#network observability operator

[neilsblog]

Unveiling Network Observability: The Key to Optimal IT Infrastructure Performance

In today’s digitally driven world, the IT network is the backbone of any organization, supporting critical applications, facilitating communication, and enabling efficient operations. As network topologies become increasingly complex and dynamic, maintaining the reliability and performance of this essential infrastructure presents significant challenges. Traditional monitoring tools, which rely…

[nasa]

All-Star Moments in Space Communications and Navigation

How do we get information from missions exploring the cosmos back to humans on Earth? Our space communications and navigation networks – the Near Space Network and the Deep Space Network – bring back science and exploration data daily.

Here are a few of our favorite moments from 2024.

1. Hip-Hop to Deep Space

The stars above and on Earth aligned as lyrics from the song “The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)” by hip-hop artist Missy Elliott were beamed to Venus via NASA’s Deep Space Network. Using a 34-meter (112-foot) wide Deep Space Station 13 (DSS-13) radio dish antenna, located at the network’s Goldstone Deep Space Communications Complex in California, the song was sent at 10:05 a.m. PDT on Friday, July 12 and traveled about 158 million miles from Earth to Venus — the artist’s favorite planet. Coincidentally, the DSS-13 that sent the transmission is also nicknamed Venus!

NASA's PACE mission transmitting data to Earth through NASA's Near Space Network.

2. Lemme Upgrade You

Our Near Space Network, which supports communications for space-based missions within 1.2 million miles of Earth, is constantly enhancing its capabilities to support science and exploration missions. Last year, the network implemented DTN (Delay/Disruption Tolerant Networking), which provides robust protection of data traveling from extreme distances. NASA’s PACE (Plankton, Aerosol, Cloud, ocean Ecosystem) mission is the first operational science mission to leverage the network’s DTN capabilities. Since PACE’s launch, over 17 million bundles of data have been transmitted by the satellite and received by the network’s ground station.

A collage of the pet photos sent over laser links from Earth to LCRD and finally to ILLUMA-T (Integrated LCRD Low Earth Orbit User Modem and Amplifier Terminal) on the International Space Station. Animals submitted include cats, dogs, birds, chickens, cows, snakes, and pigs.

3. Who Doesn’t Love Pets?

Last year, we transmitted hundreds of pet photos and videos to the International Space Station, showcasing how laser communications can send more data at once than traditional methods. Imagery of cherished pets gathered from NASA astronauts and agency employees flowed from the mission ops center to the optical ground stations and then to the in-space Laser Communications Relay Demonstration (LCRD), which relayed the signal to a payload on the space station. This activity demonstrated how laser communications and high-rate DTN can benefit human spaceflight missions.

4K video footage was routed from the PC-12 aircraft to an optical ground station in Cleveland. From there, it was sent over an Earth-based network to NASA’s White Sands Test Facility in Las Cruces, New Mexico. The signals were then sent to NASA’s Laser Communications Relay Demonstration spacecraft and relayed to the ILLUMA-T payload on the International Space Station.

4. Now Streaming

A team of engineers transmitted 4K video footage from an aircraft to the International Space Station and back using laser communication signals. Historically, we have relied on radio waves to send information to and from space. Laser communications use infrared light to transmit 10 to 100 times more data than radio frequency systems. The flight tests were part of an agency initiative to stream high-bandwidth video and other data from deep space, enabling future human missions beyond low-Earth orbit.

The Near Space Network provides missions within 1.2 million miles of Earth with communications and navigation services.

5. New Year, New Relationships

At the very end of 2024, the Near Space Network announced multiple contract awards to enhance the network’s services portfolio. The network, which uses a blend of government and commercial assets to get data to and from spacecraft, will be able to support more missions observing our Earth and exploring the cosmos. These commercial assets, alongside the existing network, will also play a critical role in our Artemis campaign, which calls for long-term exploration of the Moon.

On Monday, Oct. 14, 2024, at 12:06 p.m. EDT, a SpaceX Falcon Heavy rocket carrying NASA’s Europa Clipper spacecraft lifts off from Launch Complex 39A at NASA’s Kennedy Space Center in Florida.

6. 3, 2, 1, Blast Off!

Together, the Near Space Network and the Deep Space Network supported the launch of Europa Clipper. The Near Space Network provided communications and navigation services to SpaceX’s Falcon Heavy rocket, which launched this Jupiter-bound mission into space! After vehicle separation, the Deep Space Network acquired Europa Clipper’s signal and began full mission support. This is another example of how these networks work together seamlessly to ensure critical mission success.

Engineer Adam Gannon works on the development of Cognitive Engine-1 in the Cognitive Communications Lab at NASA’s Glenn Research Center.

7. Make Way for Next-Gen Tech

Our Technology Education Satellite program organizes collaborative missions that pair university students with researchers to evaluate how new technologies work on small satellites, also known as CubeSats. In 2024, cognitive communications technology, designed to enable autonomous space communications systems, was successfully tested in space on the Technology Educational Satellite 11 mission. Autonomous systems use technology reactive to their environment to implement updates during a spaceflight mission without needing human interaction post-launch.

A first: All six radio frequency antennas at the Madrid Deep Space Communication Complex, part of NASA’s Deep Space Network (DSN), carried out a test to receive data from the agency’s Voyager 1 spacecraft at the same time.

8. Six Are Better Than One

On April 20, 2024, all six radio frequency antennas at the Madrid Deep Space Communication Complex, part of our Deep Space Network, carried out a test to receive data from the agency’s Voyager 1 spacecraft at the same time. Combining the antennas’ receiving power, or arraying, lets the network collect the very faint signals from faraway spacecraft.

Here’s to another year connecting Earth and space.  

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[mbari-blog]

Introducing your new favorite animal of the deep—the wonderful whalefish.

Whalefish live in the inky depths below 3,000 feet called the midnight zone. Their eyes are poorly developed and small—in fact, they lack lenses and are not even capable of forming images. Instead, they rely on a network of sensory pores to feel vibrations in the water and allow the whalefish to detect when predators or prey are near.

Like many deep-sea animals, whalefishes have a brilliant reddish coloration. Red light doesn’t travel far in seawater and can’t penetrate into the deep sea, so anything red appears black. This intense red color helps a whalefish disappear into the darkness to ambush unsuspecting prey or avoid a hungry predator.

Most research on these fishes has been based on specimens collected by deep-water trawl nets. MBARI’s remotely operated vehicles very rarely encounter these obscure fishes. In the more than 30,000 hours of video MBARI’s ROVs have recorded, we’ve logged just 16 observations. But each time we see one, we get a chance to learn more about this remarkable resident of the ocean’s midnight zone.

[ryescapades-archived]

*ੈ‧₊༺ "SHE LOOKS JUST LIKE A DREAM,"

⤷ submission for @pixelcafe-network 's Secret Santa event !

— vice-captain hoshina seems to frequent the infirmary lately... perhaps it has something to do with the division's beloved medic.

characters: hoshina soshiro (kn8) x medic!reader contents: fluff, some injuries and blood, one(1) suggestive line but it’s for the plot, smooching, kind of getting together, slight spoilers for b side manga, inaccurate manga timeline wc ~ 1.8k

a/n: @purpleqilinwrites happy holidays from me, your secret santa ! 🎄 not christmas-themed but i hope you can still enjoy this humble gift i’ve prepared for you (see the end of this for more messages) <3

Remembering and differentiating people’s faces is usually something that comes naturally to people.

Be it your distant, distant relative, or a newly appointed work colleague, or even a fellow customer at a cafe you love. It’s easy enough to memorise each and every one of them, given that you’ve seen them a few times consecutively, of course.

Then again, it comes with the job to have a good memory anyway. Lots of scientific and biological names to be remembered, health conditions and symptoms to be identified, patients you constantly need to keep your eyes on. You have them all etched inside your mind.

There’s also that other circumstance, where forgetting someone’s face is as easy as brushing away a speck of dust from your clothes. People come, and people go. Not everyone that you’ve come across will stay in your life, and not every one of them will become a significant part of it either.

There is one thing, however, that you have stumbled upon, not knowing that it will become both of those things. Or rather, one person.

The first time you saw him was at the hospital right after the kaiju emergence at Ome city back when you were still a measly apprentice to a senior medic from the Third Division. Tasked to do one of his checkups, you’d overheard his conversation with your captain right before she left the ward.

His reaction baffled you, to say the least. Who in the world would reject a position offered by the Captain Ashiro Mina herself? After a thorough yet uneventful inspection on his condition, he was deemed to be discharged from the hospital a few days after, and along with that his presence from your mind.

Or so you thought.

The second time you saw him was a bit more coincidental. Months after that, when you were freshly appointed as one of the Third Division’s operational medics, you had accidentally crossed paths with him on the way to Captain Ashiro’s office, unaware that you were in the face of your soon-to-be Vice-Captain.

You didn’t know how, or why, but for some astronomical reason you’d remembered who he was. There were lots of people you’d bumped into in the past, people you’d medically treated, and people with even worse haircut (in your defense, that was only a mere observation on your part); you had no trouble putting them to the rear end of your mind as you knew they were nothing more than encounters by chance.

Aside from the fact that he’d rejected your captain’s offer, you’d wondered if there was something else about him from that first time that had rewired the very foundation of your brain chemistry to make you remember him as clearly and easily as memorizing the back of your own hand, even when you’d only seen him once before in your entire lifetime.

Unbeknownst to you, Hoshina Soshiro thought the same thing about you.

What is it about you, Hoshina had once mused. What made you so… unforgettable? Your presence had been lingering in the back of his mind from the moment you first laid your hand on him. After you’d left his ward months ago, the image of you has been foggy and indistinctive, almost haunting for him to deal with. And now that he had you in front of his eyes again, he was more than determined to know more about you.

The two of you hit it off then. One friendly conversation turned two, turned weekly, turned daily. Lingering touches, longing gazes, secret smiles, flirty quips. And the most unambiguous of all; the time spent together in the medic bay at any hour of the day.

It’s becoming a routine at this point for the Third Division members to see their second-in-command walking through the doorway of the infirmary with an injury or the other, some of them severe and some were barely considered a prick. The officers have suspected something, of course. But none of them are bold enough (yet) to confront nor pull the topic out in the open.

And so do you and Hoshina himself.

Though you’re totally aware it’s only a matter of time before one of you finally breaches the blurring line between platonic and romantic. Ironically enough, Hoshina with all his foxy eyed glory, seems to be the one to (not so) blindly step over the said line, all too keen on wiping it off like a silly drawing on a sandy shore.

“Hey there. Ya seem happy to see me,”

You grit your teeth at the cheery greeting, irritation piling over the concern and worry, overstacked by the fear wrecking through your body. Taking a deep breath to gather yourself, you step to the side to let the officers carry the battered body of the Vice-Captain to sit on a nearby bed. Soon enough, they walk themselves out with a respective nod to their superiors, leaving you in the still silence of the infirmary.

In your peripheral, Captain Ashiro stands beside the door with her arms crossed, a calculated look stuck on her youthful face before she straightens up, calling out to your name. “I’m leaving them in your care. I’ll be back in a few though,” Confused, you’re about to ask about what she meant when a mass of white fur enters your vision.

Bakko is staying here for a while then, you realize just as the Captain, too, makes her exit to the door. You let the feline kaiju make himself at home in the infirmary as you return to the task at hand; treating Hoshina.

Your next course of action proceeds swiftly and methodically; assembling the medical supplies and equipment, assessing the injuries, disinfecting the wounds and dressing them accordingly. All the while trying not to squirm under his obnoxious gaze.

“You were never this quiet before,” Hoshina breaks the silence, grimacing slightly as you’re currently treating one of his more severe wounds, one that requires stitching.

Your forehead creases slightly, “What do you want me to say?” You question, both in exasperation and incredulity. The swordsman lifts his good shoulder in a little shrug. “I dunno. Anythin’,”

“You’re stupid,”

Hoshina’s lips twitch slightly, “Mhm,”

“And reckless,”

A small smile tugs on his face next, “Yeah?” Slowly, and breathily.

“And - and… you weren’t being careful enough,” Your bloody hand shakes, the scissors you’re holding barely cutting away the remaining thread after you’d successfully managed to stitch his wound up. “Okonogi already said it was a daikaiju and you still insisted on fighting it alone. Who the hell does that?” You seethe.

One of his hands moves to hold yours, halting you just as you'd turned back from putting your equipment away. “You mad at me, sweetheart?” His nonchalant drawl causes you to snap. “I thought you were going to die, Soshiro. Of course I was mad!”

Suddenly there’s a quiet growl rumbling from the corner of the room, and the both of you immediately go silent. You look to the side to see Bakko with his mouth pulled into a menacing snarl, eyeing the other slumbering patients as if to remind you that you’re not the only ones in the room.

You huff, slightly embarrassed at being chastised in your own work space. By a kaiju, of all things.

Hoshina gruffly snickers before glancing at the feline, “He’s not Captain Ashiro’s companion for nothin’, huh? Think he can help around in the infirmary?” He jests.

You chuckle weakly, nodding a little at his injuries. “What, do you want him to lick it all better?”

It was supposed to be a joke, a casual inquiry made to lighten the mood, but Hoshina seems to think otherwise. With his bleary eyes, he murmurs, “I want you to lick it all better,”

Your breath stutters, the heart in your chest skipping a beat or two. Or maybe three? You can’t really seem to figure it out when all you know is that the blood pumping in your veins feels like you’re running a goddamn marathon around the division base.

Your body heats up at the way Hoshina’s gaze remains focused on you, those irises seeping with such intensity and passion, finely rich like wine and sangria. There’s a pull so magnetic, the minimal space where you’re starting to share breaths with him is charged with the tension between the two of you.

Your eyes drift down to his mouth for one quick second. A mere glance, shy and timid. And the next thing you know, you and Hoshina become a clashing of lips, wandering hands and blissful sighs.

Like a collision between two worlds; the connection feels intensely mind-blowing, like a surge of adrenaline that has you forgetting about everything else aside from feeling him, tasting him, consuming him. Your fingertips tingle from where you’re cradling his face in your hands, and electric zaps up your spine from where his hands are gripping you by your hips.

Your lips slide against his in a feverish dance, his tongue diving in to explore each and every crevice of your mouth. Another pleased sigh escapes from you when he nips at your bottom lip, soothing the skin with a gentle suck right after. Hoshina hums against your mouth, pulling you to stand even closer between his legs but a pained groan from him then makes you draw back, the desire to continue ravishing each other now replaced with a budding sense of concern.

“You’re pulling on the stitches,” you mutter, fingers lightly prodding at his medically patched skin. Hoshina shakes his head slightly and drops it to rest on your shoulder as he grunts under his breath, “You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that.”

You falter, a furious blush creeping up to your cheeks at his statement. ‘Why didn’t you do it sooner, then?’ You’d wanted to ask but just as he raises his head, you catch sight of the bloody handprints on both of his cheeks. You gasp in surprise, “Soshiro, you’re—”

You reach up to hold his face, though when you see your own hands stained with the blood from his wounds, a small laugh of realisation comes out of you. Hoshina snorts a little when he deduces the same thing, the room now filled with your combined giggles.

“All the more reason to stay here longer and get myself cleaned up, hm?” He smirks and leans back with his arms perched on the bed. You gnaw at the bottom of your lip, staring not-so-subtly at his slacked figure.

More work for you to do… not like you’re complaining anyway because he does not have any business looking so sinfully good with all those muscles and bare skin all roughed up and bloodied like that.

You inwardly shake your head to disperse the thought. Throwing him an eye roll, you scold him for moving around too much in case his injuries get worse, and that he should know better than to stay out of commission for longer than necessary considering his importance in the division.

Deep down, though, you’re glad that Hoshina Soshiro is there with you in more ways than one, holding your hand as you trudge through this new relationship blossoming between you two.

He stays, and he is significant. Forever will be in your lovesick little heart.

taglist open!

bakko is just there like 👁️👄👁️

💌 ; kaija my dear i’m so happy that i get to know you through the cafe network <3 really enjoyed all the convos we’ve had in the kn8 channel and i appreciate u sm !! you’re so sweet and so delightful to talk to and i thought that you are just the perfect person to be soshiro’s favorite doctor / nurse ^^ you seem like the type who'd be good at taking care of people, especially your loved ones. bet he goes to the infirmary a lot just to see u hehe (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) anyway, i hope 2024 has been nice to you. i wish you all the good things in the world, and that 2025 will be a better and sweeter year for you, love 💜

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[riversenchanted]

Where your mercury is placed is where you have intelligence at in your birth chart

Mercury 1st house/ Aries: Intelligent about knowing how to express themselves/fashion geniuses. These people are typically multi talented and able to be highly skilled at anything they pursue. They are like sponges for information!

Mercury 2nd house/Taurus: Intelligent about money,investing, and material possessions. These people are likely to own their own businesses or be investors of some kind. They may have multiple streams of income. A highly abundant placement to have!

Mercury 3rd house/ Gemini: The jack of all trades! Intelligent speakers, communicators, learners, teachers. People can learn a lot just by being in their presence. Their brains move just a little bit faster than the world around them. Sometimes this placement is prone to adhd.

Mercury 4th house/ Cancer: intelligent about family, emotions, counsel, cooking, home life. These people are commonly psychic/claircognizant. They always know the right thing to say. These are the people you go to when you need advice snd support.

Mercury 5th house/ Leo: intelligent about the arts, romance, children, self expression. These people bring light into the room. They have a creative genius like no other and a magic in the way they think and operate. They have a strong creative intelligence.

Mercury 6th house/ Virgo: intelligent about analysis, health, structure, and logic. These people make excellent doctors, judges, and politicians. They have a strong memory and interest in bettering others lives and keeping things balanced and fair. They analyze things deeply and are always looking for ways to help and improve any situation they face. They’re always calculating and taking in information.

Mercury 7th house/ Libra: Intelligent about relationships, justice, counsel, influence. These people are strong communicators and have the power to influence others and bring people together. They are diplomatic and fair. Always looking for the gray area and middle ground in any situation.

Mercury 8th house/Scorpio: intelligent about solving mysteries, uncovering truth, emotional depth. These people make good investigators. This placement shows a strong desire to uncover truth and have a deeper understanding of why things are the way they are. They tend to see through peoples facades easily. These people can be psychic or empathic.

Mercury 9th house/ Sagittarius: intelligent about philosophy, religion, travel, culture. These people have a wide variety of knowledge. They are the type of people who will have random facts about everything. They will spark conversation with anyone. Always eager to learn and very tactile in the way that they learn as well.

Mercury 10th house/ Capricorn: intelligent in business, work, legacy, and reputation. These people are extremely detail oriented. They have sharp minds and don’t forget anything to easily. These placements are adaptable and flexible. Willing to face challenges head on and grow from them. May have remarkable careers and be well known for their skills in the work field.

Mercury 11th house/ Aquarius: intelligent in networking, community, problem solving, innovation, technology. These people think 10 steps ahead at all times. These are the visionary’s. Their minds always at work and looking to the future. An inventors mind. These people bring others together to solve a common issue and work efficiently with others.

Mercury 12th house/ Pisces: intelligent in creativity, psychology, intuition, spirituality. These people have rich inner worlds but may have difficulty expressing it fully. They spend a lot of time in deep contemplation and are highly observant. They have a talent for compassion and deeply understanding others. They see things from multiple points of view and therefore have the ability to problem solve from multiple angles.

[blackcat-star]

Criminal!Jinwoo x reader Warning: Murder, blood mention. Song lyrics: Criminal - Britney Spears.

"According to the report from the city police department, there has been another murder recently, the murderer has been identified as 'The Ghost', who has been responsible for many recent murders...."

Raindrops hit the house windows as they fell. The living room stayed dim while only the television screen provided light.

"The victim is Kim Min-seok. The police discovered that Kim runs a drug trafficking network that operates between different countries. The police have not determined who killed Kim Min-seok. Public opinion..."

You settled into the sofa with your legs crossed while observing the TV screen. Your hands naturally held the hot coffee.

The female TV announcer continued to speak in her normal tone throughout the broadcast.

Another murder had occurred. You couldn't remember how many this month, it was clearly quite a few. It seems like every 1-2 days, another person is murdered.

You mumble, "I don't understand... Why should we feel sorry for those criminals? They don't even deserve to live. He's clearly doing things that the police can't do..."

Serial killer - 'The Ghost' has his own principles. In most cases where he is believed to be the perpetrator, the victims are other criminals. For example, heinous criminals who have not been discovered, notorious gang leaders, and the scum of society who have been released thanks to bribes...

It's clear that  'The Ghost' is acting on behalf of heaven.

Even though deep down, you know that punishing criminals is the duty of the law and the state. If this situation continues, the situation will be very chaotic. The 'Ghost's' actions may make people happy, but they disregard the law. If everyone is like this, the law will no longer matter and the country will be unstable.

You can't help but feel indignant.

Not only because the victims were all criminals who committed heinous crimes, but also because...

The murderer that the whole city feared...was your lover.

Sung Jinwoo.

________________________________

He is a hustler, he's no good at all

He is a loser, he's a bum, bum, bum, bum

________________________________

You never thought you would fall in love with Jinwoo, you never thought you would fall in love with a criminal.

You used to have a normal life, never involved in the underworld, never involved in blood, never involved in darkness.

But that changed since you met him.

It was on a fateful night.

At that time, the city of Seoul was always bright and cheerful, or at least it appeared so. There was no disturbance, the flow of people was still bustling, the peace of the city was still maintained stably.

But in reality, in the alleys in the hidden corners of Seoul, shadows had begun to grow and gradually prepared for 'purification'.

It was pouring rain. You just wanted to go home after a tiring day at the office. Just sitting in one place and staring at the computer screen made your body feel heavy.

You trudged home. The path to your apartment felt more shadowed than normal yet your mind might have created the effect.

The sound of rain mixed with a faint groan startled you.

You came to a halt before noticing him.

A man rested against the wall while breathing hard with one hand pressed to his stomach and blood flowing to the ground.

You normally stayed away from these situations because you feared problems would arise.  You were sure he was probably involved in the underworld or some gang. You could have chosen to ignore him and go home.

But for some reason, you knelt down next to him. Your instinct was to flee but you extended your hands to hold the man's stomach.

"D-Don't touch me. Go home..." his voice was hoarse, weak, but still dangerous and warning.

You didn't listen. In that moment, the recent warnings on TV, about being careful when walking at night, because of several murders that had occurred around your neighborhood.

You now saw only a dying man in front of you.

"You can't die here.." you whispered, and before your brain could process your actions, you picked him up and carried him back to your apartment.

The black-haired man, although injured, still looked at you sharply.

"You know that there have been several murders recently....I'm the murderer, aren't you afraid of me..?"

You knew you should be afraid, should stay away from him.

Looking deeply into his eyes revealed a lost spirit stuck in eternal darkness.

"I-I don't know." You should have escaped but you chose to stay instead.

The moment you met him you understood your world would never stay the same. You entered darkness and understood you could never escape it.

___________________________

He lies, he bluffs, he's unreliable

He is a sucker with a gun, gun, gun, gun

___________________________

Suddenly you felt the empty space next to you sink, and a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his embrace forcefully.

You knew who it was.

Your lover was back.

The clock hands had just passed twelve. The rain had not stopped yet. He still had the damp smell of rain on him, and a faint smell of iron.

You knew that after he killed someone, he would shower before he came to see you, he didn't want you to feel uncomfortable. But it seemed that the smell of blood had penetrated his skin, making it impossible to completely disappear.

And it seemed that you were getting used to it.

Jinwoo put one hand around your waist, rubbing the curves of your body.

He took off his leather gloves, put them on the table slowly, then wrapped both arms around you, pulling you closer to him. Your back pressed against his strong chest.

Jinwoo decided to stay quiet without speaking. He held you in a soft but firm hug as he brought you closer. He bowed his head and buried it in your hair while breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

"Did you kill someone again?" A question popped out of your mouth, but you already knew the answer.

He didn't answer, just closed his eyes, then hummed softly through your hair.

He tilted his head, moving down to your neck, placing light kisses on it.

"Do you hate me?" His voice was hoarse, speaking between kisses.

His ebony hair lightly brushed against your chin, along with the light kisses on your neck, making you feel itchy. You giggled, then shook your head slightly. "You know clearly that I cannot"

Jinwoo laughed softly as he showed signs of tiredness through his smile. He leaned back against the sofa armrest to support himself as you relaxed on top of him. His hands still didn't leave your waist.

Silence filled the room. There was only the sound of the news bulletin board still showing the news of the day, and the slow breathing of the two people lying on the sofa.

You were used to this.

Jinwoo had never revealed his true self to you.

He was not a hero, nor a demon.

He was just the only one willing to take action.

He was only dealing with those who the law had not yet reached.

You kissed his cheek lightly, then placed a soft kiss on his lips.

"I don't hate you... I'm worried about you."

Jinwoo didn't say anything, but his arms tightened. In that moment, there was no 'Ghost', nor a serial killer.

There was only you and him.

That was the only thing you cared about right now.

__________________________

But mama I'm in love with a criminal

And this type of love isn't rational, it's physical

_________________________

I'm not criticizing the law, this is just a plot, no bad intentions.

[brunchable]

It's not a Meet-𝑪𝒖𝒕𝒆, it's a Meet-𝗨𝗴𝗹𝘆.

《 Chapter 5: Your Crying Shoulder. 》

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: It's not a meet-cute, it's a meet ugly, Grumpy Meets ✨️Sunshine✨️, Opposites Attract, Sassy Pet Matchmaker, Enemies-to-Lovers (Lite), Destined to meet again, Bucky is a hidden softie. Summary: When everything falling apart, you found yourself in the arms of the person you least expected. A/N: This story will be OUTSIDE of MCU but Bucky's traits will be mixed comics/mcu. This will be updated every FRIDAY(AEST). I can't help but place a TikTok meme in here somewhere lmao. Credits to me for the Banner lmfao. credits to @ khaer for the divider.

Mission Report - J. B. Barnes To: N. Fury Subject: Family Dynamics

Key Findings

1. Family Structure

Y/N Y/LN: CEO of The Emporium NYC, handling New York operations, public relations, and key corporate responsibilities.

Jonathan [Half-Brother]: Oversees Miami branch expansions and operational strategies. Professional but distant relationship with Y/N, characterized by mutual respect and a clear division of responsibilities.

2. Operational Observations

Financial Irregularities: Offshore accounts linked to Emporium subsidiaries display significant fund transfers with unclear purposes. Investigating their potential connection to Hydra-related activities is a priority.

Board Affiliations: Certain board members are linked to political figures and tech firms specializing in advanced security technologies. Their involvement requires further investigation for possible ties to Hydra.

Employee Turnover: Leadership restructuring followed Y/N’s promotion. Several former executives now hold external consulting roles, potentially redirecting focus from Emporium’s internal operations.

3. Personal Relationships

Rhys: Y/N’s boyfriend and the son of a global luxury hotel mogul. While not directly involved in Emporium operations, his influential family ties and potential connections to Y/N's network merit attention.

4. Behavioral Insights

Y/N demonstrates dedication to her role but shows signs of frustration with corporate pressures. She appears unaware of financial irregularities within the organization, suggesting compartmentalization of information.

No evidence connects Y/N directly to suspicious activities. Monitoring her relationship with Rhys could provide additional context, as his background and resources may intersect with Emporium’s broader dealings.

Recommendations

1. Background Checks: Investigate board members, financial consultants, and Rhys’s family business for any links to Emporium's offshore holdings and potential Hydra connections.

2. Monitor Relationships: Subtly observe Y/N’s interactions with Rhys and board members for indirect insights.

3. Enhanced Financial Scrutiny: Deepen analysis of offshore accounts to establish potential links between Emporium funds and Hydra-backed projects.

End of Report

× × × ×

Figaro pranced confidently into Bucky’s apartment, his tail held high, a familiar item clamped between his teeth. Alpine looked up from her spot on the windowsill, tilting her head as she watched him strut across the room.

“Alpine,” Figaro greeted, setting down the item—a soft, worn scarf that unmistakably carried your scent.

Alpine sniffed at the scarf, then looked at Figaro, a glint of curiosity in her eyes. “Your human let you out with… that?”

Figaro settled down next to her, casually licking a paw. 

“Oh, she doesn’t know I took it,” he replied with a lazy flick of his tail. “But I thought you might appreciate a little reminder of her.” He gave her a knowing look, lowering his voice. “She was patching up your human’s busted lip the other night, by the way.”

Alpine’s eyes narrowed with amusement. “Did she now? And did you happen to notice the way he was looking at her?” she asked, her whiskers twitching.

“Oh, I noticed. He was all ‘I’m tough, but not too tough for you,’” Figaro said, imitating a dramatic swoon, then rolled his eyes with exaggerated flair. “Honestly, he’s got it bad. She was fussing over him, and he was eating it up like a kitten with a saucer of cream.”

Alpine purred thoughtfully. “Well, it’s about time. But he won’t admit that to himself.”

“Yeah, well, the issue,” Figaro continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone, “is that there’s another guy in her life. Rhys.” He spat out the name with as much disdain as a cat could muster. “Total bore. Calls her ‘baby’ like it’s some kind of magic spell. And he smells like cheap cologne. Honestly, his existence is an insult to felines everywhere.”

Alpine’s ears perked up. “So he’s competition?”

Figaro scoffed. 

“Please. He’s like the knockoff toy they keep at the bottom of the discount bin. My human doesn’t even smile around him anymore; she just tolerates him. But every time your guy shows up, she lights up like it’s Christmas morning.” He stretched, his claws extending as if to make his point. “I’m telling you, we’ve got to get rid of him. For the sake of all that is right in the world.”

Alpine let out a thoughtful meow, eyeing the scarf Figaro had brought. “You know, if we could just keep nudging them together, maybe they’ll take the hint. They’re not too bright, but they’ve got chemistry.”

“Exactly!” Figaro said, his eyes gleaming. “Our owners are hopeless without us. This is a mission, Alpine. A noble mission. A mission to save her from that pathetic excuse for a partner.” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “And frankly, if I have to listen to him call her ‘baby’ one more time, I might cough up a hairball on his shoes.”

Alpine let out a low chuckle, nudging Figaro with her paw. “Well then, Mr. Matchmaker. What’s the plan?”

“Oh, I’ve got ideas,” Figaro said, eyes narrowing as if deep in thought. “Plenty of ideas. After all, I’m doing the world a favor.”

× × × ×

There was cold silence since that tense encounter with Rhys, and though you’d pushed it to the back of your mind, his apology text had come through late tonight, begging you to talk. You decided, almost against your better judgment, to go. Maybe it was a habit, maybe just closure. But as you reached the hotel and made your way up to his office, a cold, uneasy feeling settled in the pit of your stomach.

The hall was dimly lit as you approached, your heels clicking softly against the polished floor. Then, as you neared the frosted glass door of Rhys’ office, you stopped in your tracks. Two silhouettes were visible through the blurred glass, close, intimate. You watched as Rhys pressed a woman—with a golden hair clip—against the glass, their forms locked together in a kiss that left little to the imagination.

Your throat tightened, a dull ache building in your chest as the weight of the betrayal hit you. To be honest, I felt like I already knew it, you thought, the silent admission somehow worse than the scene unfolding in front of you. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less. You tried to swallow down the emotions swirling within you—anger, sadness, and that unmistakable pang of disappointment. Being cheated on hurt, even when you’d mentally checked out of the relationship. It chipped away at something deeper, a quiet part of your self-worth you hadn’t realized still cared.

Water rimmed your eyes, but you blinked it back, refusing to let him take that from you too. You inhaled deeply, straightened your shoulders, and turned away from the office door, leaving as quietly as you’d arrived.

× × × ×  Fews days after

Bucky squinted, utterly baffled. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he muttered. He scratched the back of his neck, feeling absurdly judged by a cat.

Alpine huffed, letting out a short, dismissive meow, clearly unimpressed with whatever answer she’d decided on. She trotted off toward her food bowl, pausing just once to throw him a final, critical look before bending to eat.

“Alright, sure, just go back to ignoring me,” Bucky grumbled, watching her. But as he leaned against the counter, glancing down at the faint trace of your scent still on his sleeve, he couldn’t help feeling like Alpine had silently decided something about him that she wasn’t going to share anytime soon.

Bucky watched Alpine chowing down on her food, her tail flicking in satisfaction as she devoured each bite with gusto. He allowed himself a moment of peace, but then came the unmistakable sound of someone struggling with his lock.

“Oh, hell no,” he muttered under his breath, his mind flashing back to the night you’d drunkenly tried breaking into his apartment, mistaking it for yours. Swinging the door open, he was prepared for a repeat performance, only to be met with Sam, frozen in mid-action, his hand clutching a spare key. Behind him stood Steve, holding two large bags of takeout, and Nat, arms crossed with a smirk.

“Uh… hey, Buck,” Sam greeted, attempting a casual tone while quickly tucking the key behind his back like he hadn’t just been caught red-handed.

“Why are you trying to break into my place?” Bucky narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms.

Sam cleared his throat, glancing at Steve and Nat for backup. 

“We’re, uh… your backup! Sent by Fury.” He flashed a grin that looked anything but innocent.

“Backup?” Bucky repeated, deadpan, as the three of them filed in with the casualness of seasoned intruders. “Fury said it was a simple assignment. Barely a mission.”

Steve rolled his eyes, giving Bucky a pitying look as he passed by to set down the bags on the table. “You really believed that? Seriously?”

Bucky opened his mouth to argue, but before he could get a word in, Nat had already made her way over to Alpine, who blinked up at her with the smug satisfaction of a cat who’d been expecting her. Nat scratched Alpine’s ears as Alpine purred, looking even more at ease than Bucky had ever seen her.

Just as Nat leaned down to pet Alpine, her gaze flicked up, catching sight of Bucky’s busted lip. She raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Nice lip, Buck. Trouble on the way to the door?”

Bucky’s hand instinctively went up to his mouth. “Oh, that? I… tripped over Alpine.”

Steve’s head whipped around, eyes narrowing as he tried to keep a straight face. 

“You tripped… over Alpine?” He looked down at the serene, not-at-all-menacing cat sitting contentedly by Nat’s side, then back up at Bucky, clearly struggling to hold back a laugh.

Bucky crossed his arms, his expression turning defensive. “It’s possible, alright? She’s tiny but lethal.”

Sam let out a snort. “Yeah, sure. I’m sure the Winter Soldier can handle a battalion of Hydra agents but gets taken out by a house cat.”

“Don’t you guys have anything better to do?” Bucky just rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath as Sam already raiding the fridge like he owned it. 

“Oh no, please, make yourselves at home. I’ll just find somewhere else to live, shall I?” Bucky’s voice was dripping with sarcasm as he watched the scene unfold. 

“Buck, you have got to keep better beer in here. This stuff is practically water.” He settled on a bottle anyway, taking a long swig before glancing back at Bucky. “We’re just here to help, man. Think of us as… extended housemates.”

Bucky crossed his arms tighter, a look of utter disbelief on his face. “Extended housemates?” He gestured at the room. “You act like you already live here!”

Steve, entirely unbothered, started setting out the food, carefully placing burgers on plates and arranging napkins. “We thought you might need a little company. I mean, it’s a Friday night, after all.”

“I’m perfectly fine alone, thanks,” Bucky replied, his gaze narrowing as he watched Sam polish off half a beer in one go. “How about you go keep each other company?”

Steve chuckled, handing a plate to Nat. “You said the same thing last time we showed up. Yet, here we are. Again.”

Nat, now comfortably settled on the couch with Alpine, flashed him a wicked grin. “Let’s not be dramatic, Bucky. Just think of us as… spontaneous visitors.”

“Visitors don’t usually come with their own keys,” Bucky grumbled, his gaze settling on Sam, who was busy rifling through his cabinets for snacks. “And they certainly don’t bring takeout to make themselves at home.”

Sam shrugged, unfazed. “You think of it as invading your privacy; I think of it as improving the vibe around here.”

Bucky let out an exasperated sigh. “I swear, one of these days, I’m changing the locks.”

“Good luck with that. We’ll just get new keys.” Nat smirked, scratching Alpine’s head as if she were orchestrating a coup. 

Bucky glared, but Steve was already setting a plate piled with ribs and a burger in front of him. “Eat up, Buck. Before Sam devours everything like the human garbage disposal he is.”

Sam waved his beer bottle, looking completely unbothered. “Hey, I resent that. This is strategic eating. Besides, with your ‘barely-a-mission,’ we need all the fuel we can get.”

“I’m starting to think Fury set me up.” Bucky rubbed his forehead, exasperated but clearly losing the battle.

Steve just grinned, popping open his own beer. “I’m sure Fury thought you’d appreciate the backup.”

“Or at least tolerate it,” Sam added, grabbing a handful of fries and popping them into his mouth.

With a resigned sigh, Bucky sank into a chair, shaking his head. “You guys are impossible.”

“Impossible is our specialty,” Sam shot back, raising his beer in a mock toast. “To back up, and to Buck finally admitting he likes having us around.”

“Let’s not get carried away.” Bucky snorted. 

Alpine purred louder, clearly pleased with the lively atmosphere, while Nat smirked at Bucky. “See? Even Alpine agrees. You’re just a grump with a soft spot for us, admit it.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Fine. But next time, bring your own key.”

“Oh, we will,” Steve assured him with a smirk. “And maybe a couch, a pillow or two.”

Sam, now munching contentedly on fries, raised his beer again. “To crashing Bucky’s place—where every night is a mission, and the food’s free.”

Bucky took a reluctant bite of his burger, trying to ignore how comfortable his “guests” had made themselves. Just as he was starting to think the worst was over, Steve casually leaned over to Sam, as if sharing a quiet plan.

“We’ll grab the rest of our stuff from the car when Buck’s asleep,” Steve said, completely deadpan.

Bucky nearly choked on his burger, staring at Steve like he’d lost his mind. “The rest of your stuff? What are you talking about?”

Sam, without missing a beat, grinned. “Perfect. Nat can take the bedroom, and the three of us can crash in the living room. It’ll be like a sleepover.”

Nat raised her eyebrows, feigning delight. “I called dibs on the bed, anyway. I always knew Buck had the fluffiest pillows.”

“Hold on, hold on! This isn’t some youth hostel! You all have your own places!” Bucky’s face twisted in horror as he looked around the room. 

“Yeah, but none of our places have a view of you panicking about your personal space.” Steve looked unbothered, casually unwrapping another burger.

Bucky glared. 

“I’m not panicking! I just—” He waved a hand in utter frustration. “This is my place! You can’t just... commandeer my bed!”

“Don’t worry, Buck. We’ll all be snug as bugs on the floor, reliving those good ol’ days in the barracks.” Sam leaned back, looking way too comfortable for someone who’d apparently just broken in.

“Except Nat,” Steve corrected, “who will be enjoying Buck’s luxurious mattress.”

Bucky looked to Alpine, almost pleading. “You see what I deal with? Even the cat respects my space more than you three!”

Alpine simply blinked, looking rather indifferent to her owner’s plight as she happily settled on Nat’s lap.

“Oh, come on, Buck,” Sam said, reaching over to ruffle Bucky’s hair. “We’ll make it fun! Popcorn, ghost stories, some embarrassing truths about Fury… just like old times.”

“Yeah, Buck,” Steve added, grinning. “Think of it as team bonding.”

Bucky threw his hands up. “This isn’t bonding! This is trespassing! And I don’t want to hear any ghost stories or truths about Fury. I want my bed, my couch, and my fridge not raided!”

Nat sighed, patting Alpine who purred louder. “Look, Buck. Clearly, Alpine’s on board. You’re outvoted.”

“Traitor.” Bucky narrowed his eyes, looking at Alpine in betrayal.

Steve chuckled, leaning back with a smug grin. “Face it, Buck. Tonight’s already decided.”

Bucky let out a resigned sigh, shaking his head as he muttered under his breath. “Next time, I’m leaving the country.”

× × × ×

You strode into the dimly lit restaurant, greeted by a chorus of cheers and mock applause as Serena, Mei, and Jane raised their glasses, voices rising in unison. "Woooo, here comes the CEO!"

You shook your head, laughing as you took your seat, subtly glancing around the table. Your gaze caught on one unfamiliar face, though it took a split second longer for the memory to click into place. Carly. She was Rhys' new assistant, a realization that caused your brow to lift just slightly. You’d thought she looked familiar from somewhere else, but with her new polished appearance and newfound confidence, it was hard to tell right away.

Chloe, ever the instigator, nudged Carly forward with a smile that held a hint of challenge. 

“Ladies, meet Carly. You might remember her, Y/N. She used to work at The Emporium,” she said, her words smooth but her gaze pointed.

You kept your expression cool, a practiced smile settling on your lips. “Ah, that explains why she looks familiar.” You gave Carly a nod, and she responded with a forced smile, her eyes holding something less friendly beneath the surface.

The evening moved along, filled with laughter and a few rounds of drinks. Serena, Mei, and Jane offered congratulations, and Sarah, as always, played the role of your unwavering cheerleader, throwing a few enthusiastic compliments your way. But as the night flowed, it was Mei who leaned in, her voice dipping into a sympathetic tone.

“So, I heard Rhys de Armande cheated on you.”

You blinked, not expecting the topic to surface so bluntly. You forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, though a subtle flicker crossed your face.

“You forced a light laugh, though your jaw tightened beneath it. “Oh, it was probably because I told him to take his bare minimum and keep it out of my sight. Pretty sure he wanted to vanish into thin air after that, especially since his entire office got to witness it.”

Jane, Mei, and Serena burst into laughter, clearly picturing the scene as you animatedly relayed the story.

“Oh my gosh, that’s incredible,” Serena giggled, shaking her head. “He absolutely deserved every bit of that.”

You let out a faint laugh, flipping your hair back and letting it settle over your shoulder as you raised an eyebrow. “Ugh, I’m too busy with work to be hurt by this kind of stuff,” you replied, feigning a casual air as you took a sip of your drink, though the words had a hard edge underneath.

“Do you know who the woman was?” Serena leaned forward, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

Chloe’s lips curled into a faint smirk.

“I mean, with Rhys’ type, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s someone… eager to climb the ladder, if you know what I mean,” Mei said.

Sarah’s eyes flashed, and she opened her mouth, ready to retort, but you discreetly squeezed her hand under the table, keeping your expression smooth. You didn’t need her stepping in right now. 

“You should’ve grabbed her hair!” Jane piped up, half-laughing, her fist in the air as if she were ready to throw a punch herself, “I respect the way you’re so laid back, because honestly I would’ve gone apeshit.”

“Oh, forget it. He’s the one who cheated. I couldn’t care less about her,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “She’s probably no different from him—anyways! Enough about him!”

As the words left your mouth, Carly’s face visibly tightened, her forced smile slipping as she pushed back her chair, muttering under her breath as she walked off toward the restroom. Her eyes flickered with a glare that lingered on you as she departed, barely concealing the frustration bubbling beneath her cool facade.

Serena raised her eyebrows, catching the shift in mood. “What’s with her? She was glaring at you the whole time.”

“Oh, who knows,” Sarah murmured, watching Carly’s retreating figure with a slight smirk, her hand still entwined in yours beneath the table, a sign of solidarity.

Chloe glanced after Carly, a subtle, knowing smile playing on her lips. “Probably just adjusting to her new… surroundings.”

You glanced down at your phone, barely containing the irritation rising within you as you took in the image on the screen: Rhys and Carly, cozy on a beach, his arms wrapped around her as if he hadn’t been apologizing to you just days earlier. It was from an unknown number, but there was no doubt in your mind who had sent it.

With a measured breath, you slipped the phone back into your bag and stood, offering your friends a polite excuse before following the path Carly had taken. You found her just outside the restrooms, leaning casually against the wall with a smug smile, almost as if she’d been waiting.

“Why did you send me that?” You stopped in front of her, gaze steady.

She didn’t bother hiding her grin, crossing her arms as she looked you over. “Because I wanted you to know.”

“Know what?” You raised an eyebrow. “That Rhys cheated on me?”

“No,” she replied with a sickeningly sweet smile, crossing her arms tighter. “That I seduced your boyfriend. You seemed completely fine with it.”

A scoff escaped you as you let out a dry laugh, crossing your own arms. 

“Did you expect me to crumble just because I was cheated on?” You tilted your head, studying her. “Alright, let’s say you two ‘fell in love.’ Then you should be apologizing to me—”

Her smile faltered as she cut you off, her voice raising a fraction. “I felt guilty at first. But then you acted like it wasn’t a big deal. You weren’t curious about me, didn’t even acknowledge what I did. So my self-esteem? It just kept plummeting.”

You looked at her, incredulous, and chuckled coldly. “Wow—seriously? You’re such a loser—You’re blaming me for your self-esteem issues?”

Her lips pursed in irritation. “Why shouldn’t I? Why do you think I can’t do what you do? I can seduce your man and be just as successful—be just like you. But you never gave me the chance. Not only that, you took my opportunity at The Emporium away from me.”

“Ah,” you murmured, amusement in your voice. “So this is about me firing you?”

Her jaw clenched, eyes narrowing. “You didn’t deserve to be in that position. You act so high and mighty, like nothing can shake you. You have it all, don’t you? The job, the influence, the respect. But guess what? I can take what’s yours. I already did, didn’t I?”

You laughed, unbothered, shaking your head slowly. 

“You really don’t get it, do you?” You stepped closer, gaze locked on hers. “If you couldn’t handle the job, that’s on you. Throwing this little tantrum only proves I was right about you. As for Rhys…” You shrugged, a smirk tugging at your lips. “You can keep him. My ex cheating doesn’t affect my work—but you? You do. So maybe I’ll have a word with his parents and see how your career fairs then.”

You turned to leave, but her voice came out sharp, dripping with venom. “You can’t pretend you’re not bitter about it. That’s why you’re here, right? To confront me?”

Pausing, you glanced over your shoulder, an icy smile on your lips. “Ever step on something nasty on the sidewalk? Hmm I don’t know like shit? It’s a pain, but you don’t let it ruin your day. You wipe it off and move on. That’s what you and Rhys are to me—Shit—something I’ll be glad to scrape off my shoe.”

Without another glance, you strode back to the table, your head held high. Your friends glanced up as you approached, a few eyebrows raised.

“Everything okay?” Sarah asked, eyeing you with mild concern.

You forced a polite smile, nodding as you picked up your bag. “Actually, I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow. I should get going.”

With a few quick goodbyes, you left, satisfaction settling over you as you stepped out, knowing you’d left Carly exactly where she belonged—behind you.

× × × × 

“Sarah! Open the noor! I know you're in there, Sarah! Open the noor!” Your drunken voice slurred through the quiet hallway, louder with every knock.

Inside, Bucky froze, instantly recognizing your voice. His eyes widened, and he shot a panicked look at the mountain of files scattered across his coffee table—the very files on you and The Emporium that he’d been piecing through with Steve, Sam, and Nat.

“Everyone! Gather the files, now!” he hissed, immediately jumping to action.

“What? Why? Relax, man, we’re not under attack or anything.” Sam raised an eyebrow, lounging on the couch with a half-eaten sandwich.

Bucky shot him a glare, practically yanking the files out from under Sam’s plate. “One of our ‘subjects’ is outside the door, Sam! Now MOVE!”

“Wait, you mean her?” Steve asked, eyes widening as the banging on the door got louder.

“Yes!” Bucky hissed, shoving an armful of files into Steve’s hands. “Now stop talking and start hiding!”

Nat rolled her eyes, stacking papers hastily. “Isn’t this a little dramatic? She’s probably just lost.”

“She’s not ‘lost,’ she’s drunk!” Bucky snapped. “And I’d rather not explain why I’m reviewing her life story with three nosy intruders!”

“Oh, we’re the intruders now?” Steve muttered as he clutched a bundle of files to his chest. “Could’ve sworn we were here for your mission!”

The banging grew even louder. 

“Sarah! Don’t you ignore me, woman!” Your voice was muffled but determined, sounding like you were one step away from kicking the door down.

“Go, go, go! Get in there!” Bucky herded them like sheep, arms waving wildly as he tried to push them toward the bedroom.

“Ow, Bucky, stop shoving!” Sam complained, elbowing Bucky back as he tripped over a rogue sneaker. “Seriously, why are you acting like we’re about to be raided?”

“Because she’ll see this mess and ask questions!” Bucky shot back, pushing him forward again. “Just get in and be quiet!”

Nat stumbled as Bucky prodded her toward the door, muttering, “Why are you so panicked? Did you do something wrong, Buck?”

“Would you all just move?!” Bucky whispered furiously, practically bulldozing them all through his bedroom door. “I’ll explain later. Just don’t make a sound!”

Steve stumbled, catching himself with a loud “Ow!” as Bucky finally got all three of them behind the door. He shut it firmly and leaned against it with a sigh, only to hear a loud “Shh!” from Nat, Sam, and Steve bickering in hushed whispers.

“Move your elbow!”

“Steve, that’s my foot—ow!”

“Could you three not sound like an entire stampede?”

Outside, your voice grew louder, slurring but stubborn as ever. “Saarah! Come on, I brought sushiiii!”

Bucky took a breath and opened the door, his expression calm yet barely holding it together. There you stood, wobbling slightly, hair slightly mussed, and an unmistakable grin on your face when you saw him.

“Oh! Sarah, you changed! You look so much taller… and more... Bucky-like.”

“Uh, hi,” he said as he steadied you. “I think you might have the wrong door, trash panda.”

You blinked, frowning, and swayed a little closer. “Wrong door? But I brought sushi! And, wait—” You squinted at him, leaning in. “Bucky?”

“Yeah, Bucky,” he confirmed, holding back a chuckle as you gave him a suspiciously scrutinizing look.

“Ohhh…” you drawled, clearly trying to process it all. “Well, if you see Sarah, tell her the sushi is... sushi-ing.”

He nodded, keeping his tone light, even though his friends were probably eavesdropping as best they could. 

“Will do. And, uh… maybe we should get you home?”

“Good idea. But you keep this. Looks like you could use some fish.” You nodded, albeit unsteadily, handing him a stray piece of sushi. 

You gave Bucky a wobbly smile, one that looked a little too determined for someone in your state. Before Bucky could stop you, you swayed forward, making a beeline past him and into his apartment.

“Wait, Y/N—this isn’t… Sarah’s place!” he said, barely catching up as you staggered into his kitchen.

“Close enough,” you slurred with a grin, swaying dramatically from side to side as you reached for the fridge handle. Alpine, sensing a new friend in distress, trotted over, rubbing against your legs with enthusiastic little chirps.

“Oh! Hey, kitty!” you cooed, reaching down to pet her, then looking up at Bucky with wide, innocent eyes. “Sarah’s cat never welcomes me like this. See? She gets me.”

Bucky ran a hand over his face, half-amused, half-panicked. “Right. Because Alpine just loves guests raiding the kitchen.”

You opened the fridge door, inspecting the shelves as if on a mission. 

“Where’s the… the ice cream?” you muttered, voice muffled by the refrigerator door. “Sarah always has chocolate fudge swirl, and I need it.”

“Seriously, you’re in the wrong apartment,” Bucky tried, sounding both exasperated and entertained as he reached out, but you sidestepped, one hand still on the fridge door, the other now waving vaguely in the air.

“Shhh, Bucky,” you chided, squinting as you leaned in further, peering deeper into the fridge with a sense of deep concentration. Alpine padded around you, her tail curling around your ankle, clearly thrilled to have you there.

“Listen, Bucky,” you slurred, not even glancing up, “all I want… is chocolate ice cream and maybe… maybe a good laugh. Do you have tissues? I feel like I’ll need them, like, a lot of them.”

Bucky couldn’t help the grin tugging at his lips. He tried his best to guide you away from the fridge gently, but you shot him a mildly annoyed look, shoving a stray pack of carrots aside as if they were personally offensive.

“Don’t you dare hide the good stuff behind the veggies,” you said, mock-scolding him as Alpine hopped onto the counter, watching the scene with wide, curious eyes, tail twitching.

“Really, Alpine?” Bucky muttered at his cat, who was clearly rooting for you and even pawed at Bucky’s hand as if to say, Let her have the ice cream!

“I knew you’d understand me, Alpine,” you cooed at the cat, as if she were your personal support group. “See, Bucky? Even she gets it. She knows.”

Bucky sighed, half-heartedly resigned. “You know what, fine. If Alpine says so, who am I to argue?”

Finally, you pulled out a random tub—yogurt, not ice cream—and peered at it in disappointment. 

“Greek yogurt? Bucky, are you… are you okay?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, perfectly fine, thanks.”

You blinked at him, still clutching the tub. “Well, clearly, you’re living a sad existence if this is all you’ve got.”

“Or I’m just not prepared for unexpected trash pandas who raid my fridge,” he replied, crossing his arms, trying not to burst out laughing as you clung to Alpine for support, who purred loudly, delighted with the chaos.

“Fine, then!” you declared dramatically, patting Alpine’s head. “Alpine and I will fend for ourselves.” You turned on your heel (or tried to, at least), your balance giving out just slightly as you wobbled with an exaggerated sway. Alpine gave an encouraging “mrrp!” as if saying, Yes! Go forth!

Bucky finally took pity on you, grabbing a pint of actual ice cream from the freezer, waving it like a peace offering. “This? Will this make you happy, your highness?”

You lit up, the joy on your face as radiant as if he’d handed you a crown. “Now that’s more like it!” you cheered, taking the tub, your steps still swaying as you made your way to his couch.

Bucky followed you over, shaking his head as you sat down, giving Alpine a spot next to you. He sat down nearby, stifling a chuckle as you dug into the ice cream.

“So… just gonna crash here tonight, then?” he asked, leaning back with a smirk.

You waved the spoon dismissively, barely even looking up. “Obviously. And you, Bucky Barnes, need to get more ice cream. Greek yogurt’s just… depressing.”

He shook his head, chuckling. “Noted.”

You tore into the box of tissues, your frustration boiling over as you whipped open the plastic bag for trash with the precision of someone handling a life-or-death task. In one hand, you wielded the spoon like a weapon, in the other, a tissue you’d already shredded halfway. Bucky sat a few feet away, wide-eyed, clearly out of his depth. Alpine perched on the coffee table instead, her tail swishing in judgment, shooting Bucky a look that all but screamed, Fix this.

“You good there?” Bucky asked cautiously, his voice hesitant, like he wasn’t sure whether he should move closer or start looking for an escape route.

You let out a short, sharp laugh—bitter, too loud for the small space. “Good? Oh yeah, I’m great! I mean, how could I not be? My ex-boyfriend cheated on me with his assistant, who, surprise, also happens to be the same girl I fired for being utterly incompetent.”

Bucky, sitting stiffly on the couch, could only blink as you laughed. Not a gentle laugh, but one that bordered on hysteria, punctuated by short, sharp breaths. It wasn’t the kind of laugh that came from something funny; it was the kind that cracked through the tension when words couldn’t quite hold the weight of everything you were feeling.

“Oh, my God!” you exclaimed, raising your spoon as if to make a toast. “It’s just perfect, isn’t it? Fired her for being terrible at customer service, and what does she do? Rebounds as my boyfriend’s personal assistant. Like, how poetic is that?” You gestured with the tissue, accidentally flinging it onto the coffee table, but you didn’t stop. 

“And then—get this—she blames me for her low self-esteem! Like, excuse me for not sending her a gift basket after she slept with my boyfriend. I mean—” You let out a bark of laughter, shaking your head as tears welled in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “You can’t make this stuff up!”

“And then tonight?” You gestured wildly with your spoon. “Tonight, I had to sit there, all smiles, pretending like everything was fine, because God forbid I let anyone think I’m not. And Carly—oh, Carly—had the audacity to act like she’s the victim. She felt bad about it! Isn’t that just hilarious?” You scooped another bite of ice cream, your laughter spilling out, sharp and brittle, filling the air like broken glass.

Bucky sat frozen, his jaw slightly ajar, his heart twisting as he watched you spiral. You leaned forward, still laughing, the sound echoing unnaturally in the quiet apartment. You looked absurd, sitting there with a tub of ice cream and tissues in hand, trying to force humor into something that was clearly tearing you apart.

“Y/N,” Bucky said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t seem to hear him, your laugh rising in pitch as you tilted your head back, wiping your face with the back of your hand. “It’s hilarious, really. Just the perfect little tragedy. I kind of saw it coming, you know? Rhys was always—”

“Y/N.” Bucky’s voice was firmer this time, cutting through the haze of your spiraling thoughts like a blade.

He moved off the couch, lowering himself to his knees in front of you, his steady blue eyes locking onto yours. The laughter caught in your throat as you met his gaze. There was no judgment in his expression, no pity—just an unwavering presence that felt like a lifeline. His gaze softened, like he was offering you something you weren’t sure how to accept.

“Just cry,” he said, his voice calm but resolute.

Your lips parted as if to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. The lump in your throat tightened, and for a moment, you thought you could hold it together. But the way he was looking at you—like you were the only person in the world—broke down every defense you’d spent the evening building.

“Don’t force yourself to laugh,” he added gently, his eyes never leaving yours. “It’s okay to cry.”

Your smile wavered, trembling at the edges before fading completely. You looked away, the dam bursting as tears spilled over, hot and relentless. A shaky breath escaped you, and your hands fumbled with the tissue box, but they were trembling too much to hold anything.

Bucky let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair as he glanced toward the closed bedroom door. He rarely, if ever, allowed anyone to see this side of him. Vulnerability wasn’t something he was used to sharing—especially not with his friends only a room away. But for you? He didn’t hesitate.

“Ah, screw it,” he muttered under his breath.

Alpine let out a soft “mrrp�� of approval, watching as Bucky leaned forward, wrapping a careful arm around your smaller frame. He didn’t say anything, just held you close, letting you bury your face against his chest. His touch was gentle but grounding, the steady rhythm of his breathing anchoring you as you finally let yourself break.

He rested his chin lightly on top of your head, his other hand rubbing slow, soothing circles against your back. The weight of your head against his chest grounded him as much as he hoped it comforted you.

Alpine, perched on the coffee table, watched with what could only be described as smug satisfaction, her tail flicking contentedly.

Bucky’s awkwardness melted away bit by bit as he felt your breathing begin to even out against him. He let out a soft sigh, glancing down at you. Alpine’s watchful gaze was fixed on him, as if daring him to get this right. Bucky cleared his throat, searching for the right words, feeling more vulnerable than he’d admit.

“You know… you’re stronger than you think,” he said, his thumb grazing your shoulder without him realizing. “You take on so much, and you do it with so much grace. Even when you don’t have to.”

Your breath caught, and you lifted your head to meet his gaze, his blue eyes soft but unwavering.

“I know you don’t need me or anyone else to tell you how incredible you are. But, just… let someone see it, will you? Because you… you deserve that. And I mean every damn word.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, and you felt a rare sense of peace, your heart light in a way it hadn’t felt in so long. Bucky looked at you, his expression softening further as he took in the sight of your smile, his own heart skipping a beat.

Just as the warmth of Bucky’s words started to sink in, your phone erupted with an insistent buzz, breaking the peaceful moment. You glanced down to see Rhys’ name flashing on the screen. You groaned, but before you could even react, Bucky had snatched the phone from your hand, holding it up as it vibrated relentlessly.

On the fourth ring, Bucky pressed "answer," bringing the phone to his ear with a calm confidence that sent a thrill through you, his voice dropping to a dangerous calm.

“Rhys right? You know, she’s a little busy right now…” he greeted, the single word laced with a tension that could cut glass. “Here’s the deal: you’re gonna stop calling her. Got that?”

You watched, wide-eyed, as Bucky ended the call without waiting for a response and promptly shut off the phone. He set it down with an air of finality, his gaze meeting yours. Before you could form a coherent thought, a loud knock echoed through the apartment, making you both jump slightly.

“Y/N? I know you’re in there.” The voice outside was unmistakable—Rhys.

Your stomach churned as Bucky’s eyes flicked to the door, his jaw tightening.

“What the hell?” he muttered, standing up, his posture instantly tense.

“Bucky…” you started, but he raised a hand, silencing you with a look.

The knock came again, harder this time, followed by Rhys’ impatient voice. “Come on, Y/N, open the door! Let’s talk.”

Alpine, perched on the coffee table, let out an annoyed hiss, her tail flicking sharply as if she shared Bucky’s distaste for the situation. Bucky moved toward the door with deliberate steps, glancing briefly at the bedroom where Sam, Steve, and Nat were undoubtedly eavesdropping.

“Stay here,” Bucky instructed, his voice low and commanding. You watched as he reached for the door, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring.

The door creaked open, revealing Rhys standing in the dim hallway, his expression a mix of desperation and annoyance.

“What are you doing here?” Bucky’s voice was dangerously quiet, but the threat beneath it was clear.

Rhys crossed his arms, his gaze darting past Bucky into the apartment. “I’m here to talk to Y/N. This is between me and her, so if you don’t mind…”

“Oh, I mind,” Bucky shot back, stepping further into the doorway, blocking your view. “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“You don’t speak for her,” Rhys snapped, his voice rising. “Y/N!” he shouted, his voice cracking with frustration. “You can’t avoid me forever!”

The tension in the room was palpable, and you stood frozen, torn between staying put and stepping in. But before you could decide, Rhys’ voice dropped, and the words that followed sent a chill down your spine.

“I know what you’re hiding.”

Bucky’s entire body stiffened, his hand tightening on the edge of the door. His head tilted slightly, and though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel the shift in his demeanor. The calm before the storm.

“Excuse me?” Bucky’s voice was low, deadly.

Rhys scoffed, his tone dripping with false confidence, voice low while glancing shortly at you. “Don’t play dumb. I know about the Emporium. And I know about you.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs, your breath catching as Rhys’ words hung in the air like a grenade waiting to explode. Alpine let out a sharp, warning hiss, her tail flicking wildly.

“Y/N,” Bucky called over his shoulder, his voice steady but laced with coldness that made your blood run cold. “Go to my room.”

“What? Why—”

“Now.”

The finality in his tone left no room for argument, and with a wobble in your step and the slight haze of alcohol still clouding your mind, you retreated into the hallway. 

You staggered slightly, catching yourself on the wall as your eyes darted toward the only other door in sight: Bucky’s bedroom. Your curiosity—or perhaps your drunken instincts—propelled you forward. You weren’t sure why, but something about the tension in Bucky’s voice and the way he’d so urgently told you to leave made your heart pound faster.

The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly as you approached the door, your hand reaching out hesitantly toward the doorknob. You heard a faint shuffle from behind it—too faint for you to process fully in your current state—but enough to make you pause. Your fingers hovered above the cool metal, trembling slightly.

The voices from the other room grew louder for a moment before falling eerily silent, the tension almost palpable even through the walls. Your breath hitched as you gripped the doorknob tighter, the faintest click of the mechanism echoing in the stillness of the hallway.

The door began to give under your push.

Inside, Steve, Sam, and Nat froze mid-whisper, their eyes darting toward the door as it inched open.

tags: @winchestert101 @lomlbuckybarnes @lveegsoi @itsshellzy @almosttoopizza

@aami98 @hextech-bros @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917 @infqnitysblog

@ayayaeyato @blackbirdwitch22 @mostlymarvelgirl @bohoooitsme @crdgn

@yiiiikesmish @jae0515 @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @nikey-no-likey @aami98

@almosttoopizza @wisteriaandwafers @yiiiikesmish @marvelavengerspovs1 @xunquish-blog

@ppbhquinn @ziawbarnes @scott-loki-barnes @let-it-sn0o0ow @seven0714

@lostinspace33 @clockworkballerina @bonnie-bun

[bloomzone]

2025 : #25 how to be a brand new person

Imagine looking in the mirror one year from now and seeing someone completely transformed ? Not just different clothes or a new haircut, but a fundamentally evolved human being with new patterns of thinking, behaving, and engaging with the world. This comprehensive transformation is not only possible but follows predictable psychological principles that we can understand and apply systematically !! (It's easy)

Understanding the science of personal reinvention

Before we explore the practical steps, let's understand what happens in your brain during major personal transformation. Your current identity exists as a complex network of neural pathways that have been strengthened through repetition over years or decades. Every time you think a familiar thought, react in a typical way, or engage in habitual behavior, you're essentially walking down a well-worn mental path.

Think of your brain like a forest where certain trails have been walked so frequently they've become highways. ur automatic responses, emotional patterns, and behavioral tendencies represent these heavily traveled neural routes. Becoming a brand new person means consciously creating entirely new pathways while allowing the old ones to gradually fade from disuse.

This process leverages neuroplasticity, which is your brain's remarkable ability to reorganize itself throughout your entire life. Scientists have discovered that you can literally rewire your brain through conscious effort and repetition. The key insight here is that your current personality and patterns are not fixed traits but rather learned responses that can be unlearned and replaced.

Phase one: Deconstructing ur current identity

The first step in becoming brand new involves taking an honest inventory of who you currently are. This isn't about self-criticism but rather about developing awareness of the patterns that define your present existence. Most people operate on autopilot, unconsciously repeating the same thoughts, emotions, and behaviors day after day . Begin by observing urself as if you were a scientist studying an interesting subject. Notice your automatic thoughts throughout the day. What stories do you tell yourself about your capabilities, your worth, and your place in the world? Pay attention to your emotional patterns. What triggers you consistently? How do you typically respond to stress, conflict, or unexpected challenges?

Examine your daily routines and behaviors with fresh eyes. What time do you wake up and what's your first action? how do you move through your morning routine? What conversations do you have with yourself in the shower or while commuting? These seemingly minor details actually form the foundation of your current identity.Consider your relationships and social patterns. Who do you spend time with and what roles do you play in those relationships? Are you the helper, the entertainer, the problem-solver, or the listener? Notice how you present yourself differently to various people and which version feels most authentic versus most performed . this observation phase typically takes several weeks cuz you're identifying patterns that have become invisible through familiarity. keep a simple journal during this period, noting observations about your thoughts, feelings, and behaviors without trying to change them yet. Think of this as creating a baseline measurement before beginning your transformation.

Phase two: designing ur new identity

Once u understand your current patterns, you can begin consciously designing who you want to become. This requires moving beyond vague wishes like "I want to be more confident" to creating a detailed profile of your new self that feels both inspiring and achievable.

Start by envisioning your transformed self in specific situations. How does this new version of you handle a stressful work meeting? What does their morning routine look like? How do they respond when someone tries to provoke an argument? The more specific and detailed your vision, the more your brain can begin creating the neural pathways to support these new patterns. Consider the core values that will guide your new identity. Perhaps your current self prioritizes avoiding conflict, but your new self values honest communication even when it's uncomfortable. Maybe ur current self seeks approval from others, while your new self operates from internal validation and clear personal standards. Think about the energy you want to embody. Some people transform by becoming more dynamic and outgoing, while others evolve by developing quiet confidence and thoughtful presence. Neither approach is better than the other, but clarity about your desired energy helps guide all other aspects of your transformation.

Design new thought patterns that align with your evolved identity. If your current self thinks "I hope I don't mess this up," your new self might think "I'm curious to see how I'll handle this challenge." These shifts in internal dialogue create ripple effects throughout your entire experience.

Phase Three: physical and environmental transformation

Your external environment & physical presence play crucial roles in supporting or undermining your identity transformation. Think of your surroundings and appearance as constant feedback loops that either reinforce your old patterns or support your new ones.

Begin with your physical space because it influences ur thoughts and feelings more than most people realize. ur living environment should reflect and support the person you're becoming ofc rather than the person you've been. This doesn't require expensive renovations ofc but rather intentional choices about how you organize and inhabit your space. Remove items that connect u to aspects of your old identity (I do this every year it's so helpful !) that you're ready to release. This might include clothes that make you feel frumpy or unsuccessful, or decorative items that represent a version of yourself you've outgrown. Replace these with objects that inspire and remind you of your evolving identity. Consider how your new self would organize their living space. Someone transforming into a more disciplined and focused person might create clean, minimalist environments that support concentration. Someone evolving into a more creative and expressive identity might introduce vibrant colors, artistic elements, and inspirational materials !!

Your physical appearance serves as both an internal anchor for your new identity and an external signal to others about how you want to be perceived. This doesn't mean conforming to superficial standards but rather making choices that feel authentic to your evolving self. Perhaps your new identity calls for a different style of dress, a new haircut, or changes in how you carry yourself physically. Pay particular attention to your posture and movement patterns because these communicate volumes about your internal state. Someone undergoing identity transformation often discovers that changing how they move through the world actually helps shift how they feel about themselves. Walking slightly slower with better posture, making more direct eye contact, or using more deliberate gestures can create immediate shifts in both self-perception and how others respond to you.

Phase Four: cognitive and emotional reprogramming

The MOST profound aspects of becoming a brand new person involve rewiring your thinking patterns and emotional responses. This requires understanding that ur thoughts are not facts but rather mental habits that can be consciously changed through practice and repetition. Start by identifying the core thought patterns that define your current identity. Common examples include catastrophic thinking, people-pleasing tendencies, perfectionism, or chronic self-doubt. Your new identity requires replacing these automatic thoughts with patterns that serve your evolution (it's so so helpful trust me).

Work systematically on emotional regulation because your emotional patterns are deeply connected to ur sense of identity. Someone who transforms from reactive to responsive has learned to observe their emotions without being controlled by them. This doesn't mean suppressing feelings but rather developing the ability to choose your responses consciously (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

Practice what researchers call "emotional granularity" by developing a more sophisticated vocabulary for your internal states. Instead of just feeling "bad" or "stressed," learn to identify whether you're feeling overwhelmed, disappointed, frustrated, or anxious. This precision helps you respond more effectively and develops emotional intelligence.

Phase Five: Behavioral integration and skcial transformation

Your new identity must be expressed through consistent behavioral changes for the transformation to become real and lasting. This phase involves systematically replacing old behavioral patterns with new ones that align with who you're becoming.

Begin with small, manageable changes that can be implemented immediately. If your new identity involves being more disciplined, start with simple practices like making your bed every morning or preparing your clothes the night before. These seemingly minor behaviors create momentum and reinforce ur evolving self-concept !

Pay careful attention to your communication patterns because how you speak reflects and shapes your identity. Someone transforming their presence might practice speaking more slowly and deliberately, using fewer words but with greater impact. Others might work on becoming better listeners or learning to express boundaries more clearly. Consider how your new identity navigates social situations differently. Perhaps your transformed self is more selective about social commitments, choosing quality over quantity in relationships. Maybe your new identity involves being more authentic in conversations rather than performing to please others !

Expect some resistance from people in your existing social circle because your changes might challenge the dynamics they're comfortable with. Some friends or family members might unconsciously try to pull you back into familiar patterns because your transformation makes them question their own choices. Developing the skill to maintain your new identity despite social pressure is crucial for long-term success 🪄 . Practice what psychologists call "implementation intentions" by creating specific plans for how you'll behave in various situations. Instead of hoping to be more confident, decide exactly how you'll handle specific scenarios like job interviews, social gatherings, or difficult conversations. This preparation helps ur new behavioral patterns become automatic more quickly.

Phase Six: Integration and Maintenance

The final phase involves developing systems and practices that maintain your transformation over time while allowing for continued growth and adaptation.

Create daily rituals that reinforce your new identity. This might include morning visualization exercises where you mentally rehearse being your transformed self, evening reflection periods where you review how well you embodied your new patterns, or weekly planning sessions where you align your activities with your evolved values.

Develop what researchers call "identity monitoring" by regularly checking whether your thoughts, emotions, and behaviors align with the person you've chosen to become. When you notice yourself slipping into old patterns, treat this as valuable information rather than failure. These moments show you where additional work is needed and provide opportunities to strengthen your new neural pathways. Understand that setbacks are normal and expected parts of the transformation process. Your old identity patterns have been strengthened over years and won't disappear overnight. When you catch yourself thinking, feeling, or acting in familiar ways, simply acknowledge what happened and consciously redirect yourself toward your new patterns.

Understanding the timeline and realistic expectations

Research in neuroscience and psychology suggests that significant behavioral changes typically require between 66 and 254 days to become automatic, depending on the complexity of the change and individual factors. Identity transformation, being more comprehensive than single habit changes, usually unfolds over 12 to 18 months for substantial shifts.

Sooo expect the process to happen in waves rather than linear progression. You'll have periods of rapid change followed by plateaus where changes integrate and solidify. Some days you'll feel completely transformed, while others you might feel like you're back to square one. This fluctuation is normal and doesn't indicate failure.

The most important insight about becoming a brand new person is that you're not actually changing your essential self but rather removing layers of conditioning and learned patterns that may have obscured your authentic nature. True transformation feels like coming home to yourself rather than becoming someone foreign.

Your new identity should feel like an expansion of possibility rather than a constraint or performance. When the changes feel forced or unnatural, it usually means you're trying to adopt someone else's version of improvement rather than evolving into your own authentic next level.

Remember that becoming brand new is ultimately about conscious choice rather than unconscious habit. Every moment offers an opportunity to choose thoughts, emotions, and behaviors that align with who you want to be rather than who you've been. This conscious choosing, practiced consistently over time, is what creates lasting transformation and allows you to become genuinely new while remaining authentically yourself. ✒️

@bloomzone

[ruzz9]

Nostalgia Adulterated

NSFW +18

Severus Snape x FemChubby!reader

Summary: Your former professor, Horace Slughorn, invited you to his abode within the castle to celebrate your promotion at the Ministry. You dragged Snape along, but you hadn’t accounted for the peculiar wine at the reception.

A/N: Don’t worry—intimate matters only involve your old Severus. No third wheels here. 🙂‍↕️

Warnings: Smut, loss of virginity, virginity, first time, possessive sex, multiple orgasms, drinking, adulterated wine, angst, rough.

6k words

You knew very well why you were at Hogwarts that night. It wasn’t a fortuitous return, nor an official summons from the institution. No, the invitation had come from one of your old professors, someone who, with his persuasive charm and zeal for keeping useful connections, now clamored for your presence. Horace Slughorn, with his loving and warm hospitality, surely hid behind his smiles and effusive recollections some veiled intention. It wouldn’t surprise you if he were trying to weave your recent appointment at the Ministry into a delicate web of favors and influence. It was no secret to you: you knew his methods, his ways of operating. However, you agreed. Nostalgia had its own magnetism, and the idea of a dinner at his abode within the castle was a tempting entertainment.

What you did not expect was to find him.

You turned a corridor with confident steps, your mind lost in memories of your student days, and you almost collided with a tall figure in dark robes. Both of you were striding quickly, and the impact was nearly inevitable—if not for his swift reaction to stop in time. You looked at him, and there he was: Severus Snape, his expression unreadable, brow barely furrowed, examining you with a flicker of surprise just barely perceptible in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in his characteristically skeptical tone, as if your presence in the castle were some kind of anomaly.

You had guessed as much. He was surprised to see you walking Hogwarts' halls after so long.

"I’m going to dinner with Slughorn" you commented with feigned indifference, as if it were a simple commitment and not a maneuver to maintain his network of contacts.

The idea of dragging Professor Snape with you had arisen at that very instant, almost like a flash of inspiration. It would be a fascinating contrast. With him present, Slughorn would be forced to moderate himself. His overflowing enthusiasm would find an insurmountable wall in Snape’s severe gaze, and perhaps, just perhaps, that would spare you the discomfort of having to navigate favors wrapped in sentimentality. Besides… you admitted there was something amusing about the idea.

And then at just the right moment, you added with apparent nonchalance: "Why don’t you accompany me?"

His reaction was immediate. You observed him, seeing his uncomfortable expression and his natural resistance to the mere thought of sharing a table with his former head of house.

"Ridiculous" he snapped without hesitation. "I see no need for such a gathering."

But you were not one to give up easily. With a persistent smile, you began to insist, pointing out that the presence of another person would balance the conversation, that without him, the evening would likely turn into an endless monologue from Slughorn about former students and worn-out anecdotes.

“Wouldn’t it be interesting, for once, to share a meal without the strict formalities of the institution? Don’t you think it sounds exciting?” you suggested. Your eyes gleamed.

His expression grew even harder.

“I’d rather ingest poison,” he replied with utter seriousness, and in an attempt to evade you, he took a step to the right.

You moved without thinking, sliding into position to block it. His eyes narrowed.

"Professor, come on," you insisted in an almost sugary tone. "Slughorn would be thrilled to have you there."

Snape tried to go his way, you, with all the intention disguised as innocence, moved in his direction again, blocking him once more. You didn't pause, you didn't give him a chance to respond.

"l'm truly glad to see you, Professor. You know, I miss the days when you were my mentor."

He tried to move again, now a step aside. You edged forward with the same precision, not giving him a break.

“One might say it’s nostalgic, don’t you think? Coming back here, remembering those days,” you continued, pretending not to notice his growing irritation. “You should come to dinner with me, for old time’s sake.”

Another attempt. Another block from you. Snape exhaled sharply through his nose.

"Slughorn appreciates you a lot..." you added, taking a step closer to ensure he wouldn't escape.

This time his scowl deepened so severely it looked like he was seriously considering using magic to move you out of the way.

“I could hex you right now and feel no remorse.”

“It’ll be pleasant,” you interrupted, unfazed, “we could have all sorts of enlightening conversation, three exceptional wizards around one table.”

Snape exhaled in resignation, looking at you as if you were the most infuriating creature. He watched you with a mix of exasperation and resignation. Then he closed his eyes for a second, as if trying to summon within himself the patience he clearly didn’t have.

“If I accept, will you get out of my way and stop irritating me?”

You smiled with satisfaction.

"I solemnly swear," you said with a hand on your chest.

"Make it quick," he grunted. Without saying anything more, he turned on his heels and started walking toward Slughorn's abode, muttering something unintelligible about the unbearable stubbornness of some individuals. You followed him with barely concealed satisfaction. You had won.

They arrived shortly, without saying a word. You stopped in front of the door and knocked firmly. At your side, Snape had already turned, slipping back down the corridor with the clear intent of vanishing. You noticed—and with a swift flick of your wand, you conjured a spell that halted his cloak mid-motion, yanking him back with a sharp tug. Snape nearly lost his balance, but his reaction was immediate: he spun around, wand in hand, fury barely contained and ready to curse you without the slightest hesitation.

Your growing nerves were on the verge of betraying you.

And then, the door opened.

Both of you froze on the spot, as if someone had captured the scene in perfect stillness. Snape had hidden his wand in the shadows of his robe and raised his chin with composure, while you lowered yours with the same naturalness of someone who had done absolutely nothing improper.

Slughorn didn’t seem to notice anything strange. Or if he did, he didn’t care.

"Oh, how wonderful!" exclaimed Slughorn with his characteristic exaggerated spontaneity, extending his arms with overflowing excitement. His eyes sparkled with genuine joy upon seeing you. "My dear, what a joy to see you again!"

He enveloped you in a strong hug that almost lifted you off the ground. Amidst laughter, you returned the gesture, although you were quick enough to steal a glance at Snape out of the corner of your eye. His expression was priceless.

And then, Slughorn saw him.

"Oh! Severus!"

Slughorn's enthusiasm grew even more, if that was possible. Snape tightened his jaw upon noticing the direction things were taking, but before he could utter a word, you took the initiative casually.

"I couldn't resist inviting him," you said lightly. "Someone I also hold in great esteem, and I’m sure you would be pleased to receive him too."

Snape let out a slow breath and, under his breath, murmured with irony:

"Oh, yes. An invitation impossible to refuse."

Horace, either oblivious or deliberately indifferent to his sarcastic tone, caught him in the same enthusiastic hug he had given you. Snape, of course, did not reciprocate at all, but Slughorn did not seem affected in the slightest.

“Come now, both of you, inside!” he said cheerfully, stepping aside to let you in. “This is a special occasion, indeed. You know, Severus! I always wished you had joined my little club back when you were a student—it would’ve been an honor to have you.”

Snape made a barely audible sound, which could well have been a brief laugh or a snort of disbelief.

Slughorn burst into hearty laughter, undeterred by the grumble, and closed the door behind you.

The room was lit with a cozy warmth, and the atmosphere was exactly the same as you remembered: elegant but overflowing with excess, with comfortable furniture, dim lights, and a certain order.

"Ah, but this is not an ordinary meeting!" Slughorn exclaimed as he headed to a shiny antique sideboard. He turned his head for just a moment to ask what they would like, but without waiting for an answer, he had already decided for everyone. He opened a bottle of dark wine, with a dense and aged aroma, and poured a couple of glasses with a satisfied smile. Then, for himself, he poured a lighter variety. “This one sits better with my stomach… age-related things, you know,”

You took the glass he offered and raised it kindly. Snape held his with just two fingers, the stem firmly between his index and thumb, and lifted it with the slightest of gestures, barely a tilt. His free fingers rhythmically tapped the surface of the table, in no hurry to drink.

"To three exceptional wizards gathered here tonight!" toasted Slughorn, his face flushed with excitement. "And to the old times, always so vivid in memory."

"Charming," said Snape quietly, barely audible, with no emotion whatsoever.

The conversation began without delay, as was typical of Slughorn. He turned to you, resting an elbow on the armrest of his chair while holding his glass.

“You know, dear, young Severus was an extraordinary student in my classes,” he said with a thrill. “Brilliant! Naturally gifted in Potions, of course, but with a mind that went far beyond the conventional.”

Snape, who had barely touched his wine, clenched his jaw with a barely perceptible gesture.

“In fifth year,” Slughorn continued, now fully immersed in the tale, “he appeared in my office with the tips of his fingers completely blackened. Claimed it was a miscalculation in a potion. But I wasn’t fooled!”

He gave Snape a light tap on the arm with a familiarity few would dare to display.

“It wasn’t a mistake, was it, Severus? You wanted to test the reaction for yourself.”

Snape set his glass down on the table with a soft clink. “One must be aware of all possible outcomes—only then can precision be achieved,” he replied in his most emotionless voice.

“Oh, of course!” Slughorn agreed eagerly. “Although, if I’m not mistaken, that experiment almost cost you the use of your right hand.”

You struggled to suppress a smile. Snape’s face remained stony, but the slight stiffness in his posture betrayed his discomfort with the direction the conversation had taken.

You swirled the wine in your glass with interest.

“Really?”

Without moving his head, Snape glanced up at you. There was no expression, but something in the atmosphere tensed. Snape cut the conversation with a dry and precise tone:

“I’m afraid this evening is not meant to dissect years of my youth. Perhaps it would be more fruitful to speak of our guest’s meteoric rise in the Ministry.”

There was a momentary silence. Slughorn nodded, not too put off, but you felt the direct blow to the stomach. You had brought Snape specifically to divert this kind of conversation… and he himself had brought it up. Very much in his style. Slow poison, well calculated.

Fortunately, the conversation flowed with an almost magical naturalness during dinner; it was not as bad as you had imagined. Slughorn spoke with overflowing enthusiasm, praising your achievements both academic and professional with overly grandiose adjectives that made you blush. You, true to your style, preferred to downplay your merits, humbly thanking him, elegantly diverting the compliments to maintain the balance between respect and discomfort.

Snape, as expected, didn’t speak much. But he didn’t appear detached. He observed. He participated with brief, sharp remarks—sometimes even sarcastic, though less biting than usual. Something about the way he sat there told you he wasn’t quite as uncomfortable as he seemed. His eyes roamed the table with care—on you, on Slughorn, on the glass. He drank. Not anxiously, but with steady consistency. Horace went from glass to glass, laughing louder, talking faster, and drifting into anecdotes barely related to the present.

What was surprising was that the atmosphere was comfortable. Warm, even. And that was not something you expected. You anticipated evasions, tension, a forced conversation. But no. Everything felt so strangely well-woven, so sincere, that you found it hard not to fully surrender to the evening.

Between dinner, dessert, and the open bottles, Slughorn fell into his natural state of sentimental drunkenness. He became more nostalgic than usual, his words more drawn out, his eyes heavier. At one point, he let out a gigantic yawn and simply settled more into his armchair, as if he were ready to fall asleep right there.

It was then that you noticed something changed. Not in him. In Snape.

He gently took your empty glass and refilled it, without even looking at the bottle, as if he had done it many times before. He brought it closer to you with the same meticulous manner, but without saying a word. And when you lifted your gaze to thank him, you found him looking at you with an expression so subtly different that you paused for a moment longer.

"I remember..." he said in a low voice, as if he were barely thinking out loud, "that you would stay longer in the classroom after class. Even when I sent you to detention. You always came back."

You looked at him skeptically, though without moving the glass away.

"Are you saying that as something positive, Professor?"

He raised an eyebrow slightly, but there was a strange softness in his expression. Not that usual rigidity that boxed him into stony gestures. No. It was... different.

"I don’t usually waste time remembering my students. But you, you were persistent. Despite everything, something about you seemed... Curious."

You took a small sip, as if to give yourself some margin. Was what you just heard real? Or was the wine starting to play tricks on your senses?

Then you connected the dots.

Slughorn. The bottle. That vague statement about the clearer variety of wine, which "sat better in his stomach." He hadn’t drunk the same thing as you two. And the change... was undeniable. You felt it in yourself as well. You were more comfortable than usual, more open, your filters more tenuous. It was hard to say if it was the natural effect of the alcohol or something more elaborate.

You knew that Slughorn would never put anything dangerous in the drink. But manipulating emotions for the sake of a perfect evening... that was another matter. That was completely his style.

You glanced at the professor dozing in his chair, then at Snape, who was now playing with the base of his glass, silently, but closer, more tangible.

You were lost in thought. “Sweeten nostalgia”… that’s what Professor Slughorn would have said, right? To justify a little alteration. To achieve the perfect atmosphere.

But what you could never have anticipated was the delayed effect that was beginning to bloom in Snape. One as delicate as it was explosive.

"Your boldness. That voracious enthusiasm for complex study…"

Each word was closer. Lower. More direct.

You were like a version... less broken of me. And seeing what you’ve achieved," he added, his voice tinged with something that sounded dangerously close to pride, "was to be expected."

You dared to swallow, barely, as your fingers brushed the glass in a mechanical gesture. His tone wasn’t flattering. It was clinical, analytical, but filled with something that felt dangerously personal.

You realized too late how close he was. Your heart raced, and your body, a mix of instinct and confusion, began to back away just… until his hand rose.

Large. Rough. Firm.

He held you by the chin with just enough strength to stop you from moving, but without hurting. His eyes, black, intense, searched for something in yours. Perhaps a confirmation. Perhaps nothing. His other hand rested on your waist, with a strange softness. Not with violence, not with urgency.

And then, without another warning, he kissed you.

Your body tensed immediately, and your eyes widened, unable to process whether it was surprise or fear you were feeling. It was a contained kiss, not clumsy, but charged with something primal, as if it had been kept for years behind clenched teeth. There was no sweetness in it, but there was a fierce respect.

He pulled away barely from you.

"Professor...?" you whispered, the word cracked against the edge of a sigh, as if saying it were a spell that could undo what had just happened.

He did not respond. His eyes remained fixed on yours, as if each second of silence spoke more than any phrase. You still felt the brush of his lips on yours, the warmth of his hand on your chin.

His fingers still pressed against your soft skin, over that generous curve, as if he owned the right to hold you, at least for that moment. The weight of something ancient and dense seemed to have awakened between the two of you.

The room felt heavy, filled with a warmth that didn’t come only from the fire in the hearth. Slughorn, overcome by drink, breathed deeply from his armchair, lost in a deep sleep that would not be interrupted. In front of him, however, reality was unfolding with a silent intimacy.

He pulled you closer with unexpected confidence, guiding you toward the firmness of his body. You settled onto his lap with a slowness that felt like vertigo. Only the slight creak of the chair. The heat beginning to concentrate in his palms over your clothed skin. Time became thick. Only the ever-decreasing distance between his breath and yours.

There were no words.

Your fingers found the edge of his cloak, held on, let go. You didn’t know if you were trembling from the closeness or from the awareness of what this meant: crossing a threshold you never thought would open.

It was a suspended language, never spoken, that now began to write itself into the air you shared. His lips met yours once more, this time with greater intent, without hesitation. The hand that had rested on your waist descended with precision, exploring the outline of your back, pausing for a second just at the edge of your dress, before sliding it upward.

The fabric rose with a timid whisper, and there, in that suspended pause, in that fragment of contained air, it was then that you said it.

"It’s the first time that..." your voice came out in a broken thread, more tremulous than your hands. "I’ve never..."

You didn’t finish the sentence. You couldn’t. The weight of the moment, combined with the full awareness of the insecurity of your body, so different from others, so yours, so real, weighed down on your chest. You tried to cover yourself, without really doing it. Not because he had looked at you with judgment, but because you didn’t know how to hold his silence. You had never imagined yourself in this situation. Until a few hours ago, your relationship with him was completely exhortative. You didn’t know what to do with that gaze so attentive, so penetrating, that seemed to read every corner of your confusion and newfound vulnerability.

Snape did not move right away. He just watched you. As if the confession of your virginity held more value than any ancient spell. As if your wide nervous eyes and flushed skin had touched him in a secret place he himself rarely visited.

And then he spoke. His voice was low, raspy, but without a hint of mockery.

"I know."

Your thighs, wide and tense from the position, awkwardly adjusted over his legs. The dress, gathered up to the middle, left the curve of your skin exposed against the roughness of his dark pants.

You shifted, unsure. The heat in your face was almost unbearable. Your eyes searched for anything but his. Perhaps the ground, perhaps an escape. The tension you always shared was still there, persistent, marking its presence now, even in a different kind of silence.

With devastating calm, both of his hands sank into your wide hips, into that soft flesh that molded under his touch, warm, alive. A grip with a reverence that made you hold your breath. As if there was nothing more important than bringing you back to yourself.

"You have always been unusually difficult to ignore," he said quietly, as if each word cost him.

One of his hands barely moved down. The tip of his fingers traced the line where your skin met the fabric of your panties.

His fingers pushed the damp fabric of your underwear aside, and the contact with your center was gentle. He drew barely perceptible circles, testing your reactions, listening to every gasp, every involuntary contraction. And when he slid a finger inside you, he did so with precise slowness, guided by your ragged breath and the way you clung tighter to his shoulders.

Your hips moved awkwardly. You wanted to avoid that sticky sound, that tremor, that moan that escaped you, but he took it with satisfaction. As if there was nothing more erotic than your nervousness.

Your hips moved involuntarily, causing a more direct friction between your thighs and his hardness. He groaned, a low, contained sound, but it reached you to the bones.

He added another finger, measuring your body, opening you up with a patience that contrasted with his evident desire, with the rigidity of his erection beneath you, pressing against you just where you were most sensitive.

You felt when his fingers retreated, damp, warm, leaving a stinging trail of pain and need. You raised your gaze just in time to see him move his hand to the opening of his pants. The movements were dry, skilled. There was no rush. The sound of the leather yielding. It was all a current that ran through you.

Your breath hitched again, and your legs seemed to hesitate for a moment. He noticed. His gaze, dark yet attentive, did not leave you as he pulled down his pants just enough to free his erection. He brushed against you, warm and firm, right between your legs still open over him.

"You're going to feel it," he said, low, direct. "It won't be gentle."

He positioned the tip of himself between your lower lips, still barely covered by the displaced fabric, and slowly pushed, pressing against your wet but tense entrance. Your body reacted with a jolt. A muffled moan escaped you as you felt him open you up, invade you. Your nails clung to the fabric of his cloak, purely instinctually.

"Shhh," he murmured, with one hand on your back. "Calm down..."

And with a single thrust, measured yet forceful, he took you completely, giving you a raw sensation of being split in two.

The heat, the pressure, the feeling of being stretched like this for the first time... it all overwhelmed you. You closed your eyes, drowning in the total contact, the way his hips rose to meet you from below, taking you to the depths, where modesty was useless.

The burning displaced everything else. A stabbing, sharp pain, barely concealed by the moisture that had prepared you. A moan escaped you, unlike the previous ones. It was not pleasure. It was an internal burn, a real invasion that your body did not yet know how to accept.

Your body tensed over his. Your back arched, your fingers dug fiercely into his shoulders. Snape gasped softly, through clenched teeth, noticing the defeated resistance, the slight wet pull that betrayed you. A thick, warm sensation mingled with the friction. When he looked down, he saw the red stain, as subtle as it was definitive, at the base of his member. The last threshold of your inexperience. Now, broken.

Your legs trembled around him. You felt your hips full, too sensitive, and for a moment you thought about how you must look from the outside. So open. So naked. But before shame could settle in, he spoke again, through gritted teeth.

"This is how I wanted to see you. Fucking mine."

His movements were slow, not out of tenderness, but for the pure pleasure of savoring you inch by inch. His grip remained firm on your waist, forcing you to feel every thrust, every touch, as if he wanted to mark you from within.

You moaned again, between a whimper and surrender, pressing your lips as if trying to hold back something more.

"It hurts..." you whispered, not wanting to say it, unable to avoid it.

Snape leaned his face to your ear, his uncontrolled breath brushing your neck.

"It will pass," he replied as he sank back into you.

There was no comfort in his words. Only certainty. He was not a man who knew how to ask for permission, nor to feign sweetness. But his way of holding you, guiding you, of not stopping despite the slight tremor of your thighs, spoke of absolute possession.

The moisture mixed with what remained of the tearing. Sticky, warm. It dripped down your thighs as your hips slowly adjusted to his thickness.

Amidst spasms of discomfort, you began to move over him by yourself, more clumsily than sensually, it was he who released a breath as if something inside him broke.

His hands slid down your wide thighs, over the soft flesh that trembled from the impact of your bodies.

The pain did not disappear completely. It persisted, dull, like an echo in your guts. But your body was starting to surrender. He felt it in the way your pelvis began to seek his with more urgency, in how your hips, still clumsy, still somewhat inexperienced, tried to follow his rhythm, desperate to reach him. The gasp that escaped him was darker and more ragged. As if he could no longer contain himself. He gritted his teeth, and suddenly, took control.

His hands descended, until gripping you more firmly beneath your thighs and lifting you slightly, then guiding you forcefully downwards. He made you fall onto him with measured violence, over and over again, establishing a rhythm where you could no longer think, only let yourself be used. You filled him completely, wet and hot, still somewhat in pain, but the constant friction of his pelvis against your clitoris turned everything into an urgent pleasure.

And then, that rising wave, that knot in the pit of your stomach that transformed into spasms. Your nails dug into him as you felt it. The first true moan escaped you uncontrollably, loud, almost clumsy, and he let out a rough sound laden with desire in approval.

Your body trembled, convulsing around his, trapping him. You gripped him from within with an unexpected strength, your legs involuntarily closing around him, and he did not stop. Not for a second. He continued to thrust into you from below, faster, deeper, his breathing on the verge of breaking.

And when you were still moaning, giving and shaking, it was he who broke now.

With a low, almost guttural groan, vibrating in his throat, hoarse, choked against your neck, Snape spilled inside you in a raw explosion. He held you with both hands as if the orgasm robbed him of control over his body. The warmth of his seed filled you instantly, wet, thick, mixing with the blood that had not fully dried yet. The contrast was wild. Intimate and Irreversible.

They remained like that, entwined, breathing as if the air had become denser. Your forehead resting on his shoulder, his hands still holding you, lost and absorbed, while silence fell, heavy, over both.

He still remained inside you, as firm as at the beginning, as if the climax had not drained a bit of his desire. You felt him throb inside you, hot, latent, and a new wave of excitement coursed through your spine despite the sharp echo of of the recent tearing. You barely moved, in a gentle sway, seeking him again, forcing him to feel the effect he still provoked in you. A shiver shook his body; the sensitivity after his orgasm was no barrier against the raw intensity of the moment. He let out a low growl, with that dangerous mix of rage and pleasure, and you knew he had lost control again.

Without warning, his hands closed over your hips and he lifted you as if you weighed nothing. Your legs barely managed to wrap around him before he positioned you against the table in front of you. The coldness of the wood against your skin contrasted with the heat that still vibrated between your legs. The noise didn’t seem to disturb Slughorn’s deep sleep at all, who still lay knocked out by alcohol on the other side of the room.

One hand pressed firmly against your lower back, forcing you to lean forward, while the other gripped one of your thighs, lifting it, opening you more for him.

"We haven't finished" he murmured, almost with fury, and moved inside you again, with more hunger than before.

Your hips began to move on their own, surrendered to the rhythm imposed by his grip. You felt yourself being filled over and over again, with the fierce weight of his flesh opening you and claiming every part of you. Your skin burned, your body vibrated… and in the midst of that vertigo, between moans and spasms, your voice came out broken, dragged by the impulse to confess what still bound you to guilt.

"Professor..." you gasped, your voice shaky. "The wine… the one Slughorn gave us… I think it had something in it."

He didn’t stop, but his body tensed immediately.

"What?" He let out a heavy exhalation, more like a whip than a question.

"I’m not sure…" you said between moans as he kept thrusting into you. "I suspect that… it must provoke some mix of relaxation... an increase in sensitivity... emotional and... physical".

He stopped dead in his tracks, the silence that followed was terrible.

He straightened without letting go of you, his eyes burned with barely contained rage, beneath the shadow of his soaked forehead. His jaw clenched. You knew it instantly — it wasn’t just disgust. His expression was thick with mistrust.

"Are you saying that Slughorn drugged us?!" he spat through clenched teeth with growing irritation, as his thrusts resumed. Deeper. There was no longer delicacy, nor care. But it was not against you. It was against the situation. Against the humiliation of having let himself go.

"That because of that stupidity" he continued, each word punctuated by the impact of his hips against yours, "I find myself here, buried deep inside my former student, losing every damn gram of self-control that has taken me decades to build".

He pressed you against him as if he wanted to fuse you into his body. Your lips barely managed to form sound. Pain returned for a second with the accelerated rhythm, but you didn’t complain. You were soaked in him. Inside, outside, everywhere.

"And yet…" he murmured, his voice broken by rage. "I can’t stop".

Because it was true. Despite the wine, despite the anger, despite the judgment. The way your body trembled around his, still so tight, still so wet, was consuming him.

"It's not your fault," he grunted. "But damn it... you dragged me here."

And with one last push, fierce, deep, he came again. More violent than before. He filled you a second time, with an explosion of heat so dense that your body felt it even more than the first. He grunted as he emptied himself inside you, with his teeth clenched, breath ragged as if he were exorcising something dark that had inhabited him forever.

He didn't move immediately.

He remained inside you, burning, gasping, with his forehead resting on your collarbone. His whole body trembled. Not from pleasure. From fury.

The morning light of the Great Hall stunned him directly in his eyes. Every clink of cutlery against plates, every early laugh from the students, was a stab in his skull hammered by a terrible headache. Snape dropped into his usual seat, his every movement taut with fatigue and an unmistakable sense of discontent. The air smelled of toasted bread, sweet fruits, and freshly brewed coffee, and yet, it all felt suffocating to him.

And to make matters worse, Slughorn settled next to him with a satisfied smile and a bubbly gleam in his eyes, clearly not remembering (or not wanting to remember) how many glasses he had drunk last night. He had a napkin stuffed into his collar like a bib and a piece of blueberry pie on his fork.

"Ah, Severus! Good morning, boy." he chewed enthusiastically, oblivious to the stony expression beside him. "What an evening last night, huh? You were more animated than usual. I think I finally managed to soften that heart of yours."

Snape did not respond. He merely served coffee with a hand that barely contained the tremor. He needed it loaded with caffeine. Strong. Very strong.

"What a shame that young Y/N left without saying goodbye." Slughorn took another bite, unaware of anything. "She was lovely last night. Brilliant as always… that dress was very charming, don’t you think?"

The silence was so sharp that even the elderly man seemed to notice it.

Snape put down the cup with a sharp thud that splashed a bit of the dark liquid onto the saucer. He turned slowly toward him, with a look of pure ice.

"What the hell did you put in the wine, Horace?"

The elderly man blinked, tilting his head as if he did not understand the question. Or pretended not to.

"Huh? The wine? Oh… just a touch of cordial opening elixir. I use it at receptions, you know… it smooths conversations, dissolves tensions... nothing serious, I assure you."

Snape squinted. "Nothing serious?"

"Come on, Severus," Slughorn laughed, raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "You know better than anyone that there is no spell or potion capable of forcing someone to do what they do not truly desire. It just… helps them admit it."

Snape tensed even more. The echo of your gasping voice, your body clinging to his over that damned table, pierced him like a dagger. He didn't clearly remember what came next, only the scent of your skin, the taste of his own shame, and the persistent burn of having let himself be carried away. And now, you were gone. Without a note. Without a word. As if it had never happened.

"The next time you pretend to manipulate me as if I were one of your social experiments," he murmured with contained poison, "be sure not to add ingredients that affect my perception and judgment."

Slughorn looked at him with a mix of surprise and genuine confusion.

"Severus... I didn't know it would affect you like that. It was a kind night, I thought..."

Snape got up without saying more, the cloak fluttering with his movement. He left the half-drunk cup and walked out of the dining room with long, stiff strides, not looking back.

"What the hell happened last night...?" Slughorn murmured softly.

[airosuiren]

Soo things you need t know before you read my new fic

A/N: This is a character sheet for my next fic that will be posted soon! Make sure to go through it for it (the fic) to make sense.

Edit: The FIC IS OUTTT!! Click here Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4, Epilogue

The Han Crime Family

A multigenerational, ultra-wealthy Korean mafia family running both high-society businesses and a cold, efficient criminal empire from Seoul. Everyone in this family plays a role

1. Han Byung-chul (한병철) – The Grandfather, Founding Boss

Age: 76

Built the family from nothing—started in Busan running docks, expanded to Seoul.

Traditional, ruthless, and respected like a godfather.

Lives in a fortified hanok estate in Gyeonggi-do.

Keeps the family in line through fear and legacy.

“Blood can’t be washed away. It gets passed down.”

2. Shim Soon-ja (심순자) – The Grandmother, Quiet Power

Age: 74

Never raised her voice, but made men disappear with a phone call.

Keeps a network of loyal housekeepers, drivers, and retired spies.

Trusted more than most of the younger generation.

Still pulls strings behind the curtain.

“People assume kindness is weakness. I encourage that.”

3. Han Tae-joon (한태준) – The Father, Current Boss

Age: 48

Cold, methodical, efficient. Took over at 38 after

Runs the family like a CEO, not a thug. Clean hands, dirt everywhere else.

shows affection to his wife and [Y/N], but watches everything.

“This ist a family. Not an organization with the same last name.”

4. Choi Eun-mi (최은미) – The Mother, Political Fixer

Age: 45

Ex-lawyer and daughter of a powerful politician. Handles bribes, scandals, and government ties.

More dangerous socially than anyone physically.

Keeps her kids close

“There’s nothing more useful than a grateful politician.”

The Children:

5. Han Jun-seo (한준서) – Eldest Son, The Reluctant Successor

Age: 26

Quiet, stoic, trained for leadership since birth.

Ivy League grad in business,

Keeps his emotions buried deep.

Has a scar from the top of his right eyebrow down till the upper lip

Due to his scar was called “ugly” and wears a mask but is actually very hot and is muscular.

6. Han So-min (한소민) – Younger Daughter, The Mastermind

Age: 23

Brilliant strategist. Specializes in tech crimes, psychological manipulation, and laundering.

Closer to her mother than anyone else.

“If they think I’m just the quiet one, good.”

7. Han Ji-yoon (한지윤) – Twin Daughter, The Firestarter

Age: 18

Reckless, bold, charming. Thinks rules are meant to be bent until they break.

Handles nightclub fronts and courier operations.

Wild card energy—Tae-joon fears she’ll get herself or someone else killed.

“I was born into chaos. I’m just playing the part.”

8. Han Ji-ho (한지호) – Twin Son, The Watcher

Age: 18

Quiet, calculating, always observing. Genius-level hacker and surveillance expert.

Speaks only when necessary. Possibly autistic, but never diagnosed.

Has dirt on everyone in the family, including his parents.

“I don’t fight. I expose.”

NEXT (The Spirits)

Yoon Ji-hwan (윤지환) – The Watchful Butler

Role (in life): Head Butler

Age at Death: 67

Specialty: Observation, estate history, subtle manipulation

Personality: Calm, cunning, fatherly

Ghost Form: Always in a crisp three-piece suit, gloves on, spectacles perched low

Quirk (in death): Can move objects like books and pens, often “tidies” rooms around [Y/N]

Quote: “Control is not about shouting. It’s about being the last voice in the room.”

Choi Mi-kyung (최미경) – The Silent Knife

Role (in life): Head Maid

Age at Death: 61

Specialty: Etiquette, internal politics, social warfare

Personality: Sharp, strict, maternal in a cold way

Ghost Form: Traditional hanbok with spotless apron, hair in a tight bun, eyes like razors

Quirk (in death): Can whisper directly into [Y/N]’s ear during formal situations

Quote: “You don’t need to be loud to be heard. You just need to be correct.”

Jung Tae-won (정태원) – The Iron Bodyguard

Role (in life): Head of Security

Age at Death: 54

Specialty: Close-quarters combat, protection protocol, intimidation

Personality: Blunt, loyal, battle-hardened

Ghost Form: Stands tall in black combat gear, faint scar over his jaw

Quirk (in death): Temporarily possesses [Y/N] to fight when she’s in danger

Quote: “Stand like you own the ground. Even when you bleed on it.”

Seo Min-jae (서민재) – The Ghost Blade

Role (in life): Head Assassin

Age at Death: Unknown (records erased)

Specialty: Silent kills, stealth, enemy profiling

Personality: Cold, cynical, loyal only to those who earn it

Ghost Form: Shadowy silhouette with crimson edge to his coat, never fully visible

Quirk (in death): Can possess [Y/N] in moments of violent danger, and uses mirrors to appear

Quote: “Mercy is a privilege. And I’m not in the business of charity.”

Kang Dae-shik (강대식) – The Chef of Memory

Role (in life): Head Cook

Age at Death: 72

Specialty: Traditional Korean cuisine, emotional imprint cooking

Personality: Warm, boisterous, nostalgic

Ghost Form: Apron over old hanbok, always wiping hands on a towel

Quirk (in death): Can possess [Y/N] to cook forgotten family recipes perfectly

Quote: “You can’t rebuild trust with words. But a bowl of soup? That’s a start.”

Next (The Servents)

Baek Woo-jin (백우진) – The Current Butler

Trained by: Yoon Ji-hwan

Age: 38

Specialty: Estate operations, diplomacy, damage control

Personality: Polished, discreet, dry-witted

Appearance: Always in tailored suits, silver-rimmed glasses, never flustered

Skills: Multi-lingual, masters-level etiquette, and blackmail collection

Relationship to [Y/N]: Treats her like a sovereign; makes sure she never lifts a finger unnecessarily

Quote: “If I do my job right, no one remembers I was ever there.”

Choi Mi-kyung (최미경) – The Current Head Maid

(Note: same name as the former head maid; a chosen namesake and spiritual heir)

Trained by: Choi Mi-kyung (Spirit)

Age: 30

Specialty: House protocol, staff loyalty, covert operations through domestic channels

Personality: Stern but soft-spoken, impeccably graceful

Appearance: Neat bun, pressed uniform, steady eyes

Skills: Internal intel gathering, poison detection, household espionage

Relationship to [Y/N]: Deeply respectful—sees her as the fulfillment of the legacy she was trained to support

Quote: “Clean homes, quiet halls, and no threats behind the curtains. That’s my job.”

Lee Hyun-woo (이현우) – The Current Head Bodyguard

Trained by: Jung Tae-won

Age: 35

Specialty: Close protection, strategic defense layouts, counter-surveillance

Personality: Stoic, commanding, lives by protocol

Appearance: Broad build, close-cropped hair, tactical calm

Skills: Krav Maga, long-range sniping, pressure-point immobilization

Relationship to [Y/N]: Protective in silence—often stationed outside her door even when not scheduled

Quote: “If someone makes it to her, it means I’ve already failed.”

Nam Ki-ha (남기하) – The Current Head Assassin

Trained by: Seo Min-jae

Age: 33

Specialty: Elimination, infiltration, trace-less disappearance

Personality: Ice-cold, dry-humored, loyal only to the Han bloodline

Appearance: Always in black, with a single ring he turns before each kill

Skills: Disguise, poisons, nerve strikes, terrain-based combat

Relationship to [Y/N]: Intensely respectful—calls her “my queen” in private briefings

Quote: “Everyone bleeds. The difference is who gets to stand after.”

Park Seo-jun (박서준) – The Current Head Cook

Trained by: Kang Dae-shik

Age: 42

Specialty: Heritage cuisine, performance cooking, emotional resonance through food

Personality: Warm, chatty, philosophical

Appearance: Rolled-up sleeves, apron dusted with flour, tattoos of peppers and fish bones

Skills: Psychological profiling through taste, speed prep under pressure, brewing comfort in silence

Relationship to [Y/N]: Treats her like a beloved daughter; often feeds her even if she says she isn’t hungry

Quote: “You can lie with words, but not with your appetite.”

A/N: Its confusing when you read it without this so i decided to post this just for clarification. The first Par will be posted soon

Taglist: @kittzu, @trashlanternfish360, @ottjhe, @moonieper, @feral-childs-word, @tinybrie,@xomarryamox, @fawnqueenbrowsing, @wpdarlingpan, @leeiasure, @xzmickeyzxkey, @enchantingarcadecreation

Old Taglist: @trashlanternfish360, @nixxiev, @eclipse-msoul, @plsfckmedxddy, @viilan, @rattyrattyratty, @texas-fox, @1abi, @niamcarlin,@tomoyaki, @silken-moons.

[erindrinkstea]

Fractured Foundations

Poly! Groveling! 141 x GN! Reader

TW: Angst, Emotional Abuse, Violence, Blood, and Death

Description, Part 1, Part 2 Announcement

Main Masterlist | CoD Masterlist

Note: I haven't forgotten about this fic, don't worry!

"I can't do this anymore, Laswell."

Your voice was steady but the weight behind your words felt heavy. You were currently standing in front of Kate Laswell's desk in her office, your fingers clenched in a tight fist as you held out your transfer papers.

The room was silent, save for the mumbled chatter from soldiers out the door. Laswell exhales slowly, you observe her closely as she sets her pen down and looks up at you.

Her gaze was sharp, assessing, but you don't show a slight waver.

"You're serious about this." Not a question nor inquirt but a statement, an observation.

You nod, your jaw tight. "Certain, ma'am."

She takes the papers from the grasp and scans them, you felt a bit lighter now that it wasn't in your hands. Laswell sighs, rubbing her temple with two fingers after reading the entire front paper, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Perha-" "I am done, Laswell." You cut her off. You weren't this disrespectful to a higher authority usually but you knew Laswell and she knew you.

You would crumble and cave if she opened her mouth and convinced you to give the task force another chance.

But you've give enough chances.

Chance after chance, time after time, you told yourself that things would change. That they would change. You told yourself that you were just overthinking things, that you needed to prove yourself more. That one day, they'd see you as their equal, as someone worth listening to, respecting, trusting.

But it never happened.

They left you out of key decisions. Ignored your input in briefings. Brushed you off when you voiced concerns. They treated you like a backup plan, an afterthought—never the first choice, never someone they truly counted on.

You were exhausted. You were done.

Laswell stops at your words. She watches you carefully, searching for any sign of hesitation, when she finds none in your resolve─ she concedes and sighs.

Slowly, she leans back in her chair, setting down your papers on top of her desk. "Alright." She finally agrees. "I'll process your request." She confirms.

The words were simple but it settled something deep in your chest, there was no sense of relief but there was finality.

You thanked Laswell for her time and consideration, turning when she dismisses you and left her office without another word.

Behind you, just as you shut the door closed, Laswell sighed for what seemed to be the hundredth time, massaging her temples. "What did you do, Price?"

──────⊹⊱☕︎︎⊰⊹──────

Alaska ─ 3 days later.

The air was bitterly cold and it was sharp enough to bite through the layers of your tactical gear.

"Fuck, Ah'm freezin' ma bits aff!" Soap cusses through your comms, the annoyance for the weather was shared among you.

"English." Ghost's gruff voice cuts in. You hear more cusses come from Soap's side before he responds again. "I'm freezing!"

Snow crunches beneath your boots while you move, blending into the white landscape with your gear with practiced ease. The closer you got, the clearer the facility seems to loom ahead, the massive structure were nestled within the frozen wilderness.

Human trafficking and drug smuggling.

That was what the mission entails. The intel your team got suggested an underground network that operated in a scale bigger than anyone had anticipated. The 141 was given the mission to infiltrate, gather evidence then shut the whole operation down.

You grit your teeth from the cold, hating how freezing it felt. Soap wasn't joking when he complained about the frost.

At the moment, your transfer request was still being processed, which meant—for now—you were still part of this team.

"One last mission." You mumbled with your comms turned off. "One last and we're done with them."

Price's voice crackles through the comms. "We breach quiet. No alarms. We get in, secure intel, and get out. Clear?"

"Clear." you and the others respond in unison. Moving in perfect sync, you and your team infiltrate the facility. You navigate through dimly lit corridors, following the intel’s mapped-out layout.

Then you reach the heart of the operation.

A massive storage area stretches before you, rows and rows of steel cages holding people who looked malnourished, faces hollow with exhaustion and hunger. They don't even react to your team's presence, you doubt they even noticed, their eyes were glazed over, lost to the horrors they've endured.

You hold back the feeling of nausea that flooded your senses upon seeing the sick sight. You were used to blood and gore but you'll never get used to seeing victims.

"Bloody Hell." Ghost comments, followed by the others with their comments as well.

You glance around, scanning the area.

Something seems off, something isn’t right. The setup, the location—this is too big for just human trafficking and drug smuggling. You notice a reinforced door on the far side of the room, marked with a faded biohazard symbol.

A bad feeling stirs in your gut.

"Guys." You called out, bringing their attention on you. "I'm checking that door." You motioned at the reinforced door, already moving towards it.

"Don't seperate from the group." Ghost frowns, disapproving of your decision. You ignored him, still pushing forward.

The closer you got, the more intense the bad feeling you got.

Once you reached the door, you pried it open, making sure you were slow and silent.

Whatever expectation you had beforehand, cannot compare to the actual sight of what was inside. You felt your breath catch in your throat.

A secret underground lab laid before you, the area lit up by white lights. Tons of people are strapped to medical beds, in far worse conditions than the people you saw in the cages. Then there are what seems to be scientists in lab coats, writing down whatever they've noted in their clipboards, unbothered by the horrors surrounding them, the horrors that they were doing.

This wasn't some simple human trafficking and drug smuggling get go. Fuck, this was a human experimentation facility.

You felt sick down to your stomach.

All these people with unnatural scars, deep surgical incisions running along their limbs and torsos. Some are unconscious, while others are awake—barely—but their eyes are vacant, distant, like the life had been drained from tthem

Just when you thought that it could get worse. One of the scientists looks up. Their eyes widen in shock as they lock onto you.

And then—

The alarms start blaring.

──────⊹⊱☕︎︎⊰⊹──────

[reasonsforhope]

"Scientists have developed a way to dramatically reduce the cost of recycling certain electronic waste by using whey protein.

Their method allows for the easy recovery of gold from circuit boards at a cost of energy and materials amounting to 50 times less than the price of the gold they recover—these are the numbers that big business likes to see.

Indeed, the potential for scalability depends on this sort of cost savings, something traditional e-waste recycling methods just can’t achieve.

Professor Raffaele Mezzenga from ETH Zurich has found that whey protein, a byproduct of dairy manufacturing, can be used to make sponges that attract trace amounts of ionized gold.

Electronic waste contains a variety of valuable metals, including copper, cobalt, and gold. Despite gold’s public persona as being either money or jewelry, thousands of ounces of gold are used in electronics every year for its exceptional conductive properties.

Mezzenga’s colleague Mohammad Peydayesh first “denatured whey proteins under acidic conditions and high temperatures, so that they aggregated into protein nanofibrils in a gel,” writes the ETH Zurich press. “The scientists then dried the gel, creating a sponge out of these protein fibrils.”

The next step was extracting the gold: done by tossing 20 salvaged motherboards into an acid bath until the metals had dissolved into ionized compounds that the sponge began attracting.

Removing the sponge, a heat treatment caused the gold ions to aggregate into 22-carat gold flakes which could be easily removed.

“The fact I love the most is that we’re using a food industry byproduct to obtain gold from electronic waste,” Mezzenga says. In a very real sense, he observes, the method transforms two waste products into gold. “You can’t get much more sustainable than that!” ...

However the real dollar value comes from the bottom line—which was 50 times more than the cost of energy and source materials. Because of this, the scientists have every intention of bringing the technology to the market as quickly as possible while also desiring to see if the protein fibril sponge can be made of other food waste byproducts.

E-waste is a quickly growing burden in global landfills, and recycling it requires extremely energy-intensive machinery that many recycling facilities do not possess.

The environmental value of the minerals contained within most e-waste comes not only from preventing the hundreds of years it takes for them to break down in the soil, but also from the reduction in demand from new mining operations which can, though not always, significantly degrade the environments they are located in.

[Note: Absolutely massive understatement, mining is incredibly destructive to ecosystems. Mining is also incredibly toxic to human health and a major cause of conflict, displacement, and slavery globally.]

Other countries are trying to incentivize the recycling of e-waste, and are using gold to do so. In 2022, GNN reported that the British Royal Mint launched an electronically traded fund (ETF) with each share representing the value of gold recovered from e-waste as a way for investors to diversify into gold in a way that doesn’t support environmentally damaging mining.

The breakthrough is reminiscent of that old fairy tale of Rumpelstiltskin who can spin straw into gold. All that these modern-day, real-life alchemists are doing differently is using dairy and circuit boards rather than straw."

-via Good News Network, July 19, 2024

[steelbluehome]

From Fear and Loathing: Closer to the Edge on Facebook

Heading to a “Hands Off!” protest this Saturday? Here’s everything you need to know — your rights, safety tips, and what to do if arrested.

On Saturday, April 5, people across the United States will gather for a coordinated day of resistance. From major cities to small towns, the “Hands Off!” protests are about drawing a hard line — against political overreach, creeping authoritarianism, and policies that strip away our rights and dignity.

Whether you’re marching in New York City, Dallas, Chicago, or a rural square in Nebraska, your presence matters. So does your preparation.

Here’s your nationwide guide to showing up — and staying safe while doing it.

KNOW YOUR RIGHTS (AND WRITE THEM ON YOUR ARM)

Before you arrive: Write the local legal support hotline number on your arm in permanent marker. In many cities, National Lawyers Guild (NLG) chapters will operate hotlines and send legal observers.

Say: “I am exercising my right to remain silent. I want a lawyer.”

Ask: “Am I being detained or am I free to go?”

If detained, remain silent.

If not, walk away calmly.

Legal observers (often in green hats/vests) are there to document police behavior — not to represent you legally. You can notify them if you witness abuse or misconduct.

WHAT TO BRING

Pack like you’re staying awhile and planning for anything:

Water and snacks

Face mask, hand sanitizer, and sunscreen

Phone with passcode lock (NOT Face ID/fingerprint)

External battery pack

Cash (for food, transit, emergencies)

Printed emergency contacts

Comfortable shoes, weather-appropriate clothing

Goggles or saline drops (in case of tear gas, depending on region)

Don’t bring:

Weapons (or anything that could be construed as one)

Illegal substances

Anything you wouldn’t want seized or photographed by law enforcement

STAY SAFE, STAY CALM, STAY NON-VIOLENT

Stick together. Stay with your group. Have a plan if separated.

Avoid confrontation. Ignore counter-protesters and agitators.

Film what matters. You have the legal right to record public events, including police activity — but don’t interfere.

De-escalate when possible. Your goal is to be heard, not baited.

Watch your surroundings. Know where you are and how to exit if needed.

If arrested:

Don’t resist.

Don’t talk beyond name and birthdate.

Wait for a lawyer.

Don’t sign anything without legal counsel.

PROTECT YOUR DATA

Phones are tools — and vulnerabilities.

Turn off Face ID and fingerprint unlock. Use a passcode.

Consider airplane mode during risky moments.

Back up photos/videos or use live stream apps like Instagram or Twitch to preserve footage.

Use encrypted messaging apps like Signal.

RESOURCES BY REGION

While every city differs, these national orgs often have local chapters or partners at major protests:

National Lawyers Guild: nlg.org

ACLU: aclu.org/know-your-rights

Mutual Aid Networks: Search “[Your City] Mutual Aid”

Bail Funds Directory: bailfunds.github.io

Legal Hotlines: Often listed on local protest pages or announced by organizers day-of

TRANSPORT + ACCESSIBILITY

Plan ahead: Some roads and transit lines may close or reroute.

Carpool or take transit when possible.

If you need ADA accommodations, contact local organizers in advance or ask staff at arrival points.

THIS IS BIGGER THAN A MARCH

This isn’t just a protest. It’s a warning flare — and a promise. That we won’t stand by while our rights are stripped. That we won’t let apathy win. That we see what’s happening — and we’re not afraid to raise hell, peacefully and powerfully.

So come prepared.

Come together.

And don’t let them scare you into silence.

Stay safe. Stay loud.

[transmutationisms]

i would love to hear more about your criticisms of the BITE model! for me it always feels.. unfalsifiable? it seems to do poorly at distinguishing a cult from any other community, if you squint at the definitions

yeah so first of all i'm not particularly keen on even trying to defend the category of "cult" in general. obviously abuse and control methods can and do happen in groups, but i don't think it's particularly useful to talk about this like there's a strict dichotomy between evil malicious groups and all the others. and i think generally, when people do try to sort groups into strict categories like that, what you actually see is that the differentiating factor is less to do with the degree of control exerted by the group and more to do with how much the person doing the sorting is bothered by the group's ideology or doctrinal commitments lol. like, this is sort of baby's first cult concept critique but yknow, a group setting where you're being extremely openly financially controlled is your job and yet most workplaces, however abusive and surveilled and controlling, are not typically designated a 'cult' unless they're also peddling some kind of heterodox religious or medical claims or something.

anyway in regards to BITE in particular, yeah i think it does a really poor job of distinguishing between a 'normal' level of social pressure to say/do certain things, and the kind of control that ostensibly characterises a cult. for example steven hassan has called both MAGA and online trans communities cults, and a lot of this comes down to his persistent and pretty open belief in the power of 'mind control' and hypnosis as mechanisms of cult control. ofc any group of any political persuasion could engage in abuse and high-control of its members! usually this occurs by financial means, social isolation, etc. but hassan's BITE model isn't really good at identifying these kinds of material factors despite paying lip service to them, because it's more motivated by his desire to root out these kinds of shadowy quasi-occult forces of mental reprogramming that he fears.

i just find the whole model to be pretty silly and used mostly as a way of justifying dislike of lots of different social, religious, and political groups---some of which are genuinely mistreating members, some of which are just saying things their critics disagree with---because it's perceived as a reliable social-scientific designation and therefore name-dropping it helps the speaker feel that they're making some kind of objective scientific observation rather than a judgment dependent, as are all judgments, upon their own perspective and values. i think instead of this kind of haggling over Which Groups Count As An Evild Shadowy Cult it would be infinitely more productive and helpful to vulnerable people to talk about how high-control groups operate, what sorts of methods specific groups are using to control and abuse their members, and what sorts of resources those members are dependent on the groups for and need access to from other sources: financial and material provisions, social support networks, etc.

[seminarydropout]

Working on another chapter of Rest In Me, O Weary Traveler haha - this is how I imagine the early moments of Innocentius going:

At first, the mantle and authority of his role hasn’t quite fully sunk in yet.

“Oh wait - I can do that?” He might ask a senior staff member.

Staff member: “Holy Father, you have supreme legislative, judicial, and executive authority over the Holy See.”

I mean yeah - there is paperwork involved and memos and signatures- formal process to coordinate within the Curia to accomplish said actual action but you’re the boss my guy.

Later when he’s like: “Oh I am Primate of Italy. Supreme Pontiff of the Universal Church. Sovereign of the Vatican City State. The Bishop of Rome.”

Aldo immediately wants to crash out when Innocentius suggests reallocating the finances of the Holy See - to identify what expenses are absolutely necessary to sustaining the operational function of the Church and what money could be redirected to indirectly impacting the poor and most vulnerable across the globe.

Innocentius decrees a mandatory observance of rest after the Dean works himself to the point of collapse and is hospitalized.

“For the next 120 days, we are going to rest. The Curia learns to move a slower, holy pace that acknowledges at the heart of any bureaucracy and institutional structure are people who sustain the work in a complex network of interconnected human action.”

Thomas immediately wants to protest as does most of the Curia but Innocentius is unmovable. Guess what? The world doesn’t end. The Church continues.

Also Innocentius:

“Oh the Dean is unwell? I will be sitting at his bedside until he is no longer in the ICU. If the Curia believes something demands my immediate attention, then you all can move with me. We will go where we are needed. And right now? Our brother Thomas needs us.”

He is explicitly clear, they are not to cross the threshold of Thomas’ room - the man is to focus on rest and healing. But in the hallway or courtyard of the hospital, the Holy Father will see to matters are urgent and time sensitive. Everything else can wait.

[mariacallous]

When the cease-fire in Gaza went into effect earlier this week, the joy across the conflict line was palpable from 6,000 miles away. Although it is unlikely that complicated three-phase deal will ever be fully implemented, it will save lives, bring hostages home, and provide Palestinians in Gaza with much-needed humanitarian aid. The initial hostage and prisoner release also provides a moment to reflect on the broader consequences of the war. Among the most striking is how the conflict has not just altered the trajectories of Israeli and Palestinian societies but in important ways forced them into reverse.

No doubt, Hamas has notched a number of notable achievements since it launched the onslaught it called Operation Al-Aqsa Flood on Oct. 7, 2023. The group drew the IDF into a ferocious fight in the Gaza Strip that has compromised the international legitimacy of Israel’s military and the state it defends. And not since the announcement of the Clinton Parameters and the effort to rescue the Oslo process at the Egyptian resort town of Taba in early 2001 has the Palestinian question been front and center in Middle Eastern and international politics.

At the same time, when Hamas sent its fighters over and through the fence that separates Israel from the Gaza Strip, they set the Palestinian search for justice back at least a generation, if not more. There was a time, not long ago, when it was possible for people to imagine a Palestinian state in the West Bank and the Gaza Strip. In the years since the peace process irretrievably faltered, some observers had come to believe that the present “one-state reality,” encompassing the Palestinian areas plus Israel, would likely lead to a “one-state solution” in which Palestinians and Israelis live together. Regardless of the real-world prospects of either outcome, Hamas’s genocidal fever dream of liberating Palestine—from Metula to Eilat and from the Jordan River to the Mediterranean Sea—which the group sought to make reality 15 months ago, has rendered both the one-state and two-state solutions impossible.

Add to Hamas’s bloodlust the international outcry over what Israelis regard to be righteous self-defense, and fewer and fewer of them are now willing to believe that Palestinian nationalism and Zionism can be reconciled. Palestinians may have a right to a state, but given the asymmetries of power that exist, Israelis have the capacity to prevent them from exercising it. After Oct. 7, that seems likelier than ever.

Even while Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza are filled with joy over the cease-fire, they remain adrift, confronted with two unenviable political choices: the Palestinian Authority (PA)—a corrupt, repressive, and illegitimate vessel of another era that is irrelevant to the current predicaments of the people whom it is supposed to represent—or Hamas. Even with their limited mandate, the PA’s leaders seem incapable of accomplishing pretty much anything other than remaining in power. Hamas is an undesirable alternative. Its popularity waxes during conflict with Israel and wanes when the reality of life under the boot of the group’s cadres becomes clear to the Palestinians who must endure it. It is hard not to conclude from the last two decades that Hamas’s sacralized claims to resistance has brought Palestinians nothing but more pain and more grief. Yes, there is renewed international sympathy for the Palestinian cause, but the world has long recognized the importance of justice for Palestinians with little tangibly to show for it.

There may actually be other, better options for Palestinians. In distinct contrast to the PA and Hamas, there is a vibrant grassroots movement of Palestinians that is seeking new means of representation and leveraging the past 15 months of bloodshed to deepen the connections between the Palestinian struggle and international networks of progressives, NGOs, humanitarians, and academics. It is an interesting phenomenon, and perhaps an alternative to the PA and Hamas will emerge from this activism. But a significant amount of energy of these groups seems devoted more to Israel’s delegitimization than to any actual effort to forge a new Palestinian political reality. It is also an elite game. Average Palestinians have no such privilege or choice. They are forced between two factions that claim to be the expressions of the Palestinian nationalism but have done little to advance their cause, at times even profiting from their people’s suffering.

Given the destruction of Gaza and the existential nature of the conflict between Israelis and Palestinians that Hamas’s onslaught and the Israeli response to it highlighted, the lasting and most tangible achievement of that attack may very well be the permanent statelessness of the Palestinian people.

For Israelis, the days of “bourgeois Israel” are over. The Israel of the Nike Store, fancy bicycle studios, Maseratis prowling the Ayalon Freeway, and glass towers built on the power of Silicon Wadi IPOs will, of course, remain, but there has been a vibe shift among Jewish citizens of Israel. The attacks on southern kibbutzim and towns 15 months ago vaulted Israel back to another time—one of vulnerability and uncertainty. The incomprehensible hostility of the world around Israelis and beyond, especially among governments and publics in the West, added to the collective shock.

Israelis believed that they had overcome their isolation of the past. Yet so strong and striking was the negative sentiment of the global elite toward a wounded Israel that it was as if U.N. Resolution 3379, which determined Zionism to be a form of racism, had never been repealed. In the coming years, Israel will confront even more hostility from influential—but not necessarily powerful—actors within the U.N. system and the NGO world who have demonstrated themselves to be part of a broad anti-Zionist front. Even though Israel enjoys diplomatic relations with most of the world, the war in Gaza has reopened the question of its global acceptance and legitimacy.

Uncomfortable as it may be, there are more discernible consequences of the war than the hostility of U.N. bureaucrats, Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, and governments from Ireland to Spain. It seems likely that Israel is too well integrated into the global economy—especially its high-tech and health sectors—for the call to boycott, divest, and sanction to succeed. But Israelis, whose security has been ensured and economic development boosted with the help of U.S. subventions, will have to grapple with higher defense budgets and the hostility of a not insignificant segment of the Democratic Party whose lawmakers will be asked to continue security assistance for Israel. That will not matter when Republicans control the executive branch and Congress, but Democrats will not be in the wilderness forever, and the IDF operations in Gaza that over the last 15 months killed more than 47,000 Palestinians (according to Palestinian health authorities in Gaza) have made an impression on Capitol Hill. The bipartisan consensus around support for Israeli security was already weakening when Hamas attacked; Israel’s ferocious reaction to Oct. 7 may very well have broken it.

What does this say about the future for Israelis and Palestinians? Almost nothing. There were more than a few sages who declared at the outset of the war “from crisis comes opportunity.” That sounds nice, but those are just words. The most likely outcome of the war was always going to be something closer to the status quo that existed on Oct. 6, 2023, than some promising change that improved the prospects for peace. As the release of Gonen, Damari, and Steinbrecher made abundantly clear, Hamas remains very much in power in Gaza, which portends a tighter Israeli blockade on the territory and periodic spasms of great violence. All the while, Palestinians and Israelis will remain further away from their national goals than they have been in decades.