#BUT ID LIKE TO I’ve done a bit of research and these aren’t the first charms I’ve made so

[tobisaw]

This is gonna get like 3 votes BUT IDC!!!! A few people under my Tommy charm post seemed genuinely interested in them and I was wondering if anyone would be interested in me selling some… realistically I would like to make some for the entire science and then maybe Darnold + Forzen if I have the money. They’d probably look like the first image but I’d like to do some smaller and cheaper ones like the second image if I can too

[practicalsolarpunk]

Let’s talk about seed bombs

They’re pretty cool, right? Planting flowers, saving the bees, guerilla gardening, what’s not to love? But there are some things to consider before jumping in, in order to ensure that they are effective and to avoid causing any harm to the local ecosystem.

1. Native species

Many of the seed bombs available for purchase are... less than responsible about what kinds of seeds they use, even the ones that advertise as native. Read the list of species, look them up, ascertain whether or not they’re actually native to your specific region.  Take the U.S. for example. It’s a massive country, and while a particular plant may be native to the country in general, it may be native to a state on the opposite coast. Do your research, make sure the seeds are actually native to your specific area. 

Some resources to help with that*:

https://www.audubon.org/native-plants

https://www.wildflower.org/plants/

https://www.nwf.org/NativePlantFinder/Plants

https://xerces.org/pollinator-conservation/pollinator-friendly-plant-lists (scroll down on this page and there’s some international resources, too)

2. Where to place them

This one is a bit harder, because there are so many variables.  Is the soil bare? Why? Is the soil so poor nothing will grow there, not even the most tenacious weeds? Is it high traffic? Is it heavily compacted? Some kind of pollution leaking into the soil and making it inhospitable?

Or is the soil covered? Is it grass? Is it a native grass? Does it get mowed? Is it going to get sprayed? If it isn’t grass, what’s already growing there? Is it native species? Is it naturalized, polite, nonnative species that aren’t threatening the biodiversity of the regions? Or is it a highly invasive nonnative that will choke out anything else trying to grow?

Observe the area for a while.  What kind of sunlight does it get? Is it wet? Dry? Is there erosion? Mixing many different types of seeds together into one bomb might not be the best idea - even plants that are native to your area can have vastly different needs. The resources above should also have information about the growing conditions for the plants. Again - do your research. 

3. Saving the bees

Not to stir the pot too much, but honeybees, while facing issues due to pesticides primarily, are not really in danger of extinction, they’re supported by humans enough to survive.  Native bees, on the other hand, are, and we depend on them just as much, if not more, for pollination of our food than we do on honeybees. Pretty much globally, native bees and other pollinators and insects in general are in dire straits.  They are desperately in need of love, less poison, habitat, and food sources.  So, what kinds of bees and other pollinators do you have in your area? Which ones are most threatened? What do they eat? Where do they live? Many times, native insects have their own niche they fill, with specific plants that they depend on, and those plants depend on those specific insects in return.  It’s pretty fascinating to do a deep dive into local insect and plant species, and their interactions. Once again, research is the way to go!

Some resources*:

https://www.nrcs.usda.gov/wps/portal/nrcs/main/national/plantsanimals/pollinate/

https://saveplants.org/pollinator-search/

4. Over seeding

Ok, some of the recipes I’ve linked below call for absurd amounts of seeds per batch - don’t do it.  The seeds won’t spread out, so they’ll all be attempting to grow in maybe a few square inches of space at the most.  Each bomb should only have a few seeds, otherwise in their fight for space, sun, nutrients, and water, they’ll all die.  Putting a dozen or more seeds in a single bomb is wasteful, expensive, and counterproductive.  There is literally no benefit to it, please, for the love everything green and growing in the world, don’t do it.

Now that we’ve covered some of the things that need to be taken into consideration, let’s talk about how to actually do this, hopefully successfully!

1. Seriously consider making your own! The process of making them involves wetting all the ingredients, including the seeds, which may start the germination process.  If they then dry out again, they likely won’t grow.  It will likely work best to make them right before planting, and toss them before they have a chance to dry too much.  Also, if you make your own, you can be 100% sure that the species are well suited for the area, because you’ve done your research! Good for you, working hard to ensure those little bombs have a big impact!

Here’s some recipes, take your pick! (But, as mentioned above, ignore the parts that say to use too many seeds - you only want a few in each bomb. depending on the type of seed.)

https://www.wildlifetrusts.org/actions/how-make-seed-bomb

https://littlebinsforlittlehands.com/make-seed-bombs-earth-day-activity/

https://seed-balls.com/basic-seed-ball-recipe

And a handy image via this site:

[photo id: a graphic titled How to make seed bombs. Below it reads: You will need: meadow flower seeds or seeds collected from the garden, peat-free compost, water, powdered clay from craft shops - use clay soil if you can’t find any, mixing bowl.  1. In a bowl, mix together 1 cup of seeds with 5 cups of compost and 2-3 cups of clay powder. 2 Slowly mix in water with your hands until everything sticks together, then roll mixture into firm balls. 3 (no words, but a drawing of seed bombs laying on grass). 4 Now for the fun bit - plant by throwing your seed bombs at bare parts of the garden!]

2. Toss them out in the spring (or whatever season they germinate best in), when you know there will be a few rainy days in row.  Seeds need wet to germinate, and good, steady moisture for the first bit of growing.  If that isn’t feasible in your region, consider going back to water them gently at least once a day for a few days or a week or more, until the seedlings are strong enough to withstand a bit of drought.  Unless, of course, the seeds are wet loving, and have been tossed somewhere that already maintains a decent moisture level for them.

3. Where to get seeds

Collect from native plants already growing in your area, that you have permission to collect from, or that are on public land.  Make sure you are 100% sure of your id - don’t want to be spreading invasive species around!

Buy them from a reputable source such as*:

https://www.prairiemoon.com/ (they have lots of awesome info about native species in north america - a great resource!)

https://www.nativeseeds.org/  (focuses on food crops mostly, but a fantastic resource all the same)

https://www.seedsource.com/

Another method if you’ve got space is to buy seeds, but plant them in your own garden and collect seeds from them. Those seeds can get really expensive, so this way you only need a few, and then with time they’ll multiply!

Try to make connections with people in your area already growing native plants - they’ll probably be happy to help you get started with some seeds!

Phew that was a lot of information! I hope it helps you all in your bombing adventures!

- Mod S

*North America focused, I’m sorry, I tried to find resources and databases for other regions and couldn’t find ones that looked reliable or comprehensive. If anyone has any, please add it on or send in an ask.

[antis-delete-your-blogs-pls-thx]

Can you explain with some references how fiction is effective catharsis when researchers like BJ Bushman have repeatedly shown that violent media are ineffective catharsis and can increase aggression?

Let me put the references up first. These are for mental illness treatment specifically, but neurotypical people aren’t so different from us that they can’t also enjoy the benefits. We’ve all got human brains in the end:

https://journals.plos.org/plosone/article?id=10.1371/journal.pone.0208716

https://doi.org/10.1521/pedi_2017_31_312

https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/1524838014555032

https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/advances-in-psychiatric-treatment/article/emotional-and-physical-health-benefits-of-expressive-writing/ED2976A61F5DE56B46F07A1CE9EA9F9F

http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/15299730903502979

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/8831163/ <-- I would describe this one as most relevant and critical to the issue at hand

https://link.springer.com/article/10.1023/A:1020353109229

https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0005789412000615 <-- This one covers latine communities, very interesting. Marginalised people do make up most of the pro ship community, so glad to see some studying done on the intersection of marginalisation and trauma.

https://doi.org/10.1002/jclp.10144 <--- This one is specifically relevant because it discusses self-treatment. As in, you can apply these techniques without a licensed practitioner present.

As for the explanation, I’ve gotten into detail about it before, I’ll see if I can dig up those posts later. 

Essentially, violent media can increase aggression in the short-term, and only in certain circumstances. For violent video games, for example, a significant factor in subsequent aggression is how competitive the game was. Long-term effects are a lot harder to measure, and given crime rates have been decreasing, violent media is mainly considered a possible risk factor for already at-risk subjects, but not a guarantee. Along the lines of being poor or from a single-parent household, both of which are things we can all agree do not cause aggressive behaviour, despite correlation. Also important to note, age is incredibly important here. Children are easily swayed by fictional media. This gradually decreases with age, to the point where a piece of media that might result in more aggressive behaviour from a teenager may have little to no effect on an adult. If you need me to grab references for that, I can probably dig some up, but most of this was taught to me by my professors, so it’s a bit difficult to throw out a specific article.

[void-galaxy-shenanigans]

ADHD/Executive Dysfunction, Gaslighting, & How To Cope Infodump

~~ on how to recognize & cope with executive dysfunction & gaslighting ~~

Context: We made a post (¿Aiden I think posted it? I wasn’t front—) about ADHD and battling executive dysfunction a bit ago that’s gaining some traction. We got a question related to that post that I’m here to help with.

(I’ll address this towards the person who asked & address their specific concerns, but it can be for anyone who needs to hear it or would be helped by this, & you’re welcome to reply if you want me to expand on something that helps you personally.)

Original question:

[Image ID: “Help, what if my brain has adapted to know that if the only thing in my way is myself, it means there’s nothing in the way?

My logical reasoning and emotions clash a lot over who makes the decisions, and the one time logic always wins is the situation where I’m supposed to take advantage of how my emotions always win

My thoughts always follow this type of pattern:

(emotions) what if my problems aren’t from executive dysfunctioning at all? What if I’m actually just lazy?

(reasoning) that’s just self invalidation! It’s not like I don’t want to do the work, I understand the importance of school

(emotions) but I always justify everything I do; I can never accept my faults

(reasoning) that’s human nature; no one intentionally makes terrible decisions!” (/end ID)]

** Why I’m responding & who I am **

My name is Spirit, my pronouns are he/they, and I’m a protector in our system. I’m also our psychology researcher - one part of my role as a psychological protector is to look into psychology and turn what I find into something accessible and soothing for others. Psychology—mental disorders, and neurodivergence especially (currently called “abnormal psychology”)—is one of my favourite subjects, even to the point of hyperfixation and potentially a special interest. I like to help people, especially people who struggle with the things I do a lot of research on. I’ve done mounds of research on ADHD and executive dysfunction especially (I have a lot of info on specific symptoms I can share if people are interested to hear), since our body is diagnosed with ADHD and I wanted to be able to help us succeed despite its difficulties.

** Intro-y Thing **

I’m going to give you the technical jargon and specific details of this, then break down what that means so it makes sense, and how to use that information (Terms/What’s Happening), and from there lead into what you can do about this (Helpful To Know/Questions To Ask Yourself). Feel free to jump around between sections and/or read (& reread) this over the course of several days, because it’s a lot.

So there are a couple things at play here - Imposter Syndrome, and (self) gaslighting.

** Terms/What’s Happening **

Imposter Syndrome is that voice in your head telling you that you aren’t allowed to take credit for your accomplishments because “I took longer than I should’ve” or because “someone else helped me”, and also the voice trying to tell you that it isn’t actually executive dysfunction. It might be helpful to imagine Imposter Syndrome as someone you love saying those things about themselves, because usually with loved ones (friends, family, etc.) your first instinct is to reassure and comfort them. Imposter Syndrome is, more often than not, a byproduct of gaslighting - you feel like a fraud because people told you that you were/accused you of being one.

People are not born to hate themselves and think themselves fake.

Imposter Syndrome is amplified when you’re masking. Masking gives the Imposter Syndrome a microphone and some lights to create big shadows (/metaphor), which makes it seem much bigger and more true than it really is. That’s because you think if you can do these things when people hover and force you to, then you should be able to on your own, so instead of trying to work with your brain you end up fighting it and beating yourself up (/met), which makes you struggle even more.

When it comes to your brain realizing that ‘if there is nothing in my way, and only I’m stopping me’, if the thought stopped there it would be empowering, because you can step out of your own way and just do the thing. This works when you’re choosing to not do something, or afraid to start because you’re afraid to fail (remember, birds don’t just fly - they fall down, then get up, & you don’t learn without making mistakes to learn from). But you’re extending this logic to things you actually aren’t stopping/choosing to stop - to your executive dysfunction. You are not your executive dysfunction, therefore you are not actually the one stopping you.

As far as the dialogue itself, the back and forth you described, that’s not actually your emotions speaking. The emotion there is actually self invalidation stemming from invalidation from others. You are taught to invalidate yourself by others, and this isn’t something you do consciously, so (naturally) many people mistake this for your own inner voice and emotions. The technical term for this is gaslighting - so let’s talk about what gaslighting is, and what self-gaslighting is.

Gaslighting as a term stems from a movie where a man dims the gas lights in his house to a lower level, and when a woman he’s living with points out that the lights are dimmer he insists they’re not, and he keeps insisting this for so long that she starts to question if she was right and her own perception of reality, and to think she’s crazy.

The point of gaslighting is to erase others’ experiences as a form of manipulation, so you (1) can’t be held accountable for something (because it “never happened”), (2) don’t have to meet a person’s needs or desires (insist they don’t want it or that you already gave them it & they must have lost it), or (3) you can have control, or some combination of those three. At its core, gaslighting is replacing someone’s reality and facts with your own perception and lies.

When it comes to executive dysfunction (from depression, anxiety, autism, ADHD, etc.), gaslighting is used often by parents and authority figures who (1) don’t understand you have executive dysfunction (non malicious), (2) don’t “believe” in executive dysfunction (usually non malicious & often stems from people who also have it & never got accommodations, not that that excuses it), or (3) don’t want to do any work to accomodate you so they just deny you have executive dysfunction.

Here are some examples of ableist gaslighting you may have heard (& I’ll include the gaslight-y phrases you’ve learned to say to yourself too, reframed as if said by someone else):

“You’re just lazy.”

“If you just tried harder and applied yourself, you could do it.”

“It’s really not that hard.”

“I don’t wanna hear any excuses; stop justifying your laziness.”

“You can never accept your faults.”

“ADHD/autism isn’t a real thing.”

“Well if you can scroll through social media, you can obviously get your homework done.”

“If you have the energy to [insert thing you’re doing or thing they assume you want to do], you have the energy to [insert task they expect you to prioritize, like chores or school].”

& for broader society gaslighting, you’ve probably heard “no one listens to that song anymore”, “everyone loves xyz!”, “no one wears that”, “all black people are criminals”.

Why are these gaslighting?

Well, in part because they make very broad, often racist/classist/ableist/etc. generalizations. But also because they erase the real-life experiences and facts of the reality of the person or group they’re directed at, and replace it with whatever is convenient for the company/person/etc. that’s doing the gaslighting. That’s the essence of gaslighting. Many people are gaslit without realizing it, because it’s a normalized form of psychological abuse (yes, it’s abuse).

It’s effective manipulation because even if you reject it the first time because you *know* that school (or whatever it is) is actually important to you, it still gets internalized, especially when you’re 0-25 years old (yes, all the way to 25, because our brains are still developing). So this leads to self-gaslighting - “I’m stupid”, “I must just not like school/care about this project”, “I’m so lazy”, which will carry all the way to your grave if you let it.

And even when it’s you saying it to yourself, it’s still inherently the voices of others. If you pay attention to that voice, it probably sounds like your mom, your teacher, an ex-friend, maybe even someone currently in your circles (but hopefully not). It might be helpful to envision that voice as a parrot, or some other visualization that you can either ignore completely or argue with (because what your reasoning is doing in that dialogue is fighting the self gaslighting - the reasoning is your own inner voice, your true authentic experience speaking).

** Helpful To Know/Questions To Ask Yourself **

Are you lazy, procrastinating, understimulated/overstimulated, or experiencing executive dysfunction? How can you tell the difference?

Laziness is a conscious choice. It’s when you don’t want to do something, don’t care if it gets done or who has to do it if you don’t, and choose to not do it. You lounge on the couch and watch your frazzled and overworked housemate/roommate clean for you. The important factors here are (1) you actively choose to not do the thing because you don’t want to do it and (2) you don’t feel any guilt. You don’t feel bad, or shame yourself (tell yourself you’re a bad friend/partner/etc.), or apologize repeatedly, or think you’re useless. You probably don’t even feel lazy, and if you do you don’t care that you’re lazy.

Procrastination is putting off a task that you want to do, because you’re afraid of failure/criticism or because you’re a perfectionist, or because you have low self-esteem, or because you have trouble focusing or getting started, or any number of other reasons. But the important part is you want to do the task, but tell yourself you’ll do it later/plan to do it later. Sometimes you’ll procrastinate because of executive dysfunction, or overstimulation/understimulation.

Understimulation will likely feel like depression. This is part of ADHD - it happens because the ADHD brain is low in residual dopamine, AKA base levels of the motivation and energy chemical. Non-ADHDers have two kinds of dopamine, residual (sits there ready to use) and temporary (bursts on command). Temporary dopamine hits come from things like sugar (latte/sugared coffee, sugared tea, sweets, but also things like milk that have low added sugar), caffeine (coffee, tea), compliments and encouragement, stimming (neurotypicals stim too, just less - (examples nts also do:) watching TikToks is a visual & audio stim, listening to music is an audio stim, etc.), exercise (to a level that’s safe & good for your body), eating food (especially safe foods/your favourite foods), and completing tasks, especially if that task has a reward (e.g. beating a video game level & getting cool gear). Non-ADHDers, however, because they have a base level in the middle ground (not depressed, but not manic), tend to get brief mania (excitement, joy) from temporary dopamine. ADHDers have a base level that’s low, to the point of depression and even suicidal ideation (idealizing), and 90% of our dopamine has to come from temporary hits. So we stim, we fidget, we play video games, we listen to a good song - we find the thing that gives us the biggest hit of temporary dopamine. If any of these things help, you’re likely understimulated. Doing something that gives you dopamine helps this.

Overstimulation for us usually feels like drowning. Deep water pressure, everything is echoey and distant and far off, dissociated (feeling detached from yourself (depersonalization), reality (derealization), or both), etc. This is common for both ADHD and autism, and usually happens in environments with a lot of stimuli at once (a party (bright lights, voices, loud music, smell of food or alcohol or maybe puke), a home (people yelling, dogs barking, TV running loud, bright lights, etc.), etc.). Stimming can help release this pressure, or sometimes isolating in your safe space (a dark bedroom with a weighted blanket and minimized stimuli works wonders for us). Be patient with yourself when this happens and give it time to pass, even while doing everything you can to make it stop.

Executive dysfunction is a danger response. I know that may not make sense, but hear me out.

Executive functions, when operating the way they’re supposed to, are danger assessment. They assess social danger (the possibility of being rejected, laughed at, etc. if you don’t meet a certain social standard or follow the right script) and physical danger (e.g. the possibility of being hit by a car if you run across the road). It’s a subconscious process that the brain goes through, checking off boxes. “Is this appropriate for this social context? Is this a place where I’m supposed to be formal, or can I use text speak? Is this going to get me rejected and laughed at?”; “Is this safe? Is there danger (a car, a cop, etc.) nearby? Is there a crosswalk that’s safer to use? Did I check both ways?”. Once the brain checks yes to everything good and safe, and no to everything dangerous, it gives you a ‘yea go ahead’ signal. If your brain checks no to something good and safe, or yes to something dangerous, it makes you either stop to re-evaluate, or not do the thing at all. The purpose of executive dysfunction is social survival, and emotional/physical/etc. survival. It’s the voice going “no, turning the car into oncoming traffic is unsafe”, “you can’t punch that guy, this is a Wendy’s and you need to chill”, and also the voice that tells you “doing homework is a priority, writing this story can wait and I’ll remember it later”.

So what your brain is going to do with dysfunctional executive functions is one of two things: (1) act impulsively, and do something dangerous, because it assumes ‘well, the functions system didn’t say it’s unsafe so it must be safe’, or (2) freeze.

Typically, the response you are going to notice is the freeze. It’s choice paralysis, because your brain is waiting for the executive functions to tell it which task to prioritize. It’s zoning out because your brain is waiting for your executive functions to tell you to start a task. It’s trying to go take a shower, but getting stuck on the floor in the bathroom because your brain decided it’s too dangerous to shower because the executive functions didn’t say to go ahead. You won’t consciously think “this is dangerous”, but if you can get your brain & body to feel safe and start the task, that’s the root of the freeze.

You can think of executive dysfunction like a confused little kid waiting for mom and dad to tell them it’s okay. They sit there for hours, days, maybe months (burnout), because “well, mom and dad didn’t say it’s safe, so I’m supposed to assume it’s dangerous until they say otherwise, because you never know.”

The good thing about this is you can tell the kid (executive dysfunction) what’s safe and what’s not safe consciously. You can say “alright kiddo, we’re gonna do homework now, and we’re gonna learn, and it’s safe to start.” You can consciously think through the questions the the functions system isn’t walking through to prove to executive dysfunction that it’s okay to go ahead. Stop yourself before doing something dangerous and impulsive, and walk through “could this get me hurt? Is there a safer way to do this?” so you can reassure the kid. Encourage the kid to try something new, and walk through “how is this possibly dangerous? how could this benefit me if it’s done?”. Executive dysfunction will likely listen, if you find the right words and tone for you. Because it’s like a little kid, and kids are unique, I can’t tell you for sure what will work for you. Your dysfunction might be okay just being told “it’s safe to start” or “that’s not safe kiddo” without question, or it might want you to explain how or why or to walk through the questions of executive function with them. Find what works for you.

The frustrating thing about this is it takes a lot of energy out of you (in part because your body is built to run this subconsciously with no effort from you, so being forced to do it consciously is draining). Executive dysfunction is stubborn, just like a little kid. “You’re not my real mom! :(” fits can happen. But be patient, like you’re trying to explain something to a four year old. It may not happen when you want it to happen, but eventually executive dysfunction will start to listen and cooperate with you to some extent. And when they aren’t listening, well, sit down in the darkness with them (/met) and wait them out. Love them anyway.

When it comes to calling yourself lazy on top of this, it compounds (amplifies) the problem. That kid (executive dysfunction) gets even more scared and anxious, and shuts down/freezes worse, because now they just feel like a bad kid (shame) and like they did something wrong (guilt) when they were just trying (misled but well meaning) to protect you.

And beyond that, ADHD dysfunction specifically might be trying to “protect” you from a task that won’t give you enough dopamine, or will drain your dopamine (taking levels that are already low even lower). So sometimes, giving yourself a boost of dopamine (drinking coffee/tea, watching a TikTok or listening to a good song, cuddling a pet, etc.) may solve this issue and let you get started, because now you have enough dopamine to survive the boring task without being completely defeated and drained afterwards.

** Important Points/Summary **

Basically, because you do care that the work is not getting done, you are not lazy. You might be procrastinating or experiencing executive dysfunction, or you might be understimulated/overstimulated, but you aren’t lazy. And calling yourself lazy isn’t helping you do the task, and is probably making you freeze more.

Being ADHD (or in any way neurodivergent or mentally ill) can be a struggle. The important thing is knowing when to ask for help, and when to be gentle and patient with yourself.

I hope something in this infodump/ramble helps. If you want to hear more about something, feel free to ask. I know this is a lot, & it’s okay to take a few days to process it and then come back later with questions.

~Spirit (he/they)

[hutchhitched]

Walk Back

Written by: @hutchhitched​

Prompt 143: The girl of my dreams asked me if I needed a ride home from campus so I obviously let her drive me home then walked back to campus a couple of hours later to get my car. [submitted by anonymous]

Ratings/Warnings: G

A/N: I’m continuing to post the nine @everlarkficexchange prompts I took and then sat on throughout the early months of the pandemic. This is the sixth of the nine. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. Huge thanks to @javistg for understanding the delays. Only three more to go!

 Peeta Mellark knows he’s got it good compared to a lot of people. He really does, but that doesn’t stop him from wallowing in pity every once in a while. He’s in college, the first in his family, on a hefty scholarship; his grades are good; he has a lot of friends and a good work study job that actually does give him some time to study. Those are all good things. They really are, and he doesn’t dispute it, but…

 He’s also had a rough home life with a mom who’s never satisfied with anything he does and a father who loves him but can’t stand up to his wife long enough to protect his three sons from her emotional abuse. He’s a first-generation college student who’s excelling in courses for his major but isn’t doing so great in all his other general education courses. He has to work a lot more than he should for someone with his course load. Worst of all, though, he’s madly in love with a woman who likely doesn’t know his name. Well, that’s probably not true, but still. She’s certainly not crazy about him the way he is mad for her.

 There’s just no way Katniss Everdeen, fellow Panem University student and the smartest girl in his biology lab, would ever give him the time of day. Not when she already has a boyfriend, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Rugged, who’s about to graduate with a promising career. That’s unlike Peeta, an art major. He’ll never amount to anything, or so his mother likes to remind him every time he’s stupid enough to visit his family.

 Besides, Katniss is beautiful and sassy and shy and so many other wonderful things. She has no idea the effect she has on him or any other male within a mile radius, including their biology professor who’s proclaimed her the most brilliant student he’s had in his twenty-two years of teaching. Peeta spends the better part of their class together watching her from across the room, which is probably why his lab partner hates him and his grade in that class absolutely sucks.

 So, while Peeta knows he’s got some things going for him, it’s not surprising that he finds himself a little down in the dumps occasionally—especially on days when his crush shows up at his workplace. It’s even worse when his co-worker knows about his hopeless infatuation and has no shame. Johanna Mason may be his least favorite person on days like that. Today happens to be one of those days. He’s cursing his life when Jo comes up behind him and leans down to whisper in his ear.

 “Oooooooooh ooooooh. Katniss is pretty, isn’t she? Look at her over there. So serious. What do you think she’s getting ready to check out, and is there any way to make it sexual when gets over here?”

 “Shut up, Jo,” Peeta hisses as his cheeks flush, and he curls into himself, trying to hide behind the circulation desk so Katniss won’t see him.

 The last thing he wants is for the girl he’s been crushing on for months to hear his co-worker tease him about his hopeless attraction. The problem is that he told Johanna in a fit of self-loathing, and she coached him through it, built him up so his ego was a little higher than the floor and prepared him some for what to say to a girl when he likes her. While it was very kind of Jo to offer, Peeta isn’t that hopeless. He’d had a number of girlfriends in high school, but none of them compare to Katniss Everdeen. She is a goddess.

“What time’s your shift done today, hot buns?”

 “Don’t call me that! What is wrong with you?” he hisses. “Why are you so terrible?”

 “Terrible? I’m trying to get you laid, buddy. It’s certainly never going to happen if I leave you to your own devices, although I’m sure you’re taking care of yourself plenty. You’re a guy, after all.”

 Peeta’s face floods with heat, and he wants to slide onto the floor and hide behind the counter. She’s not wrong—he is a healthy, twenty-one-year-old man who hasn’t dated in a while—but Peeta doesn’t want his co-worker to know that. She’ll probably tell the whole world if he confirms what she suspects. Or say something to Katniss, which would be horrifying.

 “Why do you want to know?” he asks, suspicious.

 “Knowledge is power, my friend. Knowledge is power.”

 Still not convinced, he welcomes a patron and scans the student ID he’s handed. “Exactly ten minutes,” he mutters as he types in the bar codes of the pile of library books in front of him before sliding them across the counter. It’s almost midterm, so everyone’s trying to finish projects and bibliographies for research papers before they leave for spring break. The library’s been slammed for days.

 “She’s on her way over here,” Johanna nudges him.

 He whips his head up, and his eyes widen as he realizes Jo’s right. Katniss pages through a book as she strides toward the circulation desk. Johanna turns to busy herself with a pile of returned books, and he squeezes his legs together under the desk. If he can just stop his hands from shaking, things will be great.

 “Hi, Peeta,” she says with a guarded smile as she hands him her student ID. “How’s it going?”

 “K-katniss! Hi!” His voice squeaks, and he cringes internally. He sounds like an idiot. “It’s good. I’m good. How are you?”

 “Fine. I’m fine.” She hands him her student ID, and he glances down at the book she set on the counter.

 “History of Sculpture? That’s…”

 She laughs wryly and nods. “Yeah, I know. I’m not sure how I managed to get myself into it, but I signed up for an art appreciation class. I have zero artistic ability, so it’s painful.”

 “Oh,” he says. “That’s…yeah.”

 Johanna snorts behind him, and he tosses her a warning look. He should have known better. The woman doesn’t have a tactful bone in her body. Instead, she comes to stand behind Peeta and surveys Katniss.

 “You know, Peeta here is an art major,” Jo announces with her hand on his shoulder. “I bet he could help you with your art appreciation class. He’s great at that kind of stuff.”

 “Are you really?” Katniss asks, her eyes widening in pleased surprise. “I didn’t know that.”

 “I am,” he confirms. “I’m more of a painter than anything else, but I know quite a bit about all the different media. It’s kind of in the curriculum for my major.”

 She looks impressed, but she shakes her head as she picks up her book and tucks her ID into her pocket. “I couldn’t ask you to help, but that’s cool. I thought you were a biology major like me.”

 Johanna smacks him on the back, and he glares at her before wiping his expression clean and flashing a closed mouth grin at Katniss. When nobody says anything, Katniss turns to go.

 “Nonsense!” Jo cries. “Peeta’d be happy to help. I’m sure there’s something you could do for him to repay his generosity.”

 He swears under his breath and elbows Jo in the gut.

 “Oh, I don’t think there’s anything I have that Peeta wants—”

 “A ride home?” Jo interrupts. “Peeta’s car’s in the shop. He asked me for a ride, but his shift is over now, and I’ve got another two hours before I can leave. Poor guy. He’d really appreciate the lift.”

 Relief colors her face, and she nods. “I’d be happy to do that. My car’s on the street. I snagged one of those metered ones that are always full. Must be my lucky day.”

 “Oh, I’d say it certainly is,” Jo says, a wide self-satisfied smile plastered on her face. She practically shoves him out of his chair and adds, “Peeta, why don’t you go clock out. I’ll finish this up for you.”

 “I can—”

 “No, you can’t. You’re too close to hours. Besides, you wouldn’t want to keep Katniss waiting, now would you?”

 “You really are the devil, aren’t you?” he hisses as he grabs his stuff. “My car’s in the parking garage, not the shop. What the hell are you doing?”

 “Getting you some time alone with the girl of your dreams,” she explains with a withering look. “Now, let her give you a ride home so you can schmooze her.”

 Still disgruntled, he shuffles to the door and meets Katniss on the steps. She shifts uncomfortably, tugging on her braid and hunching her shoulders. He wonders if she’s trying to hide or if she’s cold in the chill of the early spring day.

 “I really appreciate this,” he says.

 She nods and leads him to her car. “No problem. It’s the least I can do.”

 “You don’t have to do anything at all.”

 She’s silent as she starts her car. Hesitating, she glances over at him and asks, “Does that mean you don’t want to tutor me? I understand if you don’t. It’s asking a lot for someone you barely know, especially since I can’t really afford to pay you.”

 “Except in rides.”

 “Well, yeah. I can do that.” She smiles at him tremulously and shifts the car into gear. Glancing over her shoulder, she signals and pulls out of the parking spot and onto the street.

 “You could help me in bio,” he blurts and his cheeks heat.

 “Really?”

 He cringes and shrugs. “Yeah. I can’t seem to get the hang of it. I think I’m one of those people that understands it in theory but not in practicality. I’m doing fine in the lecture, but lab is really confusing.” He doesn’t add that most of that is her fault, but not really, because he can’t stop mooning over her.

 “I can do that.”

 He glances at the pleased curve of her lips and wonders how he can make it happen again. The joy of seeing her happy sinks into his bones and gives him life. It’s ridiculous, but it’s true. He has no reason to think he should except common human decency matched with his overwhelming crush. He feels like a middle school boy who’s just figured out that girls and boys have different parts.

 Katniss stops at the intersection and glances over at him. Bashful, she admits, “I don’t know where I’m going.”

 Peeta’s eyebrows furrow and he motions out the windshield. “South?”

 “No,” she answers with a nervous laugh. “I mean, I don’t know where you live.”

 He’s an idiot. Of course she doesn’t know where he lives. “Sorry! Sorry. Turn left here. I wasn’t thinking.”

 “If you want…”

 “If I want?” he prods.

 “Well, maybe, if you don’t mind, that is.” She clears her throat and then words burst from her in a torrent. “I know a coffee shop that no one else really goes to. It’s quiet and the coffee’s good. They know me there, and I have a table they kind of save just for me. If you wanted to go over some of this sculpture stuff today, that’d be a good place.”

 “Oh. Okay,” he answers, fighting to keep his face clear of the glee he feels. Katniss Everdeen just asked him to go out with her. Well, she asked him to go somewhere with her, but that was more than he’d dreamed would happen any time he imagined actually speaking to her. Not only is he going to sit at the same table with her in a public place, but he’s at her mercy with transportation. She’s got him captive, and he approves.

 “Maybe I can take a look over your lab notes with you, too. You know, if you want.”

 Oh, he wants. That’s never been in question. He absolutely wants when it comes to Katniss Everdeen.

 “That’d be great. Really great.”

 The place itself is an independent coffee shop in an older area of town called The Seam. The properties tend to be more run-down than those closer to campus, but the café is cozy and humble and has great choices in both coffee and tea. He chooses a black peppermint he’s loved since his father made it for him when he was sick. His father had also snuck cookies to Peeta despite the disapproval of his mom. He adds sugar before taking a sip that transports him back to childhood. He breathes in as he swallows and blows out a heavy sigh.

 Amused, Katniss asks, “That good?”

 Nodding, he inhales the aroma and smiles softly. “Yeah. It’s that good. Thanks for bringing me here.”

 Pleased, Katniss drops her head and shuffles in her bag for the book on sculpture and her class  notes. They work together for over an hour before reviewing information from their biology lab. He finds she’s a good tutor, knowledgeable and skilled at breaking down the concepts into sizable chunks that seemed overwhelming previously. When he compliments her on it, she waves him off but returns the sentiment.

 “I already feel like I appreciate art more.”

 “Glad I could help.”

 “That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, though,” she teases. “I’ll still need you after break’s over, but I think I can pass the final now, anyway.”

 He shivers at her claiming she’ll need him. It’s closer to genuine interest than anything he’s ever gotten from her, and it gives him a small thrill of hope.

 Reluctantly, she packs up her bag and sighs. “I really need to get home, but this was fun.”

 “Yeah, I should be getting back, too. Got a lot to do before bed.”

 They’re quiet as they slide into the car. Contemplative, Peeta almost forgets to provide instructions so Katniss knows where to take him. As he guides her through unfamiliar streets that turn into those he sees every day, he sends silent thanks to Johanna for her brashness and refusal to let things go. He only hopes he doesn’t have a ticket on his car when he retrieves it—hopefully before it’s towed.

 “This is it,” he says with a wave at his front door. None of his roommates are home, which means he’s stuck until they return. He doesn’t want to say goodbye, but she’s antsy, unsure what to do with her hands or where to look. “Thanks again for the ride. Come find me at the library after break, and we’ll do a repeat of tonight.”

 “Sounds great,” she says warmly. “Hope you get your car back soon.”

 “Yeah, me too,” he grumbles.

 He watches her leave, lifting his hand in farewell until her car turns the corner and heads back the way she came. Fishing his cell out of his pocket, he sends his roommates a group text asking when they’ll be home and if one of them can give him a ride back to campus. As each of them gives a reason for their absence, he realizes he’s on his own. He does stow his bag inside and grab a drink before heading back outside. Squaring his shoulders, he shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and begins the walk back.

 It takes an hour, and he does have a parking ticket. Still, Peeta has no regrets. The afternoon with Katniss was the best of the year with the promise of more to come. She’s worth the inconvenience. 

[stealingpotatoes]

I am OBSESSED with your Desmond lives AU!! I want Shaun and Rebecca to be able to give Desmond all the hugs, I want Desmond to be able to choose to be an Assassin, to be able to help save the world again. Also, I am very curious about how you would resurrect Desmond, because I’ve had similar thoughts on such an AU, but I currently stick it near the end of Valhalla with the stuff that happens there. If you ever feel like expanding on it, I'd be super excited to see more!!!

first of all, AH THANK YOU!!! Yes those are ALL points that are very important to the Des Lives AU! Second of all, thank you so much for this ask in general!!! I was hoping someone would send an ask like this so I’d get an excuse to talk abt the AU more lmao XD!! I made this AU back in March last year, so there’s no Valhalla stuff in it, and it’s set right after/ during the Odyssey DLCs. 

The long story short for my Desmond Rez (rezmond, if you will) is “shroud of eden, abstergo, and some Isu bullshit”. The long story long, however, is uh- you know what? I’m going to use this opportunity to explain the vague story I worked out last year -- but dw, I WILL get to the full ressurection explanation I thought through. However... I’m gonna have to tell the story in smaller parts because I’m lazy and can’t be bothered to write the whole thing out right now. So rez comes later and not in this post. 

also uh-- before we start: I’m going to apologise for like… everything about the way I wrote this. It’s sort-of half fic, half that-way-your-friends-colloquially-tell-stories-that-you-can’t-keep-up-with. Mainly the latter. If you can make sense of this babbling, well done.

 Anyways, without further ado, welcome to:

POTES TRIES TO EXPLAIN HER DESMOND (SORTA) LIVES AU: PART ONE

On the 21st of December 2012, Desmond Miles dies. 

It’s not for nothing -- his sacrifice saves the entire world from a solar flare -- but he is dead. big ripz. The Assassins, his family, do not manage to recover his body. Abstergo gets it first. The Assassins hold a funeral as best they can. They mourn (all in their own ways), they keep fighting (for his memory), and they try to move on (they can’t). 

On the 21st of December 2012, Desmond Miles died -- so when he shows up in a city in October 2018, almost 6 years later, it’s a bit of a shock for everyone. What’s even more of a shock is the fact he’s glowing like an Isu and has some abilities he DEFINITELY didn’t have when he died.

So Desmond wakes up in the middle of some city in he doesn’t know where (yeah ok i just never really worked out where the secret lab would be), with 1. no idea of how he got there and 2. no idea why his arms are glowing like that. He doesn’t get much time to think about it because then there’re a load of Abstergo goons with guns surrounding him. Des may have no idea what’s happening, but he knows one thing: when u see an Abstergo, it’s on sight. So he’s fighting them -- which is admittedly not fun or easy when you’re in the middle of a road and only have your fists as weapons. It’s not going well and then someone definitely manages to shoot Desmond which is very bad -- but then Des feels some very weird (but not unfamiliar) feeling and when he looks up from the bullet wound, every one of the Abstergos are on the floor???? He doesn’t think to check if they’re dead, just legs it out of there lmao. 

//

Elsewhere, in an Assassin safehouse in an undisclosed location (can you tell I just didn’t think about the geography of anything), Mr Shaun Hastings is chilling on a balcony after a mission well done. Good for him. Then Rebecca Crane (queen ilu) yells “Shaun?” from inside. 

“Rebecca?” 

“Come inside. Now.”

Shaun immediately does so because he assumes it’s important or they’re under threat. “What happened? Have we been compromised?”

Rebecca doesn’t answer. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Shaun says, mostly joking and with a little smirk -- though Becs looks spooked. 

“Desmond’s alive.”

Shaun’s not smirking anymore. “What?”

“Desmond’s... he’s alive.”

“What are you talking about? Are you high?” he’s totally about to look at her eyes to see if they’re all dilated and druggy. 

“No Shaun, I mean it!” Becs harshly shoves her tablet into his hands. 

Shaun doesn’t really know what he’s expecting to see when he looks down at the screen. What he’s not really expecting to see is Desmond Miles, who’s been dead for six years, fighting a load of Abstergo people -- while lined in Isu markings (also he’s not wearing a shirt forgot got to mention). ??? But wtf??!?! Desmond’s dead. That’s...

“It’s security camera footage from [the city]... About two hours ago.” Rebecca then swipes through more footage with shaky hands and explains that Des very violently burst out of an Abstergo facility in the city with glowing eyes and light leaking out of him (almost like an Apple of Eden). Then the glowing eyes and shining lights shuts off abruptly and Des is standing in the middle of the road looking very confused at his precursor-ass arms and chest. But Shaun is barely listening to what she’s saying and barely even looking at the screen. 

“Where did you get this?” Shaun asks with a hollow voice, not looking up. 

“The Initiates.” (bc who else)

Shaun looks at it again, then at Rebecca, and he’s mildly aware of the fact he’s slightly tearing up; “That’s fake. That can’t be him. He’s dead, Becs. We both saw the…” They both saw the autopsy footage the ac4 researcher got from Abstergo -- or at least, tried to watch it; they shut it off as soon as Shaun ran to the bathroom to throw up and Rebecca quickly joined him. They spent the rest of that night crying and drinking way too much. 

“He died.” Shaun concludes firmly. 

And so Becs is all like “yeah but what if he didn’t?? We need to find him. We need to investigate this.” There’s a determination in her eyes and Shaun knows he’s not going to be able to convince her to drop this -- not that he would. Desmond might be alive, and there is no way they’re going to leave him again. 

They’re both standing there in pure shock and confusion, not saying anything. 

Rebecca’s comm device lights up and starts buzzing, snapping them out of their general ????-ness. Becs goes to her desk to grab it, glances at the caller id and then shows it to Shaun. It’s William Miles. 

The two of them share a Look. They know what he’s calling about -- what else would it be? There’s a stilted moment of neither of them doing anything before Rebecca finally accepts the call. “William?” 

“How quickly can you and Shaun get to [city]?” William sounds shaken -- probably the same way Rebecca and Shaun are -- which is a very weird way to hear the Mentor of the Brotherhood sound. He’s seen the footage, hasn’t he? 

“In a few hours,” Rebecca replies. 

“Good. You need to get there as soon as possible.” 

Everyone’s silent for a few moments. 

“Is this about Desmond?” Rebecca asks. Dumb question. 

There’s a pause. “You’ll be briefed on the ground.” And then he hangs up before Shaun or Rebecca can yell at him.

This is all moving very fast. Shaun and Rebecca share another look. Guess they’re going to [city].  ???

// 

Fast forward several hours and Rebecca and Shaun are in The City [might just have to make the city london bc it’s the one city i actually know well -- however for plot reasons we’ll see later, a swiss city might be better… moving on!]. They get to an assassin base and meet up with Galina Voronina and 2 local assassins. Idk if you’ve read the comics, but to sum things up quickly, Galina and her team were investigating and then ended Project Phoenix -- so Galina now really wants to find out if the whole Desmond thing has anything to do with that. 

Galina also wants to help Shaun and Rebecca get their friend back. They’re her friends, but equally she just lost one of her teammates to Abstergo (while ending Phoenix like 2 months ago, in the comics) and is uh- idk how to say it but she wants to help Shaun & Becs who have a chance to get their lost teammate back.

What follows is cool gang-gang trying to track down any trace of Desmond. You’d think it wouldn’t be hard to find a person who literally glows, but Desmond’s had centuries of Assassin training and knows how to hide lol.. which is making the Assassins’ job harder lol. 

What’s making it even harder is the Assassins know they have to be quick because they know Abstergo is gonna be looking for Desmond too -- and they have way more resources and stuff. That being said, they’re also currently dealing with the fact one of their building and a decent amount of their guards just got absolutely mullered by weird-glowing-desmond. 

The third issue with their entire thing is that they have no idea what they’re going to find when they find Desmond -- or if he even is Desmond. Is he going to be the man they knew but with weird powers? an Abstergo isu-clone? evil? they don’t know, and so they know they’ve got to be wary with him. 

The Assassin gang spend some time (a couple of days at the very most) trying to track Desmond down. Rebecca is using all the tech she can get her hacker mitts on to find a trace of him and equally throw Abstergo off Des’ trail. 

Soon enough, they get a solid lead -- don’t ask for the specifics, i don’t know them. But they get a lead, and it winds them up in an abandoned apartment building or also abandoned building site or something (a building in the city where there aren’t any people, basically). 

Galina scans the place with Eagle Vision and she’s like “There is something very strange about this place.” (someone?) But she doesn’t see a person-shape anywhere. The 5 of them are hopeful but somewhat on edge. 

They go about searching for any sign of Desmond. Galina’s pretty sure her Eagle Vision is just… Messing Up A Lot lol. Like something’s trying to heck with it. So she’s not quite sure it’s working correctly when a load of red figures appear somewhere below them. 

She becomes a lot more sure when the red figures come into sight and START SHOOTING AT THEM! IT’S ABSTERGO!! CRAP! they found them!!

The assassins get down and a really cool fight scene w them vs the Abstergos in the building/ building site starts playing out. Woo Shaun and Rebecca electro-hidden-blade moments!! The fight splits the squad up and Shaun and Rebecca are away from Galina & the others -- but they dispatch the Abstergo guards near them.

They’re about to radio in that they’re all okay/ check if Galina & co are also good when they hear a slightly-too-loud footstep. They whip around to see an Abstergo guard aiming right at them, too far for either of them to get him before he shoots them. crap crap crap.

They would have been shot -- if someone hadn’t come up behind the Abstergo guard and snapped his neck (ouch). 

The Abstergo drops to the ground, revealing the person who saved them and… Shaun and Rebecca stare in shock. 

They’re both looking at Desmond Miles. 

Desmond Miles, who is very much alive (and wearing a hoodie that is 100% stolen). And… with a load of glowing yellow lines on his face. But it’s Desmond -- it’s Desmond for sure. Holy shit.  

Desmond doesn’t seem so shocked, only relieved to see them. Then his expression turns into serious confusion; 

“What the fuck is happening?”

///

ok sorry leaving it there for now! hope you enjoyed what is here will continue soon

[samwenahetbait]

Supernatural, Season 7, and the Positive and Negative Symptoms of Schizophrenia/Psychosis

I just finished season 7 of Supernatural. Season 7 and Sam’s arc, and later Cas’ arc, interested me a lot because I’m schizoaffective (schizoaffective being schizophrenia plus a mood disorder, either bipolar or depression, in my case depression).

I’ve done a lot of research on the disorder and spectrum of disorders and when watching the beginning of honey!Cas I thought this would be a really interesting way to show the ways the show does and doesn’t portray psychotic disorders well.

I’ll be using both Sam and Cas, Sam for positive symptoms and Cas for negative symptoms, and evaluating them for how accurate they are to DSM 5 criteria for psychosis, criteria for schizophrenia (understanding that neither of them could be diagnosed due to duration and the magical nature of their problem), and accuracy to personal experience (not all psychotic experiences are the same, obviously, so this is not the most accurate test, but lets do it anyways lol)

This is gonna be long, so more under the cut!

So a bit of background of the DSM 5 criteria for schizophrenia and DSM 4 criteria for psychosis not otherwise specified, which is still in use in hospitals and doctors offices and would definitely still be used in 2012. The DSM 5 criteria for schizophrenia includes two or more of the following, with one having to be one of the first three: hallucinations, delusions (things that you believe as true even when presented evidence you’re false), disorganized speech, grossly disorganized or catatonic behavior, negative symptoms. The duration must be for six months including prodrome (mostly negative symptoms), with at least one month of active symptoms.

The DSM 4 says psychosis not otherwise specified includes delusions, hallucinations, disorganized speech, grossly disorganized or catatonic behavior about which the doctor cannot make another, better diagnosis.

Positive Symptoms

“Positive” and “negative” symptoms are a bit misleading. what they really mean are positive symptoms are things the disorder adds that aren’t there originally (hallucinations, delusions, disordered speech), and negative symptoms are things that are taken away (blunted affect, poverty of speech, avolition or lack of energy)

[ID: Sam looks to the left. He says “he’s singing “stairway to heaven” right now.” End ID]

Sam is our character who experiences positive symptoms with Hallucifer. There are multiple types of hallucinations, the most common being auditory. Combination auditory and visual hallucinations are possible but they’re more rare than the media makes you believe.

Sam has a stereotypical case of what an outsider with no research may think psychosis or schizophrenia is - he has a voice that will not let him sleep, that constantly bothers him. Sam qualifies for Psychosis Not Otherwise Specified in that he has a prominent hallucination and does not qualify for another disorder.

What’s interesting about Sam’s psychosis to me watching, though, was the hallucination was the only sign of psychosis he had. It was severe and caused depression, derealization, dissociation, and insomnia but he never had delusions outside of the hallucinations, never had disordered speech outside of sleep deprivation, never had bizarre movements or disorganized behaviors. The only way to get a schizophrenia diagnosis with only hallucinations is if you have two or more voices who talk to each other, which he does not have. Sam would absolutely not qualify for a schizophrenia diagnosis.

As for personal experience - I’ve been hospitalized because voices have made it impossible for me to sleep so this arc hit close to home. I thought at times he was a little too well put together and honestly think there were moments in the season the writers forgot he was actively hallucinating. I thought that besides only having hallucinations and it being the Hollywood hallucination Sam’s arc with his “voice” was fairly easy for me to empathize with - but not easy for anyone else to treat him with respect. Here’s a link to a quiz I made about which ableist phrase used against Sam in season 7 you are

Negative Symptoms

[ID: Meg, in a nurses outfit, crosses her arms. Castiel’s profile is seen. Meg says “He’s been like the naked guy at the rave ever since he woke up.” End ID]

Cas, when absorbing Sam’s hell trauma, originally has his one positive symptom - hallucinations of Lucifer. However, after he wakes up from his coma he has one and a half noticeable positive symptoms and one and a half marked negative symptoms.

Cas experiences some form of hallucination (he tells Sam that he “sees everything” when asked what he sees) but it’s unclear what he means by this. He has noticeable disorganized speech however in that he will end conversations during important discussions and change the topic, which is an aspect of disorganized speech.

I would also argue Cas experiences a negative symptoms known in disorganized schizophrenia particularly, although anyone with psychosis can have it: inappropriate affect. Some people with schizophrenia will laugh during moments when they should be crying or show inappropriate emotional responses, uncontrolled. Cas doesn’t seem to have control over his emotions and will make jokes and laugh during tense or upsetting situations. Part of that is also due to his complete disconnect with reality and what is happening in the situation. It could also be argued he experienced disorganized movement or catatonia, as we see him staring blankly and sitting still at the end of 7.17.

Castiel definitely qualifies for PNOS through his disconnect with reality, possible hallucinations, and disorganized speech, as well as with inappropriate affect and possible catatonia. Despite having more on the list than Sam he still doesn’t qualify for schizophrenia.

This is getting longer than anticipated so I’ll try to make this section shorter. I don’t think honey!cas was written to be psychotic. I don’t think he was written with an illness in mind. I don’t think either of them were. I think Cas was written to be funny crazy and Sam to be scary crazy. But in writing a funny crazy character the writers accidentally hit somewhere personal as someone living with the cognitive and neurological effects of schizoaffective. I watched honey!cas on a bad cognitive day and sobbed when they were mean to him because I related to the disorganized speech and the inappropriate behavior. Is it good representation? No. It’s exaggerated and ridiculed. It’s deeply ableist. And the way the writer’s treat him and have others treat him is deeply ableist. But I did find myself relating and rooting for him.

Fandom Response

I haven’t been in Supernatural fandom long (four months) and being involved with fandom while watching the show has been interesting. I’ve had pretty much everything at least somewhat spoiled so I was excited to see honey!cas and psychotic Sam in something other than gifs. I’ve seen maybe three people talk about sam’s psychosis, maybe because I don’t follow enough sam blogs, but it’s not something I’ve seen a lot of. everyone i’ve seen has been psychotic and made it clear he’s a psychotic character or been supportive of viewing him as psychotic. But honey!cas is very popular and...sexualized?

I’ve seen two responses to honey!cas: he’s so crazy or he’s so slutty. I’m going to ask both of those groups of people to see the character as a person experiencing cognitive issues and a break from reality. Not saying not to talk about honey!cas - he’s interesting, but please don’t sexualize him for being quirky when by quirky you mean delusional and please don’t do the opposite and demonize him for being vulnerable (and if that’s crazy. you should see me off my meds)

[i-did]

wait id love to hear your rant about how fanon deals with the race in tfc fics/fanon's of everyone else’s race :0

I would like to start this response with the fact that I do not believe anyone is being intentionally harmful in their race head cannons, simply that people tend to follow Fanon blindly and I believe people should not do that, and remember Fanon is only Fanon and we should make our own ideas and stray from the pack more often.

Okay, my thoughts on common race headcanons for the foxes and how they are often accidentally racist:

I know @bloodydamnit has spoken up about this before, but people specifically portraying Seth as black falls into a lot of unhealthy anti-black stereotypes of black men, especially the lack of development people tend to give him. She has written him and deconstructed these issues from her perspective and me a non-black person don’t think I could ever achieve such a thing and therefore do not headcanon him or will write him as black.

I personally headcanon him as hard Vietnamese and half white and made a long post about him before, I love Seth.

Matt and Dan are also often written as black, this isn’t inherently problematic necessarily, but it does often overlook the issue that people see this likely because of Matt’s history with drugs and Dan’s sex work playing into anti-black stereotypes without a tally going into race theory or redlining or any of the following issues in a way that gives them any development.

I like to headcanon Matt as Filipino, his straight hair is perfect for spiking, and dan as 75% black and 25% Oceti Sakowin (commonly known as Sioux), I want to write about how her leaving the reservation was a big deal for her, especially at the 25% mark which means if she is with anyone who isn’t of the same tribe her kids would not be considered a part of the tribe since the US minimum to register is 25% and this was part of her hesitance to be with Matt as well as other pressures. I like to think the baby her aunt had in the EC she ends up adopting from the foster system and that baby is 75% Oceti Sakowin and Matt is super excited to learn about their traditions and bring in both indigenous Filipino culture that he got disconnected with as well as Oceti Sakowin culture that she got disconnected with into their lives with their unexpected kid.

Renee is often headcanoned as Asian, but typically just generally Asian without nuance or explanation and also this plays into the passivity stereotype of Asian women. I headcanon her has African American, with very dark skin and Stephanie Walker was the first black foster mom she had and they hit it off really well, also Renees hair is a wig, no one can bleach their hair to white that’s just… it melts before it does that usually.

Again I’m not saying Renee can’t be Asian, It can be done right and written well, but overall I think it’s important for people to remember why they headcanon things and not accept Fanon blindly. Fanon often plays into harmful ideas. While people of color don’t have to have a reason for being people of color, I think it’s important to notice why you think charters who aren’t described at all are whatever race you headcanon and think critically. Our cultures and races make us experience the world in a certain way that contributes to who we are outside of blanket diversity, and it is important to think about that.

I often see people saying they headcanon Womack as Native American to make him having the tribal tattoos “unracist”, and to make Nora not racist, but Nora wasn’t being racist by saying Womack has tribal tattoos, Womack having shitty Tates in tattoos, which faux tribal was a huge cultural staple despite how cringe it is from the 90’s to mid 2000’s in America. It’s important also to not just say Native American but to do research on specific groups because each culture is unique and different.

That being said, I bounce back between Wymack just being some 70’s looking dad with cut off shorts to Maori where the swirl tattoos are very significant, and Kevin is white-passing but discovered he’s not white like he thought he was, and becomes an AOA history major (Africa, Oceana, Americas, aka indigenous history major).

Also considering Neil and Allison are supposed to be significantly attractive I don’t like them being white because of that, so I headcanon Allison as half middle eastern, (or maybe Indian I have more research to do before I decide), she was told she was adopted as a kid and often her mom would buy her whitening cremes like fair and lovely as a kid, but later found some papers when she was older finding out her dad actually got a woman pregnant and to keep her quiet took Allison and pretended he was such a good philanthropist and adopted a brown kid. She has a lot of problems with this, and bleaches her hair blond to try and fit in with her family without even realizing it. She never finds out who her birth mom is

I am a bit annoyed at white fans constantly calling Nora racist, while also using the lightest skinned headcanons every time for black characters playing into colorism and Spanish Nickys instead of darker toned people. Also, I think people should really try to critically think about their own ideas before calling out someone else. Do I think Nora is perfectly woke? No, no one is, but Fanon is just as bad but in a different way. There is a lot of colorism I see in both headcanon photos people use for the foxes as well as people tending to draw looser curls and thinner noses for characters they headcanon as black. Not every black person is half white and darker-skinned rep is very important. I’ve also seen people use Reece king as a Nicky face claim before and I wasn’t even surprised.

I've also seen people almost always have Erik be “Aryan” some even using the word to describe him unironically, and as a Jewish person this obviously doesn’t sit right with me. I would like to see less straight passing blond haired blue eyed taller than Nicky Erik sometimes.

Again I’m not calling anyone racist, I just think that people should go outside Fanon and think of their own ideas on who they want the characters to be in their headcanons and why. I'm tiers of the same 4 Instagram model photos being used for every Aftg edit, the same light-skinned Dan’s, Matt’s, and Nicky’s. Also while I’m at it, add some body diversity, they’re athletes all playing different positions, I think all the defense players are at least chubby if not plus size. Aaron, Andrew, and Renee are all fat and proud, Nicky and Matt are bulkier with their bodies good for blocking, while Seth is an awkward string bean, an offensive striker who can slip through people quickly despite his height.

Again I know discussions about race can be tense, I am not trying to sound like I am attacking anybody, and I'm not calling out anyone in particular, I didn't even touch on how nicky is written in fanon or canon and how it can often be both racist and homophobic coming from my prospective as a gay latino.

Okay I'm tired sorry this took me so long to respond lol

[rory-for-short]

New Crossings New Horizons: Chapter 1

So I'm writing an animal crossing fan fiction. Never thought id say that but I'm really exited about it. Ill be posting it here this is Chapter one:

The beginnings of summer, and a 4pm flight. That's how this adventure started. The lights were all fluorescent in the airport terminal and the afternoon air as warm with the promise of summer on the horizon. Of course the private “plane” you were supplied scared you. It was an older model helicopter that was run by DAL and taking you to an island. You agreed to be part of this little venture, simply for the college credit. One semester of “city planning,” if you could even call it that. It was a program run by Thomas Nook. Mr. Nook had approached you via email, as he did many NewLeaf college students with the same major. Only you and three others responded, likely due to the difficult nature of his program. But the promise of a job directly after graduation was simply too appealing for you.

So here you were at 4pm with your suitcase full of necessities and a carry on of any food you could get past customs, walking down an airport runway to a questionable aircraft headed to a deserted island. A man greeted you. He looked about 30. He was wearing aviators, and a DAL pilot uniform, and scruff that made him look a bit more human than your fellow passengers did. His frame was of a muscle bound frat-boy that drank too much and let himself get just a bit squishier. He was talking to someone over a talk system. “Dodo 1 to Dodo 2, we’ve got walkers starting to onboard. Tango Tango Yankee Lima,” he finished as he turned to address us.  

“Welcome civilans to Dodo airlines. Leave your luggage at the rear of the craft and ill load it into storage,” he commanded with a deep vibrato. Likey, he didn't intend to seem intimidating, but he was. Looking at him was like seeing a 6’3 wall walking around. You and your fellow passengers did as commanded. You struggled just a bit with your luggage as you moved your carry on bag and a strap on it broke. A temporary loss of balance and stumble from the weight shift, was quickly followed by two hands grabbing the now strapless bag with ease.

“Careful there, flyer. You alright?” asked the concerned pilot. It was at this point you noticed his name tag, a silver bar pinned to his lapel with the name “Wilber” etched into it. Wilber, how fitting for a pilot.

“Yeah, I’m good… Thanks” you managed as he lifted your luggage into the storage compartment.

“Not a problem,” he replied in a measured voice, unchanging despite the amount of weight he was lifting. You began to board the aircraft with you fellow passengers. Apollo, a stoic young man in ROTC, an alt girl who introduced herself as ‘Cherry’, and Bob who had eyes shiftier than a non-automatic car. These were the people you would be stranded on an island with. ‘Better make the best of it and make nice with everyone’ you thought to yourself.

“So, you guys ready to ruff it in the tropics?” Bob asked, breaking the silence.

“I've done training like this for the army. Anyone has any concerns you can ask me,” Apollo shrugged. Well at least one of us was a survivalist. That's a good sign.

“So, like, I did research on this Nook guy and he seems to be some capitalist robber baron. Hope we aren’t part of some get rich quick scheme.” Cherry huffed as she pulled out her phone. Your stomach dropped realizing you knew little about the man you would be working under, while stranded on an island. You should have done research but you were busy reading fine print and filling out your internship paperwork.

“I’m sure we will be fine.. NewLeaf is a prestigious college after all, I’m sure they don't hand out students to just anyone, right?” you said in an attempt to convince yourself more than anyone.

“Eh, I heard rumors he was a shady ass fellow. That's why I agreed to all this. Kinda like a twin flame thing,” Bob laughed. Apollo chucked at his announcement.

“Well I hope for our sake, you are the only ‘shady ass fellow’ we deal with on this trip,” Apollo shot back. you hoped so too.

It was 10pm when you landed. You and your cohorts hadn’t gotten any rest on the flight. Well, except Cherry who had no problem propping her head on Apollo’s shoulder to get some rest. Not that he seemed to mind. He just talked spout survivalist training the whole ride, and didn’t even register the small black and red haired girl leaning into him. Wilber had gotten a duffle bag out of storage to help you move you stuff that was in your now broken bag.

“This should be a bit more durable. Expecting a food shortage?” he asked as he helped move your dried fruits and trail snacks into the not as broken bag. You gave a half hatred laugh.

“Well its better to be prepared. I was a girl scout after all” you quipped. Wilbur nodded his head to that as he zipped up the duffel bag.

“Alright here you are. Watch your fitting as you make your way to camp. Your cohorts got the jump on yah,” he cautioned as you gathered you stuff.

“Thanks Wilber”

“Anytime Civilian”

With that, you made your way to camp. The only saving grace for you to navigate the darkness was the flicker of a fire light a mile ahead. The others had gotten there first, it was a clearing with several tents set up and what looked like a water pump and generator as well. A campfire was smouldering and your schoolmates sat around the fire in a circle on log seating.

“Well look who’s finally decided to join us. Not very nice to leave you behind, hm?” a man of middle age greeted. He was a bit taller than you, tan, with a mustache and a Hawaiian shirt. He kinda looked like Pedro Pascal and tom Sellicks love child.

“Oh don't worry, I made it all the same, just a slight luggage malfunction” you answered the older man.

“I see,” he extended his hand out to you, “I’m Tom Nook, curator of this internship. You must be Y/N.” So this middle aged man with the twinkle in his eye wearing a Hawaiian shirt and slides, was the shady capitalist that indoctrinated you all? Not quite what you had imagined and it relieved you, yet you were still apprehensive to trust him at all. All the same, you took his outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you Mr. Nook.”  

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The Mile High Job

leverage 1.08

Nate: We need a key card.

Eliot: And I hate to say it, but you know who we could really use --

Nate: Don't even say his name. I don't want it spoken aloud

eliot begrudgingly admitting they could use hardison because although they may bicker all the time, he knows to appreciate him

- - - - - 

[Leverage Headquarters]

(Hardison is watching a microwave, which dings)

Hardison: Yeah, buddy!

(he tries to pick up the pizza pocket but it is too hot and he drops it)

Hardison: Damn it!

(he blows on it and picks it up to eat it, then takes a watering can and heads out of the kitchen)

why do we (and parker and eliot) love this fucking idiot so damn much ???

- - - - - 

(Hardison walks through the offices watering plants)

he’s such a nester + he’s probably watering parker’s plant too which is adorable

- - - - - 

Eliot: All right.

(open the door to the hall to find Parker waiting)

Parker: So, what are we waiting for?

Eliot: How does she do this?

Nate: I don't even ask anymore.

Hardison: Don't bother with the stairs. I got you a ride down.

(elevator dings and they enter)

we love to see parker defying all laws of physics and logic and the team being baffled by it e v e r y time

- - - - - 

(Nate, Parker and Eliot run into the lobby, headed for the door)

Nate: No, it’s right behind us, it’s right behind us!

(guards put their hands on their guns)

Parker: It’s furry, it’s big, it’s chasing us, get down now!

(they grab Sophie on the way out the door, leaving the guards confused)

Nate: Come on, we need to get to the airport, now!

that’s actually a really clever way to escape a situation ??? it was very effective to distract the guards ???

- - - - - 

Hardison: What I.D.s have you got on you?

[LAX Airport]

Nate: Let's see...

(team begins looking through their pockets)

Nate: We got, Peter Davison, Sylvester McCoy, and I have a Tom Baker. Yeah.

Sophie: Ooh, yeah, I have a Baker. Sarah Jane.

[Leverage Headquarters]

Hardison: Perfect. I now pronounce you man and wife. (typing on keyboard) Now go on and kiss that bride.

[LAX Airport]

(Sophie hands Nate a ring that he places on her finger)

hardison bases their ids on doctor who characters, what a fucking nerd

also, we gonna talk about how sophie carries a bunch of different wedding rings with her at all times or ???

- - - - - 

Sophie: How did you both know there'd be an extra uniform in the bag?

Nate: Everyone knows flight attendants are required to carry extra uniforms in case they get called to work unexpectedly.

Eliot: Or if something happens to the one that they're already wearing.

Sophie: How does "everyone" know that?

Nate: Worked airport security.

Eliot: Slept with a flight attendant

sophie being exhausted + eliot never mentioned the gender of the flight attendant so let my bi heart dream okay

- - - - - 

(security guard opens Nate’s luggage to find many BSDM items inside. Nate gives Sophie a look)

Sophie: What? We needed luggage. Lost and found.

Nate: You didn't check the bag first?

Sophie: We were in a bit of a hurry. (to guard) Yeah. Cuffs are his. Whip's mine. (slaps Nate’s butt) Second honeymoon.

Eliot (picking up his bag): Idiots.

me watching this scene: part horrified part secondhand embarrassed 

- - - - - 

Hardison (on computer): Let's see what we can learn about Nathan Ford today. Online poker? Online chess? Sudoku. Crossword. What... Damn. Somebody needs to get laid.

y i k e s

- - - - - 

[Coach]

(Parker on P.A. while another stewardess demonstrates)

Parker: Place the mask over your mouth and nose and breathe normally. In the event of a water landing, your seat cushion can be used as a flotation device. But let's face it, if this thing goes down in the water, more than likely the impact will kill you. 

(Eliot grabs the bridge of his nose while the other passengers get alarmed)

Parker: Please take a moment to locate the nearest emergency exits, because if this plane's on fire, you're gonna want to get out quick. Jet fuel burns at over 1,000 degrees. That's hot, folks.

Eliot: All right, Nate. We're here. Now what?

eliot looks exhausted like 300 different times during this episode

+ bless the other flight attendant that just carried on with the crazy white chick being crazy over the speaker 

- - - - - 

poor eliot with the guy sleeping on him, he’s so exhausted already lmao

- - - - - 

Steve: Nothing. It’s just... I could've sworn I saw a maintenance guy get in that elevator.

Hardison: A- A maintenance guy? Wow. Real nice. I bet you think we all look alike.

Steve: That's not what I meant.

Hardison: You know what -- If I have to go to one more of those damn sensitivity seminars, I know who I’m blaming.

Steve: No, no, no.

Hardison: I know who I’m blaming.

Steve: It's not what I meant.

Hardison: I blame you! You! (walks away)

hardison using societal tendencies of racism is iconic every (every) time

- - - - - 

(Eliot gets up and begins going through luggage in the overhead racks. One of the passengers watches him suspiciously)

Eliot (to passenger): Can I help you with something? Watch the movie.

what would you even do in this situation ???

- - - - - 

Marissa: I know. It's just -- It's like a placebo effect. It's not really working, but it makes you feel better anyway.

Parker: Yeah? So, when's that supposed to kick in? (she moves forward) Look. Flying isn't really all that scary when you think about it. I mean, there are a lot more likely ways to die than on a plane. Car crash, house fire, electrocution, drowning, autoerotic asphyxiation. I mean, the fact is, death haunts us every day. No matter where we are.

(Parker smiles and moves away)

Y I K E S

- - - - - 

Hardison: You kidding? Did you get the new expansion pack? Woman, I was up all night. Now, look, I mean “Burning Crusade" was great, but this new one is mind-blowing.

Nate: Hardison…

[First Class]

Nate: …you bailed on the job because you were up all night playing a game?

[Genogrow Break Room]

(Hardison turns aside and opens a cabinet door to hide his face)

Hardison: First off, "game" is hardly adequate, okay

hardison is DONE with them not taking his “games” seriously ,,, also LMFAO that’s why he was late 

- - - - - 

Hardison (opens door): The meeting's starting, sir. (closes door)

Haldeman: What meeting? (sighs and puts on his jacket)

that is such an effective tactic tho ???

- - - - - 

Parker: Hatbox full of Euros, pouch of uncut diamonds, and a stolen Stradivarius. Now, I’ve never lifted one of those.

Nate: Parker..

let! her! steal! it!

- - - - - 

Eliot: Ms. Devins, those payments were not made in error. They were bribes. He was trying to pay off the researchers so they would not testify.

Marissa: What are you talking about? What the hell is going on here?

(Parker sits down next to Marissa)

Parker: The guy in 1D wants to kill you. Ginger ale?

Eliot: Just – sh-she--

that poor lady is NOT having a good time

also eliot looks sO DONE WITH PARKER LMFAO

- - - - - 

Eliot: Erlick's a pro. He had a ceramic knife. If anything was going down, he'd sniff 'em out when he saw them coming.

Nate: How would they do it?

Eliot: Easiest way? Take 'em out in transit.

Sophie: You mean bring down the plane they're on?

(everyone looks at her pointedly)

Sophie: You mean bring down the plane we're on?

Nate: Yeah

that’s interesting meta to know but we hate to see it

- - - - - 

Nate: Okay, Parker, I -- Parker, I need you – (to Eliot) All right, we got to talk to Erlick now.

[Plane Bathroom]

(Dan is still unconscious on the toilet as Eliot and Nate come in)

Nate: Geez!

Eliot (patting Dan on the face): Hey!

(Dan does not stir, Eliot sighs)

Eliot: When I knock people out, they tend to stay knocked out.

Nate: Hey!

(Nate taps the guy on the face)

Nate: Luggage tags.

(they search Dan’s clothes and take his luggage tags. Eliot grabs the ceramic knife before they leave the bathroom)

eliot doesn’t fuck around lmao

also he did the flippy thing with the knife

- - - - - 

Hardison: Parker, the device you found -- is it anywhere near an orange box?

Parker: Yeah.

[Haldeman’s Office]

Hardison: Oh, god. They tapped into the black box.

[Cargo Hold]

Parker: No, no, it's not black. It's orange.

[Haldeman’s Office]

Hardison: Yeah, the black boxes, they're orange.

[Cargo Hold]

Hardison: Makes them easier to find in the debris.

Parker: Oh. Oh…

[Haldeman’s Office]

Hardison: They've hacked into the flight's computer, which means they have access to the system, which means they can spoof the black-Box data all at the same time.

[Cargo Hold]

Parker: Crash the plane without anyone knowing it was sabotaged.

[Haldeman’s Office]

Hardison: Exactly

that’s terrifying

- - - - - 

Nate: Listen to me!

[Haldeman’s Office]

Nate: You can do this! I trust you!

(Hardison looking very unsure of himself)

[Cockpit]

Nate: No matter how many times you goof off or screw up, you always come through in the clutch.

[Haldeman’s Office]

Nate: You're the only guy I can count on in a situation like this.

Hardison (cracks his neck): You know what? I-I-you... You're right. 

You're right. I got this.

[Cockpit]

Nate: Yes! Yes! Yes, you can!

Hardison: You're right. You're -- I'm the man.

[Cargo Hold]

Hardison: I'm the man. I got this. I'm gonna do this.

hardison is amazing and they need to appreciate him more

- - - - - 

[First Class]

(Nate and Eliot stumble into seats and belt up)

Nate: Sophie?

[Coach]

Sophie: Yes?

[First Class]

Nate: You okay?

[Coach]

Sophie: Yeah. You?

[First Class]

Nate: Ask me again in 10 minutes.

[Coach]

Sophie: You're gonna remember this one, aren't you?

[First Class]

Nate: Oh yeah.

everyone else on the comms: ,,, y’all have to flirt right this second ???

- - - - - 

[Haldeman’s Office]

(Hardison watching footage on the Internet of the plane landing)

Announcer (on monitor): …emergency landing on the seven mile bridge…

Hardison: Whoa! (gets up and dances) Baby! Unh! Age of the geek! Smooth! Too smooth! Lord, I was so scared, I wanted to cry, call my mama. Y'all cool? Y’all cool?

Nate: Yes, cool.

Hardison: Family. All right.

hardison is baby + HE CALLED THEM HIS FAMILY !!!

[writingwithadinosaur]

“Under the Knife” - Part 3

“Under the Knife” - Part 3

My Masterlist - Here

Story Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Hannibal Lecter x Reader, Will Graham x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 1,700-ish

Key: Chunks of text in italics are (Y/N)’s thoughts. Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Talk of Murder, Talk of Crime Scenes, Talk of Murder Victims, Cursing

Summary: You are Will Graham’s sister who works with him at the FBI. When you get offered a job promotion, life starts to change. Some changes for the better; Some for the worst.

Tag List: @fruitloopzzz @theeactress @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @sj-thefan​ @fuck-your-bad-vibes-dude​ @ntlmundy

Author’s Note: This is my first Hannibal piece and I am proud of it. There aren’t too many stories for Hannibal, so I figured I would add to the collection. This does take place in some happy medium where they are all alive and work together. Sort of a happier season 1 era.

This is beta-read by @theeactress​, but please let me know if there is something that we missed or that we should look at again! 

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

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

“As most of you know, this is (Y/N) Graham, she will be our profiler for this case.”

“Oh good. Another Graham.” Beverly commented over her clipboard, writing down something involving the case probably. Jack gave her a chastising glance and she held her hands up in defense.

“(Y/N) this is Beverly Katz, Brian Zeller, and Jimmy Price.” Jack introduced you very quickly to the science-ier part of the team very quickly before jumping right into work. “So, tell us what you got so far, (Y/N).”

You opened your small notebook and began summarizing your notes from last night’s reading.

“Alright. So far I’ve been able to see three patterns: the ways they were killed, the time frame, and the fact that all of the victims that were dismembered were doctors. The strongest thing I can think of is that this killer was wronged by doctors in some way. I’m not sure if it's a doctor in the general term or if there is some specific way that ties these three doctors, and our killer, together. That was something I was going to work on today. 

The way that the bodies are taken apart is very particular. From what I could tell from the photos in the files, all of the cuts seemed to be straight lines all the way through. Which means that this guy’s gotta have access not only to the tools that can do this sort of stuff, but also whatever drug he got in their system to make them lay still while he... worked. So I’m assuming the murder weapon is nothing with a jagged blade or saw-like teeth until we get to the bone. Do we have any reports on striation patterns or anything that could help us with what was used?”

“It’s like you said, the cuts were almost completely straight lines, even through to the bone. The only things we could think of were surgical tools.” Zeller spoke up. “The skin and muscles were cut similarly to how a surgeon would with a scalpel. But the bone is where it gets tricky. You can’t cut like this through bone with just a scalpel.”

“Unless you have plenty of time and you're very persistent.” Beverly joked; you were the only one that slightly exhaled a laugh through your nose at her quip.

“Alright, so the killer has a medical background.” Jack tossed into the air. You nodded.

“Possibly. But why would a doctor be going after other doctors?”

“Maybe they’re taking all his patients?” Beverly shot out. You just nodded and looked back at your notes to see where you left off.

“The uh.. The most concerning thing is the time frame. They were all killed two weeks part from each other. Dr. Everet was almost 6 weeks ago, Dr. Chaseten almost 4, and Dr. Loriet about 2.” 

“Which means we could have another dead doctor within the week.” Jack solemnly spoke as he realized the gravity of the situation. “Alright, you three keep looking over everything to see if we missed something. (Y/N), start working on possible correlations between the victims and the killer. Let’s get this son of a bitch.”

And that’s how the next two days went. Researching, thinking, and trying to get into a mindset that you weren’t totally sure of yet. 

You had checked in with Will like you promised and said that you were fine but you were going to be very busy for at least the next few days. Hannibal had called you after your first day and could hear the slight exhaustion in your voice. He asked you to have lunch with him tomorrow and you very quickly agreed.

But the next day, you spent more time than you thought flipping through the databases to try to find any correlation between Everet, Chasten, and Loriet. The three of them never worked in the same hospital, clinic, or even the same city. Their wives didn’t know each other. Their neighbors didn’t know each other. They didn’t have any sort of communication with each other. They were all different types of doctors. Everet and Loriet went to the same med school, but they graduated 3 years apart.

So what the fuck am I missing?

You kept looking back over the crime scene photos. You couldn’t understand why the doctors were mutilated and positioned so intricately, but the others were cast aside. The focus has to be on the doctors. They must have done something to ‘wrong’ the killer. So what the hell did all three of you do to make someone want to murder? 

Your train of thought was interrupted by a knock at your office door. You let out a slightly aggravated sigh.

“Jack, I told you I will let you know when I-- Oh! Hannibal! Hi!” You looked up from your computer screen to find Hannibal standing in the doorway with a bag in his hand. 

“Should I come back later?” 

“No! No. Come on in. I probably should take a break. I feel like I’m going in circles anyways.” You looked at your watch and saw it was almost 3:30 PM. The last time you looked at the clock, it was 10:30 AM. “And I missed our lunch meeting.” You put your head in your hands and groaned in annoyance with yourself. “I am so sorry, Hannibal. I--”

“No need for apologies, my dear. I figured Jack had put a lot on your plate, so I thought I would bring lunch to you.” Hannibal made his way into your office and shut the door behind him. 

“You really didn’t have to.”

“When was the last time you ate, (Y/N)?” Hannibal questioned you, looking you dead in the eye after he sat down in one of your office chairs. 

You weren’t entirely sure. You started to speak but then stopped yourself, really trying to remember when you ate last. I know I had ½ of my breakfast at 7:30 this morning. Did I have my granola bar? Does coffee count as a meal?

“The fact that you have to think about when your last meal was, is a bit concerning. But nonetheless, I am more than happy to remedy that. ” He smiled one of his rare but small smiles and began unpacking whatever culinary art he brought. You tried to condense some of your piles of papers and folders so you had enough room to put food down. 

Hannibal had brought a home-cooked meal for the two of you to enjoy. A ginger salad with fresh pan-seared scallops and even some infused water that he had marinating in his fridge overnight. This was so much better than the PB&J you had packed. 

As you began to dig in, Hannibal couldn’t help but look at some of the crime scene photos and your notes. 

“So what are we calling this killer?” 

“‘The Virginia Scalpel.’” You said with slight annoyance. “He has a medical background and is within a reasonable distance from all of the vics. Yet, we have no idea who he is.”

“Does the killer have to be a medical professional? Maybe they just have very steady hands.” 

“True. But there is almost no way that a regular guy could cut through muscle and bone that cleanly without surgical tools or the knowledge of how to use them. Not to mention the fact that he would have some serious explaining to do on how he got the succinylcholine or whatever paralyzer he plans to use next.” You rub your eyes gently, feeling the strain from the computer screen hitting you. Hannibal could feel the stress radiating off of you. 

“Do you want to talk about this case?”

“Not really. But I’m not sure what else to talk about. This has been my life for the last 3 days, the killer could strike again any day now, and I still don’t know why these three doctors were targeted or who will be next!” 

You started to fidget with your ring unconsciously and a bit aggressively, a sign to Hannibal that your anxiety was starting to catch up. Despite the physical signs that you needed a break, you continued to glance over an open file near you while you took another bite of food. He leaned forward in his seat a bit as he closed the file that you had been rereading for what he assumed to be at least the tenth time.  

“(Y/N), you need to breathe.” You just nodded and closed your eyes to try to help your deep breaths relax you faster. “How about we go for a walk? Get the blood flowing.”

“I would love to. But I feel like I can’t afford that break right now.” You shook your head slightly as you reached down for a stack of papers you had bundled and put on the floor earlier. You didn’t see him get up, but Hannibal was standing, adjusting his jacket before holding a hand out to you.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” You looked from his hand to his face before standing up, shrugging. A small walk around the building wouldn’t hurt, right?

Before your hand could land in his, your phone rang and you felt your heart sink, dreading what could be waiting for you on the other end of the line. Both you and Hannibal looked down at your phone and saw the caller ID: “Jack Crawford.” You took a deep inhale and hit the answer button.

“I really hope you’re calling just to bug me to work faster, Jack…” You tried your best to control your voice. You looked up and Hannibal was watching, trying to listen in and gauge how you were going to react.

“Afraid not. There’s another Scalpel vic. I’m texting you the address. Drop whatever you're doing and get down here.” Jack hung up before you could say anything, leaving you in a bit of shock. 

Dammit! What the hell am I missing?! Someone else is dead--Another doctor is dead because I don’t have any answers yet. How can--

“(Y/N)?” Hannibal’s hand on your arm broke your stream of internal chastising before it could get too bad, but you did unintentionally jump at the contact. He instantly raised his hands up and let you process for a moment. “There’s another one, isn’t there?”

You just nod. A second later, your phone flashed a message from Jack with an address. 

“Guess my ‘walk’ is going to be to a crime scene.” You try to joke despite feeling a tinge of guilt spreading through you. Hannibal tried to walk you to your car but you kindly denied him. You wanted to be alone as you prepared yourself for your first real crime scene. 

[easyobsession]

Somewhere Only We Know

“You’re gonna get pissed.” He warns.

“Seriously, Justin, just tell me what’s going on.”

“Fine,” He pauses again, this time so long Kat is about to lose it, when he finally blurts, “We could get married.”

A Spinning Out fic.

A/N: A few things to get straight: what little knowledge I have about the Olympics, the Village, and ice skating in general is very limited and based solely on what I can find online. Please go easy on me; I’m new to this world. Most of my research for Beijing’s Games is speculation based on past Winter Olympics combined with me also making some of it up.

Also, as we know, we only got one season of this amazing show. While I have done my fair share of research (aka watched every Katstin scene an embarrassing amount of times), if you don’t remember some of the smaller details I mention it’s quite possibly because I made them up. Bare with me and go with it. I’m doing my best.

-

She’s been staring at the ceiling for nearly two hours. She knows this because in those two hours, Kat Baker has looked at the clock more times than she can count. But she’s done her best to stay still and focus on sleep, because if ever a good reason to need a solid night’s rest, this is it. Plus, she isn’t alone.

But it’s been nearly two hours. And after feeling her bedmate shift for the third time in less than ten minutes, she can’t help herself.

“Are you awake?” she speaks softly in case she’s wrong.

“Yes.” Justin’s voice comes so instantaneously it’s obvious he has been for a while. He rolls over onto his side to face her, clearly fed up with the charade. “I know we’re supposed to be too excited to sleep or whatever, but I figured jet lag and exhaustion would kick in eventually.”

Kat sighs. “I don’t think I can lay here anymore.”

“Screw it. Let’s go walk around or something. Get some food. I don’t know,” He shrugs, “Everything is open 24/7 here. Might as well take advantage of it.”

Kat bites at her lip. They have practice tomorrow at 9am sharp and Dasha will kill them if they’re stumbling around exhausted, but she’s so stir crazy right now she can’t bring herself to care.

“Alright, let’s go.”

They both dress quickly and head for the door, remembering to grab their ID badges from the nightstand and doing their best to remain silent as they slip through the common room. Their hands find each other in the elevator as they depart from the ninth floor, and they both give a courteous nod to security as they exit the dorm.

February in Beijing is beautiful, and despite being nothing more than a glorified college campus, the Olympic Village somehow still manages to blow both Kat and Justin’s minds. With a large handful of sky-high dormitories divided up by country, the Village is filled with basic amenities like a post office, bank, laundry facility, a convenience store, several gyms, and a huge cafeteria containing cuisine from around the world at every hour of the day.

Kat and Justin have been here for eight days so far. The first two days were spent getting settled with the other Team USA skaters and personnel, the third day they participated in the Opening Ceremony, and the remaining time has been spent using their allotted practice sessions, hitting the gym for light workouts, and enjoying the experience. They’ve also seen a few events, which is a highlight, and done a couple interviews (Dasha promises there are more to come- super) and some press work.

Mostly though, they’ve been staying close and trying to remain in a good headspace. Their competition begins in three days and their families arrive tomorrow, so for the most part they’re taking Dasha’s advice and focusing on each other.

“This is yours to lose,” she’d said. “Don’t over-think anything. Just stick together and enjoy it.”

This probably isn’t what she meant, but whatever.

After leaving the dorms behind, the duo makes the short walk into the heart of the Village, the nightlife scene far more alive than some might expect. The Village is open 24 hours a day for a reason. Some athletes prefer to train in the later hours, jetlag affecting a large amount, and some seem to need an escape to rid themselves of the jitters. One thing is clear though: everyone is tense. It’s like a university during finals- the pressure is on and everyone is feeling it.

“We should probably skip the caffeine, but how ‘bout hot chocolate?” Justin proposes, their linked hands swaying between them as they approach the commissary.

Kat nods. As much as a huge cup of coffee sounds appealing right now, he’s right. With any luck they’ll hopefully be able to manage at least a few hours of shuteye after this little excursion and a latte screams bad call.

After getting two steaming cups of cocoa (caramel in hers- she’d agreed to forgo the caffeine, not the sugar) they find an empty bench just far enough off the main pathway for a bit of privacy. So far it’s been a blast meeting and getting to know the other athletes from around the world, including several of Kat and Justin’s personal idols, but two AM just isn’t the hour preferred for socializing.

For a while they sit in silence, enjoying the peace and tranquility and the rare chance to people-watch the night owls between sips from their respective biodegradable cups.

“Feeling any sleepier?” Justin questions finally, causing the brunette under his arm to sigh.

“Will you judge me if I say that I’m even more awake than before?”

Justin lets out a curse. “I was hoping it was just me.”

“Gotta love Olympic life,” she ruses, “Well, I’m not going to the gym.”

“Fuck that,” he agrees. They’ve been practicing nonstop as it is. Neither of them is in the mood to ruin what little free time they do have, especially since Dasha never shuts up about the importance of not overdoing it.

“I don’t know. Nothing sounds appealing.” Kat continues, “But I don’t want to just sit here all night.”

For a moment silence falls again until Justin begins to fidget, shifting in his seat and catching her attention.

“What?” she demands, the look in his eye giving him away just like always.

“Nothing.” He quickly dismisses, shaking his head. “Never mind. I’m an idiot. Forget it.”

Kat rolls her eyes. “I know you’re an idiot,” she teases, “You’re my idiot though, which means I’m privy to all of your idiocy.”

“Seriously Kat, drop it. It was a dumbass thought. Let it go.”

“Hey,” the change of tone in his voice causes her to pull back, finding his eyes. Clearly he’s getting upset about something. “Talk to me.”

Justin stares at her for a minute. “You’re gonna get pissed.” He warns.

“Seriously, Justin, just tell me what’s going on.”

“Fine,” He pauses again, this time so long Kat is about to lose it, when he finally blurts, “We could get married.”

Silence.

“What?” It takes all of Kat’s strength not to screech the word. “Are you- what?”

“I said it was dumb!”

“It’s the middle of the night.” she sputters. “Our families aren’t here. We’ve only been together-”

“What feels like forever sometimes,”

Kat gives him a dirty look. “Really? You’re choosing now to fuck around?”

He raises his hands in defense.

“Look, it was just something that popped in my head.”

“Of all the possibilities, this was the random thought you had?”

Justin glances toward the ground, causing her eyes to go wide.

“This isn’t the first time?” Kat pauses, her voice finally falling back down to its regular decibel. “You’ve thought about this before?”

“Have I thought about marrying you?” Justin snorts, giving up on his hesitance as the insanity of the situation triggers brutal honesty. “I’m 25, Kat, and I’ve been in love with you longer than the two years we’ve been together. Yes, I’ve thought about it.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He says quickly. “I don’t have a binder filled with details or anything. It’s just something I’ve thought about, that’s all.”

This seems to catch her attention.

“Like what?”

“Like… I don’t know.” He shrugs. “You probably don’t want something too big or flashy. Which is awesome, because while my dad will lose his shit and it’ll drive Mandy nuts, I’m actually on board with small and simple. And I know you’ll kill me if I spend too much on the ring, which is the one thing I already have covered-”

“You have it covered?” she interrupts. “Like what, you’ve already bought it?”

He pauses for a minute, staring at her before letting out a sigh.

“I don’t want to freak you out.”

“Justin, seriously, I swear to fucking god-”

“Fine!” he holds up his hands in surrender. “Just give me ten minutes. Stay here.”

“Stay here? Where are you going?” she wants to hit him when he rises from the bench. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“Stay here!” He repeats.

“Fuck off!” she cries, yet for some reason her ass remains glued to her seat.

The following ten minutes pass in a slow blur, because what the actual fuck? Ironically it isn’t their relationship, but the fact that they’re skating for Olympic medals in three days that assures her he wouldn’t just leave her sitting in the middle of the Village like a moron, when Justin returns with his hands in his pockets, looking even more nervous than when he left. (Which is understandable, because there’s at least a 50% chance this could lead to his death.)

He lets out a breath as he sits back down next to her, finally revealing his hands and holding up a respectably sized (but not too gaudy) ruby in a band of gold. He places the ring in the palm of her hand, giving a small shrug.

“It was my mom’s.” he explains quietly. “I’ve had it since she died. Dad said she planned on giving it to me eventually.”

“Justin-”

“Look, it was a dumb idea. And I didn’t mean to freak you out, especially when literally the biggest event of our lives is in three days, but… I don’t know.” He shrugs again. “I just started talking and you didn’t stop me. So here we are.”

“So what, you just carry this with you everywhere you go?”

“Fuck you. It’s called being prepared, Baker.”

Kat goes quiet for a minute, her eyes falling from his understandably stressed face to the ring still perched in her palm. This is quite literally the last thing she ever would’ve expected, and yet for some reason the idea of turning him down isn’t her gut reaction. It’s crazy, yeah, but she does love him and they’ve been together for a while. Hell, practically everyone and their brother has brought it up, so it’s not like she hasn’t thought about it, and at the end of the day she could think of a lot worse ways to live her life than spending it with Justin.

“Your mom must’ve had small hands too. Although… I guess we won’t really know if it fits unless you put it on me.” She murmurs finally, causing his head to snap up.

“What?”

“I mean, I won’t be able to wear it on the ice, obviously,” she continues, “And we should probably wait until after the Games to tell anyone, because it’ll only be more pressure if we’re labeled the American Newlywed team. Plus, our families are no question going to kill us- Dasha at the front of the line. We’ll probably have to have some sort of party to make it up to them. Especially Mandy.”

“Are you saying yes?” he asks breathlessly, still unsure if he’s in a daze or acquired brain damage from the cold.

A small grin breaks out on Kat’s face. “I must be crazier than we thought.”

“You’re saying yes!” he surges forward to kiss her, hoping all of his joy can be transmitted through the pressure of his lips. “Holy shit.”

“Does it count if you never put the ring on me?” she questions through a giggle, causing him to let out a laugh of his own as he takes the ring and slides it onto her finger with shaking hands.

“Perfect fit.” He observes, part of him not even surprised because fate is just on their side tonight apparently, before leaning in to kiss her again. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She grins. “Mr. Baker,”

Justin laughs. “You joke, but I really could not care less.” He pauses for a second. “Hey, look, I’m sorry this isn’t something better. I mean, I wasn’t planning on renting out the Eiffel Tower or anything, but I wanted to at least make a speech or something. Most of all I know it’s something I planned to talk to you about beforehand.”

Kat shrugs. “Might as well have this be just as weird and dysfunctional as everything else about our lives, right?” She says with a dry laugh. “Besides, you can save the speech for your vows.”

Justin stares at her for a second. “You seriously want to get married at 3AM in a foreign country, in secret, three days before the biggest competition of our careers?”

“Are you getting cold feet already?”

He laughs. “I’m just making sure I’m not dreaming.” He says honestly.

“Oh, you’re awake. And it’s too late to back out now, Davis.” She holds up her left hand where the ring sparkles, looking, Justin can’t help but notice, like it’s always belonged there. “I’ve already got the hardware.”

Justin grins. “Guess I’m stuck then.”

“Looks like it.”

“Huh.” He stands up from the bench and offers her his hand. “Then let’s go get married.”

-

Part 2 Coming Soon. ;)

[vintagevalentinex]

Decode, XIII

Hey guys!  Here it is!  I just wanted to let you all know that this one is a little scary/dark so be forewarned!

Thank you for continuing to support this story, as I have continued to love writing it!

Feedback is always appreciated!

xoxo

Decode, XIII by vintagevalentinexx Mycroft Holmes x Reader ~1600 words

You were running for your life.

The burning of your lungs didn’t deter you as you continued to run, to where you didn’t know, but you just knew that you couldn’t remain where you were.  Something was coming for you and you had to get away.  You could feel the rapid beating of your heart, the blood pounding in your ears as you ran as fast as your legs could take you; the burning in your muscles not even able to stop you from running.  All of a sudden the world started fading around you, your surroundings going from a muddy gray, slowly getting darker, going back until you were running into nothingness.  The silence was deafening, and being able to only hear the pounding of your heart was unnerving.  You tried to scream into the void, only to hear absolutely nothing.  You realized whatever was chasing you has caught you.

Your eyes snapped open, groaning as you felt a dull ache at the back of your head.  What the hell happened?  The last thing you remembered was opening the door at Sherlock’s flat, thinking Mycroft had come back up.  You tried to move, nearly rolling your eyes at the fact that you were tied to a chair, the zip ties biting into your skin.  You took in your surroundings, just about too dark for you to see anything that could possibly give you any indication as to where you were being held.  It was hauntingly quiet wherever you were and it didn’t seem as though whoever had taken you prisoner was there at the moment. Despite all of this, your mind kept going back to the same person.

Mycroft.

Did they take him too?  Was he alright?  Did he know you were missing?  Did he even care?  Would he be able to find you?

You were snapped out of your internal rambling by approaching footfalls.  They shuffled along, seemingly slovenly as their approach grew louder and louder.  You kept your eyes up defiantly, determined to see the face of the person who abducted you. You saw a shadow figure of an average-sized male approaching you, your heart pounding against your ribcage, but you refused to look away.  His face became clearer in what little light there was where you were being held.  He stood maybe ten feet from you now as you tried to place his face.  He was fairly average looking, not the Quasimodo, menacing man with a handle-bar mustache you were expecting.  You knew you had seen him before…but from where?  

“I see you haven’t figured out who I am yet, Professor.”

His voice is what made it feel as though you were doused with ice water.

That voice.  You had heard that voice every single day at the University when you’d go in early in the morning and as you left every night.  It was a voice that you knew very well, a voice that you had always assumed was nonthreatening.

It was still dark when you parked your car in the faculty parking lot.  Just another typical Monday.  You taught classes all morning, had some office hours in the afternoon, along with a faculty meeting.  If you were lucky, you’d be able to get some of your own research done.  Stepping into the building you quietly made your way to your office to prepare for the day, as well as the long week you knew it was going to be.  Turning a corner, you nearly had a heart attack.  You just avoided slamming into the janitor who was quietly mopping the floor.

“Oh I’m so sorry, I should be more careful!”

The janitor smiled kindly at you.  “It’s no problem at all, Professor.  Be careful, we wouldn’t want you to slip!”

“Oh yes, thank you.  Have a good morning!”

“Good morning to you too, Professor…”

It was all starting to make sense now.  You had been in early every morning and had become accustomed to seeing the same faces again and again.  Just when id that janitor start?  He was fairly new before you left for London…Oh my God.

“I see it’s all starting to make sense now, isn’t it?”

If looks could kill. You continued to stare up at this man, wanting so desperately to pull yourself from the zip ties that bound you to the chair.

“How long…just how long were you watching me?”

He lips upturned into a wicked smirk.  “I wasn’t at the University for awfully long, to be honest.  Just about a month before you headed across the pond.  I really wanted to nab you before your trip, but you proved to be hard to attain…I like that about you, (Y/N).”

You could feel the bile rise up into your throat.  This was a game to this psychopath, and for some unforeseen reason, he decided to zero in on you.  He didn’t even let you say another word.

“You’re just hard-to-get, aren’t you?  At first I was pretty angry that I had to catch a plane…this was supposed to be an easy job.  I couldn’t believe my luck when that geezer wanted to pay me to take you out…but the more I watched you, it became so much more than that.  How that man could ever want to have you killed is beyond me, little bird…”

You wanted to throw up. Great, now the crazy man has a nickname for me…wonderful…that’s always a good sign…

“But I followed you anyway, I had to…I needed to make you realize how much we belong together…how much you were meant for me.  I may have had some minor indiscretions since I’ve been here, but I just had to make you realize how serious I am, little bird.  You are mine.  And you’ll never have to worry ever again…I’ll keep you safe…where nobody and nothing can ever get to you…”

You were fairly certain you were trembling now, partially in fear, but also in anger.  Who did this man think he was?  Well…he probably didn’t know who the hell he was either because he is clearly delusional and insane.  Please, please somebody find me. Mycroft, I hope you’re safe.

Your captor continued to talk at you for a while as you tried to make it look as though you were actively listening so you could try and figure out a way to escape.  It was completely silent, albeit the rambling of the psychopath in front of you.  in the distance you heard a loud thud, which pulled the killer from his perturbed fantasy, his head whipping around to the source of the noise.

In a matter of moments several red laser-like dots were trained on the chest and head of your captor, and you felt as though you could cry. Someone was here, and someone wanted to take him down.  Only roughly ten seconds later you head loud boots running toward you, several pairs if your hearing was correct.  You were surrounded by what looked like to be a SWAT team, shielding you from the cries of your captor.

“Take him alive.  He will atone for what he’s done.”

Although the voice was laced with ice, it was the most beautiful thing you’d heard in the past several hours.  You wanted to whip your head around, run toward him and throw your arms around him, but unfortunately you were still restrained.  You unconsciously tugged at the zip ties, nearly hissing as they bit into your skin once again.

“You have yet to free her?  Do you remember who pays your salary?!”

In that instant you were finally freed and you instantly went to rub at your wrists, certainly bruised by that point.  Careful footsteps walked around you to come to your front, and careful hands lifted you up by your forearms to help you upright.  You could finally breathe again.

“(Y/N)…”

You must have looked a mess.  You were sure you were bruised and dirty and possibly in some state of shock, but you couldn’t help let tears fall as you were face to face with Mycroft, knowing that you were safe when he was around.  He swiftly took his suit jacket off, wrapping it around your shoulders as he began to usher you out of whatever building you were being kept in.  As you approached the exit you could hear your captor screaming for you.  The temptation to turn around and look was there, but you steeled yourself and continued to move with your savior beside you.  Before you were ushered into his towncar you were able to see that you were down by the docks, seemingly being kept in a warehouse.  Typical. You looked up as you saw a helicopter speed off from the scene, as well as at least a dozen police cars creating a light show with their alarm lights.

You looked wryly over at Mycroft, who held a somewhat sheepish expression.

“Don’t you think this is a little much?”

You could feel his hand at the small of your back as he helped you into the car.  As he slid next to you, you could feel the warmth of his arm around your shoulders.

“I nearly called in a tank.  However the Chief of the General Staff informed me that it was ‘overkill.’”

You tried to laugh, but all that came out was a smile, your emotions betraying you.  Mycroft pulled you closer to his form as the car sped off.  You felt sleep overtaking you, the hardships of your ordeal finally hitting you, the adrenaline all but burned off.  As you drifted off into slumber, you could have sworn you heard Mycroft speak softly.

“You are safe now, my darling.”

Next Part!

[takingcourage]

Strangers on a Train

Pairing: Jaime x MC

Word Count: 1,850

Note: No murderers or psychopaths here -- just some goofy fun with my favorite mind reader. It’s also woefully unpolished, so please forgive any mistakes that may appear. Real life has conspired against my writing efforts lately. 

This piece was written for day 16 of the July Choices Challenge (Journey). Thanks to @julychoiceschallenge​ for the prompt and @krishu213 for the request! : ) 

That woman looks kinda familiar. Is she on something I watched on TV lately?

Drawing a staccato breath, Arden raised a hand to her cheek to make sure the wig was still secured. The long wavy locks tickled her ear with the movement, but they remained in place. While her hand was raised, she pushed the horn rimmed glasses back up the bridge of her nose, pausing at the tip as her finger slid down. 

They'd left the house less than an hour ago. Had they already been discovered? Surely not yet. How pathetic.

She cast her eye in the direction of the voice, careful to train her focus on the shifting advertisements on the screen behind. The man she’d overheard was turned the opposite way, his own interest given fully to a blond woman making her way toward the stairs.

Phew. 

"Here," Jaime interrupted, passing the slick rectangle of paper into her palm.

"Thank you," Arden answered after a beat, hoping that the Southern drawl sounded more natural to other ears than it did to her own.

He raised a brow. Sure you wanna keep this up?

Arden's chin jutted forward a fraction of an inch as she skimmed information on the ticket once more. The journey was only fourteen hours long. Most of that time, they'd be sleeping. Once Cassidy picked them up from the station in the morning, they'd be back to their normal selves.

You're right. Stupid question, Jaime amended as he shuffled closer. 

She caught the sleeve of his jacket with a small smile. “I may not get any sleep. I have a mind to stay up and look out the window all night.” 

Jaime chuckled as he slipped his fingers between hers. “We’ll see. Once we start moving, you may be lulled to sleep.” 

“Maybe,” she wavered skeptically, glancing back down at the ticket in her other hand. Compared to the joy of traveling, sleep just didn’t seem very important. 

As was the case with so many of their schemes over the years, this whole situation had begun with such an innocent start. Jaime had been the one to suggest that they turn the trip for Chris and Meta's wedding into a weekend excursion. She'd latched onto the idea, especially after realizing how easy it would be to make the journey by train. 

From there, the plan had just sort of run away with her. The thought of reminiscing with her college friends had made her realize how much she’d changed in the years since she’d dropped out of school. Thinking about those changes led her to wonder what it would be like to assume another identity for a few hours.

Her persona had to be something fun -- something that would make her completely unrecognizable. Posing as an odor tester from Georgia was the perfect challenge to keep the trip interesting. She’d be able to shed the disguise well before the wedding festivities began, and none of the other passengers would ever be the wiser about having sat across the car from one of Northbridge’s rising celebrities. 

Sucking a small breath as she handed off her ticket and ID, she let it out again slowly when she was given approval without incident. It was a good thing her license picture was from so many years ago. Age and a haircut had done a lot to change her features in the meantime, leaving her with a portrait that looked as unlike her normal appearance as it did today’s variation. 

Smothering a giggle in her coat collar, Arden stepped up into the car and peered down its length. She shuffled forward in the narrow aisle, swinging her tote back in a gentle arc toward her stomach. It had been months since she’d been in a crowd of this size without feeling positive that someone would recognize her sooner or later. While she didn’t begrudge the loss of her anonymity, there was something novel about being an unknown entity again. 

A gasp broke through her thoughts, followed by a quiet curse that no one else heard. Impulse turned her head toward the middle-aged traveler behind her. 

It’s all down my shirt! I can’t believe I did that. I can’t show up at Pat’s tomorrow with tea stains!

"Oh, bless your heart,” Arden cried softly, meeting the man’s light blue eyes. “Do you reckon we can find some towels over yonder?” 

Jaime had already released her fingers and was making his way toward the nearest lavatory. His thoughts carried over his shoulder as he traveled. Good grief, Arden. You can pull off an accent and a wig, but you can't pass as eighty. 

She channeled her laughter into a sympathetic smile that was just a bit too high up on one side. Surveying the situation before her, she commented, “Oh, those lids ain’t worth a lick, are they? They’re just no good at all. Always leaking and making a mess.” 

The tea-stained passenger regarded her curiously before repeating his attempt to snap the lid back into place. “I’d have to agree,” he said finally, motioning to his saturated polo. 

“Here,” Jaime passed a small pile of paper towels over her shoulder. The man accepted them with a grateful nod and began dabbing at the affected fabric. 

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, sir!” Arden called as she followed her husband further down the car. 

“So much for keeping your head down,” Jaime mumbled, more to himself than to her as they settled into their seats. 

“What’s the point of doing this if I can’t interact with people? I want to see what the world is like through another perspective.” Straightening in her seat before her impassioned whisper could draw too much attention, she glanced up to smile at those who were still boarding. 

“You’re going to be doing this all night, aren’t you?” 

She tittered at his fond accusation and reached into the tote for her book. “Tomorrow too.”  

_____

“Hi, I’m Elizabeth.” 

Though she’d practiced giving her middle name, the syllables still seemed to clutter her tongue. Compared to what she was used to, it was much too long and unwieldy to feel natural. 

“Gina.” The young woman across the table smiled eagerly, though Arden could sense the tinge of discomfort as they slid into the opposite side of the booth. 

“Nice to meet you, Gina. I’m Jaime. Sure you don’t mind us joining you for dinner?” 

Her head started bobbing from side to side. “No! Not at all.” 

“Thanks.” Arden tilted the menu up to read the contents. “Is this your first time taking the train?”

Gina leaned forward to answer. “No, I use it to go home for most college breaks. It’s a little old fashioned, but I love it,” she admitted with a faint blush. “This is my first time going home since the start of the semester.” I hope my parents are getting along this time. 

Arden had to bite her cheek to avoid reacting to the stray thought. Brightening, she lowered her menu to look Gina full in the face. “Any tips for first-time travelers?”

They fell into easy conversation, trading thoughts on every topic from Gina’s school to Jaime’s latest projects around the city. Eventually, talk drifted to Arden’s assumed profession. Her delight at getting to show off her research mingled with the risk of making a misstep. 

“What’s your favorite smell?” Gina questioned with unfeigned interest.

“Hmm,” Arden pondered, settling the fork back onto her pile of rice pilaf. “My favorite category is woody scents.” 

Jaime nudged her with a discreet elbow as she elaborated. Is this Arden speaking or Elizabeth?

She warmed at the question, grateful she was sitting close enough to make out the traces of cedar and pine embedded in the denim of his jacket. But as appealing as her husband was, she wanted to know more about the young woman sitting across from them. 

“What did you say you were studying?”

“Molecular biology!” The woman’s thoughts started bouncing off one another like heating atoms. 

Arden couldn’t help wondering how long it had been since the last time someone had asked about it with genuine interest. She took another bite of her roasted chicken to show that Gina was free to continue talking. 

“I just submitted a proposal for my capstone. It’s about the...” she chattered excitedly, using words that threw Arden back to long afternoons of sitting through Chemistry 101. Even so, she was grateful when Jaime’s insightful series of questions kept Gina talking through the end of their meal. 

“I’ve got a ton of reading to get through this weekend,” she explained after their dishes had been cleared away, ”but it’s been so fun talking. See you for breakfast in the morning?” 

“Definitely,” Arden confirmed before the other woman returned to her seat.

“You make friends everywhere, don’t you?”

She rolled her eyes at Jaime’s undertone and gathered her tote bag. “Like you have room to talk. You’re friends with everybody.” 

“Almost everybody,” he corrected. I’m pretty sure I still owe Alec Burdock a talking to. 

Try as she might, Arden couldn’t contain her laughter as she followed him out of the dining car. 

_____

Toothbrush in one hand, Arden used the other to raise a grateful wave toward the train attendant. “Thank you! Goodnight.” 

Snapping the sliding door shut behind her, she turned into the roomette to face Jaime. Already changed into his pajamas, he held out a hand to welcome her into the bed. 

“Are you Arden again?”

With a nod, she reached up to peel the wig away from her forehead. The fake hair hadn’t been uncomfortable, but it was still an incredible relief to strip away the excess layer and feel the cool air at her hairline. 

“Let me help,” Jaime offered as the back caught on the hair at her neck. His steady hands made short work of the tangle, and he passed her the full wig within moments. 

“Thanks.” She smoothed out the strands before placing it carefully on an overhead shelf. Lowering back to the mattress, she reached behind her to unzip the top of her dress. His fingers were there to replace her own within moments. “You’re very accommodating,” she praised while pulling the garment over her head. 

“Of course.” 

“And you were right about me sleeping,” she disclosed, tugging her pajama shorts up around her hips. “I’m exhausted.” 

Jaime simply nodded and welcomed her down onto the makeshift mattress after she turned out the light. She curled close, breathing a tranquil sigh when his arm encircled her waist. 

“Arden,” he breathed into her temple, hardly audible above the ambient sounds of the rails beneath them. "I'm glad you're you."

“Me too,” she whispered, her knuckles idly trailing the dusty line of stubble at his jaw. Snuggling into his side, she reflected on the day’s events. 

Tonight had been fun, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t looking forward to the morning as well. Yet, the charms of her own life outweighed those of any other. She’d never trade it for anything. 

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #213: COURT-MARTIAL

November, 1981

Aw sweet, I could win a ten-speed!

Welp. Here we go.

This title doesn’t fuck around. This cover doesn’t fuck around.

You know, the Avengers are actually a very rules based organization. In an average issue, its a bit weird to think about these goofuses actually following a charter but its true.

Much more so than the X-Men or the Fantastic Four. The Avengers are always talking about who’s going to be the chairman and procedural things. I think because the Avengers are more a group of equals than the X-Men or Fantastic Four are. The X-Men and the FF have a clear cut leader.

But the Avengers need rules because your common Avengers either all think they could be leading the team, actually could, or all of the above. They need an explicit charter to keep those egos in line.

But I guess my point is, having read 213 and change issues relating to the Avengers, you’d think that court martials would show up more often. They are a group prone to nonsense decisions. I think the one other one we see has Iron Man court martialed and suspended for a time for not responding to an Avengers call and not being able to account for it (since it related to secret identity stuff).

I have to figure that they tend to happen off-screen as necessary with exoneration generally occurring.

This one happens on-screen. And follows up on last time: wherein Yellowjacket shot a mysterious magic woman in the back when Cap was trying to use words and not punches to resolve things.

This is a grim day for the Avengers. They have to put one of their own under investigation and their furnishing related mishaps just keep mishappening.

Look at Thor and Iron Man squeezed onto one tiny table. Cap doesn’t even have room. He has to dramatically stand.

Although this is actually the pre-court martial. Captain America has leveled charges on Yellowjacket and Thor and Iron Man are going to decide whether it warrants proceeding or not.

Captain America: “Yesterday, we engaged in combat with a mysterious woman possessing strange, awesome powers who was attacking Washington, D.C.  After heavy fighting -- I managed to win through her defenses and reach her! I’d succeeded in convincing her to cease hostilities -- when, suddenly, for no reason, Yellowjacket blast her with his disruptor ‘sting’ at full force -- in the back! Fortunately, she weathered his attack -- but his action re-ignited the conflict! It could have cost us all our lives... and left the city defenseless!”

Iron Man asks whether Yellowjacket has any explanation for his action.

And since “I was a jerk!” isn’t a great defense, Hank goes with “no explanation!”

Without any explanation for his actions, its decided to convene a formal court martial for three days hence. Until then, Yellowjacket is on temporary suspension. Since Avengers don’t carry guns or badges, he’s asked to turn over his Avengers’ priority ID card. Which presumably gets you discounts at the snack bar as well as some sway with the government and such.

Hank protests but the rules are firm and Hank himself helped write them back in the day.

Outside the... meeting room? Tiny library? Gosh, I’d love a layout to the Avengers mansion. Why aren’t they meeting in their sweet conference room- oh right. The table shrank.

Anyway, outside wherever, Wasp in her new... and frankly lingerie-looking costume is fretting.

(Jan, why are your fashion instincts so hit and miss and miss?)

And then Tigra boops her on the head.

Tigra has continued to be as cat as an equivalent weight in cats and has climbed the wall to hang out on the wall trim. Somehow.

Wasp: “Tigra! What are you doing up there?”

Tigra: “Same thing you’re doing down there -- wondering what’s going on inside! When cats get nervous, they climb! You should try it! It might relax you!”

Tigra also assures Wasp that everything will be alright but privately hopes that it will be. And also dunks on Hank a little.

Tigra: (I’ve never seen a woman so hung up on a guy! And such a strange guy! He seems like such a cold fish... all wrapped up in whatever murky stuff is churning around inside himself! He gives me the creeps!)

Yellowjacket comes out of the whatever room and Wasp is immediately on him, asking he hold her. And he’s like

mmnnyurrh

Yellowjacket: “Jan, just -- just get away from me! Leave me alone! Haven’t I got enough to contend with without you slobbering all over me?”

When she turns away sadly he apologizes and hugs her, saying he’s just afraid because the Avengers are going to court martial him.

A still lurking on the wall like a five foot something cat Tigra wonders to herself “Jan, baby! I just don’t get it! Don’t you know you’re worth ten of him?”

She’s right and she should say it.

The pre-court martial panel splits, to meet up again in three days for the court martial.

Captain America flips off the roof into a thunderstorm to get some serious thinking and flashbacking done. He’s extra like that. I mean, seriously. There’s a front door, STEVE.

Cap: “I wonder... am I doing the right thing? Was Yellowjacket’s action just a mistake -- ? Something that could happen to anyone?”

He thinks back to the war, when he in disguise as Perfectly Average Steve Rogers PFC was on a recon patrol and his unit ran right into a huge German advance.

His unit got cut to pieces around him until he was the only one left. At that point, he ripped his uniform off to reveal he was dressed in layers as CAPTAIN AMERICA.

I was going to snark that his secret identity was worth more than the lives of his unit but I dunno that even a Captain America could have done much to save his GI guys. The way its portrayed and all. Steve even thinks that his number is up so might as well go out as CAPTAIN AMERICA.

“It was early in my career -- after I had established myself but before I had seen much front-line combat! Till that day, I hadn’t suspected how wise the government had been in giving me this costume! The very sight of Captain America seemed to terrify the German soldiers, as, fighting like a man possessed, I cut a swath through their ranks...”

Cap fought and fought until there were no more enemies standing. Surrounded by collapsed and probably unconscious and not at all dead German soldiers.

He hears a sound behind him and acting on battle instinct he throws his mighty shield with the intention to make someone yield.

But: instant regrets.

“The sound was a child... a war orphan, collecting brass to sell for money to buy food! Thank god, she was bending to pick up a shell casing just as my shield would have struck! Meant to stun a full-grown man, it probably would have broken her neck if it had hit!”

Wow! Cap almost killed an orphan!

The point being that Cap wonders if he has the right to accuse Hank, when “there, but for the grace of god...”

Meanwhile, Iron Man has stayed back at the mansion to refresh his memories with some research in the Avengers records.

This is one part a montage of previous Hank Pym moments and one part ‘actually I did do the research before I wrote this’ from Jim Shooter.

Because, yeah, Jim Shooter, according to Jim Shooter, went back and reread every single appearance by Hank Pym and Janet Van Dyne before writing this story. Believe it or don’t but the montage is here so he at least did enough to get panels to reference or reuse.

Iron Man notes Hank’s tendency to change identities and costumes frequently, how his gaining the power to go giant didn’t work out too well for him, how he left and rejoined the group, never seemed comfortable with the Avengers, and in Iron Man’s estimation that he felt outclassed by the other founders.

And perhaps the reason he kept ping ponging between the team and his research was a lack of success in either one. How his attempts to achieve a scientific breakthrough to prove himself (I guess Pym Particles are a case of ‘what have you done for me lately?’ or just that he didn’t want to be a one-hit wonder) bore only Ultron, one of the Avengers’ deadliest enemies.

Iron Man: “But I wonder... can he ever truly be free of the spectre of Ultron -- ? Can he ever be more than a haunted, hollow man drowning in a sea of guilt over the wrongs done by his monstrous creation? Can he ever rid himself of the desperate need he has to redeem himself in his own eyes?”

That’s a hell of a way to talk about your friend, Tony. I know the Avengers have a policy of not interfering in each others personal lives but its probably not the best policy to watch him struggling and just wait to see if he figures out his shit on his own.

I don’t know.

Iron Man: “And if he is in that kind of inner turmoil, he needs our help... our support... our love! Hank is a friend to us all... a founder of this group! How can we turn our backs on him when he needs us most? How dare we punish him for a mistake that any of us might have made?”

Oh! Well! Learn me to not flip the page. I guess in fairness Hank has been at his worst here than previous times.

Anyway, as I said, Tony doing this research mirrors Jim Shooter doing his research. And Tony reaches much the same conclusion as Shooter does, although perhaps more kindly worded.

Jim Shooter: “Back in 1981 I was writing the Avengers. Hank Pym aka Yellowjacket was married to Janet Van Dyne aka the Wasp and things had not been going well for him for a long time. Before I embarked on the storyline ... I reread every single appearance of both characters. His history was largely a litany of failure, always changing guises and switching back and forth from research to hero-ing because he wasn’t succeeding at either. He was never the Avenger who saved the day at the end and usually the first knocked out or captured. His most notable ‘achievement’ in the lab was creating Ultron. Meanwhile, his rich, beautiful wife succeeded in everything she tried. She was also always flitting around his shoulders, saying things to prop up his ego.”

Geez, Jim.

I don’t know about Hank never saving the day at the end. Never is a bit much. But I don’t want to reread 213 minus issues to say for sure.

But this is the portrayal of Hank that went into writing this story and Iron Man is the one who speaks it aloud.

Outside the mansion, Wasp and Yellowjacket run into a group of young fans right as they leave. The fans all want Wasp’s autograph and mistake Hank’s codename for Bumblebee and ask if he’s ever done anything.

Wasp: “Look, I’m just his sidekick! You’d better get his autograph too!”

A child, probably: “Nah! We just want yours! Right, guys?”

This is like that scene with Hulk in Endgame where he tries to get the fans to appreciate Ant-Man too, to Scott’s growing annoyance with the situation. Except not as played for laughs.

On their limo ride to their Cresskill, NJ home, Wasp tells Hank not to let those smart-aleck kids get to him.

Yellowjacket: “... Well, they were right! What have I ever done? Nothing!”

Wasp: “Hank, don’t be silly! Oh, who cares what they think? You’ll always be my hero!”

In fairness, Wasp has been actively on the team for a bit and memories are short. Hank’s been busy in his lab. Which Wasp reminds him but that's the lab she paid for and where he’s accomplished NOTHING!

The staff of the house also dig the knife in a little, possibly unintentionally but eh who can say. When they address the couple Mrs. Pym, aka the person who signs their checks is primary and Hank is the after thought. But possibly they just interact more with Jan if Hank has been cooped up in his lab.

Jenkins: “Welcome home, Mrs. Pym! Uh, you too, sir!”

Jenkins in the next panel: “Madame, would you like us to begin preparing your luncheon now? And Mr. Pym’s too, of course!”

And then, things get awkward. Although oh lord, Jan is trying.

Wasp: “Alone at last! Thank goodness! It seems that we never have any time just to be together by ourselves anymore! You know, just to talk, and --”

Yellowjacket: “I don’t want to talk about my problems, Jan! I know you mean well, but --”

Wasp: “But I’m ‘dingaling Jan, the airhead heiress’! Every time I try to help I just make things worse! I know! I -- I’m sorry! I always goof everything up... always say the wrong things! I’m such a dumbbell! It’s a good thing I found you to think for me, darling! You’re so smart... so strong... mmm... so sexy! All I want to do is melt in your arms... be yours! I need you to protect me and keep me warm, lover! Oh, Hank! Let’s just sneak off to bed and cuddle and kiss and -- and let me show you how much I love you! Whaddaya say, big boy?”

Yellowjacket: “Uh... not now, honey! I -- I’m just, just a little too tense now! You understand, don’t you? I think I’ll go putter around in the lab for awhile! Maybe that’ll relax me! See you later... okay?”

Eeesh.

Eeeeeeeeesh. It almost hurts watching Jan diminish herself so much to try to make him feel better.

Although a lot of her solutions seem to be ‘lets make out until you feel better’ but she did offer to talk. Not even about anything specific. And Hank automatically assumes that the only thing to possibly talk about is his problems.

Hank locks himself up in his lab, realizing that he’s disappointed Jan but saying that its better to not even try to get romantic while he’s this upset.

Yellowjacket: “I wouldn’t blame her if she hated me! I’m a failure as a husband... just like I’m a failure as a hero! So here I am again, hiding out in the lab... where I’m a failure as a scientist! I hate this place! ... But I keep coming back -- because, here at least I had one success!”

And yes, that one success he credits himself with... is Ultron!

Yellowjacket: “Yes... here I accomplished what no one else ever has! I built a robot capable of independent thought! Here, I created... Ultron! Even that went wrong! Even that, my own success turned into a disaster! A failure! But maybe, just maybe, my one success will yet provide the key to my salvation!”

And he starts putting together a new robot!

Hoooooooooo boyyyyyyyyyyyyy, Hank. Building robots isn’t always the solution!

Also: in order: does the robot Human Torch just not count then? And do Pym Particles not count?

SCENE AND TIME CHANGE

Three days have passed, it is dawn of the three days later.

Tigra is spending her morning napping because she is here to cat to the utmost.

Look at this. Ridiculous.

You are a ridiculous individual, Tigra Greer Grant Nelson.

And like a cat, sleep can be a tenuous thing for the faint sound of footstep on carpet outside her room has her spring out of bed and answer the door of her room before Jarvis even knocks.

Because Tigra is here to be a cat and unnerve Jarvis, for reasons which escape me.

She jokes about Jarvis bringing her a mouse for breakfast but he’s really here with her weekly stipend check from Tony Stark.

This is a thing that’s been implied but not explicitly spoken but the Avengers actually get paid for being Avengers. Its not really a salary as much as a stipend.

I don’t know that there’s a difference, except maybe legally. Maybe in regards to taxes. Maybe stipends don’t get income taxed and you don’t need to submit a form to the IRS.

That our Tony! Ha ha ha pay your taxes ya dink

Anyway, the weekly check is a ‘merely’ a modest stipend to defray miscellaneous living expenses. Most Avengers refuse the stipend because, well, they don’t need it! And most Avengers aren’t going to pocket a thousand dollars they don’t need just to laugh at Tony for handing out free money.

Your Thors, Iron Mans, Wasps and Antgiantyellowjacket Men.

But the Avengers that live in the mansion and have no outside means of support (definitely Hawkeye whenever he was on the team, definitely Beast and he definitely bought weed with it, Wonder Man, probably Scarlet Witch and Vision) accept the money.

Tigra: “Well, I’ll sure take it! I’m tired of being broke!”

And then she actually looks at the check.

Tigra: “Jarv, this check -- ! It’s for a thousand dollars!”

Jarvis: “If that is not sufficient, madame, I’m sure Mr. Stark would be happy to increase the amount!”

Tigra: “Increase the --! No, that’s okay, Jarv! This’ll do just fine! Whee! We’re in the money... we’re in the money!”

So according to an online calculator $1000 in 1981 dollars is worth about $2,820.56 in 2020 dollars!

Plus no rent because firemen sleep in the firehouse!

Being good really is its own reward! Where do I get some superpowers, an invitation to the Avengers, and probably a c-list fodder death in the next event!

Ok so maybe its not all great to be an Avenger. But the monetary compensation certainly sounds good to some!

And it bears mentioning that Tigra signed up to be an Avenger when all she thought she’d get out of it was a place to sleep and a chance to do hero stuff.

Anyway, Jarvis also reminds her that she has to attend the court martial meeting at four, prompting her to say “Aw! Don’t remind me of downers like that now, Jarv!”

You’re a classy person, Tigra.

Stop sexually harassing the butler and also anyone. Its just uncomfortable.

And poor Jarvis continues to be allergic to cats and giant woman cats. Poor, poor Jarvis.

As four approaches, the Avengers all start to head to the mansion for the court martial.

Iron Man as Tony Stark, normal billionaire man, cuts short a board meeting claiming another appointment. One of the board members is like lucky dog is probably off to a date with a startlet but oh ironies man, Tony would trade places with the board guy Dillworth if he could because he’s not looking forward to this.

And at Upper West Side Medical Clinic, Brilliant Perfectly Normal Surgeon Dr. Donald Blake is doing surgery when he realizes drat that Avengers meeting is soon.

So he asks the other doctors to finish up without him and takes off.

In fairness, in fairness! The patient was out of mortal peril. It was just the closing up and such that was left. But the other doctors are like look at that arrogant doctor man, he may be the best doctor on Earth but I don’t like his attitude.

And in the court martial room waits Captain America. Still stuck in that conundrum he’s been in.

Captain America: “When the court martial convenes, I don’t know how I’m going to find the courage to look Hank in the eye and then demand that he be expelled from the Avengers -- but I must... though it will be the most difficult thing I’ve ever done! I’m going to prosecute the case as best I can... because it’s my duty! But all the while I’ll be praying that they acquit you, Hank! I hope you understand!”

Cap is at least fair handed here. This is exactly the treatment he demanded for himself in the Charles Soule She-Hulk series where he asked Matt Murdock to prosecute the hell out of him and She-Hulk to be his defense in a wrongful death lawsuit.

The idea is this: if Hank is acquitted, then it clears his name without a shadow of a doubt because Cap wouldn’t have gone easy. Accountability, its a hell of a thing.

BUT NOW WE GO BACK SEVERAL HOURS to Cresskill and the casa de Wasp.

Janet woke up and found no Hank. He’s been locked in his lab since they got back from the pre-court martial three days ago. And she’s gotten worried that he’s hurt himself or gotten ill so she decides to invade his privacy a little bit.

Hank has locked the lab door but Jan can just about wriggle through the top because the insulation is a little cracked.

So she squirms into the very small gap between door and frame.

And finds Hank has built a medium giant robot.

He’s just finishing up the programming. Because he’s programming the robot (he calls it Sal, short for Salvation I) to locate and identify the Avengers visually as well as by brain-wave patterns.

Hank this is all very dubious! I can’t think of a good reason why you might secretly be building a robot and putting all of your friends’ faces in it!

But Sal’s detectors are running and its suddenly pinging two Avengers in the area, not one. And when Hank turns on the visual scan system to check, whoops! Jan’s here! Jan saw your robot!

Hank freaks out a little bit.

He slams his fist on the computer near where tiny bug her is standing and shouts.

Yellowjacket: “What are you doing here? Why did you come here? WHY?”

She tells him that she was worried because she hasn’t seen him in days but he accuses her of spying on him.

Jan reiterates that she wasn’t spying. She just wanted to make sure he was ok.

Annnnnnd. Hank decides that Jan being here is a serendipitous chance to test his new robot!

By having it attack Jan!

HANK!

Sal charges Jan and grabs her in its giant pincer hands. Jan tries blasting it with her bio-electric sting but to no effect.

As Hank brags Sal is made of invulnerable adamantium. Plus plus plus, he’s programmed to respond if she tries shrinking.

Yellowjacket: “Yeah, Sal’s a pretty tough customer... powerful enough to trash all of the Avengers together! No one can stop him -- except me, because I happen to know about his little secret weak spot! One precisely placed shot with my disruptor-blast stinger -- and Sal collapses, defeated!”

Jan then asks the pertinent question.

Hank Pym what the hell is this robot for??

Yellowjacket: “Why, I’m going to save my career, Jan! That’s what I’m going to do! Let’s be realistic, shall we? The charge against me is ‘endangering the safety of fellow Avengers and civilians through neglect’! The penalty is expulsion! They’re going to boot me out! This ‘court martial’ is just a formality!”

This isn’t a good plan. Nothing here is good. Only bad things will occur.

I’m not being silly, for a change. This is a bad scene.

It does what it intends to do, more or less. But its uncomfortable.

Jan is like c’mon don’t think like that. And Hank is like well, I’m going to give it a chance. But if things start going badly, boy howdy, I’m going to summon a robot to beat up my friends! Also Hank himself! That’s right! He programmed a robot to beat the shit out of him!

And then when things look their worst, Hank will save the day by blasting the robot in the secret weak spot and saving the day!

Jan tells him not to do this dumb thing.

Yellowjacket: “SHUT UP! I’ve got to do this! I’ve got to save the day right before their eyes! Don’t you see? It’s my only chance to redeem myself! It’s the only way!”

And there’s no way to really sugarcoat this. Hank just hauls off and hits her.

Or makes a very dramatic gesture and accidentally strikes her.

Jim Shooter has said that the hit wasn’t in the script.

Jim Shooter: “In that story (issue 213, I think), there is a scene in which Hank is supposed to have accidentally struck Jan while throwing his hands up in despair and frustration - making a sort of ‘get away from me’ gesture while not looking at her. Bob Hall, who had been taught by John Buscema to always go for the most extreme action, turned that into a right cross! There was no time to have it redrawn, which, to this day has caused the tragic story of Hank Pym to be known as the ‘wife-beater’ story.”

I don’t know. As I said last time with Gorn and Linnea, Hank is reflected in Gorn. And Gorn intentionally hit Linnea.

This doesn’t necessarily mean that it was set in stone that Hank would hit Jan. But it seems like it was foreshadowed in that way.

And here’s the thing: whether Hank intentionally hit her or not doesn’t really matter with how the story comes off and is attempting to come off.

Before he, intentionally or not, hits Jan directly he has also sicked a robot on her (and under-reacts when she says the robot is hurting her) and smashed his fist near her when she was small sized.

Any one of these would be unacceptable behavior.

And even if it was an accidental hit, Hank doesn’t express remorse or guilt or even awareness that he did a bad thing. He just keeps ranting as she’s sprawled to the floor.

Yellowjacket: “You’ve got to understand -- ! I can’t let them drum me out of the Avengers! I can’t! It’s all I have left! Since you had to stick your nose into my business, you’re in this with me now, Jan! I’ll keep it simple for you! All you’ve got to do is play along and keep your mouth shut! Got that?”

So. Yeah. Inadvertent or intentional doesn’t really change anything here. His behavior in this entire scene is beyond the pale.

So we time skip to the present of 4:27 PM, twenty-seven minutes after the start of the court martial and twenty-seven minutes of no show.

Tigra is getting frustrated.

Tigra: “I want to get this craziness over with! You know I’ve been an Avenger for a week! I feel pretty silly judging a guy who’s been around since day one!”

She asks if she can just cast a vote for acquittal preemptively and fuck off.

Iron Man says of course not! Although he thinks to himself that if it were possible, he would have done it and probably Thor too.

So that’s the situation regarding the Avengers’ thoughts on this court martial. Tigra wants to just vote to acquit because she’s only been here a week. Iron Man and probably Thor would also like to just vote to acquit. And Captain America is going to prosecute as hard as he can but is secretly hoping that Hank gets acquitted.

Far from Hank’s belief that the court martial is just a formality.

Anyway, Hank and Jan (wearing sunglasses) show up.

Yellowjacket: “Sorry we’re late! The George Washington Bridge was jammed as usual!”

Captain America: “No harm done, Hank!”

Yellowjacket: “You mean you won’t be pressing additional charge for malicious tardiness, Cap?”

Captain America: “Uh... let’s get started!”

Yeah. Off to a great start. Just. Not a good foot, Hank.

So the court martial starts! Thankfully the table has had a growth spurt or maybe got switched out for a bigger table.

So the voting will be by Tigra, Thor, and Iron Man. Wasp may participate but not vote because she’s Hank’s wife. Cap will prosecute.

And begin to prosecute he will do!

Captain America: “Four days ago, Yellowjacket blasted an enemy in the back -- an enemy who had already ceased hostilities! We all know that Hank’s no coward and not one to panic! It was a mistake... a misjudgement made on the spur of a tense, pressured moment! It could have triggered disaster!”

“But it didn’t! We were lucky! So, the temptation is to forget it... write it off! We tend to feel that way because each of us thinks that it’ll happen to us someday!”

“Wrong! We can’t let it happen! We’re the Avengers, not the Brooklyn Dodgers! One ‘error’ by one of us can cost thousands of lives! We don’t dare allow ourselves to think it’s ever all right to make a mistake!”

“Our responsibility is overwhelming! We’ve got to judge ourselves harshly! I recommend for Yellowjacket, as I would for myself, the severest possible penalty!”

So at this point Hank can please guilty to the charges and rely on the mercy of the court or defend himself from the charges.

And Hank decides to plead not guilty, of course!

Okay, so what’s your defense, Hank? You actually have a possible avenue here that Elf-Queen didn’t speak English and you were behind her so it was difficult to tell that hostilities had ceased and plus she had tossed your new teammate into space.

Are you going with something like that?

Yellowjacket: “I don’t deny the sequence of events as Cap described them... more or less! Yes, when it seemed as though the enemy had ceased fighting, my attack -- my ‘mistake’ -- seemed treacherous! But I find it odd that the great Captain America never even once considered treachery on the part of the enemy!”

“She could have been setting him up! By striking when I did, in the way I did, I may have actually saved his life! But is he grateful? No! Why not, one may ask!”

“Well, perhaps you noticed that the ‘enemy’ in question was a beautiful woman! Does he think I didn’t notice the way he was looking at her? Well it’s no wonder he’s so upset!”

“You like her, eh, Cap? And I hurt her -- and that’s why you have this vendetta against me, even though I may have saved your miserable life! Oh yes! I was actually the hero out there! Me! But, then, you turned it all around... you made a fool out of me!”

“And it worked, didn’t it? That’s when she started looking back! Isn’t it? Isn’t it? ISN’T IT?”

Yeah. That. Just sort of says it all, Iron Man.

Hank senses that maybe his rant wasn’t quite as convincing as it sounded in his head and demands Jan tell them how right he is!

Jan: “... no more! Let it end! I beg you, Hank, if you love me... let it end!”

And Thor sees her black eye and reacts in shock, asking if Hank hit her.

By the by the way, this is also why Chuck Austen’s retcon that Hank had been physically abusing Jan for a while can fuck off. Because in his telling, the Avengers knew for a while and just didn’t do anything.

And I do not like that as a concept.

So since this is going not how he’d prefer, Hank pulls the killer robot remote out of his outside pants and activates the killer robot.

Its got to be sunk cost at this point, right?

Even if he saves the day from the killer robot, does he think that they’re going to forget the black eye and his rant that really Captain America is too horny?

AND THEN THE ROBOT BUSTS IN THROUGH THE WALL AND STARTS BEATING EVERYONE UP

with a KA-BWHOOM! naturally.

The Avengers rally despite the surprise and try to fight back but the robot is made of adamantium and we know how much trouble the Avengers always have with Ultron.

Cap tries throwing his shield at Sal and it doesn’t even yield! In fact, Sal catches the shield and slams it into Cap’s chest. Possibly caving in his ribs.

Iron Man tries to draw Sal off of the others by shooting repulsors at it but Sal zooms over really quick and punches him in the chest before he can react.

At this point Hank begins to have the faintest inklings that maybe he’s done a bad, specifically in creating a killer robot and programming it to attempt murder on his friends.

Yellowjacket: “I -- I hadn’t realized just how deadly, how savage Sal would be in full attack mode! I’ve got to zap his weak point before he hurts someone bad!”

And he probably forgot that he programmed Sal to kill him too because when Yellowjacket goes for the weak point, Sal swivels around and hits Yellowjacket, sending him WHOK!ing into the wall.

Oh. Hey. Sal’s turn and smack pose is vaguely similar to the thing between Hank and Jan.

Wonder if that’s intentional.

Hank is knocked so for a loop (by a robot that, I’ll remind you, he programmed to beat him up) that he almost passes out and has to struggle to his feet.

But he has to stay conscious because he’s the only one that can stop the threat he himself created!

And since Sal is kicking the shit out of Thor, the threat that Hank himself created really is a big one!

Yellowjacket: “C’mon, Hank! Suck it up! Make the room stop whirling! Focus... focus on the weak spot! Aim... disruptors on full force!”

But Hank takes too long and Sal finishes beating up Thor and grabs Hank in his claws. And hey more mirroring maybe! Like Jan before, Hank is in Sal’s claws and is being crushed.

And to fit the mirroring, Jan comes to Hank’s rescue. But out of actual, factual real concern for Hank’s pain unlike Hank earlier not reacting to Jan’s pain.

Again, I wonder if it was intentional. And I think in this case it must be?

Its because Hank put her through this nonsense earlier that Jan knows where the weak spot is and can blast it to save the day, the Avengers, and Hank.

Sal plops over with a KLANG!

And Hank...

Is not grateful.

Yellowjacket: “Why? Why did it have to be Jan? If -- if I couldn’t do it... why her? Why? Why?”

After everything, after every way in which his own plans spectacularly crashed and burned, he’s still  most concerned that Wasp outshone him?

Lets let Thor put it best.

Thor: “Thy plan... was foolish, Yellowjacket! A base and transparent ruse!”

But Yellowjacket doesn’t hear Thor or anything really.

Yellowjacket: “guess i’ll go now... guess... i’ll go.”

And he lurches out the door in a bit of a daze.

Iron Man: “Jan I -- I -- what should we do? What can we do?”

Wasp: “For me? Nothing! I’m okay... now! You know, I feel like crying... but I just don’t have any tears left!”

And that’s that.

I’ve said a lot of what I’ve had to say as we went along.

There’s more to come in this particular arc. Hank isn’t done yet!

What an ominous statement.

Follow @essential-avengers because I’m doing a good job, maybe. Please also like and reblog.

[boymeetsweevil]

For science 1/7 -  (NSFW)

Grouping: Reader x Nerd!Jungkook

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings/Themes: masturbation (vaginal) & voyeurism, unrequited feelings, eventual sex. is this crack yet? lol there’s a plot i swear.

Summary: Jungkook asks you to let him watch you get off. For science.

A/N: posting this now because I’ve been working on it on and off for like a month and im tired of looking at it and jk’s bday is coming up HAPPY BIRTHDAY JK and i’ll be too busy with school plus im almost 7k into the second chapter so..

part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

Your eyes burn in protest as you scroll to the top of your terminal window once more to search for the error that is fucking your code up. It’s been hours of work and you still haven’t managed to get your program to run even though the homework assignment is easy in theory. In fact it’s just like a problem that Jungkook said the professors would probably give you in your sophomore year, and here you are in your junior year seeing such an ‘easy’ question. With him, it had truly been easy, though. Jungkook was a better computer science teacher than any professor you’d ever encountered. Thinking back to early high school days has you smiling softly to yourself. 

You miss sitting closely together, heads sometimes touching, as you both bent over a problem while he explained why it looked hard, but was actually something you could do in your sleep. The wide smile he would give you when you completed competition questions in minimal time would always set your heart fluttering.

Your phone vibrating brings you back to reality. The caller ID reads ~JK~ and you swoop in to answer the call. If the time in the corner of your computer is right (and it is) he should have already opened his decision letter from the PhD department.

“Hey, what’s the verdict,” you ask as soon as you accept the call. You know there’s no other reason why he’d call you when you were supposed to meet up in a few hours for weekly game night.

“I got in,” his voice is soft, but you know him well enough to be able to hear the joy mixed in.

“Congratulations, Kook! That’s amazing, I knew you would get in, they’d be crazy not to accept you. Oh my god, we should celebrate.”

“Yeah, I was thinking maybe we could go out for drinks before heading back to mine to play tonight. You in?” Now you can practically hear the smile in his voice.

“Of course I’m in. Let me just pack up and I can meet you. Where are you--the department lounge? I’ll come over.”

“Actually,” his shy tone has you sitting down slowly, returning your jacket to where you had it slung over the back of your chair. “You don’t have to leave right away. I was gonna try and call Yoori. You know, to tell her the news. And then tell Tae and Hobi, of course.”

“Oh. Yeah, no, that makes total sense. I should probably finish this code for Choi’s class anyway. It’s due on Sunday, but I’m almost done. Might as well turn it in early once I find this error.” Your hand scrapes at the sides of your jeans, looking for something to grab at.

“Well then I guess I have time,” he chuckles, “Your typos are always so tiny that they take hours to find. Let’s meet up at the bar in 2 hours then?” 

You wince. Although it’s not at all a mean-spirited jab, you’re no longer in the mood for the friendly banter at the mention of Yoori, Jungkook’s long time unrequited love.

“Sure. See you then,” you hang up before he has the chance to say goodbye formally like he always insists on doing.

You put your phone down and berate yourself for getting distracted. If you were the brilliant Yoori, you wouldn’t have even made the typo in the first place. But you weren’t Yoori because you didn’t have the fortune of being born four years earlier and four times more beautiful, elegant, or intelligent. And you didn’t have the luck of being so much of a genius that you could skip years ahead of school like Jungkook either. So instead you would just have to chug along, always watching Jungkook chase Yoori.

You go back to scrolling through your code only to find the error a third of the way down. Jungkook was right, the typo was tiny--a misplaced equals sign. You sigh and run the code to make sure it’s perfect this time, and when it is you send it in to your professor to be graded. You consider heading home and using the extra time to make yourself look nice. Not that there was anything wrong with your oversized university t-shirt and jeans, but suddenly you think maybe things would be different for you with regards to your love life if you tried a little harder. You’re about to leave the library entrance that’s closest to your dorm, but you get a text from Jungkook.

6:41 - I called Yoori and she said she heard about my deal with RealiCorp and she wants to link up when she gets back on campus!

You narrow your eyes at the text. Jungkook had recently sold some software he developed to an up and coming gaming company that was supposed to make the imaging on immersion headsets better. He had made a pretty penny and was covertly offered a position at the company, but it was also a large victory for the computer science department at the university and his picture had been circulating around the department website for weeks. You suppose she finally saw it while she was taking a break from her research project off campus and decided to answer his calls for a change.

You text back what you hope sounds like a cheerful congratulation and decide to just go to the bar instead. What’s the harm in a few rounds before the rest of the crew arrives?

The harm would have been miniscule at most if you hadn’t been in your feelings, but when Jungkook, Tae, and Hobi arrive, you’re three rounds in and a little bit sloppy.

“Woah,” Hobi shouts, giving you a too strong pat on the back when he sits in the chair next to you. “Someone started a little early. What’s the occasion, are we celebrating something for you too?” Jungkook shakes his head with a sheepish smile and goes to sit beside you, away from Hoseok.

“Nope. Just getting ready for an evening with your loud ass.” He gives you a pretend pout and flags the bartender over. Tae sits next to him and gives you a little wave and smile.

“Two whiskeys, make mine a sour and make his straight. From the high shelf.”

“Hey now,” Taehyung’s eyes widen comically, “Are you forgetting that payday isn’t until next week? I’ll take the regular whiskey down there, please.”

“Don’t worry. Kookie said he was paying with his RealiCorp money,” Hoseok stage whispers into your ear, “He’ll probably cover your round too.”  You swat him away and turn to Jungkook, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“You know I’ll cover yours. The rest of them, I don’t know.”

“What? Come on, you’re the youngest,” Tae whines, less than satisfied with his cheap whiskey shot.

“Shouldn’t that mean you guys pay for me?”

“N-no! Because you’re actually our senior now. You’re graduating this year, I’m the oldest technically but I’m not graduating until next year. We know these two aren’t graduating until the year after that,” he points to you and Tae, “Plus, you’re going to the PhD program next year. You should definitely be paying for us.” Hoseok has a point, you and Tae nod sagely to back him up.

“Fine,” Jungkook sighs, pushing his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose, “I’m in a good mood, so why not.”

“I bet you are,” Tae’s grin is big and catlike in the low light of the bar. His gaze a little lewd. “I would be too if I was one step closer to finally bagging a girl like Yoori.”

You look down into your beer bottle, the green glass suddenly much more fascinating than the conversation at hand.

“Did you hear,”Hoseok turns toward you,”Yoori is gonna come back soon and when she does he’s gonna make her Mrs. Jeon.”

“I’ll be sure to throw rice during the wedding,” you snark. The bartender brings you a new beer without another word. Taehyung howls at your comment.

“I’d kill to have a wedding night with her.”

“Hell, I’d kill to have a bathroom stall night. With anyone,” Hoseok sighs, “It’s hard out here for a comp-sci major. Right, guys?”

You hum in agreement. It had been a while since you’d last gotten laid.

“You’re right. I can’t even remember that geology minor’s face. Do you remember her? What was her name? Mara? Kara?”

“Sara,” Hoseok provides with a grin, “I think she has a thing for comp-sci majors. Kook, you ever hook up with Sara?”

Jungkook shyly traces a finger around the rim of his empty vodka class. “I haven’t hooked up with anyone.”

“Ever?” You try to keep incredulity from bleeding into your question.

“Ever,” he nods. He hiccups a little and all of the sudden you totally believe that Jungkook is a virgin.

“Dude, wait, I thought you hooked up with that one chick at the music festival last spring. Am I the only one who saw her?” 

Tae nods in agreement. “Yeah, she gave you her hotel room key and everything.”

“It wasn’t like that. She told me her brother was there for a robotics tournament and I asked her if I could see the bot.”

You smile despite your sour mood. If there was one thing you loved about Jungkook it was his blind enthusiasm for STEM. Even if it made him a little oblivious to other things at times.

“Well, you better fix that whole virgin thing fast, bro. Chicks like Yoori probably want someone with experience. In more ways than one, if you catch my drift.” Hoseok nudges Tae with a wry smile.

“That’s not just a Yoori thing, most people don’t want to have to coddle someone in bed unless that’s, like, their kink or something,” you take a large swallow of beer.

“Wait,” Tae says, eyeing you like he’s had an epiphany, “You’re a girl--”

“Didn’t we establish this 2 years ago? When we met?”

“No, no, I mean you can help Kookie so he doesn’t drop the ball with Yoori.”

“Yeah, right,” you snort, “Help him how? Give him a sex-ed lecture?” You turn to laugh with Jungkook, but he’s looking at you seriously. Or as seriously as he can when he’s tipsy with unfocused eyes and blushing cheeks.

“You…don’t want to help me?” His voice sounds pathetic and small, making you feel bad instantly.

“Oh, Kook, it’s not that I don’t want to help you. But think about what that implies.”

“Is it because I’m a virgin?”

“Oh my god, Kook, there’s nothing wrong with being a virgin don’t listen to us. We’re idiots.”

“Then why don’t you want to help me?”

Because I like you. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. You obviously don’t say that, though. Instead you sit back in your bar stool.

“I-I would if I could, but I don’t know how to help you,” you finally say.

“It’s fine. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I guess the thought of being with Yoori makes me a little stupid.”

Desperately you search for a solution. Instead of finding one, you call the bartender back and order a round of tequila shots. Jungkook gives you a sad look but doesn’t ruin the mood by not taking a shot. You order two more rounds because somehow, even though he’s drunk, he still looks dejected. After your third shot you can’t stand the way his shoulder slump.

“You know what,” you slur loudly, drawing three pairs of eyes to your face lazily. “It’s getting late and we might not get to play Fortnite this weekend. Let’s all get to bed so we can be up early tomorrow to play.”

Tae points a wobbly finger in your direction, eyes suspicious. “When you say early, you mean after 2pm right?”

It takes twenty minutes for everyone to get their shit together enough to leave the bar. Tae and Hoseok keep losing each other in the bathroom. Jungkook keeps forgetting that he has to pay and tries to ask the bartender what he thinks about sub-atomic particle physics. Even though you’re drunk off your ass, you somehow manage to keep yourself responsible enough to wrangle Tae and Hobi out of the bathroom and guide Jungkook through the motions of swiping his card and signing the bill. The four of you then squeeze into the back of an uber. Hoseok whines about being lonely while sitting in the passenger’s seat. Jungkook’s bumps his hand against yours until he can firmly grasp it and get your attention before you pass out.

“Hey, can I sleep on the couch,” he whispers in your ear. His breath smells like alcohol and limes. You turn your head to chase the scent away and rest your head on his shoulder. You yawn.

“Sure. No problem, buddy.”

Your apartment is the first stop on the route and you launch yourself out the car and run up through your lobby and to the elevator to escape the cold of the air conditioner and the fluorescent lights. Jungkook lingers in the car until Tae pushes him out to make room for Hoseok.

“Kook,” Tae calls out as he helps Hoseok pour himself into the back seat.

“Wassap?”

“The only way to get good at sex is losta—lotta...lot’s a practish. Okay?”

“But-but…Who am I gonna practice with?”

Tae merely whistles and points a finger upward, gesturing to your illuminated window. The car pulls away and Jungkook sways unsteadily up onto the sidewalk with nausea clawing at his throat. Thinking of the stairs he’ll have to climb—because there’s no way in hell he’s taking the elevator, even in this state—he regrets not just going to his own first floor dorm. Does he really need to get sex counseling from you? There’s always porn, he muses before remembering the rant you’d gone on blaming porn for making a guy you’d been hooking up with try to do weird things in bed involving a summer squash. Looks like he’d have to rely on the real deal to get anywhere with Yoori. Oh, Yoori.

A shimmering vision of the beautiful girl with elegant eyes and an ever-painted smile floats in front of his hazy vision and gives him the strength he needs to hobble forward towards the lobby door with dedication.

Minutes ago you couldn’t wait to go to sleep, but as soon you unlocked your door and made it to your room, you were wide awake. Even brushing your teeth and stripping out of your jeans didn’t to tire you out.

“Fuck,” you groan. You throw yourself onto your bed and hope that the way the room spins will lull you to sleep but when the spinning stops, your eyes still won’t stay closed.

The clock resting on your desk across the room reads 1:48am. It’s already clear that you’re going to be hung over, but knowing that it won’t be cushioned by a nice long sleep before you have to go to yoga at 12 makes you want to cry. You desperately wrack your brain for all the remedies there are to make you sleepy. You just canceled your cable last week to save some money, so you can’t veg out in front of the TV. You’re lactose intolerant, so warm milk isn’t an option. You’d take a warm shower but you washed your hair already and if you go to bed with wet hair your mother’s voice will haunt you all night with stories of the cold coming your way. Kicking your feet in frustration, you toss yourself over the edge of the bed to hang. Maybe all the blood will flow to your head and you’ll pass out.

You’re about to risk passing out and landing on your neck the wrong way and dying when a bright pink shoebox under your bed catches your eye. Of course, you think, how could you forget your precious vibrator. Luckily for you, a good orgasm or three always managed to knock you out like a light. You reach over and scoot the box forward with your outstretched fingertips until you get it close enough to reach inside and grab the petite tiffany blue bullet. Giddy laughter leaves your mouth as you heft yourself back onto your bed and fall back on the pillows with a contented sigh. Orgasms solve all your problems. You flick the device on to the lowest setting and ghost it against your clothed mound.

Jungkook is completely breathless as he leaves the center stairwell and finally arrives on your floor. The stairs were a bitch and a half, but your door is only two down from the floor entrance. He can practically hear the siren song of your pull-out couch. When he turns the knob to your front door, it doesn’t budge and he wonders if you must have locked it on instinct. There’s no way you forgot that he was staying over, he thinks to himself. Reaching above the doorjamb, he hunts for the spare key you left there especially for him. The door unlocks easily and he smiles to himself as he locks the door behind him and toes off his shoes. He’s about to face plant into the couch when you call his name faintly from your bedroom.

As he stumbles through the hallway slowly to your room, he thinks over what Taehyung said to him before driving off. To Jungkook’s drunk mind it makes sense, so it must be a good idea to seek sex practice from you. You’re the only girl he knows and he’s known you so long that he can already tell there would be no awkwardness. The sad look in your eyes as you listened to his predicament in the bar tells him that you want to help him, but you didn’t know what route to take. He flexes his hands by his sides and figures he’ll just tell you what Taehyung told him and get to coming up with a curriculum.

The door to your bedroom is half-open and the lights shine through the opening, so he figures you must be up and waiting for him. He can still hear you calling his name, but it still sounds oddly soft from where he is. He pushes the door open but freezes in his tracks when he sees you.

The first thing he notices is obviously the frantically moving hand you have between your legs and the loud buzzing sound that comes from it. He takes in more details the longer he looks. He realizes belatedly then that you’re not wearing pants. Thanks to the high prescription strength of his glasses, he can also see the way your hand and thighs shine and the huge dark spot in the crotch of your panties in the light of your table lamp. Your toes are curling and he can just make out the way your lower stomach clenches underneath the very same sweatshirt you’d been wearing to the bar. Technically he can’t see your other hand but he has a pretty good idea of where it is and what it might be doing with the way it disappears under your shirt. You can’t see him, though, because your head is thrown back and your eyes are closed. The only thing you’re probably at least partly aware of is the cacophony of wet sounds that come from where you work the nose of the toy over yourself. The last thing he notices is the way you call his name in a soft whining tone that has him stepping forward without thinking.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you whine as the slippery heel of your hand bumps against your covered clit a little roughly on an upstroke.

“Yes?”

“What the hell,” your eyes snap open and your head whips around to see him leaning on the door frame as he watches you.

His eyes are heavy with alcohol and his cheeks are just as pink as the lip he releases from the grasp of his teeth. He reaches out and stumbles forward, causing you to scramble back to distance yourself from him. You bring your knees up to hug to your chest before you realize that you’re still very much on show.

“Jeon Jungkook, what is going on here,” you shriek, bringing your hands to cover your eyes only makes you feel a little bit better.

He sits down on your bed like it’s any other day and he’s just chilling in the room like you invited him over. And then you realize that you did kind of invite him over as fragmented memories of the recent uber ride you took together spring up.

“You said you wanted to help me, but you didn’t know how. But Tae told me I just have to practish.”

“Practish?”

“Practice,” he corrects himself.

“Practice what?”

“Practice sex. Duh!”

“Jungkook, no!”

“Please? I wouldn’t be asking such a huge favor if I didn’t think it was absolutely necessary.”

“Why can’t you just go to a frat party like everyone else?” 

Your heart is beating rapidly and you think maybe you’re not drunk anymore. Never in your life did you think you would turn down sex from Jungkook, but then again you never pictured it happening this way.

“Because I,” his head hangs and he starts to pick at a loose thread in your duvet, “I guess I missed out on this kind of thing when we were younger and I don’t think I could get very good results in a basement party. Plus, I know you’d…”

“I’d what?”

“You’d be good to me.” He lifts his eyes to lock with yours. His gaze is oddly sharp despite the fact that his skin is still clammy like it gets when he drinks.

Your breath hitches and for a moment it does feel like the fantasies you have almost every other time that you settle into your room, lonely and horny. Jungkook laughs bitterly to himself and you can feel your resolve crumbling as something selfish rears its head in the back of your mind. He tries one last time. 

“Please?” 

You crack.

“Okay.”

“Really?” His eyes light up once more as he gives you a blinding smile. “Great. Let’s start!”

It feels as though you’re having an out of body experience as you watch him clamber closer onto the bed with you. Your legs naturally open to accommodate him and he scoots into your space, his hands falling to naturally stroke with the soft skin of your ankles. Even though he lacks experience, Jungkook has a leg up in that he’s naturally on the affectionate side. Something you can’t teach with any amount of practice. Even still, the idea that Jungkook will be sitting between your naked thighs makes your stomach do flip flops.You barely start formulating something to say that will sound educational when you hear him get ready to interject once more.

“God, what is it?” You worry that if he interrupts you one more time you’ll lose your nerve.

“I need a visual aid. And, uh, I won’t be able to see because of your, uh, undergarments.”

You’re certain that you’ve never taken anything off faster than you do in that moment. The panties fly into some far corner of your room and you can only hope that they don’t land in a clump of dust bunnies.

“Alright,” you stutter, “I don’t have to give you an anatomy lesson, right? Please tell me you at least know where everything is.”

“We took anatomy together in 7th grade,” he says like that’s a decent answer.

You roll your eyes. “Right, okay. Anatomy lesson it is.”

“What’s this,” you point at yourself.

“That’s the uh…entrance to the vagina?”

“Ok and?”

“It’s where the pleasure comes from?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes?”

“Partial credit.”

“Isn’t that where the…phallus goes, though?” You decide it would be best to ignore his word choice for now.

“Yeah, I mean stuff goes in there but that’s not where all the pleasure comes from. For some people that’s not where any of it comes from.”

His eyes widen nervously. “Then where does it come from if not from penetration?”

You gesture again. “This is the clitoris.” His sweaty bangs flop over his lenses as he nods enthusiastically. Finally something he remembers.

“The clitoris,” he chirps affirmatively. You side eye him, but keep going.

“This little thing is basically there for the sole purpose of pleasure.”

“How do I activate it?” Again you blink at his terminology. Although you’d been a STEM freak with Jungkook for years, somehow he managed to baffle you with his nerdiness.

“Uh, you can stimulate it by touching it.” You draw a small circle in the air around the nub to demonstrate. “Like that, for example. You can also use your hands or your mouth.”

“Or that little blue thing you were using earlier,” he chimes in, reminding you of the embarrassing way this whole thing started.

You sigh. “Yeah. That too.”

“And that’s it?”

“No that’s definitely not it. We haven’t even touched the other places of pleasure or technique or foreplay. But this is a pretty good cheat code.”

“So what about the inside? Like the tubes?”

“There’s really not that much you need to know involving the actual reproductive organs themselves. We can just focus on the external bits for now.” You wince at how uncomfortable the discussion is.

“That makes sense,” his brows furrow seriously. He’s slow to blink, partly so he doesn’t miss anything and partly because he’s still fighting off tendrils of sleep.

“I mean,” you wring your hands anxiously, “that’s all you really need to know for now. It’s mostly learning on the go, anyway. You’ll be fine.”

“But what if I’m not fine. Don’t you think you could, you know, show me?”

“What is there to show?”

“How about you just continue…what you were doing when I came in.”

“Masturbating.”

“What?”

“I was masturbating when you came in.”

A hand flies to the collar of his shirt and he tugs on it sheepishly. “Yeah, that’s what I meant.”

You try not to focus on how weirdly awkward the mood is now that your lust has calmed down to barely even a simmer. You reach for the discarded vibrator that jumped out of your hand and landed by the edge of the head of your bed, but he stops you with a raised hand.

“Can you, uh, maybe do it the old-fashioned way? For the first time at least?”

“Right, I guess I’ll get to it.”

Jungkook sits back on his heels patiently and watches closely as your hand trails a path down your torso to the apex of your thighs. The first touch, though you know it’s your own hand, has you twitching a bit. You bite your lip hard to focus and circle your entrance to coax out more moisture, then you move back to circle your clit. You close your eyes in hopes that not being able to see Jungkook’s gaping expression will help. It does, a bit. After a few moments, you let out a breathy sigh and sink further into the pillows. You plant one foot more firmly on the mattress to give yourself some leverage and push yourself more into your circling hand. The slight increase in pressure has you moaning and your eyes fluttering. You peek through heavy lids to see Jungkook’s expression has also changed. His eyes, clear just a second ago, look glassy again from behind his lenses, his mouth slack and shiny. The rise and fall of his chest is a bit heavier. You let yourself think it’s because of you and go back to collect more arousal to increase the slip.

Apparently, you’re more turned on than you thought. When your middle and ring fingers wander down to your hole they come back pleasantly slick. Something in you suddenly feels rebellious, so you use your free hand to spread your lips further and bring your coated fingers up to Jungkook’s face. You flex your fingers and separate them to show crystalline streaks of arousal connecting them.

“Just so you know, this is a good sign.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Somehow, even though you’re still wearing socks and a baggy sweatshirt, you’re hotter than all the completely bare, busty women he’d watched moan and writhe wildly on his computer screen. He reaches out and delicately grabs you wrist before redirecting your hand back to your dripping center.

“Keep going,” he rasps.

You whine and begin to rub your clit more earnestly, lewd wet sounds fill the room. He can practically see your lips getting wetter and wetter as you redistribute your arousal with every rough swipe of your fingers. Your wrist is moving fast, but it’s clear that you’re becoming frustrated with all that you can do with one hand. Your other hand quickly moves to take over making tight figure eights around your clit while the one already coated in your juices moves back down to your entrance once more. This time, you crook two shining fingers and shove them into your hole. Immediately your back bends and a drawn out moan leaves your mouth. Jungkook gasps quietly. You pump your fingers in and out roughly, then withdraw them to add a third finger.

He watches you like that for a while before you get fed up again. It’s been a while since you’ve been so needy and you feel like you’re on fire. Your toes curl impatiently on either side of Jungkook and he realizes you’re looking for more. On instinct he scoots further until his own legs are brushing up against the undersides of yours. His hand reaches out to pet your quivering thigh in a sympathetic effort to help with your plateau. He looks down at your hand, twitching feverishly in and out of yourself. His hands are much bigger and suddenly he moves like he’s about to replace your fingers with his own.

When Jungkook’s hands start to approach your center your breath hitches. You’re not quite in the right state of mind to reject him if he offers to finger you, but you don’t want to take advantage of the situation and make it any more emotionally complicated than it already is.

“Not yet,” you offer when his hands get too close for comfort, “Next time, maybe.”

He seems to be thinking the same thing and averts his attention to the forgotten vibrator. His grip on your thigh disappears, and you sigh quietly, but it’s hidden under the slick sounds you make each time your fingers get sucked into your heat and the low moans you make every time your pinch your clit just so.

“W-what do I do?” His voice is small and his sudden worried look has you wrapping a hand around his and bringing it to show him how you click the toy on and circle it around your entrance.

His hands are sweaty, shaky, so when your hips start to circle on their own, they move to find a resting spot on your thighs and squeeze to deal with the tension rising in his own belly. He grits his teeth, clenches his hands, does anything he can to keep from overstepping and making this about him. As obviously cliché as it sounds, seeing you sweating and moaning underneath him lets him see you in a new light. You’d always been around, but your presence as a woman in his life was backgrounded at best. Now, with Yoori momentarily not clouding his mind, he wants nothing more than to ravage you. He’s almost certain that if he tried, his lack of experience wouldn’t matter too much. He’s sure his body would be able to act on baser instinct and give you the what you wanted. If you wanted.

Your moans change in pitch and soon he’s aware that this will be the first time he’ll have been privy to someone else’s orgasm in real life. His dick is painfully hard and straining against the jeans he’s wearing. But he forgets the discomfort fast as he watches you grind yourself down against the toy in a way that is absolutely filthy. Your bottom lip, shiny and reddened, is pulled taut between your teeth in ecstasy. Your eyes flutter open and lock with his own. You focus and notice his blown-out pupils look huge within the depths of deep brown irises. There’s no denying he’s turned on once you flick your gaze down to his crotch and see the large tent in his pants.

“I—I think I’m gonna…Oh!” Your leg kicks out on its own like some electric current runs through you. Your voice breaks as the waves of your approaching high begin to take over you. One of his hands inches upwards a bit and strokes the tense muscle near your groin softly, at a loss for words. “Oh god, Jungkook, you—” keening, your eyes roll into the back of your head.

One of your hands reaches up to squeeze at his bicep as he’s leaning over you. He wonders in the back of his mind when he got so close to you. Your leg hooks around him like it has a mind of it’s own and tugs him down, forcing him to topple over you. That’s the last straw and you sob from the intense pleasure. Meanwhile your warmth and proximity and your words prove to be a deadly combination and within seconds he’s spilling over himself in his boxers, untouched. He lets out a low groan that puffs against the side of your neck.

You both sit there and breathe for a long while, catching your breath and coming back down to earth. He sits up eventually and pulls away from you, leaving you cold. Your legs flop from around him heavily. You’re a bit irritated when you realize you won’t be able to walk normally for a while. He discretely wipes his hands off on your duvet while you wipe at the sweat soaking your hairline.

“That’s it, that’s the show,” you finally say.

He shoots up and looks at you anxiously. It’s cute. “You mean until next time, right?”

His eyes are wide and imploring as he hovers over by you. He looks a bit like a turtle from this angle. A cute one, though. One that you want to play with again next week. You nod even though he might have all that he needs to do well with Yoori, being the fast learner that he is.

“I guess so. Same time, next week. Do some research for next time maybe. Make sure it’s from something not involving the medical library.”

“Got it!” He turns and waits until you’re not looking to adjust his pants.

You notice his hair is sticking to his forehead when he finally stands up. And there’s a cowlick sticking up in the back that reminds you of middle school Jungkook, before he met Yoori. The idea of the other girl, the girl he’s really in love with, dims your post-coital glow. Although, you suppose you have her to thank for this evening’s events. How else could you have ever managed a one-sided romp in the sheets with your long-time crush?

Both of you take turns using the bathroom to clean up. While he hums in time with washing up, you slip panties on and debate about whether or not to throw your sweats back on. You decide that if you’re going to play this off like it hasn’t changed your relationship, you should put pants back on.He comes out looking pink and clean and you want to pull him back into your bed and wrap yourself around him. 

To protect his glasses from the dangers of the bathroom, he left them in your room. Squinting, he walks with hands out to collect them. When he puts them on he doesn’t look at you and instead pulls his phone out of his pocket and swipes around while leaving the room.

“Heading out,” you ask with a quasi-disinterested tone.

“Yeah, I remembered I have to run the Saturday tutoring session this week. So I might as well go home so I can get ready for that. You should come, you know. Your test scores dropped 2 points this week.” Typical Jungkook. He couldn’t ever fully leave TA mode.

You roll your eyes. “Thanks for the reminder, but that’s still an A.”

“Maybe we can try this again next week the same time?”

“Yeah, uh, okay.”

“Cool, I’ll put it on my calendar.” He lifts his phone to his face to tell the digital assistant to pencil you in for next week. You try not to grimace at becoming a date in his calendar app.

“Get out already, you nerd.” You push him out after he puts his coat back on, but you do watch out the window to make sure his taxi comes.