#in terms of useless skills to have

[fictionadventurer]

😅

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

got a worm nibbling my brain. can someone help me find a piece of obscure media?

webcomic/indie comic from the 2010s. basically a sci-fi short story about a young girl (with red hair?) who was being raised by scientists as part of an experiment. she receives a haircut/has her head shaved, in preparation for her annual brain scan/testing. it is revealed that while her body is human, her "brain" is artificial, made of computer implants throughout her skull and spine. at some point her biological mother (also a scientist on the same campus?) encounters her and is repulsed, viewing her as a machine who has murdered her daughter.

it was very poignant and it bruised my heart and i can NOT find it anywhere

[aliusfrater]

for the life of me i cannot figure out why people are so desperate to apply a version of dean's facade to sam

[vounoura]

the maister system and the new 'find vocations out in the world' system is...ok, but I prefer the old colour system

[imsobadatnicknames2]

How can you consider yourself any sort of leftist when you defend AI art bullshit? You literally simp for AI techbros and have the gall to pretend you're against big corporations?? Get fucked

I don't "defend" AI art. I think a particular old post of mine that a lot of people tend to read in bad faith must be making the rounds again lmao.

Took me a good while to reply to this because you know what? I decided to make something positive out of this and use this as an opportunity to outline what I ACTUALLY believe about AI art. If anyone seeing this decides to read it in good or bad faith... Welp, your choice I guess.

I have several criticisms of the way the proliferation of AI art generators and LLMs is making a lot of things worse. Some of these are things I have voiced in the past, some of these are things I haven't until now:

Most image and text AI generators are fine-tuned to produce nothing but the most agreeable, generically pretty content slop, pretty much immediately squandering their potential to be used as genuinely interesting artistic tools with anything to offer in terms of a unique aesthetic experience (AI video still manages to look bizarre and interesting but it's getting there too)

In the entertainment industry and a lot of other fields, AI image generation is getting incorporated into production pipelines in ways that lead to the immiseration of working artists, being used to justify either lower wages or straight-up layoffs, and this is something that needs to be fought against. That's why I unconditionally supported the SAG-AFTRA strikes last year and will unconditionally support any collective action to address AI art as a concrete labor issue

In most fields where it's being integrated, AI art is vastly inferior to human artists in any use case where you need anything other than to make a superficially pretty picture really fast. If you need to do anything like ask for revisions or minor corrections, give very specific descriptions of how objects and people are interacting with each other, or just like. generate several pictures of the same thing and have them stay consistent with each other, you NEED human artists and it's preposterous to think they can be replaced by AI.

There is a lot of art on the internet that consists of the most generically pretty, cookie-cutter anime waifu-adjacent slop that has zero artistic or emotional value to either the people seeing it or the person churning it out, and while this certainly was A Thing before the advent of AI art generators, generative AI has made it extremely easy to become the kind of person who churns it out and floods online art spaces with it.

Similarly, LLMs make it extremely easy to generate massive volumes of texts, pages, articles, listicles and what have you that are generic vapid SEO-friendly pap at best and bizzarre nonsense misinformation at worst, drowning useful information in a sea of vapid noise and rendering internet searches increasingly useless.

The way LLMs are being incorporated into customer service and similar services not only, again, encourages further immiseration of customer service workers, but it's also completely useless for most customers.

A very annoyingly vocal part the population of AI art enthusiasts, fanatics and promoters do tend to talk about it in a way that directly or indirectly demeans the merit and skill of human artists and implies that they think of anyone who sees anything worthwile in the process of creation itself rather than the end product as stupid or deluded.

So you can probably tell by now that I don't hold AI art or writing in very high regard. However (and here's the part that'll get me called an AI techbro, or get people telling me that I'm just jealous of REAL artists because I lack the drive to create art of my own, or whatever else) I do have some criticisms of the way people have been responding to it, and have voiced such criticisms in the past.

I think a lot of the opposition to AI art has critstallized around unexamined gut reactions, whipping up a moral panic, and pressure to outwardly display an acceptable level of disdain for it. And in particular I think this climate has made a lot of people very prone to either uncritically entertain and adopt regressive ideas about Intellectual Propety, OR reveal previously held regressive ideas about Intellectual Property that are now suddenly more socially acceptable to express:

(I wanna preface this section by stating that I'm a staunch intellectual property abolitionist for the same reason I'm a private property abolitionist. If you think the existence of intellectual property is a good thing, a lot of my ideas about a lot of stuff are gonna be unpalatable to you. Not much I can do about it.)

A lot of people are suddenly throwing their support behind any proposal that promises stricter copyright regulations to combat AI art, when a lot of these also have the potential to severely udnermine fair use laws and fuck over a lot of independent artist for the benefit of big companies.

It was very worrying to see a lot of fanfic authors in particular clap for the George R R Martin OpenAI lawsuit because well... a lot of them don't realize that fanfic is a hobby that's in a position that's VERY legally precarious at best, that legally speaking using someone else's characters in your fanfic is as much of a violation of copyright law as straight up stealing entire passages, and that any regulation that can be used against the latter can be extended against the former.

Similarly, a lot of artists were cheering for the lawsuit against AI art models trained to mimic the style of specific artists. Which I agree is an extremely scummy thing to do (just like a human artist making a living from ripping off someone else's work is also extremely scummy), but I don't think every scummy act necessarily needs to be punishable by law, and some of them would in fact leave people worse off if they were. All this to say: If you are an artist, and ESPECIALLY a fan artist, trust me. You DON'T wanna live in a world where there's precedent for people's artstyles to be considered intellectual property in any legally enforceable way. I know you wanna hurt AI art people but this is one avenue that's not worth it.

Especially worrying to me as an indie musician has been to see people mention the strict copyright laws of the music industry as a positive thing that they wanna emulate. "this would never happen in the music industry because they value their artists copyright" idk maybe this is a the grass is greener type of situation but I'm telling you, you DON'T wanna live in a world where copyright law in the visual arts world works the way it does in the music industry. It's not worth it.

I've seen at least one person compare AI art model training to music sampling and say "there's a reason why they cracked down on sampling" as if the death of sampling due to stricter copyright laws was a good thing and not literally one of the worst things to happen in the history of music which nearly destroyed several primarily black music genres. Of course this is anecdotal because it's just One Guy I Saw Once, but you can see what I mean about how uncritical support for copyright law as a tool against AI can lead people to adopt increasingly regressive ideas about copyright.

Similarly, I've seen at least one person go "you know what? Collages should be considered art theft too, fuck you" over an argument where someone else compared AI art to collages. Again, same point as above.

Similarly, I take issue with the way a lot of people seem EXTREMELY personally invested in proving AI art is Not Real Art. I not only find this discussion unproductive, but also similarly dangerously prone to validating very reactionary ideas about The Nature Of Art that shouldn't really be entertained. Also it's a discussion rife with intellectual dishonesty and unevenly applied definition and standards.

When a lot of people present the argument of AI art not being art because the definition of art is this and that, they try to pretend that this is the definition of art the've always operated under and believed in, even when a lot of the time it's blatantly obvious that they're constructing their definition on the spot and deliberately trying to do so in such a way that it doesn't include AI art.

They never succeed at it, btw. I've seen several dozen different "AI art isn't art because art is [definition]". I've seen exactly zero of those where trying to seriously apply that definition in any context outside of trying to prove AI art isn't art doesn't end up in it accidentally excluding one or more non-AI artforms, usually reflecting the author's blindspots with regard to the different forms of artistic expression.

(However, this is moot because, again, these are rarely definitions that these people actually believe in or adhere to outside of trying to win "Is AI art real art?" discussions.)

Especially worrying when the definition they construct is built around stuff like Effort or Skill or Dedication or The Divine Human Spirit. You would not be happy about the kinds of art that have traditionally been excluded from Real Art using similar definitions.

Seriously when everyone was celebrating that the Catholic Church came out to say AI art isn't real art and sharing it as if it was validating and not Extremely Worrying that the arguments they'd been using against AI art sounded nearly identical to things TradCaths believe I was like. Well alright :T You can make all the "I never thought I'd die fighting side by side with a catholic" legolas and gimli memes you want, but it won't change the fact that the argument being made by the catholic church was a profoundly conservative one and nearly identical to arguments used to dismiss the artistic merit of certain forms of "degenerate" art and everyone was just uncritically sharing it, completely unconcerned with what kind of worldview they were lending validity to by sharing it.

Remember when the discourse about the Gay Sex cats pic was going on? One of the things I remember the most from that time was when someone went "Tell me a definition of art that excludes this picture without also excluding Fountain by Duchamp" and how just. Literally no one was able to do it. A LOT of people tried to argue some variation of "Well, Fountain is art and this image isn't because what turns fountain into art is Intent. Duchamp's choice to show a urinal at an art gallery as if it was art confers it an element of artistic intent that this image lacks" when like. Didn't by that same logic OP's choice to post the image on tumblr as if it was art also confer it artistic intent in the same way? Didn't that argument actually kinda end up accidentally validating the artistic status of every piece of AI art ever posted on social media? That moment it clicked for me that a lot of these definitions require applying certain concepts extremely selectively in order to make sense for the people using them.

A lot of people also try to argue it isn't Real Art based on the fact that most AI art is vapid but like. If being vapid definitionally excludes something from being art you're going to have to exclude a whooole lot of stuff along with it. AI art is vapid. A lot of art is too, I don't think this argument works either.

Like, look, I'm not really invested in trying to argue in favor of The Artistic Merits of AI art but I also find it extremely hard to ignore how trying to categorically define AI art as Not Real Art not only is unproductive but also requires either a) applying certain parts of your definition of art extremely selectively, b) constructing a definition of art so convoluted and full of weird caveats as to be functionally useless, or c) validating extremely reactionary conservative ideas about what Real Art is.

Some stray thoughts that don't fit any of the above sections.

I've occassionally seen people respond to AI art being used for shitposts like "A lot of people have affordable commissions, you could have paid someone like $30 to draw this for you instead of using the plagiarism algorithm and exploiting the work of real artists" and sorry but if you consider paying an artist a rate that amounts to like $5 for several hours of work a LESS exploitative alternative I think you've got something fucked up going on with your priorities.

Also it's kinda funny when people comment on the aforementioned shitposts with some variation of "see, the usage of AI art robs it of all humor because the thing that makes shitposts funny is when you consider the fact that someone would spend so much time and effort in something so stupid" because like. Yeah that is part of the humor SOMETIMES but also people share and laugh at low effort shitposts all the time. Again you're constructing a definition that you don't actually believe in anywhere outside of this type of conversations. Just say you don't like that it's AI art because you think it's morally wrong and stop being disingenuous.

So yeah, this is pretty much everything I believe about the topic.

I don't "defend" AI art, but my opposition to it is firmly rooted in my principles, and that means I refuse to uncritically accept any anti-AI art argument that goes against those same principles.

If you think not accepting and parroting every Anti-AI art argument I encounter because some of them are ideologically rooted in things I disagree with makes me indistinguishable from "AI techbros" you're working under a fucked up dichotomy.

[jamiedc-they-them]

Thunderbolts x reader, maybe continuation of the black widow fic you did where the reader is taskmaster, but basically the plot of the movie stays the same (minus Ava killing taskmaster) but actually become close with Ava and John and Yelena and reader having mental breakdowns together

Forgive me, little sister Part II (platonic)

Forgive me, little sister Part I

Marvel Masterlist I

Marvel Masterlist II

Anything in () aside from (Your name)is Russian :)

Summary: Years after being freed from being Taskmaster, you haven’t heard from your family. That all changes on one very special, apparently final, mission…

Warnings: Mental health, depression, suicidal thoughts, self-hatred, violence, trauma.

You didn’t know why Yelena and Alexei never called after Natasha’s death. They didn’t even try.

You were promised a family, but instead got nothing. You were left alone, with barely any memories or even identity.

Natasha may have apologised, but then she died, and Yelena never came back for you.

Valentina, a woman you hadn’t heard of before, approached you one day.

“Mask is a little needless,” she said, “but we can make it work. Makes you harder to track.”

So, that’s how you fell into a spiral: once again killing and tracking like you did with Dreykov, but people who were, as you were told, bad and deserved it.

You didn’t talk much, but when you did, you had a voice coder in your helmet.

“Edgy,” Valentina quipped one time when contacting you, “you know, I don’t care if you don’t let anyone else in. But you have to let me in. I can’t fully help you otherwise.”

“Help me?” You parroted.

“With your scars from the Black Widow programme,” she didn’t even look at you, knowing your eyes at widened, “oh, I know all about you. Tragic story, but skills that make you useful in a world where so many people are useless.

“Don’t worry, though,” she said as she condescendingly tapped your shoulder, “your secret is safe with me.”

For how long, though, you asked yourself.

You didn’t talk to anyone, just kept to yourself.

The idea that Natasha gave to you when Yelena, her, Alexei and Melinda saved you brought hope to you. Safety. Life.

That was just a lie, just like how you told yourself, in that moment, that you deserved it, to be cherished, loved, worth fighting for. 

It was a lie, all of it. 

So, you slaved. You worked yourself to the bone, only really patching yourself up when Valentina scolded you for it.

The Widows you hunted and killed, the innocent people you killed.

Why were you still here?

“I have another job for you,” Valentina said, “then you’re free to…do, whatever it is that you do in your spare time.”

She had found a sort of language with you. So, no response meant for her to just send it over.

O.X.E were being broken into, you needed to trail the person who was entering the premises and kill them.

Valentina had used you for experiments, so you were both Taskmaster and…something else.

When you entered, you saw someone who made your rage boil: Yelena.

So, she seemed to be the intruder? But, from what Valentina had told you, she did not match the description at all.

No, what matched it was the man she was fighting: The failed Captain America.

So, you got right into action. 

You were quick, but so was he. 

You were even, well, in terms of speed. You had guns and a blade, he had a shield. He launched it, and you ducked. 

You heard Yelena call out to you, but it was too late. You were sent flying by a new contender. She phased in and out, using it to dodge and then get one over on you.

It was brutal, painful, but nothing you weren't used to.

You got up, disoriented. As you went to the new person — a woman, Yelena got in front, hands up:

“(Your name), stop!” she cried, “Stop…we were all sent here to kill each other. Valentina set us up.” 

“Stop, (sister),” her voice was soft. It hadn't changed. She hadn't changed, aside from the blue eyeliner. 

“Wait, this twerp is your sister?” Walker asked. 

Yelena pointed at him: Careful. 

“I still have a job to do,” the Ghost said, gun aimed at you, “nothing personal.

To her surprise, one that made her pause, you put your weapons away and gently pushed Yelena aside. 

“Do it,” you said, voice clear for the first time in…god knew how long.

“What?!” Yelena said in disgust and horror.

She then turned to the woman, “Please…” 

Despite your helmet, the woman met your eyes before looking at you, actually looking at you.

“God, you're barely an adult,” she whispered. 

“Jesus,” Walker said, “they're sending kids to do an adult's job.” 

“Still kicked your arse,” the woman sneered, eyes still on you.

You hadn't moved. You hadn't spoken. You just waited. 

She lowered her pistol.

A new person entered. A man: Bob.

He was kind. Also kind of confused. 

A timer appeared: Two minutes. 

You were a solo act, not something you would exactly say with a proud smirk like some people in movies that you watched to attempt to claw back some semblance of a life, but more of a sad acknowledgement. 

So, for now, the four of you (and Bob) worked together. Walker used his shield to break a machine that blocked the woman's powers (that Yelena found). The woman was phasing out of the room, opening it, just before the incinerator killed you all. 

You came to, a hand reaching down to you, the woman who was meant to take your life and had now just saved it. 

You took it. She helped you up. 

“You alright?” she asked, sounding genuinely interested in your well-being. 

You nodded, so did she. 

Yelena was talking to Bob, a softness in her eyes. Sisterly concern, she had coined it. 

She'd found a new member of her family then, a brother. Another person who lost their memory.

Maybe she wouldn't abandon him. You hoped she didn't. 

“Hey,” the woman said, “look, you and your sister’s thing is your thing. But, right now, we need to focus on getting out of here alive, ok?”

You nodded, grabbing your pistol, unloading a magazine, and holding it to her. 

“Gun is nearly empty,” you said, English broken.

She took it. “Thank you.”

Walker broke the wall, announcing it to all of you. 

You found yourself at the bottom of a seemingly infinite climb.

So, you all hooked arms, starting to climb together.

“How old are you, kid?” 

“I don't know.”

“You don't know?” Walker said, not believing you.

“She had her memories corrupted,” Yelena explained, “file destroyed. She doesn't know, and neither does anyone else.” 

“Yeah, well, I was meant to be the next Captain —”

“We know!” the two women shouted.

You continued to make your way up. 

Then, the cucumber incident occurred. 

Even you joined in with the shouting of that. 

You didn't want all these people to fall and die.

Walker, being Walker, decided that he would be the one to do the heroics. Before anyone could stop him, he went up. 

You barely had time to reach your sword and slam it into the wall. Yelena grabbed onto you, leaning back and using her grappling hook to grab Bob.

“Ok, uh, we will climb up (Your name) and —” Yelena couldn't finish, as you slammed another blade into the wall, effortlessly moving while supporting the other two.

“She’s strong!” Bob cheered for his new friend. 

“This isn't right,” Yelena said. You paused, tilting your head to her, “What did Valentina do to you?” 

You didn't answer, only continuing to climb.

Yelena went up, then Bob. 

When he made contact with you, you weren't holding onto the ledge…you were somewhere else. 

Dreykov was there. You were younger. You could make out your features, but this was just when you were moved. 

He looked at your younger self before hitting you.

“Get up, pathetic one.” 

“Is she ok?!” a distorted voice asked. 

“I don't…(Your name), Wake up!” It was Yelena who answered. 

You took off your helmet, crouching near your younger self. 

You grabbed your arms, helping yourself up.

A gun cock. You turned. Dreykov had it on your head. 

“I should have killed you as soon as I met you, child.” 

“WAKE UP!”

You gasped, looking down into that pit of darkness. You were upside down. You felt a rope around your foot. Whoever had spoken before was now quiet. But how —

“(Your name)!” Yelena’s voice cracked. 

You looked up, Yelena was looking over that edge you were grabbing onto just moments ago, her grapple was out of its holder. Her eyes twinkled with tears. 

The other two stood, looking down at you with something foreign to you: concern. 

“Jesus, kid,” Walker said, “I mean…i don't know why I was facing the damn thing…but —” 

“You let go!” the woman shouted, eyes wide. 

You grabbed the rope, using a knife to cut the bit at your foot, using the but in your had to swing yourself to the wall. The other two helped Yelena in pulling you up. 

You reached it. Three sets of hands grabbing you and helping you up.

You felt two cup your face. Yelena knelt next to you. She put her head against your helmet, “Don't you ever do that to me again.” 

You would be honest, say that you'd try not to. Instead, you pushed her away, standing up and going to the door. 

“That was rude,” Walker said. 

You didn't answer, only looking out the door. 

O.X.E were here for you…and Bob.

Yelena’s plan was smart. But it required something you guys didn't really have: trust. 

The woman looked to you, before she went outside, “I'll be waiting. I promise.” 

Why was she being kind to you? Sure, she almost saw you die, but you had to guess that she had seen people die before. 

You went with Yelena and Bob, “can I have a gun?” he asked. 

“(Your name) and I will handle it. You just stay behind us.”

“We will get you out of this (odd one),” you assured. 

Yelena, internally, was relieved. You were together on this.

“Why did you push me away?” she asked, voice quiet. You continued flicking the switches that you needed.

“You don't get to play sister-dearest now. You left me.” 

You could feel the hurt coming off of her in waves. 

“I didn't mean to —”

“Valentina found me!” you snapped, “she found me trying to break into a building to just get found and die. She – she called them off, hired me instead. And now she just – she's like everyone else, they all find out in the end…even after I let her experiment on me —”

“You did —”

“Everyone leaves me, Yelena!” Was this the place? No. But, it was coming out now, “because I am not worth any of it. You promised family, then left! I let myself believe it, for a second!” You shoved her back, “but I'll get you out. I'll let you and your new brother Bob get out. I'm done after this. I tried, I really did…”

The lights went out, but not back on. 

Shit.

It was odd, how Yelena and you fell back into fighting together. You would lower your back, she would roll. She'd throw you something, you'd catch it. 

It was like old times. 

But that was all they were…old. The past. 

You made it to Walker, after almost killing him, before using the armour from the people that you had hurt or killed as a disguise. 

It was working. You had made them all turn around when you took your helmet off. To your relief, and wonder as to why, they did. 

You made it…well, almost made it. You had to get a vehicle.

You wouldn't lie if you said you hadn't jumped when the woman appeared, appearing in the driver's seat. 

You sat with Bob in the back.

“I like your eyes,” he said.

“What?”

“Your eyes,” he elaborated, “they're a nice colour.” 

You weren't entirely sure how to take the compliment.

“Sorry,” he said, seemingly understanding, “I'm not great at giving or receiving them either. Have a little voice in the back of my head…some days it's louder. But, it's always there, saying —”

“You aren't worthy of it.”

Bob took off his helmet, smiling a sad but soft one, “Exactly.” 

You heard Walker talking to someone, an actual O.X.E employee. The employee was getting irritated. 

Looked like a fight was —

“Hey,” Bob said, “I um…I don't know how to use this thing, I'm sure my demonstration back there was pretty much the best example,” he said, scratching his neck as he took his armour off.

You nodded.

“But, you do. And, I'm sorry to ask — it's dumb — but, maybe.” 

You grabbed a rifle, checking the magazine before putting it back in. 

“If this is it,” you looked at him, eyes soft, “at least I won't be alone for a few minutes.” 

He smiled, “Thank you. I mean it.” 

You nodded, “Let’s go be dumb and lose our minds together.”

He smiled. He was scared, you were relieved. An ending. A use. 

You fired the gun, Taskmaster armour back on. Bob was behind you, shouting and grabbing attention

Guns were trained on you, the lights blinding.

You moved yourself in front of Bob, but he then moved himself next to you, hand going into yours. 

“Together?” you nodded.

“No, Bob helped,” Yelena said from the car. 

“Bob’s not alone,” Walker said, a small bit of fear slipping into his voice.

“Oh no…” Ghost said.

“What do you —” Yelena’s heart stopped.

Her ears rang when the bullets went. Watching your bodies jerk with each hit. Watching you fall. 

The ringing continued. She didn't even know if she cried out for you. She didn’t know if she screamed. She couldn't feel a tear run down her face. 

They had made it out, but it felt worthless without you.

Bob took off, literally. They all looked up. Meaning they didn't see you. They didn't see you crawl to a box for cover. They didn't see you crawl your way to a hill and roll your way down it. 

They ignored you, completely. 

A massive boom occurred, the shockwave waking you up as you felt your body heal itself. 

You slowly got up, legs shaky. 

You were alive again. 

Not even Valentina could kill you. 

You started walking through the night, with no sense of direction. You just walked. 

You didn't know if your body would break down without food or water. Would it eat itself, only to then repair?

You found a road and followed it.

Hours went by. Where had Bob gone? He was an experiment, too, it seemed. Why else would he have been there? 

Your legs gave way. Maybe you weren't invincible after all. 

You felt arms grab you, then turn you around. 

“Oh, (little one)!” a familiar voice yelled out. 

You felt hands grab your helmet. You couldn't stop Alexei. 

Your helmet came off, and then a bottle came to your lips, “Drink, (daughter). Drink,” he was soft, kind. Elated.

You opened your eyes and saw him. He still looked the same, a bit Balder than you remembered, but the same other than that.

“(Dad)?” you asked. 

He nodded, wiping a tear away.

He helped you up. “Are you alright?”

You shook your head.

“It's alright, I'm here. Pappa is here,” he said, comfortingly, “I'm here. Pappa is here.” 

He looked around, “Now, come. We must save your sister —”

The clap of the slap and the power took him by surprise. 

“Why do you have to be so nasty?”

He was shoved against the car the next moment, “it's always Yelena, Yelena, Yelena with you! What about me?! Your other daughter, the other one who is alive? Did you even think about me?!”

“Of course I did!”

“Then where were you?”

He faltered. So did you. 

“I let myself be pumped full of drugs and shit —”

“Language —”

“—Stuff,” you corrected, hands up, “to just try… I don't know, feel wanted?” 

Alexei felt his heart break. 

“I bet Yelena visited…”

“She did.”

You looked at the floor, fingers playing with each other, “of course she did,” you were too tired to be angry.

“Did you have cellphone?”

You shook your head.

“Thus I could not call —”

He held up his hand as you went to talk, “—but that is not an excuse. You are my daughter. I should have tried harder. Especially with your mind telling horrible lies.” 

You looked up at him, eyes glassy. 

He smiled, “I am glad you have kept yourself alive, even if not well. That is foundation that we can build from.”

You sniffled.

Alexei picked up your helmet, holding it to you, “wear it if you want,” he pulled it away when you reached for it, “but I do not think you have to. You are (your name), my daughter. And you look beautiful regardless.” 

You took it, but didn't have it on your head for once.

You rode in companionable silence. You felt a bit lighter, but still the darkness clawed at you. 

“There,” you said, pointing. 

Alexis started on the horn, laughing, “Ah, see? This is why I couldn't find you! You know how to hide tracks!” 

Despite yourself, you chuckled.

“YELENA!l Alexei bellowed, “YOUR SISTER AND I ARE HERE TO TELL YOU: DO NOT GO TO THE VAULT!”

Yelena looked up at the mention of you. Ava and Walker looked at each other: You were alive?

They made their way down to Alexei. Yelena got in the front, her eyes sparkling as she saw you eating snacks in the back seat, your helmet off. 

Alexei got in before she could speak. But he nodded, knowing what she was thinking. 

Ava got in, pausing as she looked at you. 

“Don't have too much,” she teased, “still need to run away, remember?”

You nodded, putting a thumb up. 

Walker got in, “You like, never get to eat any of this stuff before?” 

You paused, looking to him, before shaking your head. 

“Stuck in a lab?” Ava asked in understanding. 

“Sometimes,” you said, the pair noticing the Russian accent. 

“I'm sorry,” it was Walker who said that, in the softest voice you had heard him use. 

“Thank you,” you answered. He nodded. 

The conversation moved on to Bob. 

“He’s a bit weird, if you ask me,” Walker was back to his old self,”

“Ah,” Alexei groaned, “we all have quirks, failed Captain America.” Despite Alexei’s words being said with a happy tone, they stung Walker: “That's why we make friends, to find people who accept them.” 

Before it could continue, O.X.E forces showed up. John used his shield, you used your pistol. Ava tried to use her phase ability, only for the speaker that was used before to shriek and block her ability, forcing her to hold her ears. 

You pulled her in, feeling bullets tear into you. You fell to the floor. 

Yelena looked back, seeing you like that. It drove a rage in her. She leant out of the window, firing her pistol. 

The truck…exploded. 

Ava grabbed you, hoisting you back up, “I’ve got you,” she said. 

John was back at the window, blocking all the bullets that he could. 

Yelena knew there was a rage in her, but did it channel into her bullets —?

No, it was Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier. 

John celebrated too early. 

“Ah, shit —” he couldn't finish his celebration, as the bomb Bucky put on your car went off. 

You woke up groggily. 

“Morning,” Bucky said. 

No one else was awake yet. 

You looked to him, “you know, before everything went down with our split and Thanos, Nat spoke about you. She wanted to try find you.”

You just watched him as he continued, “And…after everything, I tried to look for you for a bit. Thought maybe I could help. You remind me of me.”

He walked to you, then paused when you flinched. He put his hands up, moving slower, “You know I spent years hating myself for what I did as the Winter Soldier…”

As you watched him, you felt the tears build, “…and I don’t think it ever goes away. But, maybe I can help you find ways to cope.” 

“Why?” You asked, voice cracking.” 

“Because you deserve to be ok,” Yelena said, still trying to wake up herself. She blinked, “You…you deserve a good life.” 

Before you could answer, the others woke up. Bucky nodded at you before getting up. 

“They tracked you through this,” Bucky held up your helmet, “she put a tracker in there.”

You looked down. You almost got them all killed.

Of course, you almost did, you piece of —

“But, Bucky said, breaking you out of your thoughts, “they also did because that slow limousine Alexei was driving.”

“Hey!” The man roared, “Do not insult my car! It was getting faster —”

“We reached top speed before the chase even began,” Yelena argued. 

Alexei sulked. 

Bucky was shit at remembering Bob’s name, but he got the gist: Valentina wanted him for her gain, another victim to abuse and having agency ripped from them. 

“If I take that,” you nodded at your helmet, “she’ll know we’re coming.”

“Oh, don’t worry, she’ll know,” Bucky said.

You all looked at him. “I have a plan.”

So, the plan changed: Stop Valentina and save Bob.

Thus, the Thunderbolts were born. 

You sat in the back of the truck with Yelena, Ava and John. 

The fatigue of the past two days was catching up with you. 

As you playfully teased John for his helmet, you felt yourself drift off. Your head went on Yelena’s shoulder as your breathing evened out. 

No one moved. No one spoke. 

“Glad she’s able to get some rest,” John said.

“Just glad she’s alive,” Ava admitted.

“Going soft?” John teased.

“Shove off,” she said, but a smile was there. 

Yelena ran her hand through your hair before planting a kiss on your head. 

You were woken up by a crash as Bucky’s “plan” started. 

Yelena and you moved in sync once again. 

However, John called your name. You hopped on his shield, and he sent you up, before you slammed back into the ground. It caused enough of a quake to knock people over. 

Ava then appeared, grabbing you and moving you from danger. Alexei then took care of the ones who fired at you. 

Then:

“Jesus, you guys. I had them unlock the front door for you,” Valentina said, “Just come up.”

You did. This was going well. You all even kept each other in check with Valentina.

It all went wrong when Bob came down. He was in a suit, going by the name of Sentry.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

But he did. He really did hurt you. 

Bucky lost his arm. You lost your helmet. 

The rest of you got the hell kicked out of you. 

You all limped back to the lift, Bob kicking you your helmet before the doors shut. 

You all went outside the tower.

Yelena was furious, sad, and vulnerable. She lashed out. As she turned to you, though, she paused. 

You were vomiting. 

Ava was by your side, hand on your back. 

“Are you —”

You shoved past her before letting out a guttural scream. They all watched, and even civilians looked at you. 

You fell to your knees. 

Yelena wiped at her eyes. 

John looked down.

Ava gulped.

Alexei looked heartbroken.

A knee went in front of you. You looked up.

It was Bucky.

“Sometimes screaming is a good start to healing —”

“Bucky —”

“No, I’m serious, John,” Bucky said.

“She was watching me,” you said, “through this fucking thing.”

You slammed it on the ground. Letting out another scream as you hit it again, and again, and again. 

John pushed you back gently before using his taco shield to slam into the helmet. Ava then appeared, kicking it. Bucky then caught it, bending it.

He threw it to Alexei. He threw it.

Yelena looked at you. You just looked at the helmet.

She fired at it, emptying a clip, without even looking. 

“No more, Valentina,” she vowed, walking over to you and crouching next to you. 

“Go away, Yelena.”

“No.”

Go. Away.”

She shook her head, “Not this time.” 

She grabbed your arms gently, helping you up. 

“I should have stayed with you,” she said, “I'm sorry (little sister).” 

Then, she took your hand and led the way. 

You followed, numb.

“(Daughters) wait,” Alexei called out.

“No. Go away.”

“No.”

“Then keep following us.”

“I will. Because that is what family does.” 

“Stop!” Yelena yelled. She was angry, angry about the lack of content she had in her life, the emptiness she felt, the loneliness.

Her hand squeezed yours more and more. It was a release, to let it all out. 

“When I see you both, I don't see your mistakes.”

The three of you, for the first time, hugged. As a family. 

It didn't last long. Bob had been pushed beyond a point. 

The void was what they called him, what he was. 

“We are all alone,” he said, as people disappeared. 

Yelena and you, after you all had helped lift a wall, looked at each other. 

You couldn't run anymore, it wouldn't get you anywhere. 

You reached out first. Yelena’s hand then went into yours. 

You both looked at Bob, your friend. Your pseudo-brother in arms in all this, saying one thing:

“No, you're not.”

Your hands left each other when you went into the void. 

You were back there, with Dreykov. 

You tried to shield your former self. You tried and tried and tried. 

Your nose dripped with blood from the number of hits you took.

“You can end this, little one,” Dreykov said, kneeling, holding the pistol. He put it in your hand and aimed it at your head, “all those voices. All that noise. All that pain. It can all stop.” 

You heard banging on a wall. It was desperate. You heard a muffled voice. There was a window. Blinds started to close. 

You heard banging on the window. 

It stopped. 

Then, a figure appeared, Bob.

“Hey,” was what he said. 

You looked at Dreykov. You hit him, grabbed the gun and fired at the window, before jumping through. 

You landed on the cold floor. 

“(Your name)?!” Yelena said, helping you up. 

You were in a cold blue room. A training room. 

Yelena had finished loading the gun first. 

She walked over to her younger self, making sure she didn't see it. She reached a hand out to you.

You took it, tightening the grip as the whip fell against yours and the other girls’ hands. 

A mirror held Bob. Yelena fired at it, before, hand in hand, you jumped through. 

There was another Yelena, this one passed out against a bathtub.

Your Yelena looked to you, both to see that you were still there and to see your reaction. 

You put a hand on her shoulder. 

A fight occurred, the vodka being shoved down her. 

You went to help, but real Yelena put a hand up: don't.

The next time around, you let Memory Yelena be. 

Bob showed himself again. 

Once again, thank you, you held hands and went through the mirror. 

You sat with Bob. You spoke to him, reminded him that you were there, and that you wouldn’t leave him. You opened up about your own traumas. It was healthy.

“Before, when we were escaping,” he looked at you, “you said that I was Yelena’s brother. Why?” 

“I saw the look she gave you,” you admitted, “she only gives that to family. That level of concern.”

“Sisterly concern,” the two of you finished, “I said that when we were young. Before everything.” 

“This isn't about me,” you said, looking back at Bob.

“I can't — I can't get…the void hasn't just trapped me. Yes, you entered willingly, but…”

“I think what Bob is trying to say,” Yelena said, putting a hand on his lap and another on yours, “is that we may save Bob, but you will be stuck here in the process.”

“I —” your eyes shimmered, but both just sat, watching you with patient and understanding eyes, “it hurt me when you left to find the other widows. I didn’t know where you were or how to find you.

“Memories came and went. But…I had no purpose anymore. I felt…empty. I just…” You looked at Yelena, “I just wanted it to stop.”

She gulped, but nodded. She was listening.

You heard a door below you slam. Bob’s past. An abusive dad. The room shook, chairs and objects flying at you. 

You tried to do what you could to protect yourself, the three of you linking together. 

The others then appeared, helping stem the tide.

“We all ok?” You all gave affirmatives. 

“You said that this wasn’t the worst, right?” Yelena said, looking to Bob, “Show us the worst.”

She held his arms. A promise: you were here. 

You were helping him through the kitchen. Punching his high self. 

You made it to a facility that Yelena recognised. 

There, Bob sat, with similar shapes of the void on the wall. 

You all stood together. 

But the void had other ideas. 

You were pinned, and you felt a bit of shrapnel go through your arm. 

You all called out to Bob as he started to fight back…

But fighting wasn’t working. His fists hit the void, but it started to consume him.

The shadows overtaking him. 

Yelena looked at you and Alexei. 

You both nodded, using your strength to push the metal. Yelena went under. 

The ground cracked.

Objects flew at her.

She dodged them all.

The shadows almost reached him —

Her arms went around him. 

John was next.

Alexei looked at you, “Go, (little one), Pappa will be right behind you.”

You believed him. 

You went under next, dodging what you could before you joined John and Yelena in the hug. 

Ava then joined.

Finally, Alexei and Bucky.

Bob let out a cry. A scream. He let it out. 

He cried, but you still held on.

You all fell back, still holding him. 

You were back in New York. 

Sunlight was returning. 

Aleixi had said about you brining light back. 

You saw a hand, Ava’s, being offered to you. You took it, standing up. 

She dusted you off. 

“Shall we?”

You nodded. 

You joined John and her, him giving you a tap on the back. 

Yelena saw you, holding out a hand. 

You took it. 

You confronted Valentina. She had one more trick up her sleeve, however. 

“I’d like to announce the New Avengers!” 

What the fuck?

Months went by, and you were cleaning your teeth in the bathroom. You looked at yourself, the marks on your face. 

You were still getting used to it, being nice to yourself. But a kind word every so often from the others helped you keep going.

You were a support system for each other.

A unit.

Some might even dare say, a fa—

“Bathroom free?” John asked from outside.

You spat out your toothpaste, “yeah!” 

You opened the door, smiling at John, “how are we doing today?” He asked.

You nodded, “I, um, I’m sorry about your family,” you said.

He nodded, solemnly, “Maybe I can get back to them someday, but…” he looked to you, “you guys ain’t so bad.”

You chuckled, moving past him.

You moved to the kitchen. Ava was finishing with some food.

“I don’t think you ever ate properly in your whole life,” she said, “so, to the best of my ability, I made you these.”

Omelettes. She had made you omelettes. 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. 

After you had eaten them, you continued on your way.

“There you are,” Yelena said. She hugged you, a now-common greeting between you. To ground you. A reminder to you that she still had you, still loved you, and wasn’t leaving. 

“Do you want to go on a walk?” 

“With all the cameras?” 

“Ah, let them take their silly photos,” Yelena said, waving off the threat, “I want us to have sister time, together.” 

“In a bit, I wish to see Bob first.”

She softened, “Alright, see you in a bit.” 

She ruffled your hair as she left. 

“Hey,” you called out, “where’s Bucky?”

“Tin arm man has gone to see, Sam. Something about a ‘copyright’ issue.” 

You nodded before continuing on your way. 

Bob was in bed, watching TV.

You knocked. 

Hearing a muffled “come in,” you did so.

“Thought you may want some company,” you said softly.

He patted the bed.

You go next to him. 

“I’m sorry if it gets annoying,” he started, “but I am grateful for you guys getting me out.”

“We always will, (brother). We have…we each other.”

He smiled, “I’m grateful to have met you guys. To have you in my corner.” 

You put your head on his shoulder, “(Me too).” 

You were. You were all a work in progress, and you would fall. But you could catch each other.

No one would get lost in the void, as long as you all had each other.

[pigeonpeach]

Genshin men as cats!

Prompt: the genshin men are temporarily turned into cats for one day and you as their lover must take care of them and make sure they stay safe

A/n: idk what happened but apparently half of the post got deleted? I’ll have to rewrite it later ;(

Ayato

Oh he’s not happy. He’s probably a shorthaired white cat in terms of appearance. But he is quite annoyed with this predicament. No one is allowed to tell anyone that the Yashiro Commissioner is suddenly a cat. But being a cat is nice. He can lounge and nap all day. He’s probably demanding of attention though. He simply must have your eyes on him. He adores being brushes so lovingly too. Maybe he should have you brush his hair when he’s back to normal.

Al Haitham

Virtually no change. He may still try to read though he won’t be able to turn the pages as easily. He doesn’t mind a few pats but he mostly prefers to be left alone in the nice warm sun to nap the day away. He’s definitely a grey tabby.

Kaveh

He is so distraught! He meows a storm in fustration as he finds he is completely incapable of finishing his projects! You simply must take care of him! You need to have him strapped in like a baby carrier on your chest because he’s just so clingy. He needs constant reassurance and attention. He’s so needy but so cute. Probably a cute little cream colored kitty.

Kaeya

He is also probably a bit annoyed. While yes he gets a complete day off, he can’t do much as a cat. So he’ll probably try to find some entertainment if you don’t keep him thoroughly entertained. He will find a way to sneak out and go play with Klee or annoy Diluc if you don’t keep him in your grasp at all times.

Neuvillette

He is very confused but also curious. On one hand this form is verrrry different than he’s ever had before but its also very beneficial to him. People are far less intimidated and strangely he enjoys being coddled and pet more than he would. Of course miss Furina is teasing the crap out of him but he doesn’t really care. Sitting on your lap, small and warm. Its such a unique experience he will probably never have again.

Wriothesley

Once the dust settles he’s quite relaxed. This is temporary so might as well enjoy it. Sigewinnie has become very attached to him as she constantly makes sure he’s okay. But in particular he loves being held by you. He’s used to being the big strong man who lifts you all the time etc etc. its nice actually being the reverse here. He gets fed special fish from the cafeteria and gets to spend his day in your arms! The perfect break for him! He’s almost sad it’s temporary but he knows he can’t stay like this forever.

Childe

Oh he’s mad! Even when it’s confirmed to be temporary, he is annoyed! How can he improve his fighting skills if he’s a kitty! Sure he’s a adorable little kitty of course but he looks like a baby! Oh his ego is in shatters. It’s unfortunate too because it wasn’t even around his family so he could play with his little brother at least. He’s practically quarantined to keep him safe. He can’t go on kitty adventures. Therefore YOU must make it up to him. He spends his time sulking and trying to play with anything he can. Dangling uniform piece? New toy! Someone’s foot? New toy! He bites! He meows! He hardly naps. He does love cuddling with you though. Still he’s a ball of energy and he cannot simply sit still for long! No doubt will his office be trashed. You’re making him clean it up once he’s back.

Thoma

Stressed! So stressed! He has so many chores! He cannot hold a broom with two paws! You have to make arrangements for him to have the day off which was hard because everyone was upset by his sudden cancellation. Even so he tries to help. He tries to drag the broom but it doesn’t do anything unfortunately. Oh he feels so useless. You must pamper him. Lavish him with kisses and gentle praise. Call him the cutest little kitty in the world! Oh he’s such a affectionate boy too. He acts like a cat with separation anxiety almost. He cannot sleep if you’re not there with him. Therefore you end up spending the day with him, trying to dissuade him from trying to clean a mess and just making it worse, distracting him with a warm blanket and pets.

Zhongli

He probably did so on purpose actually. Perhaps he was a bit bored and decided to spend the day exploring Liyue from a different perspective. It was quite fun for him actually. He watched as people came over to pet him. Unfortunately they also tried to feed him seafood which wasn’t too good. But after the long day he returned home to see you panicked as to where he could be. He decided to come on over to you, still in his cat form, and distract you. It worked as he helped you relax.

You werent too amused when you found out that cat that broke in was him.

Pantalone

He is quite annoyed. Angry in a more agitated way. Don’t mess up his fur! Pet him properly! Don’t ignore him now! He is a demanding little feline. He is not content unless you are entirely focused on him. He even wants you to break up the fish ro serve to him. He isn’t going to eat like a animal! Oh but he is such s cute kitty. Entirely black with big expressive yellow eyes. Oh you can’t help but comply and spoil him a little more! And he has such lovely fur! He does like hearing your gentle praises as you pet him. He never knew how lovely it felt to be small, sleeping on a nice warm lap, being gently brushed, and told sweet little compliments. He may actually want to do this again sometime.

Diluc

Biggest drama king! How can he protect you or Mondstadt like this! Therefore you cannot leave his sight or he’s convinced you will immediately die. You must stay with him so he can protect you? He is a very warm kitty though so it feels nice to snuggle with him. His fur is a bit messy so you’ll have to brush it. Despite him trying to stay vigilant he ends up falling asleep quickly.

[she-who-fights-and-writes]

how do i get my character out of the corner i wrote myself in without a dues ex machina😭

How to Not Write Yourself Into a Corner (and How to Write Yourself Out of a Corner if You’re Already In One)

One of a writer’s WORST fears is writing themself into a corner.

It’s easy to write your characters into death-defying situations…but it’s not as easy to write the actual “defying death” part.

Some writers, in their desperation to get their characters out of a bind, employ the use of a Deus Ex Machina, as mentioned by anon:

Deus Ex Machina: (Translates to "god from the machine") A plot device where a seemingly unsolvable situation is fixed by an out-of-the-blue occurrence. The term “deus ex machina” is a reference to Greek plays, when actors playing a god would literally be lowered into the scene via a machine to magically solve any situation.

Unfortunately, this plot device is often ridiculed by readers, cited as a hack-job solution for a writer out of ideas.

How do we avoid this situation, then? Here are some tips and tricks on how to not write yourself into a corner, and how to write yourself out of a corner if you’re already in one!

Note that these tips may not work for everyone, so make sure to use your own intuition as a writer— you know your story best.

1. NIP IT IN THE BUD— OUTLINES ARE KEY!

I’m sorry to all of you pantsers out there, but the key to prevent writing yourself into a corner is to already have an idea of how each scene is going to turn out; don't make a problem without making a solution! If you keep on top of your outline, you should have no worries about writing your characters into a situation they can't get out of it.

It may be easiest to jot down ideas about a couple of scenarios and then select the one that works best, especially when it comes to dire climax scenes that have a lot of moving parts. 

Check out my posts below for more in-depth advice about outlining!

How to Outline

Plotting for Pansters and Pantsing for Plotters

This advice, although essential, does require a ton of foresight and time to plan…and if you’ve sought out this post, it may mean that it’s too late for preventative measures. The subsequent tips in this post are going to be for people who are already in the thick of it and need a way to save all of their writing progress. 

2. FORESHADOWING IS YOUR FRIEND (AKA “CHEKHOV’S GUN YOUR WAY OUT OF THAT SHIT”)

Foreshadowing: A narrative device wherein a writer gives an advance hint of what is to come later in the story. It helps maintain believability while subverting expectations and making plot twists.

Chekhov’s Gun: A narrative device wherein a seemingly insignificant element or object in the story becomes useful later on. Sometimes used synonymously with foreshadowing, but usually refers to a specific object.

Examples of Foreshadowing/Chekhov’s guns in media:

The 1981 Quarter (Or Extra Life Quarter) in Ready Player One

“Don’t Cross the Streams” in Ghostbusters (1984)

Winchester Rifle Hanging over the Bar in Shaun of the Dead (2004)

The Rita Hayworth Poster in The Shawshank Redemption (1994)

The Water Bottle in Bullet Train (2022)

In my opinion, a Chekhov’s Gun is the more refined twin of the deus ex machina; although it may seem like it comes out of nowhere, observant readers or those who go back into the story will realize that this event was set up from the beginning.

Foreshadowing is the key to turning a deus ex machina into a Chekhov’s Gun. It’s spreading breadcrumbs to maintain believability even when unbelievable things happen.

My advice: plant a line here and there referring to the object/element that will get you out of the corner.

These lines can be about a healing potion that a character carries around to save them when they’re at the brink of death, the fact that the city they’re fighting in often suffers from sinkholes, or that a character has a seemingly useless skill. 

However, haphazardly inserting foreshadowing into your story may come across as heavy-handed; make sure it aligns with the narrative beats. Particularly big Chekhov’s Guns, especially ones that “save the day," may require multiple foreshadowing elements.

It can take a lot of work to incorporate the foreshadowing smoothly, so make sure it actually saves you time in comparison to rewriting the whole scenario/plot point.

3. TAKE A BREAK

Sometimes, the solution to your problem may not come to mind because you’re too immersed into the writing process and not thinking of the bigger picture. Or maybe it might just be good old-fashioned writer’s block. Take a step back, reassess, and return with the scene properly re-evaluated. Maybe start a new book or TV show to get some inspiration, or check out one of my posts below!

How to Overcome Writer’s Block

How to Get Inspired to Write and Regain Creativity

4. ASK FOR HELP

Sometimes, it might be best to have another set of eyes on your story! A situation that may seem unsolvable to you may have an obvious solution to a writing buddy.

5. KNOW THAT SOMETIMES RE-WRITING IS NECESSARY

I know this sounds horrible. It’s something that I wouldn’t wish upon any writer.

Sometimes, however, no amount of foreshadowing can get your characters out of the debacle they’ve put themselves in. Either that, or the work that it would take to insert the foreshadowing would be more than it’d take to rewrite the scene or the plot point.

My suggestion would be to search for the last place that you didn't feel lost, and then cut out everything after that.

(NEVER DELETE MAJOR CHUNKS OF YOUR WRITING! ALWAYS CUT IT AND SAVE IT IN A SCRAP DOC—IT COULD COME IN HANDY LATER!)

Then, take the time to outline the scenario and figure out the solution to your problem beforehand. It will suck, but trust me, it'll be worth it in the end.

HOPE THIS HELPED, AND HAPPY WRITING!

[bradleysass]

Harry Potter - @into-the-jeggyverse - wc: 801

Harry Potter prided himself on being a decent student. He wasn’t Hermione-level brilliant, but he did well enough. He could strategize in Quidditch, hold his own in a duel, and solve riddles in life-or-death situations. But when it came to people—understanding what they wanted, what they felt—he was utterly useless.

And right now, the person most confusing him was Draco Malfoy.

Draco had been relentless since the start of term. Not in the usual way—not with taunts about his parents or snide remarks about his Quidditch skills. No, lately, Draco had been... weird. He called Harry insufferable but stood just a little too close when he said it. He sneered at Harry’s hair but reached out as if he wanted to touch it before catching himself. And then there was the way he lingered, as if waiting for something Harry didn’t understand.

Was Draco flirting with him? Or did he just enjoy tormenting Harry in a new, confusing way?

Harry had no idea. And there was no one worse to ask for advice than his dads.

Regulus Black and James Potter were, by all accounts, a miracle. A miracle because they should have never worked, and yet, somehow, they did. They had a ridiculous love story—one Harry had grown up hearing in bits and pieces. James, with his stupidly big heart and inability to let things go. Regulus, with his sharp words and sharp eyes, always pretending he didn’t care while caring too much. If opposites attracted, then they were a bloody gravitational force.

At dinner that night, as Harry pushed food around his plate, James and Regulus carried on one of their usual conversations—if they could even be called that.

James, grinning as he stole a piece of bread from Regulus’ plate: “Just admit you think I’m the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Regulus, not looking up from his book: “You’re the most exhausting man I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

James, smirking: “Still means you like looking at me.”

Regulus, deadpan: “Unfortunately.”

Harry had grown up seeing their dynamic. He had witnessed the way Regulus softened only for James, the way James never let Regulus slip into his worst habits of self-isolation. It was obvious to everyone that they were in love.

But Harry wasn’t them. He didn’t understand how two people who seemed to drive each other mad could also love each other. Which brought him back to Malfoy.

“Are you two always like this?” Harry asked, interrupting whatever smug retort James had lined up next.

Regulus glanced at him over the rim of his teacup. “Like what?”

Harry gestured vaguely between them. “Like this. The constant back and forth.”

James grinned. “It’s part of our charm.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “More like your punishment.”

Harry let out a frustrated sigh. “How did you—when you first—how did you know you liked each other? Like, actually liked each other?”

James’ eyebrows shot up, and Regulus blinked. A rare moment of being caught off guard.

“Well,” James said slowly, “I’d been in love with your dad since I was seventeen, so—”

“I tolerated him first,” Regulus cut in smoothly. “And then, when he refused to leave me alone, I figured it was either murder or love.”

James beamed. “See? Romantic.”

Harry groaned. “That’s not helpful.”

Regulus finally set his book down, watching Harry with that unnerving ability to see too much. “Why are you asking?”

Harry hesitated. “There’s someone. And I—” He exhaled sharply. “I can’t tell if he likes me or just enjoys annoying me.”

James lit up. “Wait. Likes likes you?”

Regulus hummed in thought. “Ah. Malfoy.”

Harry choked. “What—how—?”

James spun in his chair, practically vibrating with excitement. “It’s Malfoy?! I knew it! I knew there was something there!”

Regulus, unbothered, simply sipped his tea. “It’s obvious.”

“No, it’s not obvious!” Harry exclaimed. “That’s the whole point! I can’t tell if he’s—” He waved his hands around, struggling for words. “If he’s flirting or if he just hates me in a really weird way!”

James turned to Regulus with a huge grin. “Ah, to be young and oblivious.”

Regulus shot him a look. “You were never oblivious. Just stubborn.”

Harry slumped back in his chair, exhausted before this conversation had even properly started. “So? What do I do?”

Regulus set his cup down with a quiet clink. “Ask yourself this: If Malfoy weren’t Malfoy, if he were just some nameless person acting the way he does, would you already have your answer?”

Harry opened his mouth—then promptly shut it.

James, of course, still had to get the last word in. “Or, you know, just kiss him and see what happens.”

Regulus sighed.

Harry banged his head against the table.

This was not going to be easy.

[renthony]

On "Consuming Content"

Every now and then a post crosses my feed that follows the vein of, "you have to do things other than consume media or else you'll be a dumb person who doesn't know anything about how the real world works and does nothing but pointless fandom stuff."

I hate those posts for three major reasons, not counting the inherent ableism and classism of "you must have approved Smart People hobbies or else you're worthless" rhetoric:

You don't know what people do or talk about outside of what you see on their social media. Responding to fandom communities on a fandom-driven website as if all these people are one-note cardboard cutouts of people is asinine. In many cases this genre of post feels like repackaged 2012 tumblr "not like other girls" and hipster discourse. Yes, yes, you think you're better than everyone else on this website because your hobbies are less mainstream, more morally pure, and have greater intellectual merit, we get it.

What do you even mean by consuming content? As someone who purposely avoids using the phrase "consuming content" because I find the term too vague to be useful, please be more specific. Are you including every single form of media engagement and art enjoyment? Are you just talking about mainstream TV and film? What about novels? Plays and scripts? Nonfiction books and instruction manuals? Do you mean to imply that going to a book club is a worthless non-hobby? Are you including academic reading? Are you including going to the art museum? Going to the theatre, concerts, or other performances? Taped liveshows? Watching sports events on TV? Are you including news media? Are you including YouTube tutorials about how to do various tasks, crafts, or other hobbies? Are you including trade magazines? Are you including industry publications in various fields? What constitutes "content," and what constitutes "consuming" in this discourse? Define it. "Consuming content" is a nothing phrase that people use to mean multiple different things depending on what they, personally, judge as valid media. It's a buzzword at best, and when the same buzzword can be used to describe both "idly scrolling social media" and "reading and discussing a book," it's a meaningless phrase.

As an artist and author, if engaging with media is bad and worthless, am I supposed to conclude that making it is equally worthless? If "consuming content" is a bad, lazy, worthless, fake hobby, what makes creating art a worthwhile pursuit? If I am constantly being told as an artist that engaging with media isn't a worthwhile pursuit in its own right, and the people who want to engage with my art are just brainless fandom losers, what incentive do I have to make that art anymore? Furthermore, to everyone reading this paragraph and thinking, "that's not what content creation is," I refer you to bullet #2: If the phrase "make content" can be used to mean "low-effort posts made to advertise cheap and useless products" as well as "being a novelist" or "getting a gig as a writer on a TV show," it's a meaningless phrase.

None of that is even getting into issues such as the way influencers are preyed on by both brands and targeted harassment from trolls. Influencer culture has major issues, but boiling those issues down to "stupid vapid young people who are too lazy to make real art or get real jobs" (which is a mindset I see frequently online) is unhelpful. So many people pursue influencer deals because they're living in poverty but are skilled at various social media and advertising related tasks, and just like any worker, they're being exploited because they need to eat. Labor rights for influencers are a huge topic that entertainment industry unions have been actively discussing and working toward. (Related links for further info: [x] [x] [x] [x])

"Consuming content is not a hobby" is a worthless statement unless you define what you mean by both "consuming" and "content." Quite frankly, you also need to define "hobby," because if you're putting requirements on what is and isn't allowed to be a "real" hobby, you mostly just seem like you're moving goalposts and defining "worthwhile hobby" as "hobby I, personally, think is good." Use more specific language to articulate your actual problems with the entertainment industry, the art world, influencer culture, or whatever else you're actually upset by.

Media and fandom can involve any number of enriching, satisfying hobbies that take up a perfectly acceptable and healthy space in someone's life. If you aren't into it, go find hobbies you do like and stop policing how other people spend their precious free time in this nightmare hellscape of a world.

[cipheramnesia]

Every day I get to witness different parts of the trans community arguing with each other on here and as a person who is like medium skilled at debating it is making me foam at the mouth because it's already dumb as hell to bicker internally when we oughta actually be expanding our horizons in terms of how we see sex and gender with all the complex possibilities of trans bodies outside the gender binary and intersex bodies outside the sex binary, like as if it's not enough all those fairly important people both or either in our community or who oughta be supported by our community getting like no support. Like that's not enough you know what is too much?

No one ever debates the actual position of anyone else. I can't deal with so much discourse where the vast majority of it exists like trains passing by in opposite directions. Great points made all around, completely not what the quoted thing or other person was saying though. Having a breakdown over it because I'm helpless on the sidelines, since if everyone is going that far off the mark, what am I gonna do step in like "friends, you are not talking about the same thing here is what's happening" but by all evidence available that's just gonna embroil me in the same situation of misinterpretation. So I'm just useless here. I could rip my whole face off with how much this happens.

Like whoa, heyyy looks like you have different definitions of the same term, you should probably qualify what that means to you, because otherwise no one even knows what they're talking about. Hold up there partner, you slid off into generalizing about a whole marginalized group just cuz one person showed a social prejudice that's widespread through all of society, narrow that focus back down to the specific case of a general social issue. Like 90% of people running across discourse shit have no context for the terminology used by small in-groups and it is very different from place to place. Yeah sorry it sucks you can't shorthand something every time, you have no idea how much work I do in my day job spelling out definitions of terms even if it's for someone who oughta know. Because in my experience - a lot of them don't. Or have a totally different vocabulary. Or aren't native English speakers so it has to make sense when it goes through translation software to Chinese. It's too much work! You gotta do it anyway though.

[jd-loves-fiction]

Hi!

I was wondering if I could request Jiaoqiu x reader where they've been in an established relationship since before the Wardance, and the reader ends up taking Jiaoqiu on a small vacation to Penacony dreamscape? They wanted to surprise him by taking him there specifically because it's a dreamscape and that means he could see again while in there?

I hope it's not too specific, have a good day/night!

🌑oh my sweet Jiaoqiu, can you tell I love him dearly?🥺❤️

𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

The rowdiness of Penacony doesn't help with Jiaoqiu’s condition one bit; every sense but sight utterly overwhelmed as he lets you lead him along with his eyes tightly closed.

“Doing alright, honey?” you call from somewhere in front of him.

“It's very loud.”

“Yes, it is. Don't worry, we're almost there.” Your excitement is palpable and contagious as Jiaoqiu can't help but crack a small smile despite his discomfort.

He feels you stop and so follows suit, waiting with both hope and trepidation for what might come of this. As a healer, deep down he doubts that he might be able to temporarily regain his sight so easily, but considering how excited you’d been to visit the planet of festivities he elected not to mention it. Even if nothing came of this trip in terms of healing, if it brought you some joy that’d be enough for Jiaoqiu.

The months after the Wardance disaster have been far from easy, for the both of you. Every time he heard you scrambling about the house while he rested, the foxian’s heart squeezed unpleasantly, feeling utterly useless and unable to even comfort you with the thoughts running through his head. Losing his sight as a healer and cook wasn't easy to accept – having to learn both skills over after decades of practicing without issue was beyond humiliating.

You were his only support during those harsh months, as Feixiao basically forced him to take the time off and Moze seemed to wordlessly understand that Jiaoqiu would not appreciate his presence. Thinking back on how much you've done, thanklessly on most days and always without complaint, made the healer squeeze your hand just a little harder.

“Everything ok?” he nods, breathing deeply in preparation, “I've chosen a mostly empty spot, but the view is just as gorgeous as everywhere else, trust me.”

Jiaoqiu refuses to let go of your hand as he steels himself for both success and disappointment – the chances that this will work are slim, as all the proof you've found is in the form of doubtful testimonies given the nature of Penacony itself. But a free vacation (courtesy of Feixiao) is a good enough outcome.

“Ready?”

Without a word, he slowly opens his eyes, brows furrowed against the burn of the sudden lights– Lights?

Jiaoqiu opens his eyes so quickly he's forced to squint as his unused pupils grow accustomed to the immense stimulation all around. 

Highways run in odd shapes far above the ground, every building is lit so thoroughly it looks as if the buildings themselves are made of pure light and the images projected in the sky make his head spin. Dreamscape truly seems an adequate name for it.

“Can you…?” you ask softly, brimming with hope, hands raised midway to holding his face, unsure.

“I see it. It's beautiful and… a lot.”

“Hehe, it's a bit overwhelming, isn't it?” you giggle softly, the back of your hand brushing against his cheek, unknowingly flushed. “I'm glad you can see it anyway.”

The sugar-sweet distilled love in your eyes almost brings tears to his own, especially after so long of thinking he'd never see it again.

His ear flickers and his fluffy tail sways upon seeing your beautiful smile again, Aeons how he's missed it. The colors and lights around cannot compare to the shine of your smile.

The scenery of Penacony is not the type Jiaoqiu would prefer but if it allows him to see you smiling like that, no matter for how long, then he suppose it's tolerable.

[pangaeaseas]

dumbledore revealing Snape as his spy after the end of the first war is so interesting and so reflective of his character: it's an act of mercy and also a saw trap. BC I doubt anyone else, or any other strategy, would have been able to get Snape out of Azkaban: the other death eaters would be focused on saving their own skins, and without the protection of being a Death Eater Snape becomes just another poor half-blood, probably the exact kind of person who would make an easy scapegoat for Death Eater activity (in scapegoat terms he's just like Sirius! For different reasons obviously. See my Sirius the perfect scapegoat meta). So Snape is spared the horrors of Azkaban. BUT: Dumbledore burning Snape as a spy--in full knowledge of two things, that Snape is more motivated now than ever to attack Voldemort after Lily is dead, and that Voldemort hasn't been fully defeated, means that Snape MUST become a double agent. Otherwise he will be useless in the next conflict --a spy in Voldemort's ranks is much more valuable than another fighter, even one as skilled as Snape, and I think at this point in his life he would have wanted to cause the most damage to Voldemort by any means necessary. And being a double agent is no perfect redemption: it means having to betray both sides of the war. Snape can never be fully welcomed into the Order's side because every Order member knows he might have to get them killed so Voldemort will trust him. So by being revealed as Dumbledore's spy, Dumbledore ensures Snape will never have a full place on either side of British society.

[lady-lani-1707]

I think at some point, womankind equated the idea that looks serve as proof of their humanity and moral righteousness. Internalised it, memoralised it, worshipped beauty. Now you could say men also face beauty standards, but women will always be their intended and main customers for every fad and trend. Our bodies are not just bodies but political measures. Countrymen love proclaiming that women in their countries look the best or might be offended if women marry outside of their culture and race. They covet their women like resources. When birthrates fall, the blame is shifted onto women to encourage them to have children. Thinness does not count if you attained it through medicinal means, and women who get plastic surgery are still not seen as valid. This all brings me to my one point.

The reason that beauty is so important is because it's a sign of obedience. Seems a stretch, but when I link it back, it makes perfect sense. This is why other means of fitting the standards like makeup, surgery, and medicines like ozempic are all seen as invalid. It's also why influencers fight so hard to keep the lie that they had no modifications to their appearance through unnatural means. It's not just about the looks. If it was, then society would pressure women into taking all sorts of harmful medicines and surgeries, and women would proudly name every single thing they had done without hiding it. It's about that coveted title of being "natural."

Natural means perfect. It means submission and obedience. Going through the agonising hunger pains to look skinny at all costs, spending time and thousands of dollars funding industries that pump out billions of useless devices and mystical serums that promise to fix skin problems and weight issues. Or toiling hard in the kitchen collecting dozens of so called natural remedies and trying to concoct your own ticket to acceptance from society. As if the goalpost isn't constantly being moved to unachievable means. The point is for you struggle and never make it.

That is the true point of it. To keep women distracted, to keep them weak, to keep them firmly under the heel of men and lost in the never-ending trends. Anytime progress is made like the #me too, #man vs bear, #4B movement it's quickly washed away taking the focus from womens suffering at the hands of men to another celebrity drama or hot new aesthetic trend.

The beauty industry is an obedience measurement, a conformity tool, it's the blinkers blindsiding the mare that keeps us trotting gleefully in tow of what the patriarchy wants.

There is nothing more rebellious, than not playing their game.

Take care of your health and physical capabilities - the less you worry about beauty, the more beautiful you become, in terms of your skills and talent. I'm not saying don't take care of yourself but don't aim for perfection - aim for a healthy and happy body that works for you.

I know it's hard, trust me, I know. Start small, feel comfortable as yourself. Don't let yourself get trapped in the never-ending cycle of trends and aesthetics.

Beauty is not an indication of a good person. Your eyes are for seeing, your nose is for smelling, your mouth is for eating, your hands are for feeling, your ears are for hearing. Your body is a myraid of organs,cells,chemicals, and systems upon systems who aren't working with beauty in mind - but health. Remember that.

You were not born to be beautiful but functional. Resist beauty and advocate for health.

- Lani, your Lady

[zakumipink]

I'm back, thanks to those who ask. Here are the previous questions.

• Can vampires eat meat?

If you ask, it's about cannibalism, since it's a form of punishment by judgment, it's not that vampires devour another, but rather they all bite and scratch them, mutilate them, and drink their blood. You could say they eat meat because in their moments of lust they tear off pieces of meat, but it's not that they eat it out of hunger. Now, if you ask for meat, like a restaurant dish, then yes. They can pretend to eat a few bites, but they'll ask for it in blue or red... it's when the beef is still bleeding. Of course vampires don't taste food, those who were once human have a memory of it. It's the same with animal blood, they can drink it out of thirst but it doesn't give them pleasure or knowledge.

• What is the relationship between Law and Kid? Were they a couple?

Kid and Killer come to the Akagami clan, years later than Law, so they know each other quite well, at least as far as the clan and the hunts are concerned.

There is no denying the fact that Kid was interested in Law, but it was not reciprocal Nor was it a game of seduction or an effervescent love affair. It was just a desire and a whim that quickly went away... Kid is the type of man (vampire) who does not look for complications or waste effort or time with detours. Kid does what he has to do does what he has to do to achieve his goals. He's impatient and quite impulsive, but he keeps his word, which is why he doesn't usually give it away, appreciates his friends.

For Kid, the pretty but apathetic Law was just something he wanted to have and couldn't, so he changed his goal and they continued relating as friends, a term that neither of them uses with the other, I guess no one recognizes it.

For Law, the redhead is a loud-mouthed idiot who should learn not to bother him... but, who he appreciates, even though most of the time they are both arguing.

• It makes me laugh that Sabo is bothered by fangs. Do you use it for humor?

Yes, although it's also logical. Many complain that Sabo was too stubborn at first and should have been quicker to accept his change... But in the context of his story, Sabo just woke up in the bed of a stranger, who was too handsome, and when he tries to remember he can't even think of his own name. I would get scared and want to run away. It also doesn't help that Law gets so angry when something doesn't go as he planned. So imagine how uncomfortable it is to have your fangs and nails grow, without you wanting them to, when you smell blood. Usually, converted vampires become accustomed by the third night. And it is easier for them to learn everything they need to be a hunter in less than a week when their creator educates them.Even so, mastering thoughts and reading others takes the longest, which is why neophytes spend about fifteen nights alone with their creator to learn the clan rules, basic skills, or see if you have any special abilities.

• Sabo's family never looked for him?

Yes, I don't know which chapter you're in, but I think I said they looked for him. Of course, it was useless, and Stelly took his place at the wedding.

• Sabo met his fiancee?

When they were children. She's a person trapped in her privilege, so she sees others as toys, even as an adult. Stelly is the same. Sarie Nantokanette and Stelly are a couple who get along well, both are cruel, but it's because of their privilege. I can't say much.

• Does Stelly hate Sabo? Does Sabo hate his parents?

I won't call it hatred. It was jealousy, at least at first. When Stelly was adopted, he wanted to belong to the family, and if that meant belittling, humiliating, and hurting Sabo, he'd do it. Sabo doesn't hate his parents or Stelly, not because he can't and not because he wants to be good. Sabo doesn't hate them because he doesn't want to hate them. It happens that our reactions and defense methods are different in each one of us, some need to hate, others forget, others forgive, and some of us just stay in limbo trying decide whether to hate, forgive or forget. Others want revenge...

• Shanks and Mihawk were boyfriends?

No. But it's not that it can't be done. Mihawk is a widower, Shanks has two wives: Makino and Uta's mother, so you have two children, and also has a lover. I don't think I've gotten around to writing about it yet pero Buggy is a vampire. Of course, Shanks is a free soul lol Mihawk sees relationships as pointless, he only married under family order and to have his own clan. He was in love with his Damnatus, but he will never admit it. I guess if you fall in love with someone, it's very difficult for you to understand.

• Don't you feel like you should go into more detail about what happened to Sabo? I feel like it would add more darkness to the fanfic.

I appreciate you reading, but I'm not interested in adding sexual scenes of adults raping children.It's not that I can't write it, but I don't think it would contribute to my fic, which is meant to be a cliché story with silly love and vampires who look like they're newlyweds. I'm sorry.I'm really bored of writing about sex, rape, abuse, and group orgies.I know I've written a lot of fics with problematic themes before, I know what I did. Now I just want to be a dumb author.

• Perona says Law is above average for vampires, but he's not that handsome... Really? To me, he's more handsome than Shanks.

All vampires are beautiful to humans; their beauty is part of their predatory prowess. But among vampires, can distinguish its beauty. So, although all vampires are beautiful to humans, except for the primitive-looking ones, they don't need to attract their prey with beauty because they do not usually live among humans.

A vampire is based on their genetics, whether pureblood or turned, so they are as beautiful as possible. Its attractiveness, in addition to genetics and "transformation enhancement", that is, how beautiful the human becomes upon awakening, which you already know depends on genetics.

When you are reborn as a vampire, your body improves everything you already have to its peak, for example your hair grows healthy, your teeth align and sun marks are erased, scars and removes unnecessary hair, or even produces beards in men, to give them the best appearance that allows them to be a predator. It also depends on its aroma.

That brings me to the question about the "scent of vampires".

Vampires have a special scent, which is a result of the pure blood of the ancestor. Does it confuse you a little? Let's say that ancient vampires, having developed from primitive times, just like humans and mammals, they had a keen sense of smell, they needed to recognize each other and differentiate themselves as well. Of the three ancients, there is a particular aroma that accompanies their "children" and that, in turn, mixed with humans.

By scent, pure-blood vampires recognize their "siblings" and those who are not, as well as the servants, companions, and "pets" of others. Damnatus (Law) have a scent similar to a pureblood, with common variations such as some flower or spice. The rest of the vampires smell like something "stimulating" to humans or other vampires. Purebloods tend to only be interested in unusual ones like Sabo or Kid.

Humans can't smell vampires, but animals can, so Law says that even though he finds the animals cute, he can't touch them because they're afraid of him. That's why he likes minks, because that race of anthropomorphic animals aren't afraid of vampires.

The scent also serves to demarcate territory, not only to attract victims or differentiate oneself from other vampires. Beyond clan and geographic divisions, every vampire has a territorial instinct and therefore an "aura," which they convey or give off through their presence or their saliva/blood/scent.

An example of this is when Perona meets Sabo and from the moment she comes down the stairs, she makes her "presence" known, which distresses Sabo. At this same point, we see that Law also makes a territorial claim, but Sabo is not scared, because Sabo is marked as Law's property.

Vampires don't stay in their "territory" all the time; they only do so when they want to stake out an approach or abode, often during fights or hunts.

And that's all for today, thanks for reading my fic ♡

[bogkeep]

re: People Keep Telling Me They Have A Definitive Definition Of Art [looks inside. it's a vibes based personal metric] phenomenon

like i think having a vibes based personal definition of what is art To You is super fine. i don't expect other people to have a degree or an in-depth interest in art history or art philosophy. *i* am pedantic about it because *i* have an art history degree that's useless for pretty much everything else. i just have a passion for this topic! i think it's interesting and it's important to me and my understanding of artistic craft! it's a little insulting when people think they can outwit me with some clever gotcha they just thought up when they don't even have a basic understanding of art history like at all but. such is life.

like, i Get what people mean when they say "modern art". i know they're thinking about random paint splatters on a canvas or a banana taped to a wall. i am absolutely being extra pedantic when i point out that "modern art" is an extremely vague term that can mean anything. there's *multiple* art movements that are considered modernist AND post-modernist that came to be after the invention of photography. "modern art" as such encompasses well loved artists such as vincent van gogh or claude monet, as well as pablo picasso or mark rothko. at what point of abstraction does art become Too Ugly And Overrated to appreciate? is there a way to create abstract art that *would* be aesthetically pleasing to you?

there are also multiple movements that are either deliberately or incidentally questioning, What Is Art? DADA is the most famous movement (gestures at duchamp's fountain), and from what i remember, DADA didn't necessarily classify *itself* as an art movement. they were creating anti art/anti aesthetic. and yet! we still learn about dadaism in art history classes. andy warhol and his pop art soup cans also created controversy around Is This Real Art Or What. and on the flipside, does art noveau darling alfons mucha's commercial work, such as advertisements for products, count as Real Art? these are all very famous well known art guys! where do we draw the line!!

and at the same time, people are still creating realistic paintings that look just like the kind of art people think Real Art should be. contemporary art can look like *anything* !!! you want Real Art to look like it took a lot of skill and work? well, how do you Know? How Can You Tell. the job of a ballet dancer is to make years of bone crushing hard work look effortless.

anyway this rabbit hole goes on forever and ever and ever there is so much art out there. you can define it however you want but wherever you draw the line is gonna exclude a lot of things!