally just clowns with different names. and tell them, oh, i wonder.. what exactly did trump go to prison for? oh, god, and all his buddies? isnt that like.. really against their ideology to be against the law or something? i'm not really sure, since they change up the rules so often.

make sure people KNOW that gay people honestly dont fucking care about getting close to kids. sure, there are some here and there, but there are also straight people who like kids. and like, hey, make sure they know wanting to get close to your kids is bad, but that is not what we do! we are not trying to indoctrinate kids at all! we, honestly, don't care.

remember that when you see an identity you dont like.. you can.. idk.. let that person live? who cares if they're pupgender or something. the worst thing that the right did was separate our community into a million little bits, and everyone fell for it! and yes, there are some people who are bad here. but listen. if we let the right command us to squabble about whether or not that new word is a real gender, then we won't get anything done. if you see someone making fun of someone else for their identity, ask if the offender is, legit, okay. tell them that as long as its not directly infringing on their rights as a person, then it's fine, and the fact that they'd hound someone else is literally a cause for concern.

we need to fucking work together, and make sure that we ensure the safety of lgbtq kids and adults. there is no terf here. there is no radfem. there is no truscum or trumed or whatever. there is only the uniting factor we all have, and that is we are a minority- and i'm disgraced to see you guys thought that fighting with the people of your community would be a better idea than trying to connect with them. we NEED to work together, and our inner community issues can wait till we're not being. idk. fucking illegalized. also i should add... this is, according to many people, a lavender scare. so do with that what you will.

SOURCES:

coyoteannie on tik tok

heritage foundation website

project 2025 website

[stark-defense-squad]

Let’s talk Civil War.

(Ik. It’s been years. I’m sorry. I’m stuck in the past.)

Other than the fact that Tony’s side of the Accords is the non-contested accepted correct side in the entire fucking world except the USA (seriously, the entire world is telling you you’re wrong and you still insist otherwise? Maybe y’all’s really do belong on Team Cap), let’s dissect every Team Cap fan’s POV and rebut them.

1. The government should not impose on powered people’s freedoms.

Aside from the fact that this shows a fairly concerning blatant ignorance of the United Nations and all forms of international government, I can name on one hand the number of countries where “freedom” is portrayed as it is in the USA. Do you know what the stance on freedom is in the rest of the world? Your personal freedom ends at the safety of the community. (This is especially interesting during COVID and the vaccine and masking) Your life is your own, do whatever shit you want to do. No one gives a fuck if you want to eat ham or turkey for dinner. But when your “personal freedom” starts putting other’s lives at risk, it’s a fucking problem. It’s not “personal freedom” when you’re marching into a school wearing bombs. It’s not “personal freedom” when you start carrying a machine gun and threatening anyone you think is wrong. That is effectively what most of the Avengers are. They’re walking around with weapons and threatening anyone that doesn’t agree with them. And if you can’t see why that’s problematic, I don’t trust you.

2. The Government should not monitor individuals.

All governments monitor individuals and if you think otherwise, then I’m sorry but what fantasy world are you living in? Governments monitoring individuals is, usually, what leads to them catching terrorists before they blow up your local gas station or school. Governments monitoring individuals is an everyday occurrence in the entire fucking world and for due reason when people start threatening to murder world leaders or hate crime minorities. The Avengers getting monitored by the government is no different than any other civilian but for the crucial factor that the Avengers can and have acted on their threats based on personal disagreements.

3. The Government is corrupt.

This again just shows a blatant ignorance of international law and the United Nations, and, frankly, entitlement. The Accords were never going to give the United States government complete control over the Avengers when the initial problem was that US citizens were parading around with their weapons without any regard to international concerns. Further, even if any government is corrupt the way Hydra infiltrated the US government, the United Nations consists of 193 countries, 117 of them voted for the Accords, all of them would still have a say in what the Avengers do. Tell me, and use your logic please, how it could possibly be easier to corrupt 193 countries, the entire fucking world, than it is to corrupt 6 weaponized individuals all US citizens?

4. General Ross is known as the bad guy and therefore the Accords are bad because he supports them.

Correlation not causation. The Accords were written by at least 117 countries and amended by all 193 of them. Under international law, every country is allowed their representatives of their choosing, but all representatives must be present for something to actually pass. Meaning, yes, the US representative was a corrupt piece of shit, but there’s at least 192 other representatives (some countries choose to have multiple), thus, again, we go back to the argument of, is it easier to corrupt one individual or a whole board?

5. The Avengers would never have been deployed because countries have opposing decisions.

The Avengers were never supposed to be deployed for Earth-level threats anyhow. “So when the world needed them, they could fight the battles we never could” ~ Nick Fury. Key words: when needed, never could. In other words, the Avengers were not supposed to be constantly on missions, only when there was a need for a team of heroes. Further, they were not meant to fight the everyday bad guy, not terrorists or thieves or murderers, the Avengers were made to fight Extinction-level threats. It takes years of training to learn how to correctly, legally, and safely catch the everyday bad guy. None of the Avengers have gone through that training, and them being involved in such missions has canonically resulted in mass casualties. And when it comes to extinction-level threats, darling, not a single human is going to go, “well, I want the planet I’m living in to explode”, therefore, the Avengers will be deployed for those, aka: their correct purpose.

6. Some countries can’t fight their bad guys.

If you cannot see how this is blatant American Imperialism propaganda, I don’t know what to tell you. It’s true, some countries struggle with crime rates, but it is still their right as a country to decide when and how to ask for help rather than have it be imposed on them. Are you also walking around saying “we had to send our military to Afghanistan and blow up their lands, they couldn’t deal with their bad people” or “we had to take over Iraq, Syria, etc”? It’s not the place of the US government to choose how other countries deal with crimes, and it is most certainly not the place of 6 weaponized (white) US citizens to do so either.

7. Some countries are corrupt and choose not to fight their bad guys.

This effectively makes the Avengers political weapons (one of the valid concerns of the Accords), and proves exactly why the Accords are needed. Are the Avengers supposed to assassinate any world leader they deem corrupt? Because that is what it would be, assassinations. How is that not abuse of their powers? How can it be justified in any shape, way, or form? What would make them different than dictators then? “If you don’t agree with me, I’ll assassinate you and replace you with someone who does”.

8. The Superhuman Registration Act is a bad thing in the comics and the Accords are in its place.

True, the Registration Act was a terrible thing, but it comes under very different circumstances in the comics than it does in the MCU, and to ignore the political climate and story of the MCU is downright idiotic. The MCU is an entirely different story and universe than Earth-616. Why are you watching the MCU if you just want the story of the comics? Go read the comics then. This screams either one of two:

A. A lack of cognitive abilities.

B. A child throwing a fit because they didn’t get exactly what they want.

And honestly, neither is a cute look.

Did you also throw a tantrum when they replaced an orientalist racist depiction of a Chinese villain by a white man in Iron Man 3?

9. Captain America is an amazing hero in the comics.

Again, in the comics. Not the MCU. In the comics, Peter Parker’s best friend is Harry Osborn, not Ned Leeds. In the comics, Pepper Potts marries Happy Hogan, not Tony Stark. In the comics, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff are Romani-Jewish, not white. In the comics, Alexei Shostakov is Natasha Romanoff’s husband, not father. Catch my drift? The comics are different, and MCU Steve Rogers is not 616 Steve Rogers. To pretend otherwise is boring.

10. Team Cap is hot.

Honestly, the blond blue eyed look isn’t my cup of tea, but I get it. What I don’t understand is why you have to justify all their actions to love them? I adore Tywin Lannister. I’m not walking around justifying him wiping out entire families and ordering the sexual assault and murder of Elia Martell and her children. You can like someone and admit they’ve done some fucked up shit. It’s not that deep. It’s deep when you try to say they’re in the right for the fucked up shit they did.

11. Bucky.

Honestly, Bucky is his own whole complex post and if I get into it here, this post will last for days, so I won’t. I will admit that Tony was in the wrong for some parts of that, but even yet, Rogers was entirely in the wrong for everything he did “for” Bucky, and this whole dilemma could have been prevented if Rogers had for one singular second thought to go about everything the legal way. (I could make another post if I’m encouraged enough)

12. The Avengers are the good guys.

That’s the Doylist explanation. We as outside viewers know that. The Watsonian explanation is entirely different. World governments in the MCU don’t know for sure the Avengers are the good guys. What they know is that the Avengers have been involved in the complete destruction of government buildings, intelligence buildings, an entire country, and more. Do you know what we call people who blow up governmental and intelligence buildings full of innocent civilians here? Terrorists.

13. The Accords.

This isn’t an argument I’ve seen per se, but more of a general misunderstanding I’ve seen on both sides. It doesn’t surprise me though. Civil War shows one single thin file as being the entire Accords, that Rogers flips through quickly and decides is a mistake. There is absolutely no way that is correct for the United Nations. UN documents can be thousands of pages long, they’re written by legal professionals from at least tens of countries, they cover every possible scenario and they’re open to amendments. They’re worked on so long that it takes years for them to be passed. They’re filled with so much legal jargon that one singular flick will result in you understanding nothing. More likely though, Rogers was given a brief introduction and summary. Thus, him immediately deciding he doesn’t like it without even knowing what it is, gives the same energy as a child throwing a tantrum for being forced to try kiwis for the first time.

It is possible that I’ve forgotten some arguments, I’m only human after all, but if you, (respectfully. I will not be answering anyone who throws slurs or hate speech), have any, I don’t mind dissecting them.

Lastly, to wrap up my post, all I have to say is one question. Is it possible that the whole world, that at least 5-6 billion people, are wrong, and Steve Rogers is correct?

[brandyllyn]

Pedro Pascal Characters’ Tac Vests: Rated

Ok. So I blame @beautyagegoodnesssize​ for this. And of course my work-wife @blueeyesatnight​ who dragged me into this non consensually.

8th Jack Daniels

Style: 1 -- Substance: 3(?) -- Sexiness: 1

I actually had to go back and check this is actually a vest and not part of his snowsuit. But yes, that is Jack wearing a vest that exactly matches his snowsuit, only it has snaps instead of a zipper. Can we all agree this is the least sexy Jack looks in the entire movie? Like full-on Burt Reynolds and not in a good way? I have a question on substance because I imagine it has secret hidden tactical gizmos but I can't prove it.

6th (tie) Oberyn Martell

Style: 4 -- Substance: 2 -- Sexiness: 2

Is this a tac vest? I think it’s debatable but since it goes on by tying together on the sides (closer to the back in this case) - I think it counts.

Look at this snakeskin motherfucker. Solid style points for being on theme but loses a point for being terribly unflattering. We never see him take a hit but I have my doubts it would do much to stop stabbing action. Probably the least sexy thing he owns.

6th (tie) Din Djarin

Style: 2 -- Substance: 5 -- Sexiness: 1 Nothing going on here to comment in terms of style. We do see it deflect blaster bolts so while I’m not as into it as I am the beskar, can’t fault its usefulness. Associated with Empire = Bad. Associated with not even sexy parts of the Empire = Very Bad.

5th Veracruz

Style: 3 -- Substance: 4 -- Sexiness: 2

Yeah, surprised me too. Looks like he’s wearing an inflatable tube around his waist which kills any sexiness factor for me. Lots of pockets which I applaud, but they’re all the same size? Why? Not bulletproof and you can’t tell me this dude ain’t getting shot at. But it seems to be doing what he wants it to so...

4th Frankie Morales

Style: 3 :: Substance: 4 :: Sexiness: 3

Without zipties or whatever this is pretty much useless for storage and pockets. It is actively making him look worse but the sheer sexy power of Frankie is enough to overcome most of it. Most of it.

Loses points for being too short to protect his precious tum.

3rd Pero Tovar

Style: 4 -- Substance: 5 -- Sexiness: 2

I’m a sucker for armor. Much like Oberyn this goes over the head and ties on so I’m comfortable categorizing it as a tac vest. This shit can take on desert people and alien monsters. Mix and match of styles but it’s working for him. However, you just know it smells like shit and wet gym socks. That have been left in a closed bucket in the sun. For months.

2nd Javier Peña

Style: 5 -- Substance: 3 -- Sexiness: 5

Look, I’m as surprised as anyone that Javi is runner up. But this is science and data. And much like Frankie this boy is covering like 60% of his tender areas. Why you no protect your tummy Javi? I was forced to take the points off for it not protecting what we need it to protect and only having the one weirdly angled gun pocket. Otherwise, perfect.

1st Marcus Moreno

Style: 5 -- Substance: 4 -- Sexiness: 5

This is just a perfect example of a tac vest. Sleek, stylish, suits him to a T. Actually covers enough of him that I’m not worried about his safety. Lots of things to hook my fingers into when things get exciting. Only loses a point for leaving the sides more exposed than I’m comfortable with.

While I agree that Max Phillips would claim his vest is a tac vest I do not buy this argument and thus neither him nor Maxwell Lord are included.

[notepadsandtealeaves]

Damian Wayne x GN!Reader in: So Kiss Me~, Pt. 2

12 Days of Batmas || Day 9—Kissing Under the Mistletoe

↞ previous: movie nights with the (bat)boys™ pt. 2 || watching holiday specials

|| ao3 version | 12 days m.list | batboys tag | main blog ||

|| dick day 9 | jay day 9 | tim day 9 || ((links pending))

He’s never been one for overly involved displays of affection in public settings, but in this case he’s willing to make an exception.

*places a cute lil kiss on your forehead* Yes, good.

↠ Requested By: No one, technically ((but given the fact that I’ve been working on this series since last year I’m sure you’re all ready for me to wrap this ish up lmao)) ↠ Reader Gender: Neutral ↠ Content Type: SFW fluff ((but my blog’s 18+ so if minors want to consume my sfw stuff while still respecting my wishes of them staying out of this space, they can head over to my AO3)) ↠ CWs/TWs: None ↠ Betas? Nah, we don’t do that here. ↠ Total WC: 500~

Post’s title comes from this bop ((nobody look at me, I’m mentally regressing to a time before the shit show that is the 2020s lmao))

Another set of HCs, but this time around they’re even shorter lmao. Sorry about it folks, but my brain’s already checked out of this shitshow of a year if I’m being completely honest lol. But begardless of the length, I hope you all can still get a bit of enjoyment out of this!

Headcanon || WC: 500~

🌟 Like I said back in Day Five’s HC, Damian’s not overly fond of most holiday traditions.

He finds most of them to be pointless and silly, but they’re harmless enough so he’s willing to keep his complaints (mostly) to himself and indulge those closest to him.

The one exception to his mild disdain is mistletoe.

He’s a romantic at heart, one with more classical leanings, so it would follow that he would enjoy this.

He finds the tradition to be rather quaint, a bygone quirk that has managed to age well—well, providing that you’re in decent company.

He’s another one that’ll go actively out of his way to make sure that nobody’s abusing the powers of the mistletoe lol. He doesn’t even have to approach the offender, not when he’s got his patented Death Stare™. One look at those cold, jade orbs and a mf knows that if they don’t step off the next set of eyes they gon’ see will belong to God lmfao.

🌟 He’s never been one for overly involved displays of affection in public settings, but in this case he’s willing to make an exception.

Usually he likes to keep his private affairs private. His reasoning for this is twofold.

Firstly there’s the safety factor. Between his past and the life that he currently leads he has learned to air on the side of caution. He’s not ashamed of you or your relationship—in fact if it were possible he would gladly let the whole of the known universe know that he is yours—but he’d rather that nobody focuses on you for too long.

There is safety in anonymity. The less the public knows about you, the better. Sure, people are aware of the fact that he has a significant other, but the details are sketchy at best. He took great pains to keep you hidden away, but once that was no longer a viable option he made sure to curtail any and all specifics about you and your relationship.

His efforts to keep eyes off of you means that other than holding your hand or wrapping an arm around you, he’s rarely openly affectionate with you. This has led to many people accusing him of being cold with you, but honestly they can fuck right off with that.

Just because he’s not performative, doesn’t mean he’s not showing he cares. You can see it in every lingering gaze, can hear it in the way his voice turns into this soft and gentle thing whenever he talks to you, can feel it in the way his grip on you will tighten just so in a reminder that he’s there.

His love manifests itself in a million little ways that nobody but you will ever be privy to, but when he pull you to him under that sprig—large, warm hands cradling you like you’re the most precious thing to have ever graced this planet—and cuddles his lips against yours it’s a showing that nobody can deny…

🌟 Up Next: Day Ten || Holiday Party ((check back tomorrow!!))

Taglist is open, but to 18+ users only.

© notepadsandtealeaves, 2021 || Please do not repost, translate, or otherwise alter or distribute my works without my express permission. And for the love of god keep it away from Youtube and TikTok lol...

[inkskinned]

okay :)

i had gotten a dog, so the dog was a factor. dogs have to be the right size and shape. under 50 pounds. please see our restricted breeds list. he sleeps most of the time, a well-behaved menace. he's big because i'm single in the city and it gets dark here early - but i've had to trade that sense of safety for scrambling-for-housing.

cheerfully i report that i live in a hole! because humor, like vicks, soothes what-is-horrible. the windows are painted shut. the fridge sometimes just shuts off for no reason. there are only 2 working stove burners and they're not in the front. for some reason, rust is everywhere, no matter whether it makes sense for an area to rust. the door in the bathroom has a very badly-patched hole; white-yellow stark against the bad cherry vinyl.

okay. it's what i can afford. the pamphlet had said new england nepenthes(TM) apartments: a beautiful place to grow up. and yes, it's ground-floor, which isn't ideal. so we (my dog and i) have successfully secured the door with one of those big prybars that are 50 dollars. also i usually balance something heavy near any possible entrances - i want to be awake when they fall. you know, during the break-in.

for the first four months, i didn't notice. there had been so much to do in those four months. okay, our (okay, my, he doesn't pay rent) kitchen is literally four tiles wide and undivided from the other spaces. the dining room and office are also the living room (which is. also the kitchen). my bed is too big for the bedroom; i can either have it weirdly against the wall with a door (horrible) or i have to give up opening my closet all the way.

my mama raised me on martha stewart, so. it's quiet here, i love the location, and even if it's rundown, i can make it work. i buy peel-and-stick reusable wallpaper that has long lines to make it look like everything is taller. i move the plants around, trying to get them into the most sun. i put up shelves and hope that i'll have enough spackle later to cover up the worst mistakes i've made with the nail gun. and hey! the location. like the pamphlet said: a beautiful place to grow up.

it's in the middle of putting up our new wrought iron plant holders. i have adhd, time when i'm focused can pass ephemerally. oh shit, i realize. it's 9:30 in the evening. i am probably keeping people awake with all the drilling. fuck. my bad. i tilt an ear upstairs, waiting. nobody slamming the floor with a broom. nobody shouting. maybe quiet hours are at 10 and they're just waiting.

the holders are real wrought iron because my plants weigh a lot. i press the last one above my head, against the pilot holes. now i feel bad about the time. i should just wrap up this last one i'm attaching and then go to bed. if i wait, i'll forget in the morning. distracted, i look down to where i've left the screws on my desk (which is often also my dining room table and art station), and, as if the wall spat the screws out, the iron slips out of my grasp and cracks me hard against my nose before tumbling down to the floor.

fuck.

one of the worst things about living alone is when you get hurt. sparks jump in front of me. my eyes start tearing. fuck! i've broken my nose before, this feels like that. fuck fuck fuck. maybe it's not broken?

i have to hobble off the stool, trying to hold my nose while also not wanting to touch it. i do the first adult thing i can think of - call a bigger adult.

hey mama. i pant into the phone. no worries but how do i know if i broke my nose?

30 minutes later, we have decided it hurt but if i don't have a black eye, the nose is fine. it was already out of alignment anyway. i say the whole sordid story to her, and then i add i just feel bad i lost track of time, it's weird none of my neighbors complained.

as soon as i hang up, i hear the upstairs neighbors, with their quiet feet and soft, muffled voices. i hear people to the right and left of me. i hear them murmuring to each other. someone watches bad tv, i can hear the reality show music-to-dramatic-shouting.

i put ice on my face. i google nose break again just to be sure. i ask my dog if he thinks i look ugly, he responds by putting his three paws into the air and asking for a tummy rub. as part of our nightly ritual, i examine and worry about his amputation, even though it's completely healed up. i still do the physical therapy exercises with him. just in case. just to keep him warmed up.

later in bed, i am reaching to turn on gentle rain for white noise before i realize - huh. i think this evening is the first time i've ever actually heard anyone.

you ever have a thought that gets inside of you? i mean, yeah. of course you do, i guess all thoughts are inside you. but once in a while, don't you get one of those haha funny! thoughts that turns. bad. you know, when you've watched a scary movie and close the laptop and think it's not likely there's a killer in there, but have i ever really checked that deeply in the kitchen sink?

i was always the type to check. just in case. to put my mind at ease.

the thought is there when i wake up, like i'd had it for a while: i never actually see anyone coming and going.

the apartment complex is 12 buildings, staggered like spokes on a clock. i live in 6, the furthest from the road. we are spaced unevenly, but when i first saw it, i thought huh. what a nice quiet community. the grass is green and there are never any leaves. i've never seen someone come mow it. there are cars here, plenty. when was the last time you counted which cars are in the communal lot?

isn't it weird how you're always able to snag that one last spot?

i keep weird hours, is all. i laugh at the thought of it. there was a post on tumblr once that asked how long would it take you to realize the building was entirely empty. but it can't be empty, right? at night, when i can see into other people's apartments, i catch sight of the thousand ways other people decorate. blue LED lights or tapestries or nice curtains. so it is silly to think about that post, when i know other people are here. this is someone else's home.

i mention it to my sister when she comes over to help me move the couch purposelessly around before we both decide it was better where i'd originally had it. nobody, like, lives here. i say. it's weird. i've been here for five months, and i don't see anyone.

she shrugs. maybe it's too expensive for the area, or not really advertised enough. maybe most people my age keeping my hours don't like to live in apartments. who is to say.

after that, the shadows start. my dog and i go on our nighttime walk, and then i see the apartments come to life. the flickered silhouettes of them. the flash of tvs and laptops. the gauzy shape of others just-far-enough i can't quite make out their form. they walk away from the windows if i get close enough.

they must not know how to do it right. every third day, the animations repeat.

oh, i get it. i think. i'm living in a horror novel.

i'm cuban. my culture can be superstitious, yes. but it also means that i have been taught to keep my head on a swivel. we do not fuck with this shit. we do not oujia board the spirits for fun. we do not make a joke about the killer. we do not ever tempt fate, her ears are open-and-listening.

my lease is for one year. it's been five months, that's not that much longer. i can't afford to break it (or to move) at the moment. and, again, the dog factor. and i do love the location.

but once it is obvious, it is so obvious. i try to pay my rent by check just the once, but when i swing by the rental office, the whole floor of the building is dark. there is no cheerful team of realtors, only a single dark panel over door. due to unexpected circumstances, we are currently operating elsewhere. i go online and pay there instead.

no one here hosts parties. the mail truck never seems to come to any of the other buildings. my dog doesn't like going near certain places. i discover a 5-foot radius where my phone will always hang up on the person i'm talking with, even if i have service.

i watch carefully, while also pretending i am not watching. i check my mail, waiting for the electricity bill that never comes calling. in the front hall, amazon packages come with names too smudged for me to ever quite read. sanchez, maybe. then, to the same apartment a week later: tawny reed. it's different again the third week. i stop looking, feeling like i'm prying.

i mention how quiet it is here during the day to one of my bosses, and then the upstairs neighbor appears. her alarm goes off when mine does, almost like an echo. when i change my song, it takes her a few days to keep up. i had said something offhand about how i'm the only one with a dog. then, upstairs - the little patter of dog paws.

at night, i start seeing people on my dog walking route. they pace, insubstantial, something black at the end of their lead. their waving arms always bent at right angles, like they are figuring out how to navigate being 3D. i always wave back, cheerfully. i keep my headphones in. they are over there in the mist that-does-not-belong, and i am over here in the light-that-flickers-on-and-off. i do not need to make a scene about this. there are many reasons people might dissolve into nothing. it is not any of my business.

the upstairs girl smokes. i see her with her (pomeranian? poodle?) little rat-rabbit-dog (? dog in the loosest sense of the word), her legs up on the stoop. she always goes inside when i show up to our building, after giving me one of those straight side-to-side waves. i can never quite make out her features. she won't be there when i leave for our walk, but she'll be there when we get back, no matter how long my walk takes. she watching me, her eyes dark. she sits there, smoking, wearing galaxy-print leggings. the little dog running near her. (sometimes the dog is not there, until i look again, and it is. i must have just missed it, or maybe it was hiding under one of the trim little bushes. not my concern, whatever it is.)

i know she smokes, i can see the red glow and smell it on the air after. but there are no places to dispose of the butts and she never leaves behind any litter. so she must be careful with them, which i appreciate. cigarettes are bad for the environment. i am in no place to judge someone for their vices anyway. during the day, sometimes i hear her dog (a corgi? a terrier?) whine, this thin, reedy sound, like someone gasping for breath. like someone buried alive. a howl like dread. sometimes it even sounds human; garbled and anxious, bow wow wow warping into help help help.

but i'm sure my dog whines when i'm gone, too. i will not report her for this, because it's not her fault. and i don't want to get her in trouble. after all, we all love our dogs so much.

when i write a request for maintenance to help me with ants, i get a bounce-back error. three days later, we wake up, and a sea of dead ant bodies litter my carpet. an inch deep, they float on each other's backs, a black blanket.

i vacuum them up. i feel bad about their little ant souls. i tell them i am sorry. i will light a candle. i tell myself - this is no different than calling an exterminator. to remove yourself from the process is an act of careful self-duplicity - we would have been killing the ants another way, and just anticipating someone else handle the transaction.

how do i call someone about this? i cannot break the lease because i think the others here are ghosts. or my other theory: maybe the whole thing is a carnivore, and i am in the belly, already beginning to rot.

we cannot afford to move, it's only been six months. the heat and the lights stay on. i never invite others over. it feels wrong. we are alone here, the way we should be alone here. this is our place, for me and my dog and the rest of us. we are supposed to be here. we are supposed to live here, in this little hole-in-the-ground apartment.

we are not under any form of threat, anyway. i light candles and say the prayers our father taught us. we keep our distance from the mist ones, and adopt their way of waving, side-to-side. it is starting to look less like a wave and more like beckoning. come on, come on. something keeps us locking our door. we put up more wrought iron, even after it hit us so hard-on-the-face, which wasn't fun, and was very mean. maybe we should take it down - except i know it was so much effort to put up. oh the tub leaks and the freezer has begin to lock while it's shut. our boss says we look pale these days. we blame insomnia. it's just that it's so quiet here, sometimes. we like to make ourselves go very-quiet too, like a mouse. and then we turn that horrible white-noise machine on. we are so strange; we push salt down the drains and into our doorways, which is a waste and a bad thing to do. we do not look into the electricity problem. we fix the lightbulb without complaint. we do not send in new notices to maintenance, even when the rust on the walls starts running. we get fabulosa and scrub everything. we do not make a fuss. when our neighbors that have-no-jaw open the door for us, we keep our eyes on our dog and say thank you! and make polite small-talk. when they garble their responses let your welcome out, (no throat but the sound's so loud?)-we say haha yeah and scoot by the cold spot. we help others get their groceries out of the car even though the bags smell rotten. we do not use the basement laundry room with the single pale yellow lightbulb, even though it is so friendly and warm and free; we drive elsewhere for that, which might be lazy of me. whenever we leave, we take our dog, even though he would be fine alone, surrounded by the strange creep of rust. we are kind, and not frenzied. isn't that strange? shouldn't we be frenzied? there have been so many odd things here, shouldn't we be reacting? instead we sit in our apartment and say, casually - oh, i'm fine. how fun! how interesting. are we waiting for something? if we're waiting, which of us is hiding and which of us is hunting? we count our days on the lease - six months left! we can grow to enjoy it here. it has its quirks, but hey. sometimes staying for the location is reason-enough.

and we love it here. it's a beautiful place to grow up.

i've seen enough horror movies starring upper-middle-income white families stuck in spacious haunted mansions. gimme stories about millennials stuck in haunted studio apartments. consider the realism:

why is this protagonist staying in an obviously haunted building despite the glaring warning signs? because a week at a motel would send them spiraling into credit card debt, they'll take their chances with the vengeful spirits. why did they chose this apartment complex to begin with, despite the many many unexplained mysterious deaths that show up on the first page of a google search? hon some of us don't have the credit score to move away from high (paranormal) crime areas. how could i be so careless as to sign a soul-binding contract with a demonic entity? bitch they're called LANDLORDS

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (4/?)

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Description: James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?

Word Count: 2.6k words

Warning: 18+ (discussion of assault, nervous breakdown, anxiety attack, just don’t read this whole series if you are a kid)

You woke up to a night of dreamless sleep like you always did, but then the events of the previous night hit you. You wished it was a dream, but one look in the mirror and a bruise running along your cheek was enough to confirm. Not only that, but you remembered asking your boss to stay over, but you didn't expect him to. The blanket on your living room’s couch and the bowl of fruits and a glass of juice situated out for you on the kitchen counter proved that he did stay.

And then the reality sunk in, you have a decision to make. You can either go to the cops or let that guy get away. The latter sounded not so great, but you knew going to the cops isn't going to be great either. You've seen enough detective shows to know that. You've had enough, and you just wanted to forget it. 

What did Mr. Barnes mean when he said you were going to talk about this? Are you supposed to visit him before work? Is he going to come to your place?

You decided to work on your book but ended up not being able to concentrate, so you started watching a show and fell asleep while watching it. Maybe some Chinese take-out could make you feel better. It didn't. Nothing made you feel better. You wished you had some friends in this new town because you didn't want to burden your work friends. 

After a horrible day of trying to cope, when you finally made your way to the club, you noticed the security was increased. Usually, security guards weren't present inside the club, but today it was different. Everyone was so vigilant and you felt a little safer. If you didn't know any better, you'd think Mr. Barnes did it for you, but again he would have done the same thing for any other employee. 

"Boss wants to see you," Pietro told you. You were about to head for Clint's office when the blond twin spoke again and pointed his finger towards the stairs." The boss."

Okay, well maybe playing naïve couldn't avoid this meeting, so you slowly walked upstairs. How bad could this go, it's not like he saw you in your most vulnerable state? Oh, wait, he did. 

You knocked on his office door, wanting to rip the band-aid and get over with it. 

"Hey," you said, faking a smile. "Thanks for getting me home last night and for breakfast today. I didn't even know I had fruits and juice at home because let's be honest, I'm a toast and coffee kinda gal."

Mr. Barnes didn't say anything, he just looked at you as if you were a confusing puzzle that he couldn't solve. He raised a hand towards the seat in front of him and you took it, nervously fiddling with your fingers under the table.

“You do that a lot, you know?” he asked, it wasn't a question, it was merely an observation.

“What?”

“Deflecting a serious issue by using a joke.” Mr. Barnes observed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What are you? My therapist?”

He arched an eyebrow, indicating that you were literally doing the thing he pointed out. 

"Yeah, well, it's called having a healthy coping mechanism. You should try getting one, brooding is only gonna help you this far."

 "It's not healthy if you're not dealing with it," Mr. Barnes pointed out. 

You scoffed in incredulity and you felt very, very attacked. 

What is it? Attacking y/n day?, you thought. 

"Anyway, I think I want to press charges," You changed the subject to a more serious conversation to avoid him calling you out on your bullshit. 

"Okay, I understand.” 

“You do?” You asked, bewilderment clearly written all over your face. “I mean, letting an employee go to the cops is not gonna be great for your club's reputation and yours too. And, you know, considering the shady business, you do-” 

"What exactly do you think we do?" He asked.

And that's when it hit you, you didn't know what he did or mob bosses do in general. All your knowledge about it came from movies and Wattpad, both of them are not a great place to gain knowledge.

“What exactly do you do?” you pondered.

 He obviously wasn't expecting you to directly ask him, nobody has directly asked him or even made it known that they are aware of his work. It was kind of like a silent pact that everybody signed for, everybody except you, apparently. 

“Um, you know, I've been working for almost 2 weeks here now, and I haven't seen any drugs around here, so it's obviously not drugs. You don't look like the sex trafficking types-”

 "Jesus, woman!" He exclaimed, offended by your assumptions. 

"Then just tell me what you do."

You expected him to tell you something, but he just kept looking at you with a face void of emotions.

 "Fine, don't tell me," you mumbled, raising your hands dramatically in defeat. 

“So you don't mind me ruining your reputation by going to the cops?” 

“I told you I don't care. Your safety is my utmost priority,” your face might have given away the surprise you felt because he quickly backpedaled. ”I mean, the safety of my employees.”

“The safety of my employees is my utmost priority,” he told you, providing an extra emphasis on the word employees. “Anyway, one of my people would take you to the police station near-"

You cut him off immediately. 

"No, you can't tell anyone else. I don't want everyone hopping on the pity train. I'm already ashamed that you know about it," you pleaded but your voice was firm, telling him that this was not up for a discussion.

At this, his eyes and features softened. Bucky didn't want you to feel guilty or ashamed for somebody else's actions, but clearly, you did. 

"Okay, then I can take you. You just had to explain to the officer last night’s events, and they'll ask you to recognize Rumlow and then we can-"

Mr. Barnes’s voice faded into the background when it finally hit you.

"You know what, I changed my mind. It's too much. I don't want to press charges anymore. I didn't think this through," you backtracked. You did think this through, but now all the factors were adding up in your brain. You'd have to explain the details to a cop who is probably going to be another man and a stranger, and then they'd ask you to identify the guy. You didn't think you had it in you to face him. At least not now. 

He interpreted your thought process and promptly changed the topic. "Okay, we can work with whatever you want, and at least let Peter escort you home after work."

"What? No!” You quickly declined.

“It's for your own safety,” Bucky tried to reason. He wasn't letting you get off this easily.

 “I'm a strong, independent woman and I'm not scared of anything.” 

That was a lie. You were scared of many things like heights, dark, spiders, confrontation and the list goes on and on. 

You remembered all the lectures your mom gave you telling you that women should be scared because men are monsters, and you'd lose your honor if you are reckless and some other patriarchal crap that you didn't pay attention to. But you weren't scared, you were just always careful. You'd always put the keys between your knuckles when you went home alone. In your previous job, you used to laugh it off whenever your coworkers made a sexist joke. You'd ignore the subtle shoulder touch that your previous boss did. You told yourself that this is what it takes to make it. If you were to run away every time someone eyed you in a wrong way, then you'd spend your whole life running. 

Women usually shrug this behavior off as it is what is, but the truth is it shouldn't be like this.

“Please, I insist.” 

“I'm very capable of taking care of myself. Just because one bad incident happened doesn't mean I'll fucking break!” You stated, your voice louder than your regular voice to get across your point.

That was also a lie. You were walking on a thin line and you were ignoring your emotions. You were one outburst away from a breakdown, and you just couldn't bring yourself to feel anything. 

Mr. Barnes tried to call your name, but you were already bolting out of his office. 

You needed a drink. No, fuck that. You needed multiple drinks. It wasn't exactly wise to get drunk during work, but it couldn't get any shittier than this, right?, you thought.

Right?

 Wrong. It could get way shittier than this. Now it was almost midnight, you were kind of tipsy, and you could see two Mr. Stark, your regular customer, in front of you. 

Did he have a twin? Is he and his twin brother one of those identical twins that dress up the same? Because that's what it looked like.

 “Earth to y/n," Mr. Stark said, or was it his twin? It was getting hard to keep track anymore.

 And that's when you noticed. 

“Holy, Shit. You're triplets, Mr. Stark," you announced. 

"Okay, kid, close my tab.”

“Hey, y/n. Are you okay?” Peter asked, noticing the concerned look Mr. Stark gave him before leaving.

“Yes, I'm fine. Absolutely fine.”

***

Turns out you were not fine. You've been pretty much hammered for the past week, and you could barely get a sentence out without giggling or slurring. Your colleagues took notice of your state and whenever someone pointed it out, you'd just shrug it off as a bad day or a bad week. There was no concept of time in your drunk state.

You couldn't concentrate on your book, you could barely look at someone without squinting, and you've been eating takeout and leftovers for the past few days. 

James would have fired if someone working under him was this irresponsible, but he knew your reasons. He knew you clearly weren't coping with the trauma well. Your work ethics were shoved down the trash that even Clint asked why you weren't fired yet.

Bucky didn't want to talk to you, he thought that maybe giving you some space would do you good, but clearly it wasn't working. Usually, the mob boss didn't interfere in the affairs of his employees, it was Clint's job, but when you smashed a bottle on the head of a customer, he had to interject.

“I TOLD THIS FUCKER NO!” you yelled, Peter’s hand around your middle from behind. Another empty beer bottle was in your hand, ready to be smashed across the face of the drunk dude in front of you.

Pietro and Wanda were enjoying the show. Peter, being the peace lover he is, held you back when you smashed a bottle across a drunk customer's face. Even though Peter was younger than you, he was stronger, and he was not only holding you back but also himself. He didn't want to cause a scene and that is why he was mulling comforting words in your ear like, he's not worth it, you're gonna kill this guy.

Damn right I am, you thought.

It was ironic because everyone in that club had killed someone except you.

When Bucky walked into the room, the drunk guy turned towards him and pointed at you. ”You are hiring crazy bitches now? Just called her baby girl and she went psycho!!!”

Bucky didn't understand what was happening. He told the security guards to take that man outside his club and he walked towards you. He firmly yet gently took a hold of your left arm, signaling Peter to let go of you. Without a word, he started walking in the direction of his office, dragging you along with him.

Once near his office, he lightly yanked your hand and shoved you inside, making you stand in front of him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he inquired, having had enough of your incompetence.

You were seething with rage. "Wrong with me? I told him no, but he didn't listen."

Bucky stepped forward, his anger dissipating into sympathy. " I know, he mumbled, "and I'm so-"

 "No, you don't know!" you yelled, body trembling and tears welling up in your eyes. "I told him no multiple times, I even tried to push him off me, but he just kept coming back."

Bucky's eyes furrowed in confusion. He didn't understand your words, the drunk customer didn't touch you. And that's when he realized, you weren't talking about the drunk customer. He cognized that the drunk guy purely triggered something that you've been suppressing for days now. Bucky was aware that you needed to get it out of your system to cope healthily.

“I told him no, you know? But he just wouldn't listen,” you stated, trying to convince yourself that you didn't lead him on. ”And he was so…. so strong and… and then he hit me and everything just went blur, I couldn't see but... but I could still feel him with me.”

Not realizing that you were not in that place anymore, you wrapped your hand around yourself to seek some sort of protection and comfort, bottom lip quivering, the welled up traitorous tears were streaming down your face and all you could think about was that night. 

“I… I can't get his touch out,” you stammered. ” I shower, multiple times a day, but I still can't get his touch out.”

With that, you broke down completely and shattered on the floor, sobbing ferociously. Your knees ached because of the position you were situated in, but the emotional pain was enough to overshadow the physical one.

For once in his lifetime, Bucky did not know what to do. Cautiously, he made his way towards you and knelt down in front of you. He did not know what to say or do to make you feel better.

You launched your body towards him, snaking your arms around his shoulder to settle on his neck as if he was the only thing grounding you. You lurched onto him like he was your anchor, and maybe he was. It took a minute for Bucky to register your actions, and when he did, he wrapped his arms around your middle and closed the minuscule distance separating you.

He surprised himself with the way one of his hands automatically reached for your hair and whispered words of comfort in your ear. He caught you as you crumpled physically and emotionally. 

”You're going to be okay, doll,” he whispered and kissed your temple with sincerity. ”I will make sure of that.”

The second part was barely audible, it wasn't meant for you, it was a promise he made to himself.

Bucky held you tightly yet gently while you sobbed on his shoulder.

 He didn't know how long he held you, it felt like an eternity to him with the way he could feel the guilt and rage inside him. When you passed out in his arms, he gently placed you on one of the comfortable couches in his office and draped a blanket around you that he had for when he would work late at night.

An office chair might not be the most ideal place to spend the night in, but it didn't matter to Bucky. All that mattered was you.

TAGS: @bananapipedreams​ @akkinda10​  @rivers-rambles21​  @emmabarnes​@goodcleanfunsis​ @valsworldofcreativity​

[scribbly-dee]

Inspired by this post

I adore corruption arcs, so I graded how well the non-archivist characters would have damned humanity if they had been the archivist.

Sasha James 11/10, would be an ideal archivist, this plus her height is probably why the stranger monster targeted her before she could peak

I have a soft spot for any au that knows Sasha has never seen a brain cell in her life and that any unhinged!Sasha au is really just a regular Sasha au. Picture it with me. Sasha and Jon have parallel archivist tracks, until Sasha (my beloved show off) decides: you know what would make me more efficient at snooping? Becoming a Human Google. And things accelerate. The Web doesn't even need to bother with subtly magic lighters, it slaps all 14 marks on her at once by pulling up next to Sasha in a windowless van with "free secrets 👍" written on the side.

After the Unknowing, Sasha takes over the institute from Elias instead of Martin and Peter. With Tim dead, Jon in a coma, Martin lonely-snatched, Melanie compulsively homicidal, Daisy in the coffin, and Basira on autopilot, she quickly bonds with Rosie, the ultimate nosiness enabler. Sasha is a fully marked archivist for a good long while, but doesn't start the apocalypse right away because she's eager to read ALL the ominous notes Elias left, so the watcher's crown statement is in her to-be-read pile. When the apocalypse starts (Rosie: "Hey, Sasha, I just read something extra fucked up that Elias wrote, wanna see?" Sasha: "God yes."), she books it to become the pupil with Rosie as her anchor. Mayhapse an anchor-archivist polycule with Archivist Jon and Martin? Mayhapse Jon is just a normal eye avatar here and deeply invested in all of Sasha's eyepocalypse statements, so it's Sasha and her plus-three? Mayhapse it's a race across the eyepocalypse wasteland between Archivist Sasha and Archivist Jon to usurp Jonah and become the pupil?

Tim Stoker 2/10 dude's here for a good time, not a long time

The only way I see this working is if Elias disguises not-stranger clues as circus related so Tim is motivated to investigate. Otherwise, his archival assistants are way more curious than him and disobey his direct orders to 🍹chill🏝. Jon, Sasha, and Martin inadvertently bring marks home to him like cats bring home dead birds. He asserts his agency when he decides the best course of action? Actually? Just blow up the archives. This unfortunately puts him in a false sense of security, and Elias makes him read the watcher's crown statement by cat fishing him on grindr and sending the ritual as a dm mid conversation.

Daisy Tonner - 9/10 archivist, would have started doomsday before she was at the archivist job long enough to use her PTO

Daisy already had a lot of experience hunting down fear-entity-related people in sectioned cases, which means she possibly canonically already has all the marks from just hunting avatars who use their powers in self defense. The reason she lost one point is because she's too much of a jock to read, only nerds are culpable to watcher crown statements, so this would be the only delay but oh what a delay it will be.

Melanie King - 7/10 archivist, points awarded for achieving her breakthroughs by smashing her head against a wall until she literally breaks through, points deducted for doing so in full clown makeup.

If Jon got a handful of marks by just asking anoying questions in the same room as an avatar, imagine how much faster Melanie would get marks by bringing her trademark Chaotic Brat personality on fear entity investigations. The apocalypse would have started in like two seasons: one season to hire her off the streets and establish shakey, complex relationships with her new assistants (Jon and Sasha put in the time with the institute but were passed over on this promotion for some random YouTuber (plus they're tighter with Tim and Martin, so proletarian solidarity against the boss)).

Then a second season to stab every mark and get stabbed in return. Melanie would blitz through all 14 marks because what precious little impulse control she starts with is slowly replaced with slaughter juice. One fun moral ambiguity to explore could be if Melanie tries to use her new, dangerous Eye/Slaughter powers to revive her reputation and platform in the supernatural community now that she can, ya know, identify supernatural things for the first time ever. Does she acknowledge her entire career up to her hospital episode apparently only investigated fake sightings? A better question to ask is whether Basira, Tim, and Jon ever let her live down how Ghost Hunt UK's professional dignity was contingent on the legitimacy of her sCiEnTiFiC gHoSt eQuIpMeNt in those episodes, so the temperature spikes set to dramatic music were well and truly just temperature spikes and dramatic music. Sasha found a clip of that music playing as Melanie narrates "it's a message... from the other side..." and made it as her text tone.

Also, it would be hilarious if Melanie tried to kill Jonah on sight in the panopticon, once again botched assassination attempt number 1,963,538, and then Jon quietly snuck in to finish the job on his first try just like in canon.

Jon: "What, like it's hard?"

Basira Hussain 3/10 archivist, her eye alignment manifests as office gossip, like a normal person

Basira has the most formidable super power of all: the power to nope tf out of any conversation or plan she wants. She therefore would probably take 10x longer to start the apocalypse than any other archivist because her fatal flaw is refusal to directly engage with a lot of personally difficult things (like the slaughter bullet surgery she organized, Daisy In General, etc). The marks will be slow going if she resists putting her safety on the line or invests time in making good plans (which is smart, but unhelpful for dooming humanity). She would for sure still get marked and end the world because once she's convinced of a plan (aka Elias convinces her of a plan), she's ruthlessly efficient. So I'd stay out of her way that last year or two, she marks the entities right back at them.

Martin Blackwood 2/10 archivist, considering a prerequisite for creepy eye avatar staring is the ability to make eye contact.

S1 Archivist Martin would probably dote too much on the employees under him to be hugely susceptible to Elias' isolation-dependant manipulation. Any progress Martin inadvertently achieves toward the watcher's crown goal would have to be contingent on it helping his loved ones, which is perfect fuel for a "corrupted by good intentions" arc. This would be key because Martin has superb bullshit and manipulation detection, making the marks are tricky but not impossible to orchistrate considering Jon can't stay put in a safe corner for 10 minutes and Martin's mother would refuse to stay with him where she's safe from avatar threats.

Imagine the petty drama when Jon and Sasha learn he got the promotion they wanted because he lied on his CV.

Other than that, Martin would be even worse about pit stops on the apocalypse road trip than Jon because his Kill Bill mode would have no off switch. Does Archivist!Martin and his anchor Jon ever reach the panopticon? Eventually, but not until after they lose points for significantly reducing the apocalypse fear quantity. Would Annabelle survive to deliver her cryptic MaCHiNAtIoNs and achieve the Web's goal? Hard No, additional point reduction for neutralizing the multiverse invasion. Points potentially earned back if Martin's Web connection is strong enough to come up with the multiverse invasion plan on his own, though.

Georgie Barker 4/10, as a fearless coward, all the fear she feeds to the entities would be khaki flavored. They'd get their apocalypse, but they probably wouldn't enjoy the meal.

Similar to Basira, Georgie has the super power to Fuck This Shit I'm Out. She would overall be a subpar humanity damning archivist; a major archivist success factor of Jon's is that he has enough affective empathy to be afraid with every statement giver he reads, so when Jon archives a statement, he unintentionally contributes to the fear soup seasoning. Combined with how Georgie doesn't want anything to do with entity drama, so any corruption specific to the watcher's crown would stagnate. Even her casual exposition conversations would go like

Georgie: "I've connected no dots."

Melanie: "you've connected a lot of dots??"

Georgie: "I've connected shit all dots."

The reason she gets one more point than Basira is because Georgie's fatal flaw is the passive observer quality the Eye tried to stoke in Jon. Her level of engagement oscillates between two extremes, impulsive over commitment and judging from a distance. This would probably lead her to geting involved just long enough for her involvement to become irreversible, at which point she would try to cut that shit out of her life after it's trapped her. She'd linger, barricading herself on the margins of this problem as the marks that are targeted at her slowly tally up until boom. Apocalypse is on and she only half understands what's happening.

Georgie would wander around an apocalypse hellscape confused, but vibes and physical health fully intact. Anchor!Melanie would have quite the emotional journey starting with Georgie on that pedestal Melanie placed her, and ending with a slaughter avatar stabbing the person who convinced her to work on her slaughter inclination.

[zak-dar]

I’m little upset, that my trade in Twitter about scp organisations was not popular. Maybe it will be there…

…

I’m not know really much about scp, but this is what I understand about organisations

The SCP Fundation:

- collecting for collecting

- they try to protect, but nobody knows what from what

-“how is killed this &₽%?#& reptile?”

The Chaos Insurgency

- we are offended by the foundation! or not... or yes! ...or not, although...

- on the offended scp - water is carried*

-“to contain objects is, of course, good, but have you ever tried them in battle?”

Doctor Wondertainment

- arrange a fun for you, even if you didn't ask for it (and only he will have fun here)

- Willy Wonka, you're drunk, go to the factory

- NO, not on this factory!

The Factory

- supplies for all sorts of mystical shit are scheduled for millennia ahead

- serious guys, they are not to be trifled with

-"phahahah, you were all nearly killed by a handful of fairies!"

-"what fairies?" - the head of the plant, hiding the corpse

MK&D

- loot triumphs over evil*

- especially if this evil can be sold

- have not been seen in Arkhangelsk*, but they live suspiciously long

- safety comes first, especially your own ass

-"Swiper, no swiping!"

- although they are far from the Hand

Meat Circus (RU)

-"aren't you having fun?" And we really do.

- any bauble of folly will keep rich men jolly

- annoy the Foundation

- the famous Russian savvy turned into an SCP object

Herman Fuller's Circus of the Disquieting

-"we're not with them!"

- the circus has left, the clowns have stayed... and more notes, fires and devastation

- the view function of the Phoenix*

- you don't find the circus, but the circus finds you, if you're looking for a circus

The Serpent's Hand

- humanists before gnashing teeth at the foundation, the Rebels and the GOC

- how poor students are housed in the library

- smarter, more agile and cooler than others

- pacifying ducks-it's so humortous

- they can even get out through your ass

GOC

- for all the good against all the bad

- especially if the good is 108 organizations GOK

- the best content is disposal

Sarkicism

- a typical bourgeois cult

- they raised a void in the house, put their son on a stake, built him like a monster tree*

- not a cult writes a book, but a book writes a cult

BONUS: The Daevites

- they are not, but they are

- the same sarkicists: side view

- and why is any horror necessarily in Western Siberia?

Rotten God Mountain (RU)

- sarkicism for poor

- everything is rotten

-"destroy it! start with yourself !"

-"Everyone has their own cockroaches in their head. My, for example, are people" - Rotten God

The Church of the Broken God

- gears

- more of the gears!

- steampunk vs cyberpunk

-"where are these %?"# gears?!"

- well, whatever, I'm going to be sarkicist!

The Fifth Church

- heeeeey, dude, relax…

-"you can take people out of a church, but never a church out of people."*

- interesting metaphysical geometry for the fourth floor

- teaching in the air

Research Institute "Progress" (RU)

- Yes, we know!*

- look nervously at the SSD

- a bright communist future has already come for them

- ...I hope so

University Alexylva:

- those dudes who want to appear as cool jocks

- and in fact, they are nerds

- the objects wrung out everything they could

———

1. Russian proverb: on the offended water is carried. Meaning: don’t offend

2. good triumphs over evil

3. scp-006

4. чайник с функцией жопа

5. Every man should plant a tree, build a house and raise a son

6. You can take the girl out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the girl — american statement

7. noosphere - is derived from the Greek νόος ("mind", "reason") and σφαῖρα ("sphere"), in lexical analogy to "atmosphere" and "biosphere". The noosphere (alternate spelling noösphere) is a philosophical concept developed and popularized by the Russian biogeochemist Vladimir Vernadsky, and the French philosopher and Jesuit priest Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. Vernadsky defined the noosphere as the new state of the biosphereand described as the planetary "sphere of reason".The noosphere represents the highest stage of biospheric development, its defining factor being the development of humankind's rational activities.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

The Love Yet Known Part 2

Summary: Tommy Shelby needs to make sacrifices to ensure the safety of his family. So he concocts a plan to marry off his sister to the one and only Alfie Solomons.

Thanks for the love for the first part! Heres for you, @97freaknik. Sorry the tagging system isn’t working. 

And thank you to my permanent tag who have yet to block me despite my spamming of works. 

          The drive to London was almost absolutely silent. Neither Alfie nor Eliza really knew what to say to one another. It was as if they were just acting out something for the sake of Tommy. Neither of them exactly knew how they’d ended up in such a predicament.

            Alfie’s mind was racing, wondering how stupid he was to agree to something like marrying a Shelby. He thought about the ramifications, was there even a rabbi who would consider converting her and allowing them to marry? What sort of effect would this have on his life in the long run?

            He glanced to his left where Eliza had been sitting quietly since they’d left Warwickshire. Her eyes were locked on the window, never turning her head. He wondered if she was wishing she was on the outside, not in the car with him. Maybe she figured if she didn’t look at him, she wouldn’t have to think of the arrangement.  

            Alfie cleared his throat, the silence too uncomfortable for his liking. “Erm, you like dogs?” He asked.

            She looked away from the window to show she had heard him. “Pardon?”

            “Dogs? Do you like dogs? I have a dog.” He clarified. “He ain’t mean or anything. I bought him to be a guard dog but he had other plans. Too nice for his own good.”

            A hint of a smile formed on her lips. The sense of humor didn’t exactly fit his image. But it did help her relax a little. “Yes, I like dogs.”

            “Good. That’s good. I sorta have a nasty habit of picking up strays.” He admitted. “I don’t keep all of ‘em. There’s a charity that a dear friend of mine runs. They train dogs to help blind people. So, they take in most of the strays.” He rubbed the back of his neck. It was strange. It was almost as if he was trying to list off his good traits so Eliza wouldn’t look at him like he was a monster. Maybe he could put her mind at ease. “But, Cyril I kept. Cyril’s me dog. I kept him, couldn’t give him away.” The silence on Eliza’s end was killing him. He wanted her to say exactly what she thought about him. Most people who worked for him kept their opinions to themselves. Most of his business partners/enemies were vocal about what they thought. But neither of those opinions mattered. Because none of those people were intending to marry him. If they were to marry, Alfie wanted to know Eliza’s opinion of him. Even if she said she hated him and wished him dead, at least he would know.

            “He sounds lovely.” She said politely.

            “Yeah…he is.” Alfie fiddled with one of his rings. He wasn’t sure how he was going to make this work. It gave him a headache thinking about it.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Much to Alfie’s relief, Eliza took immediately to Cyril. The bullmastiff seemed to enjoy a female presence in the flat. At least she didn’t feel completely alone in Camden Town. Alfie just felt a little guilty that her only companion was a slobbery, goofy dog.

            Still, he capitalized on her affection for the mutt. He allowed her to take Cyril out for walks whenever she pleased and didn’t say anything when Cyril started to sleep in her bedroom.

            Meanwhile, Alfie was trying to figure out the complicated matters of converting Eliza so they could get married. Tommy continued to call to push the matter. It was clear over the phone that he was desperate to make the union complete. The Italians would be closing in at any time and Tommy didn’t need another threat from Camden Town to weigh on him.

            “Y’know, I know you’re godless, Tommy. I understand that, but us godly men have rules and those rules simply cannot be tampered with. Centuries of laws, mate, can’t be overturned ‘cause you find it inconvenient.” Alfie said over the phone.

            “I gave you money to ensure it.”

            “Right, well some rabbis take bribes as an insult, mate.”

            “Alfie, if you’re holding out on me…” Tommy warned.

            “She’s been living with me for nearly a month, Thomas, if I really wanted to back out, I would’ve sent her home to you.” He cut the man off.

            Tommy muttered something over the line but Alfie couldn’t hear what it was.

            “There’s a rabbi that Ollie found that might go through with the conversion and marriage,” Alfie said. “When I hear from him, I’ll let you know.”

            The Blinder seemed to have his worries put to rest at least for the time being. “And how is she doing there?”

            “Well, her best friend is me dog,” Alfie replied honestly. “She hardly speaks to me, not that I blame her much.”

            “She’s always been quiet,” Tommy assured him.

            “Well, circumstances ‘n such.” Alfie sighed and cracked his knuckles. “Anyways, I’ll let you know, Tom. I’ll let you know.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~           

            One night a couple of days later, Alfie and Eliza were sat down together for dinner. “I just wanted you to know that I’ve found rabbis who are willing to convert you.” He brought up the topic.

            “Oh. Okay.” She nodded.

            Alfie had learned over the few weeks together that she was a difficult person to read. She was a lot like Tommy, and less like her other brothers who were prone to showing their emotions on the outside. She always spoke to him in a calm, steady, and polite manner. Almost as if she were afraid of setting him off, or it was simply just her demeanor. Alfie would’ve preferred if she were a bit more like Arthur, as terrible as that would be. At least he would know what she was thinking instead of having to guess.

            “Didya…well…have ya put any thought into it? I mean, ain’t a small decision.”

            Eliza shrugged as she pushed her food around the plate with her fork. “I haven’t put much thought into religion.” She admitted. “Polly was the only one who took Christianity seriously in our family.”

            “Right.” He nodded. “Still, being Jewish is more a way of life, innit?”

            “That’s what I’ve been told.” Alfie had arranged for Ollie’s wife to give some insight to Eliza into what it meant to be a Jewish wife. He assumed they’d bonded, but Eliza didn’t say much about it. Though, she did frequently visit Ruth and her and Ollie’s pack of kids. She never said what they spoke about.

            “Right. Well, just wanted to know what your thoughts about it were.” He posed the question again, hoping to get a little further into her mindset.

            “Ruth said if we were going to have children, they needed to be brought up fully Jewish. Or at least, that’s what she thought your intentions were.”

            Alfie cleared his throat. How could they discuss children? Of course, it was a factor but a child wouldn’t just magically appear once they were married. And they hadn’t even touched each other aside from the mistaken brush of an arm. “Well, right.” He tilted his head to the side, hoping suddenly for an interruption so he could leave the conversation.

            “Alfie?”

            The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. It was the first time she had addressed him by name. The way she spoke his name was so soft. Like nothing, he’d heard before. “Hm?” He couldn’t exactly speak properly.

            “Do you think I’m afraid of you?”

            He raised an eyebrow. “Afraid? Well, I’d hope not. I told your brothers that I ain’t here to hurt you.”

            “Then why do you walk on eggshells around me?”

            Alfie opened his mouth but only let out a small, confused grumble. It must’ve been that Shelby wit that had gotten them there. She was so good at concealing her feelings that Alfie looked like a fool. Dancing around the topic, trying to please her, giving her everything she wanted. God, he must’ve looked like a sap.

            She smiled slightly. “I didn’t expect you to try to impress me so much. The way my brothers spoke of you, I was expecting something else entirely.”

            He drummed his fingers on the table. “There’s a difference, yeah, ‘tween business and me personal life. What your brothers see ain’t what you’ll see.” He tried to explain.

            It was different from her family’s mentality, or Tommy’s to be more specific. In the Shelby family, everyone dealt with family business. There were no exceptions unless you absconded. Even then, it was tricky to escape business. But it appeared Alfie was keener to keep his two lives separate. Eliza considered how this difference might benefit her.

            “All the day’s shit, yeah, it gets left at the fucking door.” He pointed down the hall toward the front door. “This is sorta a sanctuary, innit?”

            Eliza nodded. “That sounds nice.”

            “Nice, yeah it is nice.” He agreed.

            They were quiet for a moment, neither of them really wanted to return to the conversation topic of children. It seemed too fresh.

            “Ruth is trying to teach me how to cook kosher.” She spoke up after a bit. It was the first time she offered any information without Alfie prompting her. Maybe because now she felt the flat was a safe place for her. “Just, I dunno if you were wondering why I’m there for so long.”

            Alfie shrugged. “I’m glad you two have gotten along. Didn’t want you to feel lonely here.” He admitted and went back to eating before his dinner went cold.  

            Eliza watched him for a split second. So, he cared about how she felt? Imagine that.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            It took quite a bit of convincing to get the rabbis to convert Eliza. Wrestling with tradition, Alfie knew he was asking for a lot. But the conversion went through and under Jewish law, he was allowed to marry her. Not that he was looking for some massive wedding. It would be best to call the least amount of attention to himself as possible. The Camden community might not take kindly to his bride-to-be if they found out she was a convert. And if they found out she was a Shelby? Well, granted, Alfie was scary enough to thwart off criticism. But he didn’t want the rumors to get around to Eliza. He didn’t want her to feel unwelcome.

            In reality, Alfie felt as though he was going mad. Since when had he given two shits about someone’s comfort? His job was basically to make people feel uncomfortable so they’d be more willing to listen. But apparently, Eliza had made quite an impact on him.

            She fit in very nicely in his flat. Never made a fuss or anything. That wasn’t to say she was like a little dormouse. She wasn’t very tidy. Alfie chalked this up to her growing up with five siblings. He didn’t particularly mind, though. It was nice to see the flat actually lived in. For so long it had been just a place to sleep. But Alfie realized he had grown fond of coming home late from work and finding traces of Eliza throughout the house.

            A dirty pan in the sink, her book on the sofa, a couple of hairpins on the coffee table, and the stray teacup with cold tea that had been forgotten about.

            For a brief moment, as he cleaned up, he wondered if their children would be just as messy. Alfie could imagine coming home to the floor littered with toys. It brought a smile to his face.

            Of course, children was still a conversation they had to have. Alfie loathed the fact that they had to get over that little mountain of a decision. He wouldn’t dare force anything onto her. Purely by his own standards and morals. Plus, the added benefit of getting a bullet in his head courtesy of the Shelby boys.

            So, he waited and hoped that was something they could get to. Because, despite their relationship still being merely two people who lived together, he did like her. More so, even.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

            The wedding, although very traditional in the ritual sense, was very small. Only a few people very close to Alfie attended if only to witness the union. There wasn’t a reception or party to follow. No grand affair.

            They simply walked out of the building as man and wife.

            “Alfie, can I ask you something?”

            “’Course.” It was a bit strange. Eliza was standing in the foyer as he went to go feed Cyril. Standing in her wedding dress, she looked a bit out of place.

            “I know what is…expected of us tonight.” She wrung her hands together. “But I don’t think I’m quite ready. I’m sorry I just…”

            Alfie felt oddly relieved. He was hoping she would say something, otherwise, he’d feel like a monster if she went through with consummating the marriage and she wasn’t ready. “No reason to apologize, love.” He walked back out of the kitchen, shrugging off his jacket. “Ain’t any rush.”

            “I appreciate that.” She said softly. “Thank you.”

            “So…I’ll see you tomorrow then? I’ve got to work early.”

            “I’ll make breakfast.” She offered.

            “Nah, that’s alright. You don’t need to get up so early.”

            “I don’t mind…”

            “S’alright, love.” He gave her a warm smile and held out an arm, allowing her to go upstairs first.

            Eliza smiled back, feeling her cheeks warm a bit. She went upstairs, allowing Cyril to trot by her.

            “I had a few things shipped in from Paris. Sorta wedding gift, if you will. I hope you don’t mind, I asked Ruth if she could help me.” Alfie said as he climbed the stairs behind her. “I left it on your bed.”

            “Oh, Alfie, you didn’t need to-”

            “S’alright.” He assured her, meeting her at the top of the stairs. “You Shelbys like nice things, aye?”

            She shrugged. “I’m a Solomons now.” She pointed out.

            He let out a brief chuckle. “Yeah, that’s true. F’ya want, we can get a nice box for your dress. Maybe to store it? I dunno, me mum did the same thing. I still have her dress, fuck if I know what I’m gonna do with it. But she-well it were the only thing she brought from Russia.”

            “I understand, it’s important to you.” Eliza agreed.

            Alfie rubbed a hand over his beard. “Yeah. Yeah, it is. Well, I won’t keep you up.”

            “Goodnight, Alfie.” She smiled at him before going down the hall to her room. Like he said, there was a large box on her bed. After shutting the door, Eliza opened the top and found an array of beautiful pieces of clothing that must’ve cost a fortune. Beaded gowns, satin gloves, a fur-lined coat, and much more. Eliza carefully unpacked everything, folding the items or hanging them up in the closet. Then she landed on a pair of silk pajamas that looked like what picture stars wore. A gorgeous burgundy color with embroidered designs on the cuffs of the shirt and pants.

            She smiled and felt her heart skip a beat. It had been a little unnerving knowing that she would become a Jewish wife. There were a lot of changes she had to make, moving to Camden, marrying Alfie, and trying to keep her end of the bargain by converting. But in the end, she was still married to a gangster. One who, although he looked simply, did like luxury items. And maybe it was how he was trying to show his affection for her.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Married life wasn’t all that different for Alfie. He continued to work the same tireless hours and continued to keep up his agenda of legal and illegal operations. Mostly illegal.

            What changed was coming home to a gentle person who had a good skill of keeping the flat calm. Alfie assumed that like the other Shelbys, Eliza would manage to only raise his blood pressure. But she had the opposite effect.

            She had become more of an open book with him, which led Alfie to believe they were moving in the right direction. She told him more about what she did during the day. Mainly, she spent her time with Ruth and some of the other women in the neighborhood.

            It was nice to hear things that weren’t related to business. Alfie’s entire life was business. Now he had someone else to occupy his thoughts.

            As the weeks wore on, both Eliza and Alfie began talking on a more intimate level. Soon she found she was telling him things not even her siblings knew. Things that were very personal to her.       

            She also began to notice Alfie stealing a few looks her way. Meanwhile, she found herself looking forward to seeing him every day and often was disappointed if he worked late and she fell asleep before he came home. Her heart skipped a beat when he smiled at her or called her pet names. She figured it was just instinct, something he did to everyone. But it felt special to her.

            Eliza realized, when winter came, that there was no reason for her sheepishness. They were married, after all. If she wanted to further their relationship, all she had to do was ask.

            So, she did. One night, Alfie came home late from work. He picked at some leftovers waiting for him, before heading upstairs. His hip was bothering him as the days got colder, so he wasn’t in a grand mood. When he reached the second floor, the door to Eliza’s room opened.           

            “Sorry, love, didn’t mean to wake you.”

            “You didn’t, I was waiting for you to get home.” She lingered in the doorway for a moment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in, I would’ve kept you company while you ate.”

            “S’alright, didn’t eat much.” He shrugged. “There something you needed?”

            “Well, yes.” She walked into the hallway. It felt a little silly asking her husband what she was going to ask. So, Eliza gained some of that Shelby confidence and looked him in the eye. “Will you kiss me?”

            It certainly wasn’t what Alfie expected. He thought maybe she wanted to use the car or needed some spending cash. So, he felt a little bad that he was silent for so long, but he didn’t know what to say. “Erm, I didn’t-well-”

            Eliza began to clam up, fearing she had overstepped a line. Maybe it was all in her head and Alfie didn’t really like her all that much. “Sorry, I shouldn’t’ve asked…”

            Alfie caught her hand before she could scurry back to her room. He drew her closer and his other hand cupped her cheek. His eyes searched her face before he kissed her, trying to get a mental image of her locked in his head. The tiny bit of freckles on her face, the wintery blue eyes looking up, yearning, and the way her lips parted slightly. He would catalog the little bits of information away because he couldn’t imagine how this would last long. Nothing good in life ever lasted long and Eliza was one of the best damn things that ever happened to him.

            That night, Eliza slept in Alfie’s room for the first time. It was how she came to the realization that her husband was just a big bear. Grumpy, stubborn, yet he cared for his own. Eliza liked that. She had grown up around bristly love. Polly marched them to mass every Sunday no matter how much they complained because she wanted to ‘save their souls’. Arthur would gladly murder any boy who gave her even the slightest of looks. Tommy was stern but she found out later it was because they had no father figure so he had to take on the role. And John? Well, John pretended to hate his twin sister. He wanted to appear tough in front of his friends and teased her at school. But every night, when there was no available light to read, he conjured up a story for her.

            Other people may not have understood, but Eliza knew that real relationships couldn’t be found in the pages of her books. She liked Alfie because he was real. The most real thing she’d ever known.

            After that night, their relationship bloomed much faster. They found married life soothing when others found it stressful. They enjoyed each other’s company so much that Alfie started to cut back on late nights at the bakery. It meant more to Eliza than he might have realized.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            As the situation with the Italians got more intense, Alfie started to realize how much their relationship had grown. He found himself contacting Tommy more often, demanding information about what Luca Changretta was doing. He wanted to ensure there would be no threat to his London empire and there would be no threat to his wife.

            His anxiety about everything reached a boiling point when Eliza disappeared one morning. Had he looked in his study, he would’ve seen the note she left for him saying that she was taking the car to visit her family in Small Heath.

            But he didn’t. So, he naturally assumed something bad happened and rallied a search team. He was at his wit's end, practically tearing his hair out.

            When Eliza arrived home, unharmed and acting normally, he lost his cool.

            “Where the fuck have you been?” He demanded when she walked through the door as if nothing had happened.

            Eliza looked taken aback. He’d never taken such a harsh tone with her. “Pardon?”

            “I’ve half me men out looking for you, you think it’s alright to just disappear like that?”

            “Alfie, I left you a fucking note on your desk.” She snapped, not happy he was talking to her in such a way. He usually was very respectful.

            He looked a bit hesitant, maybe he had neglected to see the note. But he was still too upset to admit he was in the wrong. “You could’ve told me, aye? Where were you?”

            “What does it matter?” She asked defensively, trying to pass by him in the hallway.

            “Because there’s a man out there who wants to wipe out your entire family, Liz!” He snapped, standing in her way so she couldn’t shrug off his concern.

            “You don’t think I know that?”

            “You have no idea where he could be or what he could’ve done to you!”

            “I was in Small Heath, I was perfectly okay.” She retorted. “I have the right to go where I please.”

            “Small Heath?” Alfie looked at her in disbelief. To think she could go that far and think she would be fine on her own. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

            “Do not take that tone with me!” She held strong against him. “If I want to see my family, I can. You can’t keep me locked up in Camden.”

            “That ain’t…” He let out a frustrated noise. The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel trapped. “I don’t understand why you just up and left. What did you need to do there?”

            “That’s my business.”

            “Liz-”

            “You don’t control me, Alfie.”

            “I know!” He shouted. “You don’t think I know that? But I care too much about you to let you be killed because of what your fucking brother has gotten your family into!”

            Eliza’s lower lip wobbled and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I went because I was late. My aunt confirmed it, I’m pregnant.”

            Alfie was knocked right in the gut by the news. What he thought would never happen was now a reality. “Liz…”

            “Just fuck off.” She spat and turned to head upstairs. But she paused halfway. “I was so excited to tell you and this is how I’m treated? You can sleep on the couch.” She stomped upstairs and slammed the door shut before locking it.

            Alfie felt like an absolute imbecile. He was notorious for letting his temper get the better of him. But he was proud of himself for never letting Eliza see that side of him. Now he had mucked up what they’d been building for months.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~          

            Eliza didn’t come down for dinner or breakfast the next day. Alfie decided to try and speak with her before he went to the bakery for the day.

            His first knock was met with silence.

            “Eliza, please, just let me apologize.” He said as he knocked again.

            “Go to hell, Alfie.” She finally replied.

            He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Love, I’m tryna apologize, here!” He exclaimed. “What else do you want me to do?”

            There was another bout of silence before the door swung open. “You think an apology is some grandiose gesture?” She demanded. “Alfie, I’ve walked across hot coals for you and you don’t even realize.”

            “M’tryna…I don’t know what you want me to say.” He grimaced, realizing how shit he was at relationships sometimes.

            “I went to Small Heath and you know what Ada said to me? She asked me about my headscarf. She said it was oppressive and I never should’ve converted for you. She said you would never be able to do anything that comes close to what I’ve done for you. Do you want to know what I said?”

            Alfie nodded.

            “I said she was wrong. I told her that you treated me right. You respected me. You were there for me and appreciated the person I was. I converted for you, I married you, and now I’m going to give you a child. So, don’t act like you have this authority over me when I’ve done so much for you.”

            He sighed. “You’re right, love. It were wrong for me to treat you like that.” He acknowledged in a rare event of humility. “But me worst fear is losing you. ‘Cause you’re the only thing on this Earth that means a damn to me. If I lost you if that fucker killed you? I’d never forgive myself. I would spend the rest of me days mourning.”

            Eliza’s tense stance relaxed a bit when she heard the genuine concern in his voice. His anger was out of fear. She knew men like Alfie had a hard time addressing their fears because they weren’t meant to be scared of anything. Her voice softened. “I’m not going anywhere.” She promised. “You have me until the end of time.”

            “And you have me.”

            She smiled and stepped into his arms so he could hold her close. “That’s good to know.”

              Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe

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[typewrittenluck]

Sorry General

AN: Okay hehe this is my first time ever posting a fic so be nice :/. It’s basically just self-indulgent Obi-Wan angst-fluff because I miss him and I’m excited for the new show. This takes place during The Clone Wars, Season 2, Episode 10. But you don’t have to watch it to understand what’s going on. Anyways enjoy!

Word Count: 2130

Warnings: None, Anakin being a lil’ shit

(gif creds to owner)

General Grievous had escaped yet again. It seemed as if every time the Jedi came close to capturing the sleaze ball, he would slip right through your hands. You could sense the tension in the air as everyone onboard the landing craft shared your anxiety, which increased your frustration by every person that you could feel through the force. It of course didn’t help that you were sent down to capture Grievous with none other than Obi-Wan Kenobi, who always had a knack for making you agitated.

As soon as the ship's doors opened, you began to take long strides out, already beginning to scope out the area and make mental notes of factors that might be influential to your mission.

At General Kenobi’s command, you and the troops began to move towards the wreckage of Grievous’s ship in hopes of finding something that would lead you to the General himself. 

After scouting out the ship, Rex determined that the General couldn’t have been far off.

“We’ll split into teams. Rex, take Jesse, Hardcase, Kix, and Y/N and search those wetlands.” Obi-Wan said, gesturing vaguely in your direction.

“Actually, Kenobi,” you spat, “Seeing as I am a General, and therefore rank above Captian Rex, I will lead the troops to conduct a search of the wetlands.”

“Oh, right, of course General Y/N. I wouldn’t want to undermine your notable past with leading battalions and strategy missions.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Why I ought to-”

“Excuse me, Generals, if I may,” Rex stepped in between you two. “we really shouldn’t get distracted from the situation at hand.”

“Yes, of course Captain.” you replied, still glaring at Obi-Wan. “We should get going”

“Right. Cody, you, Crys, and I will pick it up from here.” said Obi-Wan. “Oh, and one more thing,” he said, turning to face you. “If you get a visual on General Grievous, for the love of the force Master Y/N, make contact before you make any rash decisions to engage.”

“From the two of us, Master Kenobi,” you replied, “It is not I who have a track record of making rash decisions.”

Once you were out of earshot, Cody spoke up. “Forgive me General, but you seem worried. I’m sure that General Y/N and Rex are capable of handling this. They are both very wise individuals.”

Obi-Wan stroked his beard, apparently deep in thought. “Yes. Wise indeed.”

                                                  -----------------------

You felt a tug on the force and turned around just in time to see Rex get shot by a Commando droid. 

“REX!” you screamed, as you and the clones rushed over to him.

Jesse and Hardcase finished off the last few droids before joining the small crowd gathering around Rex. It was deemed that the safest plan was to find shelter for the night, so that Rex could heal.

You and the clones made sure that Rex was as comfortable as possible and well-taken care of in the barn that you had secured a place in before you hopped on your speeders and continued your search of the wetlands. 

“General, if it’s not too personal to ask, why do you and General Kenobi seem to fight about everything?” Jesse piped up after a little while.

“That is an extremely inappropriate question to ask your commanding officer soldier.” you snapped back.

“Right. Sorry.”

But it was too late. The question opened the floodgates that you worked so hard to keep closed. The overpowering emotions that you trapped behind a wall came rushing out and now, that was all that you could think about.

The constant questions. Why did Obi-Wan hate you? Why did he feel like you were inferior? Why is he so adamant that you shouldn’t be in charge of battles?

The constant anxiety. What if it’s a reflection of what the council thinks of me? What if everyone else feels that way too and they are just better at hiding it? What if I pass on my incompetence to my Padawan?

And above all, the crippling guilt. You were guilty because you felt responsible for him not liking you. You felt guilty because you broke the code. You felt guilty. Because you loved Obi-Wan Kenobi.

                                           ---------------------------------

Obi-Wan had been a Padawan for a mere two weeks, when a young girl from Dantooine had opened the doors to the Jedi temple, leading the way for an amused group of older Jedi. She had begun her training not long thereafter. On her first day, she walked into the training room and looked around, scoping out the area to decide where she would be comfortable. To Obi-Wan’s surprise, she picked a spot next to him. 

Since that fateful day, their friendship blossomed, mainly due to the fact that their masters, Qui Gon Jinn and Ki-Adi-Mundi, were good friends. Obi-Wan and Y/N became very close. Closer, in fact, than any member of the Jedi order should become to another lifeform. But it was inevitable. The two were so alike and their personalities clashed together perfectly, as if the force had made it so that the two would meet. All of the older Jedi sensed the rising emotions in the two young apprentices, and they felt the need to take preventative measures. So when a mission with an indefinite length popped up on the faraway land of Mandalore, the council saw it as the best opportunity to give the two a break from each other. They sent Obi-Wan on a year long trip to ensure the safety of Mandalores sovereign ruler, Satine Kryze.

Y/N spent her time away from her best friend meditating on her emotions, and came to the conclusion that she had fallen for him. It was against the code. It was against her plan. But she had fallen, and fallen hard.

Obi-Wan ended up with a similar conclusion, after realizing that his emotions towards Satine were anything but new feelings, and he had experienced those same emotions a hundred times stronger towards Y/N.

The problem was that the two apprentices dealt with their feelings in completely different ways. Y/N became awkward and always on edge, and Obi-Wan saw it best to cut her out of his life as much as possible.

Which led them to where they were now. Grown members of the Jedi order who were still harboring childhood crushes on each other, buried deep, deep down.

                                      --------------------------------------------

You were cut out of your train of thought by Obi-Wans voice.

 “Captain Rex, come in please.”

“This is Y/N, Rex was injured.” you replied, still a little dazed by your sudden surge of emotion.

“What’s his condition?”

“He’ll be fine, but we had to find him shelter for the night.”

“Grievous is on the move. We’re headed to the West.” said Obi-Wan. “Swing around and we can meet up at the final escape pod. We’re going to need all of the firepower that we can muster.”

“Alright, we’re on our way.” you said, sharply turning your speeder around as the clones did the same.

                                       --------------------------------------------

You arrived at Obi-Wans position just as you saw a ship attempting to land. You ran into the fray of flying bullets and disembodied droid limbs, jabbing and parrying with your lightsaber to get to Obi-Wan.

“Concentrate your fire on that ship!” he roared to the tanks.

He got distracted by his wrist-com and didn't see a laser ray coming straight at the back of his neck. 

“Keep firing. Don't let that ship land.” he said, as you jumped behind him, drawing your lightsaber to deflect the bullet. He seemed shocked by your sudden appearance.

“I believe a thank you, Master Y/N, is in order.” you dead-panned.

He rolled his eyes, but mumbled an unintelligible thanks.

“The guns are overheated!” you heard a clone say from his wrist-com.

“It’s always something.” Obi-Wan grumbled in response. “Cody, Jesse, cover me!”

“Wait!” you exclaimed after him. “Where are you- oh nevermind.” you sighed as you saw him speed towards Grievous. You sprinted after him, knowing that he would need help.

He began fighting the foul droid General, their battle just a blur of blue and green light.

Just as you arrived at the fight, Grievous was climbing up the side of the ship. “Forget trying to land.” he growled in his raspy voice. You, however, were preoccupied with Obi-Wan who was knocked to the side. He groaned as you knelt by him, reaching feebly behind you as you heard Grievous say “Fire the engines.”

He was lifted into the night sky, narrowly dodging clone bullets as he laughed maniacally. “Jedi scum!”

“Are you alright?” you asked him.

“No.” he sighed in frustration. “We’re right back where we started!”

He called back to Cody. “Call the cruisers, see if they can stop that ship! And tell them to send someone to pick us up.”

You sensed his frustration and heard the defeat in his voice.

“Obi-Wan,” you started tentatively.

“What?” he snapped, his anger evident.

“I know it seems like a total failure-”

“Oh but it is!” he cut you off with contempt. “I’ve lost countless troops, just trying to capture Grievous, and now he’s right there. And I let him slip right past my fin-”

“No!” you cut him off this time. “This kind of talk is what leads to anger. You and I both know that anger leads you down the path of the dark side. This isn’t your fault Obi-Wan.”

Calling him by his first name is what, over all the other things, seemed to get through his head. “You don’t,” he stopped, looking into your eyes. “Blame me?”

And in that moment, standing in an empty battlefield in the middle of Saleucami, you both knew that he was talking about much more than this lost battle.

“You’ve done all that you can do. You did what you thought was right.” you replied.

He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Cody, saying that the transport had arrived to take you all back to the main ship. You two held eye contact for a brief moment before turning and heading in the direction that Cody had gone.

                                        ----------------------------------

You stood in the bridge, looking out of the enormous window with Admiral Yularen right beside you. A droid came up behind you two and tapped you on the shoulder.

“Jedi Master Y/N, Jedi Master Obi-Wan requests your presence.”

“How is he?” you asked.

“He is doing well! He has sustained only minor injuries and will heal very soon!” the droid replied chirpily.

“That’s a relief. Where does he want me to meet him?”

“His private quarters, I believe.”

“Top secret Jedi business, I presume.” chuckled Yularen as you blushed a bright red. You had a sneaking suspicion that this had nothing to do with the Jedi order.

                                     -----------------------------------

“Y/N.” He greeted you, bowing his head and using the force to close the door behind you.

“Obi-Wan.”

“I’m sorry.” he blurted, taking you a little by surprise by his bluntness. “I know that I confused you and I make you feel unwanted at times and I am the reason our friendship was ruined and I promise I have an explanation which is no excuse but you deserve to know why I-” he stopped rambling when he saw your raised eyebrows and caught himself. 

He took a deep breath before beginning again.

“I had a lot of time to think when I was on Mandalore. But I kept thinking about the same thing. You. I couldn’t stop. And it was all that got me through each day, the thought of your face, and your smile, and your laugh. But that’s against the code. And the only way that I could get over you was to cut you off. But it didn’t work because by the stars and the planets Y/N, I love you. I care deeply for Jedi traditions and maintaining the code, but I love you Y/N. I’m sorry.”

“Oh Obi,” you sighed, stepping closer to him. “I realized it same as you. We have been drawn to each other since we met. It’s almost as if the force wanted us to be. And every day since that day that you left for Mandalore, I have looked at the sunrise, hoping that one day, it will bring light to what we once had.” You placed your hand on his scruffy cheek and stroked his jaw as he leaned into your touch. “I love you too.”

He pulled you into a hug, burying his face into your hair as you wrapped your arms tightly around his waist.

“Master- Oh! Sorry!” Anakin walked in, making you and Obi-Wan leap to opposite sides of the room, both of you burning a bright crimson color. Anakin’s eyes darted between the two of you, a smirk growing on his face. 

“Not a word, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said sternly, already having an idea of the things that he knew that his former Padawan would say.

AN Again: I just really want a hug from this man 

[docholligay]

LIVESTREAM WINNERS AND TOP POINT COMMENTS

THose of you who read the schedule already know this but the winners are:

HOLLIGAY INVOKES THE SPIRIT OF CLOSET GHOST 

and

WE COOK FOR DINNER IN THE APOCALYPSE

Please join me for both! It’ should be a terrifying, thrilling time. 

AND NOW, THOSE OF YOU WHO MADE ME FEEL THE WARMEST. Thank you to all who answered--I know this was super self indulgent and it means a lot to me that you took the time. So, literally 12 out of the 13 of you got at least one point (One person did not give any details, or even a quote) MAZEL. 

Point allocations are below!!

One point winners: 

4(?)ish years ago, you sent Jet a series of letters/cards/funeral lilies, from different Sailor Moon characters. The lilies were for Mako. One card was from Michiru, after Haruka's death. I have never been able to find them again, but I just loved the care you put into them--how they were all written specifically from the character, the fact that you even put tear stains and perfume on the cards. It was just so creative and touching, and it felt like the characters were real for an instant, mourning and living and giving you a peek at their lives. --- @kumeko (That was A Little Letter, and Mako’s was actually a separate thing for the same contest!) 

   “Before you get yourselves killed I want to go on record as saying this is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.” Rei stood with her hands on her hips at the front of the garage- from that short story about Mina and Haruka strapping an engine to a shopping cart. You can really feel how rei must feel, the resigned exasperation mixed with genuine, but hidden, concern for Mina and haruka’s safety. I think i have said the exactsame thing before people i know do stupid shit. --- BeefSalad33  (oh ma, an oldie but, I think, a goodie) 

OH MAN. I am always thinking nonstop about that piece where Minako confronts Seiya about bullying Haruka, specifically for the line where Mina spits out "you think she'll love you for this?" and UGH that LINE. it HAUNTS me, I want to BITE DOWN ON IT AND NEVER LET GO, I WANT TO PUT IT EVERYWHERE EVER BECAUSE IT HURTS SO GOOD, AND I DON'T EVEN CARE ABOUT SEIYA. --- @wouldntyoulichentoknow (I’m so glad that I’ve managed to make both you and jetty grit your teeth and care about Seiya at some point ahahah) 

"*But flowers grow from death and decay, don’t they? That has always been true, you know that, Mako. You are a rose of perfect beauty, grown in the rich fertilizer of your loss.*

She threw the stress ball across the room, knocking over the cup on the sink, spilling the ice down the drain."

The contrast between reminding herself of how life works, and then still being bitter about it, and knowing what she is and being frustrated about it. It's a lot, when sorting out various issues- i have trauma, and that makes me better at empathizing with people, i'm adaptable long-term, and that means i can put up with some bullshit, that kind of thing, but that doesn't mean those are wholly good things. It's nice to see it put into words, and so plainly, and with such a strong reaction of it.

Roses can still grow wild, as pretentious as that sounds with how your passage resonates to me, but it's still nice to feel that. ---- @katrani (I’m so glad it resonates with you! I liked that line a lot! ) 

2 point answers:

Christmas Carol, Stave 1 - “You are a terrible person,” she jutted out her chin, feigning strength. “Fareeha deserved much better than you. But,” she took a deep breath. “I still hope she forgives you, someday. Someday, I hope you will deserve it.” It feels like cheating to use the most recent thing you’ve written, but nonetheless this section conveys so much about your take on Mercy, so quickly. She may be an idealist, the peacekeeper and builder, and she may want Pharah to have a relationship with her mother that’s not this disaster, but that doesn’t stop her from acknowledging that Ana’s been the primary factor in making it what it is and telling Ana that directly. I love how you write Mercy (and Tracer for that matter) as very warm characters who try to see the best in their situations but won’t gloss over the fact that sometimes, someone does have to be shot in the fucking face. “Good” doesn’t mean “hopelessly naive”, even with a pacifist, and I appreciate that you have characters who show that. 

Bonus, and a fringe case as technically part of the Fushigi Yuigi hateblog: “She was still trying to get home, had been unable to get Tamahome to let her poison him, and then Nakago had hugged her into his chest until she had been forced to flatten him with a punch to the nads. She was tired, she was hungry, and she was trying to have a moonlight bath to consider her options and wash the stink of a man off of her.

And then, Tamahome, again.” - Haruka-gets-dumped-into-Fushigi-Yuugi-as-Yui was a delight that entire episode, but this post was one of the best. Is it really just narrativizing your frustrations with the many, many writing choices that were made here? Absolutely. But it’s a fun little bit of comedic pacing here, especially with the utter exhaustion of Haruka that this bullshit isn’t over yet. (“Fuck my life” to the moon wondering if Usagi could help and regretting how hard it would be to drown herself are close runners-up on that front.) --- Regalli 

(Mercy is, in many ways, my attempt to write someone who is MOSTLY a pacifist that I can respect. It’s not easy for me! I often find pacifism to be cowardice, because so often in life the people I know who are pacifists are, well, not the folks in the street. So i thought, could you write someone who is very hesitant to kill, who believes that even Doomfist, even Reaper, even whoever, deserve care if they are hurt, who believes that a sword will not leave her hand free to uplift the fallen, and make her brave? And make her strong? And so was born, Mercy, who proved that, yeah that person, at least in my mind, can exist.) 

I think one of my favorite passages from your writing is from "The Rest is Commentary". Particularly the part that starts with "I am a doer. " That entire paragraph is wonderfully written, with mix of beautifully descriptive language to describe *why* you don't trust words. It's slightly paradoxical, but it also fits with the rest of the essay (?) so well. And even beyond that,  I love reading when you write about your faith. You are deeply devout woman, and a personal aspiration to me. When you write about your faith, it reminds me that there is work that needs to be done to live it, and not easy work either. But it is very much worth every bead of sweat, and every drop of blood. --- @shavedjudomonkey 

(Thank you so much! I love that people have connected so much with my Jewish writing) 

3 point answers: 

From Requiem for the Great Consummation, I adore the word play with "compose." Ie, in the line, "Michiru folded her hands in her lap and composed herself." Why? I'm a musician. So, Michiru, with her music, holds a special place in my heart. (Why Ami gets the music attacks is beyond me. WTF?)  I don't think the writers ever really understood what it takes to be a musician, and while fanfic writers often include Michiru's music, I've never really seen it done well. (I'm sure it has been. I just haven't seen it.) Music is all about structure. It has to feel free and soaring, but it can only be that because of the intense amounts of tension and structure underneath. A kite without a string plummets. When I reach for high, soaring notes, that's when I have to be most conscious of having a solid base. Making music Is constant tension. So, often when I see writers portray musicians, it's all "she never felt so free and untethered as when she sang/played the,violin/piano/whatever." And I think, "wow, really? She must have been Crap." So, back to compose/compose. This wordplay shows that tension. The "I have rehearsed this 5,000 times and am still working so hard I'm sweating standing still in this freezing auditorium so that it can look and sound completely free and easy." This is Michiru's entire life. She is composing herself. She is outlining complex rhythms and tensions and resolutions that even though you hear when the piece is played, you don't fully take in or understand, and all you consciously comprehend is 'wow, pretty.' Because that's how music works. Organs have keys that can't be heard by the human ear, and composers include them in their pieces. Why? We can't hear them! But we feel them. If you look at the score for an orchestral piece, it contains So. Many. Notes. So much going on. But when you listen, all you hear is that melodic theme. But if you take out anything underneath, things change and cam fall apart. Michiru lives her life like that. She creates herself, composes herself, and it looks elegant and free and easy, but it is so so very tightly controlled and rehearsed, and that particular wordplay showed off that side of Michiru's music, which is one I don't get to see explored much. --- @incorrecttact 

(Thank you so much for this!! I am NOT a musician, but so much of Michiru and music speaks to me, the structure of it, the discipline, the way it allows you to express yourself while hiding behind something else. And yes! I think of that double meaning so much!)

I want you to know... that this was very, very difficult. I made a notepad and collected shit I'd pulled out from your work where I could find comments where I did such, and then I AGONIZED. Here is where I landed but know it's so close with other things god. 

"Winston worked in earnest at his inventions, and Emily went back to teaching, and the two of them began to cook for each other again. Family dinners once a week resumed, grew with some of the new recruits that were being folded into their family. Pharah and Mercy’s daughter took them to the zoo, the park, out into the world. Dva had continued the game they had all been playing before Tracer died, their party picking up after the terrible and well-done loss of their beloved rogue. ***Life did not return, but it grew forward. It bloomed again.***" — A Clock's Fading Chime

I ended up choosing this one because I hate it a little when I read it. Not because it's not good but because it's SO PAINFUL. I love so much about the way you talk about love, and I think grief is all a part of that. We grieve because we loved. The idea of the grief period, especially for those in a close circle of a lost person, being like the cycle of the seasons where a flower may die but life blossoms in the soil it left behind is so evocative and perfect and everything leading up to that last line is the soil for which that line got to bloom. The slow, simple way life returns to them, that they adjust to the heavy rock in their pack (A piece of yours I revisited for this and a metaphor I will always carry with me) and start growing stronger together. And that they find it WITH EACH OTHER too just god, it kills me. But would I rather wish it wasn't necessary? YUP. FOR SURE. It hurts to think about someone who plays Lena's role dying in our own lives and trying to mend the rift between those left behind. But it brings all those possibilities and who may have gone already before to mind because it feels so grounded in the reality of what these experiences are like and shit it's just a great sampling of everything I love about your work. Beautiful prose, saying so much with so little, grounded in stuff that feels read, and ending on a banger, transfixing line. ---- @thoughtfulfangirling 

(Thank you so much! I LOVED that whole series of fics around that, as it is in the way that I often like to toy with the nature of grief, and the way that we go on. Things aren’t ever the same, but we go on. And I’m so glad you gt into it too! It’s very self-indulgent for me, basically everything with OW, so I love when other poepl like it) 

4 point answers: 

Given that I am not Jewish, I hope this isn't overstepping my bounds, but your passover Seder speech really spoke to me this year. Specifically the bits about the relationship between cowardice and metaphorical bondage: 

"This is a celebration of our freedom from bondage, but it is a also a reminder, a call that we must ensure we do not, in cowardice, return ourselves to bondage. "

Without explaining too much, and risking the kind of parasocial oversharing that you lamented the other day in a post, this particular push and pull has been at the forefront of my mind this year. The intense gravity that the familiar, the easy, the safe, can have, versus the genuine terror of pressing out into the unknown in search of something better.

Trying to change, and to do better, and to press on, is fucking terrifying, and hard. But, that is not an excuse. And I appreciated the reminder.   --- @blastoise-m 

(Not overstepping at all! I am so glad that it speaks to you, I really, really love this kind of writing, and I really should get back to doing more of my Jewish writing. My rabbi is leaving, because we apparently don’t have the money to have a rabbi! And he’s readying people to be lay leaders, and called on me to be someone who could give Divrei Torah (sort of like our sermons) because of my tendency to do stuff like this, and it’s very scary! But really exciting as that’s the kind of stuff that had me interested in being a rabbi, is picking this stuff apart and applying it to our own lives HI YOU ASKED FOR NONE OF THIS SORRY) 

"There are no beautiful deaths in this world, and am sorry that you must know it. Rei never was allowed to say goodbye. I watched Haruka grow weaker and more ill every single day. We each have been jealous of the other, at turns, but I tell you this truth now: Our lives mean much more than our deaths. You and Seiya had a wonderful love story, and you raised a wonderful daughter, and unfortunately it is very often difficult to finish a story in a satisfying sort of way. It is not the end of your story, simply of hers. For you, it is a new chapter"

I think this is still one of my top 5 fav fics that you've ever written. I still think of it randomly once in a while. It's such a small moment but it sold me Usagi and Seiya in a way never would have expected. It's such a moment of growth for both Usagi and Muchiru. A small moment of connection for two people who are so different.

This is wrapped up in the entire MaS series, which I could never separate from this work let alone this quote. The entire series is a series about love and all its many permutations. About finding meaning in a world when you think your meaning has been taken away. About carrying on when you think there's no reason to do so. And I think this quote really encapsulates all of that. 

This story, this entire series, is one the favorite things I've ever read and I'm so glad that you decided to share it. --- @madegeeky

(I truly and in all ways love how much you love this fic, it cheers em and makes me so happy every time I am reminded of it. And thank you for loving that line! I FEEL that line. It’s been true for every death that has come to me, so I love when it has meaning for others. ) 

The 5 point answer:

"God separated the sky and the sea, and that’s true, but there will always be the horizon where they blend."

I'm not much of a quote person. I'll often remember the feeling or the takeaway but rarely the words themselves. This, though, has stuck with me.

There is so much in this world, and so many people, who see everything as absolutes. Black and white. Good or bad. Right or wrong. And as I've grown and changed, that has come to bother me more and more.

This quote is such an elegant and accessible way to express how that oh-so-common point of view is a fallacy. And really it's just a lovely line that invokes both lovely imagery and feeling. ---- @seolh

I FORGOT I WROTE THIS, and like the completely arrogant piece of shit I am, when I read it was I was like, “Oh fuck, that’s a solid line.” And yes I am with you on getting older and relizing that the horizon line can be so fuzzy out there, sometimes, and this quote WEIRDLY came back to me when I needed it, a lot, and so thank you!