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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 months ago

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Brother makes a demon-haunted printer

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in RICHMOND TOMORROW (Mar 5) and in AUSTIN> on Mar 10. More tour dates here. Mail-order signed copies from LA's Diesel Books.

You guys, I don't want to bum you out or anything, but I think there's a good chance than some self-described capitalists aren't really into capitalism.

Sorry.

Take incentives: Charlie Munger, capitalism's quippiest pitchman, famously said, "Show me the incentive and I’ll show you the outcome." And here's some mindblowing horseshoe theory for ya: Munger agrees with the noted Communist agitator Adam Smith, whose anti-rentier, pro-government-regulation jeremiad "The Wealth of Nations" contains this notorious passage:

It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker that we expect our dinner, but from their regard to their own self-interest. We address ourselves not to their humanity but to their self-love, and never talk to them of our own necessities, but of their advantages.

Incentives matter – if you design a system that permits abuse, you should expect abuse. Now, I'm not 100% on board with this: every one of us has ways to undetectably cheat the system and enrich ourselves, but most of the time, most of us play by the rules.

But it's different for corporations: the myth of "shareholder supremacy" has reached pandemic levels among the artificial lifeforms we call corporate persons, and it's impossible to rise through the corporate ranks without repeating and believing the catechism that there is a law that requires executives to lie, cheat and steal if it results in an extra dollar for the investors, in the name of "fiduciary duty":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/18/falsifiability/#figleaves-not-rubrics

And this attitude has leaked out into politics and everyday life, so that many of our neighbors have been brainwashed into thinking that a successful cheat is a success in life, that pulling a fast one "makes you smart":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/04/its-not-a-lie/#its-a-premature-truth

In a world dominated by a belief in the moral virtue and legal necessity of ripping off anyone you can get away with cheating, then, sure, any system that permits cheating is a system in which cheating will occur.

This shouldn't be controversial, but if so, how are we to explain the whole concept of the Internet of Things? Installing networked computers into our appliances, office equipment, vehicles and homes is an invitation of mischief: the software in those computers can be remotely altered after you purchase them, taking away the features you paid for and then selling them back to you.

Now, an advocate for market-based solutions has a ready-made response to this: if a company downgrades a device you own, this merely invites another company to step in with a disenshittifying plug-in that makes things better. If the company that made your garage-door opener pushes an over-the-air update that blocks you from using an ad-free, well-designed app and forces you to use an enshittified app that forces you to look at ads before you can open the garage, well, that's an opportunity for a rival company to sell you a better software update for your garage-door opener, one that restores the lost functionality:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/09/lead-me-not-into-temptation/#chamberlain

I'm no hayekpilled market truefan, but I'm pretty sure that would work.

However.

The problem is that since 1998, that kind of reverse-engineering has been a felony under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, which bans bypassing "an effective access control"

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

There's a pretty obvious incentive at play when companies have the ability to unilaterally alter how their products work after you buy them and you are legally prohibited to change how the product works after you buy them. This is the first lesson of the Darth Vader MBA: "I am altering the deal. Pray I don't alter it any further":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/26/hit-with-a-brick/#graceful-failure

I've been banging this drum for decades now – like when I got into a public (friendly) spat with the editor of Wired magazine over their reviews of DRM-based media devices. I argued that it was irresponsible to review a device that could be unilaterally downgraded by the manufacturer at any time, without – at a minimum – noting that the feature you're buying the gadget for might disappear without warning after you've shelled out your hard-earned money:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/03/painful-burning-dribble/#law-of-intended-consequences

Of course, companies that get a reputation for these kinds of shenanigans might lose market share to better competitors. Sure, if the company that made your phone or your thermostat or your insulin pump reached into it across the internet and made it worse, you're shit out of luck when it comes to that device. But you can buy your next device from a better company, right?

Well, sure – in a competitive market, that's a plausible theory of "market discipline." Companies that fear losing business to rivals might behave themselves better.

In theory.

But in practice, the world's "advanced economies" have spent the past 40 years running an uncontrolled experiment in what happens if you don't enforce competition law, and instead allow companies to buy all their competitors. The result is across-the-board industrial oligopolies, cartels, duopolies and monopolies in nearly every category of good and service:

https://www.openmarketsinstitute.org/learn/monopoly-by-the-numbers

Now, even a duopoly has some competition. If you don't like Coke, there's always Pepsi. But again, in practice, companies in concentrated industries find it easy to "tacitly collude" to adopt one another's worst habits – the differences between the outrageous payment processing charged by Apple's App Store and the junk fees charged by Google Play are about as meaningful as the differences between Coke and Pepsi.

Which brings me to printers.

I know.

Ugh.

Printers are the worst and HP is the worst of the worst. For years, HP has been abusing its market dominance – and its customers' wallets – by inflating the price of ink and rolling out countermeasures to prevent you from refilling your old cartridges or buying third-party ink. Worse, HP have mastered the Darth Vader MBA, bushing updates to its printers that sneakily downgrade them after you've bought them and taken them home.

Here's a sneaky trick HP came up with: they send a "security update" to your printer. After you click "OK," a little progress bar zips across the screen and the printer reboots itself, and then…nothing. The printer declares itself to be "up to date" and works exactly like it did before you installed the update. But inside the printer, a countdown timer has kicked off, and then, months later, the "security update" activates itself, like a software Manchurian Candidate.

Because that "security update" protects the security of HP, against HP customers. It is designed to detect and reject the very latest third-party ink cartridges, which means that if you've just bought a year's worth of ink at Costco, you might wake up the next day and discover that your printer will no longer accept them – because of an update you ran six months before.

Why does HP put such a long fuse on its logic bomb? For the same reason that viruses like covid evolve to be contagious before you show symptoms. If the update immediately broke compatibility with third party ink, word would spread, and some HP customers would turn off their printers' wifi before the "security update" could be applied to them.

By asymptomatically incubating the infection over a long, patient timescale, HP maximizes the spread of the contagion, guaranteeing a global pandemic of enshittiification:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

HP has done this – and worse – over and over, and every time I write about it, people pop up to recommend their Brother printers as the enshittification-free alternative. I own a Brother, an HL3170-CDW laser printer that's basically indestructible, cheerfully accepts third-party toner, and costs almost nothing to run.

But I still don't connect it to my wifi. The idea that Brother is a better company than HP – that is possesses some intrinsic antienshittificatory virtue – has always struck me as a foolish belief. Brother has means, motive and opportunity to push over-the-air downgrades to block third-party ink as HP.

Which is exactly what they've done.

Yesterday, Louis Rossman, hero of the Right to Repair movement, revealed that Brother had just pushed a mandatory over-the-air update that locks out third-party ink:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpHX_9fHNqE

Rossman has a thorough technical breakdown of the heist, but it boils down to this. Brother is just as shit as HP. Look from the men to the pigs and the pigs to the men all you want – you will never spot the difference. Take the Pepsi Challenge – bet you won't be able to guess which is which:

https://wiki.rossmanngroup.com/wiki/Brother_ink_lockout_%26_quality_sabotage

This was the absolutely predictable outcome of the regulatory incentives our corporate overlords created, the enormous, far-reaching power we handed to these corporations. With that great power came no responsibility:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/02/26/ursula-franklin/#franklinite

Filling our devices with computers that run programs that can be changed in secret, that we're not allowed to inspect or alter? It's a recipe for a demon-haunted world, where the devices we entrust with our livelihood, our privacy and our wellbeing are possessed by hellions who escape from the digital Tartarus and are unleashed upon humanity.

Demons have possessed the Internet of Things. It's in Teslas:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/edison-not-tesla/#demon-haunted-world

and in every other car, too:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

Our devices – phones, pacemakers, appliances and home security systems – are designed to prevent us to find out what they're doing. That means that when malicious software infects them, then – by design – these devices prevent us from knowing about it or doing anything about it:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/18/descartes-delenda-est/#self-destruct-sequence-initiated

This should not come as a surprise to anyone. Show me the incentive and I'll show you the outcome.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/03/05/printers-devil/#show-me-the-incentives-i-will-show-you-the-outcome

#pluralistic #brother #printers #ink #ink-stained wretches #ink wars #demon-haunted world #drm #dmca #dmca 1201 #anticirumvention #incentives matter #ulysses pacts #enshittification #darth vader mba

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disturbingstar · 1 month ago

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Ethan Winters trivia

• Ethan is a trained software engineer.

• Ethan is infected early in RE7, which explains his uncanny resilience to injury throughout both games.

• Three years after resident evil 7 Ethan lives in Eastern Europe under protection from Chris Redfield.

• Ethan died during the events of RE7 (killed by Jack Baker). He has been kept alive by the Mold, essentially functioning as a walking bioweapon.

• Ethan’s voice actor is Todd Soley.

• Despite being the main character Ethan’s face was hidden for years.

• Ethan hand is mutilated multiple times. (Chainsawed off, hand cut off by Lady Dimitrescu, pieced with nails, and bitten by lycans.)

• He was never a trained soldier.

• He’s the first RE protagonist to have a child.

• He always wears gloves in third-person view.

• Ethan’s final act is a sacrifice, (At the end of Village, Ethan chooses to stay behind and die to destroy the Megamycete.)

• His final words are, “You tell her, Rose… that Daddy loves her.”

• Ethan has cameo in RE7’s Daughters DLC (A voicemail in the Daughters DLC, which takes place before RE7, has Ethan calling Mia—confirming he was trying to reach her just before the Bakers went insane)

• Capcom originally planned to kill Ethan off earlier in resident evil 7.

• you can partly see Ethan’s face In the Shadows of Rose DLC ending. (Ethan appears in full, carrying Rose. His face is shown briefly but partially obscured—still keeping some mystery intact.)

#Ethan Winters #resident evil #resident evil trivia #horror blog #ethan winters resident evil #Ethan Winters trivia #resident evil fandom #resident evil 7 #resident evil spoilers #resident evil village #resident evil biohazard #resident evil Ethan #resident evil universe #resident evil games

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willowwindss · 3 months ago

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100 Inventions by Women

LIFE-SAVING/MEDICAL/GLOBAL IMPACT:

Artificial Heart Valve – Nina Starr Braunwald

Stem Cell Isolation from Bone Marrow – Ann Tsukamoto

Chemotherapy Drug Research – Gertrude Elion

Antifungal Antibiotic (Nystatin) – Rachel Fuller Brown & Elizabeth Lee Hazen

Apgar Score (Newborn Health Assessment) – Virginia Apgar

Vaccination Distribution Logistics – Sara Josephine Baker

Hand-Held Laser Device for Cataracts – Patricia Bath

Portable Life-Saving Heart Monitor – Dr. Helen Brooke Taussig

Medical Mask Design – Ellen Ochoa

Dental Filling Techniques – Lucy Hobbs Taylor

Radiation Treatment Research – Cécile Vogt

Ultrasound Advancements – Denise Grey

Biodegradable Sanitary Pads – Arunachalam Muruganantham (with women-led testing teams)

First Computer Algorithm – Ada Lovelace

COBOL Programming Language – Grace Hopper

Computer Compiler – Grace Hopper

FORTRAN/FORUMAC Language Development – Jean E. Sammet

Caller ID and Call Waiting – Dr. Shirley Ann Jackson

Voice over Internet Protocol (VoIP) – Marian Croak

Wireless Transmission Technology – Hedy Lamarr

Polaroid Camera Chemistry / Digital Projection Optics – Edith Clarke

Jet Propulsion Systems Work – Yvonne Brill

Infrared Astronomy Tech – Nancy Roman

Astronomical Data Archiving – Henrietta Swan Leavitt

Nuclear Physics Research Tools – Chien-Shiung Wu

Protein Folding Software – Eleanor Dodson

Global Network for Earthquake Detection – Inge Lehmann

Earthquake Resistant Structures – Edith Clarke

Water Distillation Device – Maria Telkes

Portable Water Filtration Devices – Theresa Dankovich

Solar Thermal Storage System – Maria Telkes

Solar-Powered House – Mária Telkes

Solar Cooker Advancements – Barbara Kerr

Microbiome Research – Maria Gloria Dominguez-Bello

Marine Navigation System – Ida Hyde

Anti-Malarial Drug Work – Tu Youyou

Digital Payment Security Algorithms – Radia Perlman

Wireless Transmitters for Aviation – Harriet Quimby

Contributions to Touchscreen Tech – Dr. Annette V. Simmonds

Robotic Surgery Systems – Paula Hammond

Battery-Powered Baby Stroller – Ann Moore

Smart Textile Sensor Fabric – Leah Buechley

Voice-Activated Devices – Kimberly Bryant

Artificial Limb Enhancements – Aimee Mullins

Crash Test Dummies for Women – Astrid Linder

Shark Repellent – Julia Child

3D Illusionary Display Tech – Valerie Thomas

Biodegradable Plastics – Julia F. Carney

Ink Chemistry for Inkjet Printers – Margaret Wu

Computerised Telephone Switching – Erna Hoover

Word Processor Innovations – Evelyn Berezin

Braille Printer Software – Carol Shaw

⸻

HOUSEHOLD & SAFETY INNOVATIONS:

Home Security System – Marie Van Brittan Brown

Fire Escape – Anna Connelly

Life Raft – Maria Beasley

Windshield Wiper – Mary Anderson

Car Heater – Margaret Wilcox

Toilet Paper Holder – Mary Beatrice Davidson Kenner

Foot-Pedal Trash Can – Lillian Moller Gilbreth

Retractable Dog Leash – Mary A. Delaney

Disposable Diaper Cover – Marion Donovan

Disposable Glove Design – Kathryn Croft

Ice Cream Maker – Nancy Johnson

Electric Refrigerator Improvements – Florence Parpart

Fold-Out Bed – Sarah E. Goode

Flat-Bottomed Paper Bag Machine – Margaret Knight

Square-Bottomed Paper Bag – Margaret Knight

Street-Cleaning Machine – Florence Parpart

Improved Ironing Board – Sarah Boone

Underwater Telescope – Sarah Mather

Clothes Wringer – Ellene Alice Bailey

Coffee Filter – Melitta Bentz

Scotchgard (Fabric Protector) – Patsy Sherman

Liquid Paper (Correction Fluid) – Bette Nesmith Graham

Leak-Proof Diapers – Valerie Hunter Gordon

FOOD/CONVENIENCE/CULTURAL IMPACT:

Chocolate Chip Cookie – Ruth Graves Wakefield

Monopoly (The Landlord’s Game) – Elizabeth Magie

Snugli Baby Carrier – Ann Moore

Barrel-Style Curling Iron – Theora Stephens

Natural Hair Product Line – Madame C.J. Walker

Virtual Reality Journalism – Nonny de la Peña

Digital Camera Sensor Contributions – Edith Clarke

Textile Color Processing – Beulah Henry

Ice Cream Freezer – Nancy Johnson

Spray-On Skin (ReCell) – Fiona Wood

Langmuir-Blodgett Film – Katharine Burr Blodgett

Fish & Marine Signal Flares – Martha Coston

Windshield Washer System – Charlotte Bridgwood

Smart Clothing / Sensor Integration – Leah Buechley

Fibre Optic Pressure Sensors – Mary Lou Jepsen

#women #inventions #technology #world #history #invented #creations #healthcare #home #education #science #feminism #feminist

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lostbookmark · 8 months ago

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MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

Whispered Vows Masterlist here

Summary: You thought planning your wedding was going to be a magical memory. You didn't realize that it might make you second guess everything.

Pairing: Fiancée Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Hurt-Comfort

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Toxic Family Dynamics, Arguments, Sex Toys, Self Doubt, Over Thinking, Yoongi Overworking Himself, Reader Just Needs To Speak Up.

A/N: I know I just posted chapter 5, but I'm in a good mood. Here is chapter 6.

Chocolate cake is perfectly moist, raspberry filling a touch too tart. You write down your thoughts on the provided worksheet the bakery supplied you after you swallowed the chocolaty goodness. You have been looking forward to your cake tasting for weeks now. Now, as you sit at the table with ten beautiful cupcakes before you, it just feels empty. Your eyes turn to look out the window and see Yoongi pacing up and down the sidewalk in front of the bakery while on the phone with Namjoon, running his hand through his hair. He promised that he would help you with this, but once again, here he is working. Your patience is almost nonexistent at this point. You just wanted this one day with him, and he couldn't even give you that.

Reaching out, you grab the next sweet confection, cut into it with your fork, and take a large bite. Vanilla cake is moist and sweet, lemon curd filling has a perfectly smooth texture, and vanilla buttercream is not too sweet. Favorite by far. You place your pen back down and sigh as you swallow that bite. You look at Yoongi through the window again and see him hang up the phone before entering the bakery. Sitting next to you, he opens his texts, and you see him message Hobi something. Your eyes drift back to your notes, and you think you might go with the vanilla.

“You can go,” you tell him softly while still focused on your paper but not really reading anything. You just wanted to make sure your handwriting was neat and legible. This would be a nice little keepsake.

“Hmmm,” he says, still looking at his phone as his fingers fly across the screen. His face is scrunched in pure concentration as he rereads what he just typed. “What? What did you say?”

“You can leave,” you say louder, looking at him, and his head finally snaps to you. “You clearly don't want to be here, and I don't want to force you to be here. You can go.”

“I took the day off to be here,” he tells you, furrowing his eyebrows. “Why would you say that? You know how hard it is for me to make time for anything right now. We should be lucky that I am even here right now.”

“You took the day off? Did you really?” You question him and sip on your water that was provided to you to cleanse your palate.

Yoongi hasn't touched his water nor his worksheet. He probably hasn't even looked at the cupcakes that the baker worked hard on. The beautifully piped buttercream and colorful fruits and chocolate pieces were probably not appreciated. You appreciated them.

“I'm right here,” he argues and touches his chest with both of his hands to prove the point that he is indeed there. "I'm sitting right next to you."

“No, you're not,” you whisper. His phone rings again, with Namjoons name popping up on the screen.

“There is something wrong with our software at the studio. We lost a bunch of files,” he explains, gripping his phone tightly when the ringing stops. “You just don't understand. This is really bad.”

“I understand,” you tell him, nodding your head. “I do, I get it, and I said you can go.”

“It's not like I wanted this to happen,” he argues a bit too loudly, causing the bakery staff to look over at your table out of curiosity. You want to shrink away from embarrassment at their stares, and he quickly changes his tone. “We just lost weeks if not months of work,” he said much more softly. “All this time that I had to be at the studio, working all those long hours. It was all for nothing.”

Your heart sinks into your stomach as he starts getting texts in rapid succession, his phone continuously chiming. It rings so loud in your ears. You're tired. You haven't felt this tired in a long time. Not since that night you thought he was cheating on you. You're tired of dealing with this wedding and making these damn choices. You're tired of worrying about him. You're tired of sleeping alone at night. You're tired of being patient. You're tired of being tired.

“Yoongi,” you say and take a deep breath. “Please leave.”

“That's not fair,” he said. “This isn't my fault that this happened.”

“I…I don't care. I want you to leave,” you tell him as you turn back to the baked goods and take the card in front of the next dessert. Chocolate cake, salted caramel filling, and chocolate buttercream. “This experience is ruined. I'm just going to choose a stupid cake that you don't give a shit about and be done with it.”

“Y/N,” he says your name softly.

You ignore him and take a bite of your next pastry. Picking up your pen, you get ready to make your notes. Yoongi’s phone rings in the background, and you can hear him swear. Cake is a little crumbly. The filling is delicious with the right amount of saltiness, and buttercream could be a little sweeter. You can hear him sigh loudly before he gets up from the table and walks out of the bakery. You breathe deeply through your nose and blink rapidly, trying to stop the tears that threaten to fall.

“Is everything okay over here?” The owner and head baker asks as she approaches the table quite cautiously.

“Yes,” you say, giving her a small smile. “I'm ready. I think I have decided.”

“Oh, perfect,” she says and claps her hands together lightly. “I'll go get my tablet. We will get you ordered and get you scheduled on the calendar.”

Your smile drops as she walks away. You are such a liar. You are not ready. Not even in the slightest.

“I'm calling the wedding off,” you say as soon as the door opens.

“I'm sorry….WHAT?” Jisoo says clearly in shock. You push past her and enter her apartment, making your way to her couch where you collapse face first into the cushions in exhaustion. “I think that I heard you wrong. Please say that again and maybe more slowly.”

“No,” you said, your voice muffled by the cushion. You don't even bother looking at her. You know she is looking at you like you are crazy. “You heard me right.”

Jisoo sits on the floor next to the couch and moves your hair out of your face. She gently continues to stroke your hair in a comforting manner. You close your eyes and relax into her touch. She smiles sadly as she looks at you.

“I don't think you really mean that,” she tells you softly as she pulls her delicate hand away. You huff out a breath of irritation and sit up on the couch, pulling your knees to your chest. “Tell me what's going on.”

“He's been so busy, and I don't see him that often unless I make the effort to go to his studio. Then, I just end up cleaning the studio for him. I finally got him to help me with the cake tasting, and work still came first. I don't know if I can live like this forever,” you tell her. “I don't know if I want to.”

“Have you talked to him about this?” Jisoo asks, moving from the floor to sit next to you on the much more comfortable couch.

“Not really,” you admit, shaking your head. “I just miss us. I miss how we used to be before he got all busy, and the studio became everything to him.”

“Relationships change,” Jisoo tells you. “You may have hit a small rough patch now, but is it worth throwing it all away? After everything that you have been through. Do you want to throw it away?”

“Sometimes, I look at you and Seungkwan or Lisa, and Jimin and I get so jealous. You get to go out on dates and sleep next to them every night. You get to have real conversations and homemade dinners,” you explain to her. “I get to go home to a frozen microwavable dinner and a television for a companion. Sometimes, it's like he doesn't even exist, and it feels like I'm back on my own again.”

The door to the apartment opens, and you see Seungkwan enter. You watch as he takes off his shoes and hangs both his coat and bag on a hook, protruding from the wall before entering the room. He spots you on the couch and gives you a contemplative look.

“Well, that explains it,” he says and walks away to the kitchen.

“What?” Jisoo asks her boyfriend. You can hear the refrigerator open and close before he walks back out with a bottle of water in his hand. “What explains what?”

“I needed something signed, and Yoongi…well…he was grumpier than normal when I went to his studio. He also, kind of…” he trailed off for a few seconds. “Looked like he had been crying. Maybe? Does he do illegal substances?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head at him.

“Then he was definitely crying,” Seungkwan confirms.

On one hand, your heart sank as the words Seungkwan just said sank in. Had he been crying? Maybe you were too hard on him. Maybe you shouldn't have kicked him out of the bakery. You guess you probably could have been nicer about it. On the other hand, it just made you even madder. You were suffering too, and you still don't think that he cares. If he cared, he would have turned his phone off and stayed with you today. However, he didn't. He left. He left you there alone to order one of the plainest wedding cakes there probably ever was. He left in his car, leaving you to take the bus to Jisoo's.

“Can you please give us a minute,” Jisoo asks her boyfriend. Without a word, he walks down the hall and into the back of the apartment to the bedroom. You don't speak until you hear the bedroom door shut.

“Do you think….” You trail off in a small voice. “Do you think I should be getting married?”

Jisoo wraps her arm around you and pulls you down into her lap. She once again moves her hand to your hair and gently smooths it away from your face. She doesn't answer your question right away. It probably takes her a full two minutes before she finally speaks.

“I can't answer that,” she tells you, and it makes you clench your teeth in frustration. “I won't tell you not to marry him. It's okay to be jealous of me and Lisa and our relationships. However, I get jealous of you, too. The way that Yoongi looks at you, Y/N. Jimin and Seungkwan don't look at us like that. Yoongi looks at you like he would hang the moon for you. He would burn the world down for you.”

“I know he would,” you say as a tear drips down your face.

“If you don't love him, then I say don't marry him. If you do love him, then I say fight for him. You tell him how you feel and you fight,” she says seriously.

“I already told her to talk to him weeks ago, but no one ever listens to me," Seungkwan called from the back of the apartment. You and Jisoo start giggling and sit up to look at her. Her nosy boyfriend clearly had been listening to your entire conversation. “I would also hang the moon for you too, Jisoo.”

“Please don't tell Lisa about this. I don't need her saying anything to anyone,” You look at her, hold your pinky finger out. “Jimin loves gossip just as much as she does.”

“I won't. I promise,” she said softly and wrapped her own pinky around yours. “I promise.”

You checked the apartment first but you were not surprised when you found that he wasn't there. Now, you stand outside of his studio door, not sure if you should ring his doorbell or enter the code and walk in. You look up and down the deserted hallway before you slowly raise your forefinger and push the doorbell. Standing up straight, you wiggle your fingers that hang loosely at your sides as you wait for him to open the door. Your heart feels like it's going to pound out of your chest. You take a deep breath through your nose and slowly release it out of your mouth. Again…again…again.

“Y/N?” Jungkook says as the door finally opens and loud rap music flows out of the darkened room from the speakers.

You look over Jungkook's shoulder and see Yoongi look at you from his chair in surprise. His hair was disheveled and sticking up in all sorts of directions. He had changed into black track pants and an oversized white hoodie. They were both wrinkled, and the hoodie might be a little stained. You'll have to try and wash it for him later. Hopefully, you will be able to get the stains out. Yoongi stands from his seat and stares at you but doesn't say anything.

“Umm, can he and I have a minute?” You ask Jungkook, who still stands in the doorway. “Unless you're too busy.”

“NO!” Yoongi exclaims as he takes a few steps away from his chair. “Kook was just leaving.”

“Yeah, I was just leaving,” Jungkook agreed and nodded his head. “Everything is all set now. Have a good talk, bye.”

Jungkook practically runs out of the studio and down the hallway, nearly tripping over his own feet. Yoongi catches the door with his hand before it closes and opens it for you again. As you walk in, you notice that it was pretty cluttered with several discarded white styrofoam carryout boxes on his table and couch. A small pile of dirty laundry sat on the floor in the corner of the room. You can't even begin to imagine how long they have been there for. You know that you haven't been by in a while to clean up for him, but this was ridiculous. It even smelled a little bit, and it made you scrunch your nose as the stench hit you. Yoongi dropped his head and rubbed the back of his neck as he caught your facial expression. Good, he should be embarrassed.

“Is everything…” you trail off and motion to his work space.

“Oh, yeah. We got the files back pretty quickly, thankfully. I hurried back to the bakery, but you were already gone.” he explains.

“Oh,” you say softly and continue to look at his mess.

“You weren't at home either,” he tells you, and your eyes went back to him. “I figured you probably went to Lisa's or Jisoo's.”

“Jisoo's,” you confirmed. “Seungkwan said he saw you today. He said it looked like you had been crying. Were you?”

“He's got a big mouth,” Yoongi snaps, turning away from you. He pushes his chair, and it goes rolling across the room before hitting the wall. It makes you jump just a tiny bit.

“Were you crying over me or the lost files?” You ask, crossing your arms.

“Are you seriously asking me that?” He asks, turning back to you. “You think I would cry over work. Baby, I hurt you. I hurt you, and I took you for granted. You take care of me, you have been planning this whole wedding by yourself and I can't even do one damn thing for you.”

“Yoongi,” you say with a sigh and drop your arms.

“No, it's true,” he argues. “I don't even know why you are still with me. I would have left me a long time if I were you. Jungkook is even surprised that you're still here. Jimin tells me all the time that Lisa is worried about you.”

“Do you want to marry me? Be honest with me,” you plead.

“Yes, of course I want to marry you. I want nothing more than to be yours…forever,” he assures you.

"It doesn't feel like it,” you say, kicking a stray chopstick that was on the floor. “It feels like you don't care about the wedding at all. You’re always so busy.”

“Do you want me to quit? Make Namjoon buy me out so I can work some crappy, dead-end 9 to 5 job? Have us both worried about making ends meet? Working paycheck to paycheck?” He asks, throwing his arms in the air out of exasperation.

“Now you're the one not being fair, Yoongi. If you can't figure out how to balance your life with me and work, then maybe…” you say, but he immediately cuts you off.

“Stop right there,” he growls at you and points his finger at you. “Don't you dare finish that sentence. I am trying my best.”

“I don't know how much longer I can do this,” you tell him as you will yourself not to cry. You want to be strong. For once in your life, you just want to be strong and not run away to lean on someone else to help you. “If I knew how alone I would be all the time I….”

“Stop!” he says loudly. “Don't you think I get lonely too? Don't you think that I miss you? It's not easy to live like this. I get that!”

“THEN WHY CAN'T YOU JUST COME HOME!” You scream at him.

Immediately, you feel guilty for yelling. The two of you both stand there, glaring at each other, breathing hard. A large lump has formed in your throat, and your heart starts to race once again. The tension in the room is heavy and thick but not in a good way. It's never been this way between you two, and you don't know how to climb and claw your way out of it. The music in the studio changes over to something slower and almost melancholic. It feels fitting for this moment.

“Y/N,” he says quietly, breaking the silence.

“I’m sorry. I'll clean up,” you whisper as you turn toward the messy couch.

“No,” he says, grabbing your hand, pulling you to him, and you let him. You don't want to fight him anymore. It hurts too much. Your heart hurts so freaking much.

Yoongi guides your hands up and around the back of his neck, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pressing himself right up against you. Yoongi buries his face into your neck, and you rest your own on his shoulder. He gently starts rocking the two of you back and forth. Dancing? Dancing to that slow beat pouring out of his sound system in the middle of his dimly lit studio. His arms and hands cling onto you as if you are his lifeline. Like he would drown if he were to let go of you. You lift your face and kiss the side of his neck softly, lips barely touching him. Yoongi pulls his face back and rests his forehead against your own. Your bodies are still gently swaying side to side in your own little world.

“Please, don't leave me,” he gently begs, “I promise I'll do better.”

“Don't make promises that you can't keep,” you say, looking right into his eyes.

“I promise,” he says again, leaning toward your mouth. You close the gap and gently kiss him on the lips. “Tell me to quit, and I will. Tell me to run away with you, and I will. Do you want to move to Paris? Our own little island? I'll make it happen. I would do anything for you.”

Jisoo was right. He would probably burn the world down for you.

“I know you will,” you tell him and lay your head against his chest. Yoongi rests his head on the top of your head. Your bodies still sway with the music. Dancing. Dancing in your own little world in the middle of his studio. “I know you will.”

《Chapter Seven》

Tagged Readers:

@mggv97, @granataepfelchen, @kam9404, @svnbangtansworld, @futuristicenemychaos, @notarshia, @busanbby-jjk

#bts yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi x you #yoongi fanfic #yoongi au #min yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #bts min yoongi #min suga #min yoongi #suga bts #suga fluff #suga bangtan #yoongi fic #yoongi #bts suga #suga #suga smut

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victoriajanssen · 4 months ago

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Nebula Award Finalists for 2024 works:

Nebula Award for Novel

Sleeping Worlds Have No Memory, Yaroslav Barsukov (Caezik SF & Fantasy)

Rakesfall, Vajra Chandrasekera (Tordotcom)

Asunder, Kerstin Hall (Tordotcom)

A Sorceress Comes to Call, T. Kingfisher (Tor; Titan UK)

The Book of Love, Kelly Link (Random House; Ad Astra UK)

Someone You Can Build a Nest In, John Wiswell (DAW; Arcadia UK)

Nebula Award for Novella

The Butcher of the Forest, Premee Mohamed (Tordotcom)

The Tusks of Extinction, Ray Nayler (Tordotcom)

Lost Ark Dreaming, Suyi Davies Okungbowa (Tordotcom)

Countess, Suzan Palumbo (ECW)

The Practice, the Horizon, and the Chain, Sofia Samatar (Tordotcom)

The Dragonfly Gambit, A.D. Sui (Neon Hemlock)

Nebula Award for Novelette

The Brotherhood of Montague St. Video, Thomas Ha (Clarkesworld 5/24)

Katya Vasilievna and the Second Drowning of Baba Rechka, Christine Hanolsy (Beneath Ceaseless Skies 4/18/24)

Another Girl Under the Iron Bell, Angela Liu (Uncanny 9-10/24)

What Any Dead Thing Wants, Aimee Ogden (Psychopomp 2/24)

Negative Scholarship on the Fifth State of Being, A.W. Prihandita (Clarkesworld 11/24)

Joanna’s Bodies, Eugenia Triantafyllou (Psychopomp 7/1/24)

Loneliness Universe, Eugenia Triantafyllou (Uncanny 5-6/24)

Nebula Award for Short Story

The Witch Trap, Jennifer Hudak (Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet 9/24)

Five Views of the Planet Tartarus, Rachael K. Jones (Lightspeed 1/24)

Why Don’t We Just Kill the Kid in the Omelas Hole, Isabel J. Kim (Clarkesworld 2/24)

Evan: A Remainder, Jordan Kurella (Reactor 1/31/24)

The V*mpire, PH Lee (Reactor 10/23/24)

We Will Teach You How to Read | We Will Teach You How to Read, Caroline M. Yoachim (Lightspeed 5/24)

Andre Norton Nebula Award for Middle Grade and Young Adult Fiction

Daydreamer, Rob Cameron (Labyrinth Road)

Braided, Leah Cypess (Delacorte)

Benny Ramírez and the Nearly Departed, José Pablo Iriarte (Knopf)

Moonstorm, Yoon Ha Lee (Delacorte; Solaris UK)

Puzzleheart, Jenn Reese (Henry Holt)

The Young Necromancer’s Guide to Ghosts, Vanessa Ricci-Thode (self-published)

Nebula Award for Game Writing

A Death in Hyperspace, Stewart C Baker, Phoebe Barton, James Beamon, Kate Heartfield, Isabel J. Kim, Sara S. Messenger, Naca Rat, Natalia Theodoridou, M. Darusha Wehm, Merc Fenn Wolfmoor (Infomancy.net)

Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erdtree, Hidetaka Miyazaki (From Software)

The Ghost and the Golem, Benjamin Rosenbaum (Choice of Games)

1000xRESIST, Remy Siu, Pinki Li, Conor Wylie (Fellow Traveller Games)

Pacific Drive, Karrie Shao, Paul Dean (Ironwood Studios)

Restore, Reflect, Retry, Natalia Theodoridou (Choice of Games)

Slay the Princess -- The Pristine Cut, Tony Howard-Arias, Abby Howard (Black Tabby Games)

Yazeba's Bed & Breakfast, Jay Dragon, M Veselak, Mercedes Acosta, Lillie J. Harris (Possum Creek Games)

Ray Bradbury Nebula Award for Outstanding Dramatic Presentation

Doctor Who: "Dot and Bubble" by Russell T. Davies (BBC)

Dune: Part Two by Jon Spaihts, Denis Villeneuve (Warner Bros)

I Saw the TV Glow by Jane Schoenbrun (A24 Films LLC)

KAOS by Charlie Covell, Georgia Christou (Netflix)

Star Trek: Lower Decks Season 5 by Mike McMahan (Paramount+)

Wicked by Winnie Holzman, Dana Fox (Universal Pictures)

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ppth-staff · 1 year ago

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PPTH Staff Directory

Administration

Hen Nenaginad, Dr. Cuddy’s personal assistant (@toplessoncology), ask blog @ppthparttimer

Cardiology

Sydney Forrest, Head of Cardiology (@wilsons-three-legged-siamese), ask blog @ask-head-of-cardio

Custodial

Bruce N. Valentine (@ghostboyhood), ask blog @the-cleaning-guy

Diagnostics

Haven Ross House (@birdyboyfly), ask blog @ultimate-diagnostician-haven

Teagan Sinclair, Gynecologist (@robbinggoodfellows), ask blog @ask-teagan-sinclair

Cosmo Anderson, House's personal assistant (@cupofmints), ask blog @underpaid-assistant

Dr. Avery Alice Beau (@audiovideodisco), ask blog @dr-avery-beau

Emergency Medical Services

Dr. Kadee Montgomery, Head of Emergency Medical Services and Infectious Disease Specialist (@privatehousesanatomy), ask blog @kadeejeanmontgomery

Anji Foxx-Knight, Ambulance Operator and Automotive Technician (@rainismdata), ask blog @technician-para-driver

Fritz Litte, ER Doctor, ask blog @erdocfritz

Dr. Rylan Hopps, ER Physician (@dndadsbara), ask blog @nervous-physician

Endocrinology

Ev Price, Head of Endocrinology (@sillyhyperfixator), ask blog @ppth-endocrinology-head

Dr. Katherine “Kate” Rooke, Endocrinologist (@katttkhaos), ask blog @drkrooke

Epidemiology

Dr. Arwen Callejas, Head of Epidemiology (@addicbookedout)

Emilie Martin, Epidemiologist (@picking-dandelions-and-tunes)

Forensics

Stevie “Bird” Corcoran, Forensic Scientist and Teacher (@1mlostnow), ask blog @head-of-forensics

Melvin Rideau, Forensic Technician (@datas-boobs), ask blog @ppth-forensic-technician

Hematology

Ivan Andrews, Hematologist (@kleinekorpus)

Andrew Hayes, Software Engineer (@tired-and-bored-nerd), ask blog @ask-ppths-it-guy

Immunology

Anastasia Vîrgolici, Immunologist (@starry-scarl3tt), ask blog @tired-ppth-immunologist

Lab

Anatol Dybowski, Head Lab Scientist (@tino-i-guess), ask blog @ppth-lab-head

Dr. Rachel Wilson-Cuddy, Pathologist & Medical Researcher (@annabelle-house)

Legal

Valerie Carr, Legal Consultant (@writing-and-sillies), ask blog @ask-ppth-legal

Neurology

Dr. Charlotte Eldorra (@estellemilano), ask blog @tiredicedlatte-enjoyer

Nursing

Nurse Sophie "Angel" Lile (@annoylyn), ask blog @doll-lile

OB-GYN

Dr. Fluoxetine Pearl, Head of OB-GYN (@asclexe), ask blog @ppth-obgyn-dept-head-real

Dr. Katherine Rhodes, Head of NICU and ICU (@privatehousesanatomy), ask blog @katherineelainerhodes)

Danny Begay, Gynecologist (@hemlocksloadofbull), ask blog @ask-danny-in-gynecology

Oncology

Dr. Francesca Scott, Head of Oncology (@birdyboyfly), ask blog @ask-head-of-oncology

Leo Fitsher, Nurse (@asclexe)

Mat Hulme, Ongologist (@evilchildeyeeter), ask blog @ratfather-oncologist

Dr. Gavin Maxwell, Hematologist (@worldrusher), ask blog @dr-maxwell-hemaoncol

Ophthalmology

Maddox “Maddie” N. Jagajiva, Ophthalmologist (@rainismdata), ask blog @dr-visionary-counselor

Pediatrics

Dr. Nanette “Ninny” Amesbury, Head of Pediatrics (@desire-mona)

Eddie Sting, Head of Pediatrics (@cherrishnoodles), ask blog @ask-head-of-pediatrics

Romeo "Vinny" Vincent, ENT nurse (@wilsons-three-legged-siamese), ask blog @earsandthroatnursey

Melanie Byrd, Pediatric Orthopedist (@tired-and-bored-nerd), ask blog @ppth-baby-bone-doc

Marie, Pediatrician (@marieinpediatrics-stuff)

Dr. Sophie Baker, Pediatric Neurosurgeon (@privatehousesanatomy), ask blog @sophieeloisebaker

Skye Ann-Meadows, Pediatrician (@estellemilano), ask blog @doctorof-unknownorgin

Plastics

Gabriella “Gabi” Kramer, Plastic Surgeon (@1mlostnow), ask blog @plastic-surgeon-gabi

Psychiatry/Psychology

Lena Ehris, Head of Psychiatry (@jellifishiez), ask blog @head-of-psychiatry

Dr. Venus Watanabe, Head of Psychiatry (@chocovenuss)

Dr. Annabelle House-Cuddy, Head of Psychiatry (@annabelle-house)

Dr. Madlock, Head of Psychology (@sushivisa)

Domingo Estrada, Social Worker (@robertseanleonardthinker), ask blog @ppth-socialworker

Dr. Kieran F. Campbell, Psychiatrist and Geneticist (@kim-the-kryptid), ask blog @consult-the-geneticist

Caitlin, Psychologist (@littlelqtte), ask blog @caitlin-interrupted

Dr. Callum Stone, Psychiatrist, ask blog @themanthemyththepsychologist

Pulmonology

Reina Linh Rivera, Head of Pulmonology (@prettypinkbubbless)

Dr. Milana Walker (@evilchildeyeeter), ask blog @dr-redbull-addict

Radiology

Dr. Eneko Ruiz-Arroyo, Head of Radiology (@katttkhaos), ask blog @headoradiology

Beth Klein, Radiology Tech (@emptylakes)

Steven Sandoval, Radiologist (@endofradio)

Research

Dr. Nadzieja Kruczewska, Toxicologist and Clinical Research Coordinator, ask blog @indigo-toxicologist

Patients

Ilja "Illusha" Vancura, Head Archivist at Rutgers Med (@scarriestmarlowe), blog @vancurarchivist

Francesco Cage, Best girldad patient (@dndadsbara), ask blog @francesco-cage

Joey Abrams, Forensics Student - kind of (@1mlostnow), ask blog @joey-is-fine

OOC: Hi, I'm Bird, and I run this PPTH blog! I'm 19, agender, aroace, and use they/them pronouns.

If you have an OC or a post that you would like for me to add to the blog, please feel free to send me an ask/message! If I follow you back, it'll be at my main blog, @birdyboyfly.

#ppth staff #house md oc #house md ocs #house md

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mothica-mothica · 5 months ago

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Halo reach survival au bc yes

Tw: severe injuries, suicidal ideation, nightmares, grief.

Oh hey look I'm not posting about sonic the hedgehog? Whaaaatt

Anyway here we go

Carter

You know how the pelican exploded? Yeah I gave him hearing damage. He has hearing aids.

His face was covered by his arms, but he does have scarring on his neck from being kersploded.

Just to make it more depressing, his normal calm and collected attitude is an actual farce.

He lives in constant agony. Mental and physical.

"Its all falling apart. "

He's a bartender during the night.

Six and Kat are regulars.

He lives with Kat and jun.

He turns his hearing aids down when there's an argument between the ex members of Noble. He doesn't break up the issues anymore.

He's learned ASL.

Kat

Frequent nightmares.

Works from home, as a Software developer.

Her injuries were minimal.

She often stops talking in the middle of conversations. Especially with carter.

"It should've been me."

She makes a habit of drawing random devices she wants to build.

Often salvages things she finds in the dumpster.

She learned sign language for Carter because when he was still in the hospital he couldn't hear well.

Also ignores any arguments between ex members.

Jun

Works as a recruiter for the spartan IV program.

Asks Carter for advice when he doesn't know how to deal with the recruit's.

Isn't home very much, but he takes care of his fair share of rent.

He's the most mentally sound of all the members.

He wasn't hurt at all on reach, only emotionally fucked this time.

When he gets home, he likes to do mundane tasks before he inevitably collapses on his bed.

Emile

He ate liquid foods until his stomach was completely healed.

Has a large scar from the wound in question.

Had a blood transplant.

Lashes out at Jorge quite often. Once he even called him 'weak' because he couldn't come to terms with what happened.

Is the main source of team infighting.

Six beat the hell out of him in a fit of rage because he lashed out and blamed her for everyone's injuries.

He lives with six and Jorge. The three are pretty close now.

He's not trying to be antagonistic, but he wants revenge, something to punch, someone to blame. That's what he's used to.

He's yelled at carter before. But Carter just stood there and turned down his hearing aids.

Often crying in his room.

"I've lost everything...."

Jorge

Still the same gentle giant as before, big and cuddly.

Six sees him as a father figure, they’re often found curled up on the couch.

He doesn't understand why Emile won't quit antagonizing the household.

He's trying to go home. He wants to go home.

Spends a lot of time baking. Works as a baker in a coffee shop.

Often making food and dropping off where jun works.

"I wish I could sleep forever."

Six

Her heart has been replaced.

She's got a bionic arm.

She's missing a whole lung.

She works as a barista.

A frequent at the bar. She likes to bring pastries for Carter and Kat.

She's the one who breaks up the arguments now.

"I could've done better."

She likes to read, and does it quite a bit.

She stayed at the hospital even after she had recovered because she wanted to make sure everyone made it out.

When carter gets quiet, it worries her.

She knows Emile is struggling, often does some light sparring with him despite her breathing issues.

She doesn't mind curling up with Jorge anymore. It was awkward at first.

Kat enjoys her company now. It helps Kat to hear her chatting.

She feels obligated to keep contact with everyone.

#halo reach #halo reach headcanons #idk what else to put here #this was depressing.#noble team #au #carter a-259 #kat b320 #jun a266 #emile a239 #jorge 052 #noble six

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greghousescane · 1 month ago

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ii | tea in the trenches

TEA

THE

TRENCHES.

𝓣he night passed by strangely for Vivienne.

The air felt heavier than usual—damp, still, like the world had been stopped while she slept. The sheets were too new, too crisp. Unused and uncomfortable. The kind that wrinkle loudly with every toss and turn.

And it was much, much quieter than she'd imagined 221B would be.

When she finally stirred, the morning light barely creeping through the window, her joints cracked with the sharp precision she'd grown used to. The price of hypermobility.

She and her older sister had inherited it from their father's side—John, on the other hand, got lucky.

Still bleary-eyed, she sat up and reached for a pair of cotton socks from the little pile beside her bag. She hated the feeling of dust or crumbs sticking to bare feet—something about it made her skin crawl. Every night, slipping off her socks to sink into a cold duvet felt like a quiet reward after surviving the day . Now, she tugged them back on with a quiet sigh, bracing for a day in a flat that still didn't feel quite like home.

"I looked you up on the internet," she heard her brother say—to who she could only assume was Sherlock.

"Anything interesting?" came the deep, unmistakably posh voice. Bingo. Of course it was Sherlock. Who else would it be?

"That sounds a little stalkerish..." Vivienne mumbled groggily, her voice still heavy with sleep. She rubbed her eyes with one hand as she shuffled into the still-cluttered living room.

Both men snapped their heads toward her, startled.

John's lips parted, quickly turning into a grin.

He was sitting stiffly on the same armchair from the night before, cane in hand, posture straight, clothes already neatly on. So were Sherlock's. But Vivienne knew her brother—knew him well enough to remember that he used to lounge in pajamas until 1 p.m. on weekends.

That was before Afghanistan.

Now he woke early, moved like clockwork—military muscle memory that wouldn't fade.

"Found your website," John continued, nodding toward Sherlock. "The Science of Deduction."

"And what did you think?" Sherlock asked, tilting his head slightly, eyes curious. His brows furrowed a little as John scoffed in reply.

Vivienne sat quietly on the arm of the chair, half-listening. Sherlock, already dressed in a suit and looking maddeningly polished, had curls that looked deliberately perfect. She felt a sharp stab of jealousy. Some people just woke up like that, apparently.

"You said you could identify a software designer by his tie... and an airline pilot by his left thumb?" John questioned, sounding halfway between amused and skeptical.

While John had spent the night down a Sherlock-shaped rabbit hole, Vivienne had fallen asleep back at the old, dreary rental flat. She'd woken up unsure where she was, for just a second, before remembering the move.

She couldn't lie—221B Baker Street was prettier.

Messy, yes. A chaotic flurry of cardboard boxes and scattered papers—but somehow it already felt more like home than their last place ever did. Still...

There was a difference between moving in with your brother and moving in with a stranger who looked like he hadn't blinked in hours.

And Vivienne? Still a little wary. But trying.

"Yes," Sherlock began, not moving an inch. His voice was calm, almost bored.

"—And I can read your military career in your face and your leg—"

His gaze flicked to John, then shifted, "—and your brother's drinking habits on your mobile phone."

Vivienne snapped out of her drifting thoughts at that, blinking hard. Brother's drinking habits?

Her head turned sharply toward John. He was already responding.

"How?" he asked, brow raised—cool, steady.

But he didn't correct Sherlock. Didn't say sister, didn't explain.

Vivienne caught the brief flicker of his eyes in her direction, and she understood. He didn't want to explain yet. Not now. Maybe not to him.

Before the tension could settle into silence, the soft, tapping rhythm of flat shoes echoed from the kitchen.

Mrs. Hudson's gravelly voice floated into the room. "What about these suicides then, Sherlock?"

Vivienne stood, carefully stepping down from the arm of the chair. Her cotton socks barely made a sound as she crossed the floor.

She wasn't sure if she was more interested in the case or the tea—but her stomach rumbled at the right time either way. Still, she paused for a moment, letting her eyes skim the headline of the newspaper left carelessly on the desk nearby.

"Three. Exactly the same."

Sherlock's voice was sharp as he turned to look out the window.

Vivienne had already established one thing: Sherlock Holmes was, without a doubt, very dramatic.

"Well, that sounds... strange," she murmured, glancing at Mrs. Hudson, who nodded as if that were the understatement of the century.

"There's been a fourth," the older woman added, her voice lowering.

In the few short minutes Vivienne spent focused on making herself some toast—carefully, quietly—everything had changed. Sherlock was suddenly out the door in a whirlwind, his coat flaring behind him like a stage curtain mid-act. John followed close behind, cane clicking urgently against the floor.

He opened his mouth to call something back to her—probably an explanation—but Sherlock was faster, as always.

"Vivienne! You'll be in the way—go explore something educational!"

Her lips parted in confusion, brows pulling together.

"What—?" But they were already gone.

She blinked once, then turned slowly toward Mrs. Hudson, who offered her a warm, sympathetic smile and a little shrug.

"I've heard the museum is nice..." Vivienne murmured as she buttered her toast, eyes still a little hazy with sleep.

"Oh yes, dear!" Mrs. Hudson beamed. "I do recommend the Science Museum—but the British Museum's only a few away."

After a lovely morning of tea and gentle gossip about the neighbors—who apparently were an entire novella on their own—Vivienne found herself back upstairs, debating what on earth counted as museum-appropriate attire. It felt strange, being in Baker Street by herself. Not bad, necessarily. Just... off.

And maybe it was pathetic—at least, that's what her mind insisted—but she missed her brother.She was used to spending time alone. She had been for years, really.

After John went off to the military and Harriet slipped further into her drinking, solitude had become less of a choice and more of a constant. The only person she had been able to truly count on was Clara. Clara, who had practically become family during the worst of it. Clara, who had held her hand when she didn't know how to hold herself together. And though their contact had dwindled—crumbled, even—after Clara left Harriet, Vivienne couldn't bring herself to blame her. Not really.

It wasn't easy to admit, but she had taken Clara's side. She had meant every intervention, every concerned voicemail, every time she held back tears and begged her sister to please just try. But the line between loving someone and enabling them was thin, and it frayed fast.

Now? Her contact with Harriet was delicate at best. Brittle. Fragile. A blown-glass sort of love, beautiful and breakable.

She had settled on something casual—comfortable, but not so comfortable that she looked homeless or vaguely unwell. From her perch by the window, watching the people pass by below, she realized it wasn't nearly as warm outside as it was in the flat. She couldn't tell if it was about to rain or if the sky was just wearing its usual London expression: vaguely annoyed and unmistakably grey.

Once she was out the door—cozy light grey sweater tugged down over her hips, bag slung across her shoulder—she set off.

Mrs. Hudson had said it was "just a few away." Just a few what, though? Steps? Streets? Emotional breakdowns?

She'd gone right at first. The wrong way, naturally. In the end, she was pretty sure she'd taken the scenic route around the entire museum—twice. But eventually, after a confusing loop and an accidental detour into a pretty large Asda, she found herself at the top of the stone steps.

She let out a soft sigh of relief, actively trying not to look winded or, God forbid, sweaty. Her hip had clicked twice on the way up. Possibly three times. It sounded like she was entirely made of poorly-assembled IKEA parts.

After spending far too long squinting at the slightly crumpled, deeply unhelpful museum map, she was almost ready to make a beeline for the Roman Empire exhibit.

The Romans had always been a fascination of hers growing up. She could still hear Harry's voice teasing her about her inexplicable schoolgirl crush on Julius Caesar. At the time, Vivienne had insisted it was the leadership she admired.

Now, she was starting to realize it may have just been the trauma.

After weaving through the other exhibits—Greek, Mesopotamian, a brief flirtation with Medieval Arms—she found herself circling back. Nothing quite grabbed her the way the Romans did. Still, she appreciated the artifacts, the worn details, the quiet hum of preserved history.

But what she didn't expect was actual human interaction. Like, beyond buying a ticket or offering a quick awkward smile to a passing tourist. She wasn't prepared.

She took a slow step back, eyes fixed on the statue of Dionysus in front of her. There was something eerie and beautiful about it—the way the marble framed his face, the tilt of his smirk.

And then—bump.

Vivienne gasped, audibly which was quite embarrassing, as she backed right into something solid.

Or, more specifically, someone.

"Oh god—"

"It's fine," a voice replied—low, rough, just gravelly enough to feel cinematic.

She turned, eyes dragging upward.

He was tall.

T A L L.

Broad shoulders. Jawline like it was carved from the same stone as Dionysus himself. Scars, too—faint, but enough to suggest he knew violence a little too well. That didn't make him not handsome, though. No, no, it made him dangerously handsome.

Tall... and those biceps? Hunky. Like... objectively.

But it was his eyes that stopped her. Icy, piercing, like he saw a little too much, too fast. It made her stomach do something dumb. Flippy.

"I'm so sorry—I should've looked where I was going," she stammered, panic already bubbling under her skin. Her face was hot. Great. She

could feel the embarrassing red creeping up her neck.

"It's all good. No worries," he chuckled, easy and low.

Then, with a glance toward the statue: "You seem to really like Dionysus, huh?"

Vivienne felt her brain short-circuit slightly. Small talk. Her oldest nemesis.

"Oh! Uh—yeah. I mean... I love the statues." She winced. That sounded weird. Who says that? Who just admits to being in love with statues like some creepy art freak with no friends?

"They are beautiful," he said, humming his agreement. There was a smoothness to the way he spoke—measured, unhurried.

Somehow that made it worse.

"Did you know," she started, trying to recover, "Romans usually sculpted the bodies first and then attached the heads separately?"

He raised a brow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Oh yeah?"

"I mean, they did that when they were mass-producing sculptures. Swapping heads depending on who was emperor. But like—did it actually save them time?" she asked, laughing a little despite herself.

That earned her something unexpected: a real laugh. A deep, throaty sound that made her insides coil weirdly. Not in a bad way.

"You sure know a lot about the Romans," he said, eyes twinkling. "Maybe you're Ovid incarnated."

Vivienne blinked. "Wow. Bold of you to assume I'm not already."

Saved by the buzzing from her bag, she cursed under her breath and fished out her phone.

SISTER DEAR. I HAVE ACQUIRED YOU AN INTERNSHIP WITH SCOTLAND YARD. PUT YOUR PASSION TO GOOD USE. MEET D. GRANT LESTRADE.

-J.W

Vivienne blinked.

Okay. Weird.

She knew immediately this wasn't actually her brother—not really. Sure, it came from his number, but John had never signed off his texts in his life. He barely texted at all. And definitely not like a sentient fax machine. No. This had Sherlock written all over it. Robot speech and all.

"Meeting someone?" the gruff voice pulled her back to reality.

"Huh? Oh—uh, no. Just... my brother," she replied, smiling sheepishly as she shoved her phone deep into her bag again. Right into the crumby abyss, where granola bar shrapnel lived and phone charging ports went to die.

"It was nice meeting you—um, I've gotta—" she gestured vaguely at the wall, then quickly corrected herself and pointed at the actual exit. "That way."

"I'm Sean by the-"

One last awkward smile, and she was gone—practically sprinting, nearly colliding with another person on her way out but catching her balance just in time

#jim moriarty x oc #jim moriarty x reader #jim moriarty fanfic #sherlock bbc x reader #bbc sherlock x oc #sherlock x reader #sherlock x oc #bbc sherlock fanfiction #sherlock fanfic #sherlock fanfiction

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drefear · 2 years ago

Text

Hail to the King

Chapter 5: Distractions

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is the head of the biggest mafia family in Nueva York, scaring almost all of its citizens. Except you. And that’s exactly what he needs.

TW: mentions of smut, reader is a lot ruder now, Miguel's still kinda annoying, stalking, lying.

A/N: This chapter is not very horny, I know, but it’s a lot of story for the plot, so bare with me (there’s a little bit of sexy in the next part tho so don’t worry)

The days at Gwen’s were peaceful and calming, having someone around to help you mentally sort through your mess. She was sweet and honest about everything, and you couldn’t help but love having a friend through all of this insanity.

Lyla visited the second day and brought some sort of news, although you weren’t so sure if it was good or bad.

“So there was a man coming to my fire escape?” You cleared up and Lyla nodded, big sunglasses on the top of her head now. Her eyes glanced between you and Gwen before she spoke again.

“I had facial recognition software identify him, and he seems to be a part of another mob in Nueva York.” She opened her laptop and activated the holographic spectating, using a special glove that only covered three of her fingers and poking at the holograms. Expanding to one area, she showed you his face closer. Your eyes scanned something before your eyes widened. “Stop.” You touched her shoulder, “That… that was Eddie’s best friend, he was at our wedding.” You mumbled, thinking to yourself about the guest list you’d worked so hard on. The two women stared at you as you pulled out your phone and scrolled through many photos, landing on one and zooming in. You were right. In the far left corner, smiling, was that man.

“What was his name?” Gwen asked, and you and Lyla both answered at the same time.

“William Baker.” The two of you looked at each other and you just sighed.

“Listen, I know you’re not going to want to hear this, but you need to stay somewhere else for a few days.” Lyla continued and Gwen just nodded along, but you slumped your shoulders.

“I can’t keep staying here, what if they find me here? I’d be putting Gwen in danger.” You frantically looked between Lyla and Gwen, and Lyla bit her lip.

“Stay with one of the guys. Hoobie used to let me stay over all the time-” Gwen spoke, but your brows furrowed.

“How do you know Hobie?” You asked and Gwen’s eyes snapped to yours, then to Lyla’s. Something was wrong again, you could feel it. You repeated your question, this time much more firm. “Gwen. How do you know Hobie?”

“He’s… he would come into the restaurant sometimes, he’s a lot closer to Miles than he is with me-” She smiled, but you weren’t buying it. They were all keeping something from you.

“He was closer to Miles, but he used to let you sleep over?” You clarified, and she scratched her head.

“Yeah, well, it was only once or twice, I was just exaggerating.”

“Uh-huh.” You stared her down before hearing your cell phone ring, MIguel’s name popping up as you shot her a warning glance once more. “I’m going to answer him, and then you’re going to tell me what you’re hiding.” A look of relief crossed Gwen’s face before you stood up and moved to go talk in the kitchen. “Yes?” You answered, now annoyed.

“Has Lyla filled you in yet?” He spoke with finality.

“Yeah, and I know him. He was friends with Eddie, and he was at my wedding, so I guess you were right about the outside help.” Your lips hated how the conversation tasted as you admitted he was right.

“Miggy, come back to bed.” A feminine voice spoke from Miguel’s end of the phone and you just scrunched your eyes together.

“I’m busy.” He answered, and you could hear the irritation in how he spoke.

“You sound like you’ve had a good morning so far.” You shot at him and he groaned.

“Not in the slightest. These women are too clingy, I can’t stand it.” He explained in frustration and you could hear a door slam shut.

“Well, as much as I’d love to discuss your personal problems, I have other issues to ask about.” “Shoot.”

“What is Gwen hiding from me?” You asked and his side fell quiet, something you weren’t used to. He always had some sarcastic one liners to shut you up, or shut you down with. His silence usually meant that the truth was bad.

“In this line of business, if you’re not being told something, it’s almost always for your own good. Try not to meddle too deep, or you might not like what you find.”

“Don’t try to say some hero shit, I want the truth if I can’t even sleep in my own bed.” You demanded and he just sighed.

“Fine. Come to my apartment in two hours.” He concluded and hung up, leaving you without a solid answer once more. The bastard.

Time felt like it was moving slower than normal as you got ready, Lyla sitting on Gwen’s bed as you got dressed.

“I feel like Miguel just needs a woman to put him in his place, ya know?” Lyla rambled on about how your boss was just a big softie with female problems, but you weren’t buying it.

“He needs to see a therapist for his sex addiction, actually.” You answered, which made Lyla laugh as Gwen sat quietly. She’d looked guilty ever since you’d come back from your phone call with Miguel. Who could blame her? She was lying about your safety, hiding crucial information from you while you were staying under her roof. It felt awful.

“Maybe he’s lonely?” Gwen chimed in, making both you and Lyla answer at the same time once more.

“Definitely not.” The synchronization made you all laugh. Gwen was a wonderful friend, that was for sure, but Lyla was a whole other level of bonding. It was as if she was programmed to be your best friend, and she was doing an incredible job.

The three of you gabbed on for a while until a car arrived in the lobby of Gwen’s apartment building to take you to see Miguel.

Your feet felt like lead as you begrudgingly walked into the elevator and hit the button for the penthouse. A buzz rang through the wall of the elevator and a feminine voice answered. “Can I help you?”

“Lyla.” You spoke and there was a laugh.

“Yeah, I know! I just thought it’d be funny.” A ding sound indicated that she had let you bypass the security system for his apartment and the elevator moved. You leaned your head to the back of the elevator and sighed, closing your eyes. The exhaustion of the past few days had finally hit you like a ton of bricks, made your body want to bend over and curl into a ball. You wanted a nap.

The doors opened again and your eyes darted around in surprise. You’d known Miguel was rich and organized, but his apartment was something you saw in a magazine. Nothing could have prepared you for how his personal space might look.

He walked down a flight of stairs towards where you stood in the center of his living room, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants. You wondered if this man only owned suits and sweats.

“You’re late.”

“Nice to see you, too.” You answered his blunt rudeness as he gestured for you to sit on his couch. “Ok, answers.” You stated and he rolled his eyes, grabbing two bottles of water and handing you one.

“Let’s start with the most important part. Your ex has been working with Kingpin, my biggest rival and one of the worst mobs in the city. He directly works with sex trades and child labor.” He sat next to you and leaned back into the soft cushions, as if he was just speaking about his day. You immediately hated this Kingpin guy. “We’ve found that your ex has been intertwined with Kingpin for a very long time, and even has some pull with Kingpin. His title among Kingpin is Venom, and he specializes in making people disappear.”

“Disappear?” You asked, as if you didn’t know the answer already, and Miguel brought his hands up to make air quotes, confirming your assumption.

“This is more of a newer specialty of his, in the last year. How long has it been since you two were living together?” You clear your throat, fear catching onto your tongue and making it feel heavy. “A-About a year. We were separated for a bit and I’d come home on and off, or he’d leave for long periods of time.” You touched your throat, imagining what he could have been doing while he was gone. “Was I- Did I marry a murderer?” Miguel just stared down towards the floor, expression unreadable and almost stoic except for the small crinkle between his eyebrows.

“You’re surrounded by murderers, technically.” He answered and your breath caught in your throat, but he continued, “Something you should remember is that everyone has the ability to be a killer, and many people use that ability, but few people use that ability for the good of the world.” He spoke softly and you nodded, a chill creeping up the back of your neck.

“Where do you fall?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, and he leaned forward onto his elbows, bowing his head.

“I like to think everything I do is for the better of everyone, even if I go down in the process.” The gravel of his voice makes you feel warm and a flame sparks in your stomach, a new feeling. You scoot closer to him and continue to listen. “Those I train, or who work for me, they don’t just join for fame or notoriety. A lot of them were wronged by life, innocent until they were forced to learn how to see in the dark. That includes Gwen.” His eyes flash to you and it’s as if they turn you to stone, not being able to move on your own accord. “And that now includes you.”

“What if I don’t want to?” “Then you can turn around and try to survive blindly. You can pretend nothing ever happened, and hope that it doesn’t follow you around for the rest of your life.” He stares into your eyes harder, more serious, and you begin to wonder when he got so close. “But that hope doesn’t usually last long.”

Silence drips down the length of the walls as you two sit, inches from one another, smelling his breath and feeling the heat of his body so close to yours. As you're both about to collide, a loud ding sounds around the apartment and you jump backwards from the sudden interruption. Miguel barely even reacts, a deep frown on his features now as he turns to the elevator.

“Hey!” A friendly voice echoes off of the walls and footsteps follow as you turn to see Peter walking towards you both. He stops at the sight of Miguel’s angry face and flashes a look between the two of you. “Am I bothering you?”

“The answer is always yes, Peter.” Miguel stands and makes his way towards the other.

“Jeez, I was just here to pick up the tech and lists for the event, but if I’m such a bother-”

“Shut up and take it.” The larger of the two demands and you stand up, finally getting your bearings and coming to your senses. Your mind thought about Miguel saying those words to you in a very different scenario, but you quickly snapped out of it. He was your boss. Your whorish, annoying, rude boss with a taste for organized crime.

That’s going to be a hard no.

Standing up, you looked away and waited for him to be done. Peter’s eyes found your form and he launched over to you in a hurry. “How are you? It’s been so long, Miles says he misses you all the time, always making jokes you’d laugh at.” He rambles and you nod, smiling wide at the thought of being around Peter and Miles again. Miguel stands behind Peter, scowling at his distracted nature and folding his arms angrily.

“I miss you all too.” You concluded.

God, did you want to escape already.

Peter finally left after going on and on about his daughter for around 10 minutes, to which Miguel finally snapped and started yelling in spanish. You just stood there and watched the interaction as they bickered and Miguel forced Peter out. He sighed once the elevator doors closed and leaned on the wall for a moment. As he stood there, almost statuesque, you took in his size and it finally hit you. How large he is. You bit your lip and thought about the seconds before Peter walked in unannounced.

What would have happened if he didn’t break you two out of that seductive trance? Your cheeks began to heat up and you turned to look out the window.

“Are you prepared for the gala?” His voice broke you from your trance, and you nodded, not meeting his eyes as he spoke. This seemed to irritate him. “You picked a dress? I want to see it.” He announced, and you finally looked up, now giving him a dirty look. “I don’t trust your sense of style.”

“Too bad. Beggars can’t be choosers.” You hissed and he stalked to you in a few steps, showing his size from how few strides he had to take to walk across his wide apartment to meet you.

His head bent down to give you a dark look. “I never beg.” He stated as a fact and you felt a shiver move through your spine. Shaking your head, you still refused. “You’re making me go, I’m picking the dress.” This seemed to be a battle of wills and neither of you were breaking. “Is that all?” You asked and placed your hands on your hips, attitude obvious in the snark of your words. He clicked his tongue.

“That’s all, for now, but I might need to teach you manners soon if you keep this spoiled brat act up.” His words made your eyes go wide with anger.

“Spoiled brat?” You barked and he smirked, enjoying getting a rise out of you. “Now, get out. I have someone coming soon, since my morning release didn’t work out.” He turned his back to you once more, and you admired how broad his shoulders were, how his back muscles rippled and shifted. He exuded power, and you’d be damned if you let him get the best of you.

The words Gwen said echoed in your head. ‘Maybe he’s just lonely.’

“Maybe your morning release would be more satisfying if you didn’t get head at random times of day.” When he didn’t react, you continued, not fully understanding where this annoyance about his sex life was coming from anymore. “Maybe you’re just lonely.” The words came out before you could stop them and he finally turned back to face you, an incredulous look on his face from your audacity. “Either way, I don’t want to lay witness to whatever stupid married woman you convince to jerk you off with tweezers.” You stomped towards the elevator and pouted for a second before his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

“Hijo de su-” You could barely hear the rest of whatever he said as he yanked your body towards him. He glowered down at your shocked face as he picked up his phone and listened to it ring.

“Yo.” Lyla answered and Miguel stared down into your eyes. “Cancel the girl. There’s something I need to fix right now.”

Chapter 4

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