#There's more complexities to them of course

[aesethewitch]

Ambient Spells

The idea of the ambient spell isn’t so uncommon. My use of the word “ambient” may throw you for a bit of a loop. An ambient spell is any spell that permeates a space in an unobtrusive way. They affect the area surrounding their vessel and require little to no maintenance or upkeep. They’re long-term workings that require varying levels of effort to put together and cast. Depending on what exactly you need, they can be as simple as setting out a bowl of salt or as complex as crafting a home decor piece from scratch.

I always recommend making ambient spells that are self-fueling. I often refer to them also as “set it and forget it” spells. They’re the crockpot of spellwork — work up front for a slow burn output.

Chances are that you’re already aware of or even know how to create ambient spells. Any spell that affects the vibe of a room, for example, would count as an ambient spell. Lighting incense specifically to invite in positive energy counts. A ward that sucks up baneful magic and transforms it into blessings also counts. The primary idea of an ambient spell is that it’s making a change to your environment in the background. It’s the cool breeze in summertime, the subtle piano at a fancy restaurant, the scent of fresh-baked cookies fading as the day goes by. Positive, but not overt.

When to Use (or Not Use) an Ambient Spell

By their nature, ambient spells are fairly general workings. They can be quite powerful, of course, just like any other spell. The thing to keep in mind is that they’re not ideal for targeted magic.

For example, I wouldn’t create an ambient spell to banish someone from my life. I might make an ambient spell to make an area unwelcoming to them, or to anyone who would do me harm. The unwelcoming vibe might discourage them from coming around, sure. But it may not work outside of the area the spell lives in; and it may not get rid of them for good.

Similarly, an ambient spell might make a good general ward for keeping out loud, unwelcome spirits, but it wouldn’t specifically cast out the one particular spirit who’s been causing problems. It might discourage their behavior, but it wouldn’t necessarily get rid of them. A concentrated, single-use banishing spell would work significantly better for that purpose. Afterwards, an ambient spell can keep the area clear of that spirit’s influence.

I also wouldn’t use an ambient spell to draw in specific success. General success or money, absolutely — whatever wants to come my way is welcome, via a basic money bowl set up next to my wallet. But if I specifically want a promotion or a particular amount of money, I’m not going to leave that to the ambient money spell. I would craft a spell specifically for what I’m looking for.

When deciding what kind of spell to cast, keep this idea in mind. An ambient spell is best for behind-the-scenes results that happen without your concentrated effort. When you want something specific, a more targeted spell will work better nine times out of ten.

Creating an Ambient Spell

It’s possible to create an ambient spell with nothing but energy work. However, I often find that these fade quickly and don’t lend themselves well to self-fueling. They tend to need more active upkeep than I prefer for a spell that’s meant to be set and let go. I recommend choosing an appropriate vessel of some kind to contain the spell to help it last longer.

How do you decide what’s an appropriate vessel, though? And how do you set one up? How do you make a spell self-fueling? Let’s start from the top and go in order.

Identify the Purpose

Decide what the spell will do. This is going to define the components and the way you’re going to cast the spell. In my experience, ambient spells work best when they’re given a single purpose. For example, I wouldn’t make a spell that’s a ward and a cleanser and a spirit welcome mat. It dilutes the purpose. Choose a single, clear motive for the spell.

Choose a Vessel

Now that you know what your spell will do, it’s time to decide what it’s going to look like. The vessel you choose should reflect the spell’s purpose in some way.

An open bowl works well for absorbing energy. Why? It’s open. The face of it is open to the room, ready to take in whatever kind of energy you assign to its contents.

A closed jar, on the other hand, would be good for repelling. It’s closed off and sealed — a one-way road going out of the jar and into the room to clear it.

A wreath hung at the door could serve a lot of purposes, depending on what it’s made with. I would use a wreath as an agent of transformation or as an energy emitter to release a certain energy into the space.

A stone makes a solid vessel for protection or grounding. I have one on my working altar to help keep me in the moment and create a good environment for working magic.

When you’re choosing your spell vessel, keep in mind how visible you want it to be. Certain vessels are going to naturally be more obvious than others. A wreath, for example, is hard to miss — but it also just looks like nice home decor. A jar full of herbs and things would be more obviously a spell, but they can be small and easily hidden.

I have both obvious and hidden ambient spells peppered around my home for varying purposes. If you’re keeping your practice a secret, you’ll likely want to keep your spells more obscure or hidden. But if you aren’t, and you can make the choice of whether you want the spell to be in plain sight or not, consider the effect you want the spell to have.

If you want the spell to absorb bad vibes, baneful magics, the evil eye, or other negativity, a hidden spell might serve you well. Hiding the vessel somewhere means that whoever’s casting against you may not expect the resistance. On the other hand, if you want a vessel that allows friendly spirits to visit you during the holidays, a beautiful centerpiece on your dining table that’s charmed with spirit-friendly magic might serve the purpose.

Choose an Energy Source

Ambient spells need to draw energy from somewhere. Think of it like a battery. The ingredients you put into the spell may provide a temporary charge, but if you want the spell to be long-term, it needs an input. How will your spell recharge itself?

If you want the spell to be shorter-term, only a few days or so, then you can skip this step. But if you want an ambient spell to last a while, like a ward or vibe-adjuster, you’ll need to think about this carefully.

Like when choosing the vessel, the energy source should match the purpose of the spell. For example, I have a simple room refresher spell set on a table that’s central to my home. The purpose of it is to take anxiety and negative thoughts to turn them into positivity. I set it up so that the act of walking past the bowl swirls the air around it, and therefore also the energy around it. That kinetic energy fuels the bowl’s magic and keeps it going. I don’t have to actively recharge the bowl or its contents, because we walk past it constantly.

Another example would be an ambient spell to help you do the dishes. (Whether that’s remembering to do them or finding the motivation for it is up to you.) The fuel for the spell could be the act of walking into or past the kitchen, running water elsewhere in the home, or even cooking or eating.

The energy source could also be something like lighting a candle next to or over the vessel on a schedule, if you prefer. This would add an upkeep step, of course, and wouldn’t be my first choice. The only ambient spell I do this with is my money bowl, and that’s because it’s tuned to be able to shift focus from day to day depending on what exactly I need (commissions versus tips versus discounts, etc.).

Setting Up an Ambient Spell

Decide where you want to place your spell’s vessel ahead of time. If you have pets or kids, make sure you put whatever it is out of their reach. If the vessel is something like an uncovered bowl, you’ll want to be sure that it isn’t going to get knocked over. Similarly, if it’s made of glass, you don’t want it to fall and shatter. If your vessel needs to be hidden somehow, determine where you’ll keep it. It would be smart to make note of where the spell is and what it looks like in your grimoire or spell notebook just so that if you forget about it, you can identify it later on down the road.

After you know where you want to put it, it’s time to choose ingredients and fill your vessel. The components you decide on should, obviously, match your goals.

Casting an ambient spell is much the same as casting a regular spell. The only thing to keep in mind is that an ambient spell has a sort of prolonged release.

Upkeep and Care of an Ambient Spell

For the most part, ambient spells should require little to no upkeep. With that said, you should still do routine check-ups on them. I include them in my regular rounds when I check on my wards and various protections, but you could do yours whenever it makes the most sense to you.

Depending on how you decided to fuel your spell, you may need to do a bit of feeding. Whether that’s lighting a new candle, refilling a cup of water, mixing around a pile of herbs, or giving the vessel a little shake, do so anytime it feels like the spell’s energy is flagging. It may take some practice in sensing energy to know exactly when a spell needs refueling. This is partly why I suggest creating a schedule to check in on the spell; ambient spells are a great type to practice sensing spell energy, since they’re typically long-lasting and may wax or wane depending on the day.

If your spell is fully self-fueling and it doesn’t seem to be working anymore (or at all, even from the start), it’s time to take it apart. Discard disposable components according to your practice’s tenets. Cleanse the rest for future use. I would suggest washing your spell vessel alongside magical cleansing.

A Ready-to-Use Example

Here’s an extremely simple example of an ambient spell I use in my home to keep the main living area light, fresh, and conducive to getting work done. Since both my partner and I work from home, it’s important that our areas have an aura of focus.

Materials:

- A small bowl, preferably green or brown - Enough salt to fill the bowl halfway - A few pinches of dried rosemary

Instructions:

1. Ensure the bowl is clean and dry. Pour salt into the bowl until it’s halfway full. 2. Sprinkle dried rosemary into the salt and stir. 3. Instruct the spell, in whatever way makes sense to you, to exude focused but calm energy into the space. 4. Place the bowl in an area that is frequently trafficked. 5. Leave the bowl in place until it no longer provides a fresh, focused energy to the space. Dispose of the contents, clean the bowl, and reset the spell.

Notes: - This spell is powered by movement specifically, because both my partner and I work from home, and we pace when we’re having a hard time focusing. The spell draws in the energy from our pacing and the frustration we’re putting out to fuel itself. It then transforms and releases the energy as calm, focus, and productivity. - I suggest a green or brown bowl because this spell is meant to work for our jobs. Green for success, brown for grounding. Personally, my bowl has both colors. - When instructing the spell, you can speak to the bowl, write a petition, do an incantation, or whatever else you like. This is the most personal part of the spell, and it’s what makes the thing Go. It’s up to you to decide how it’s going to work.

Final Thoughts

I would hesitate to call ambient spells “low energy” spellwork. While they can be low-energy-friendly in the long run, and they can be extremely simple to set up (such as the one I described above), they aren’t always. Ambient spells do require an up-front energy cost. Even so, I find them very rewarding and useful.

Folks who visit my home often comment that it’s an inviting, friendly, good-natured space where they can leave their worries and anxieties behind. That’s on purpose. I’ve got ambient spells in place that eat up anxiety and spit out positivity. I’ve got ones that repel hexes and are charged by sunlight. All of these spells are long-lasting and well worth the effort it took to create them.

I hope this little guide is useful to you! If you’ve got questions, feel free to send me an ask. I’m happy to ramble about ambient spells or other types of magic as much as you’d like.

And if you did enjoy this post, consider dropping a couple dollars in my tip jar! Supporters of all types (tips, commissions, shop purchases, and memberships) get early access to posts like this, sometimes up to two weeks early, and every bit helps me keep the lights on.

[chronosdawn]

Attached - Alpha!Wriothesley x Beta!Reader

a/b/o AU, GN!Reader

A/N: I got the idea for this while working on another, longer a/b/o fic so instead of working on that like I was supposed to, I wrote this OTL

Word count: 1.3k

Content warnings: a/b/o dynamics, mild sexual content and themes (minors please DNI)

Not many got the chance to know the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide well. Certainly, almost everyone in Fontaine knew of him, and as the Fortress’s administrator, many people had some sort of contact with him, be they convicts of the Fortress or proprietors of businesses hoping to gain a foothold there.

But among those, very few got to actually know the Duke beyond his title and position, and when you’d first met him, you’d had no reason to think you’d be any different. Sure, you had been invited there by him personally, which was rare, but made sense once you’d learned he was looking to procure resources for some project that was being worked on in the Fortress—something you had a lot of experience doing for members of the Fontaine Research Institute.

Over the course of several meetings—and more than a couple of pots of tea—a tentative friendship had formed between you. One that had turned into something quite different when you’d accidentally stumbled into his office while he was in a rut.

And that, was how you’d come to end up in your current situation—seated in Wriothesley’s lap with your overnight bag discarded by the door to his room. You hadn’t expected this to become a regular occurrence when you’d first offered him your assistance, but for some reason the stubborn fool had refused to seek out an omega to spend his ruts with, even if you both knew that was what he actually needed.

He nosed against the back of your neck before going in with a gentle nip of his teeth, dangerously close to where your small beta scent gland lay.

“Careful,” you warned, “you know our agreement, nothing that can’t be taken back. I don’t want to be the reason your future omega ends up developing some sort of complex.”

Wriothesley stilled briefly before grazing his teeth over your nape once more. “What would you do if I did?”

“What do you mean?” You tried to turn around to look at his face, but the muscular arms around your waist kept you locked in place, pressed tightly against the firm planes of his chest.

“What would you do if I decided to put a claiming bite on you? Right now, you’re not in any position to stop me.”

“You wouldn’t,” you said with absolute certainty, even as he nipped at you again, harder this time.

“What makes you so sure?” His rut had come on enough that even you could smell the pheromones he was pumping out into the air, a rich leathery musk with notes of clary sage.

“I know you, you just wouldn’t.”

“You sound pretty convinced of that.”  He went quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was barely audible as he muttered into your skin. “Do you even know what I was originally sentenced here for?”

“I do.” He’d never told you himself but you remembered reading about his trial in the newspaper your father had left out on your dining room table. “But that’s neither here nor there. You’re not the sort of person who’d force a yourself on someone, and I can’t imagine you ever being disloyal to your mate. Even if for some strange reason you seem reluctant to go out and find them.”

He let out a chuckle but there was no real humour in it. “You know, sometimes I wish you thought a little less highly of me.”

“If I didn’t think so highly of you, I wouldn’t be here, you know that.”

“Yeah, I do.” He went back to worrying at your neck, his mouth over your scent gland. Instead of biting down, however, he sucked at the skin in a way that was certain to leave its own sort of claiming mark, but one that would fade within a week. 

“You don’t seem to be in any hurry,” you noted, as he took his time littering your nape with hickeys, despite the growing hardness you could feel pressing against your ass.

“How long can you stay?” His hands began to wander slowly over your body, the heat of his palms burning through your clothes.

“A couple of days.” You let out a sigh, allowing yourself to enjoy the feeling of his touch while you could. “I’ve got a trip to Liyue scheduled to check on some ore shipments and it’s too late to rearrange it. Sorry I can’t be here for the whole thing; I should be able to help you through the worst of it though.”

“And when will you be back?”

“I’m not sure. Some of the merchants we’re dealing with are really dragging their feet for some reason. I should be back before your next one, although whether that’s really a good thing or not, I don’t know. Might have been a good incentive for you to actually seek out a more permanent arrangement.”

“I really wish you’d stop bringing that up.” One of his hands slipped underneath your shirt, sliding beneath your undergarments so he could give your nipple a firm squeeze. “What’s so wrong with this?”

You let out an undignified squeak and chastised him with a light slap to the thigh. “I know I sound like some nagging old aunt, but I just want you to find someone who makes you happy. Truly happy, not just sex.”

“And if I said you make me happy?”

“I can’t, not in the way deserve,” you said a little sadly, before putting the thought out of your mind altogether. It was best not to think about what ifs that could never be, it would only lead to hurt. “Now, what do you say we get a move on, before you get so wound up you tear straight through my clothes. Again.”

Wriothesley loosened his hold enough for you to turn around in his lap, fingers moving to undo the buttons of your shirt as he watched with rapt attention.

“With the way you’re so fond of telling me off, anyone would think you’re the alpha in this relationship.” He made no move to touch you, simply observing as you shed your garments one by one. You weren’t entirely sure how he was managing it, you could see the flush on his cheeks, feel the tension in his body—a piece of elastic a hair’s breadth from snapping. Still, if any alpha would have the self-control to hold themselves back during a rut, it would be him.

“Come on mister, it’s not fair to make me do all the work.” You moved to start helping him out of his waistcoat, his jacket having already been shed before you’d even entered the room.

“Alright boss,” he replied with obvious sarcasm, a smirk curling at his lips. With no warning, you were suddenly lifted and flung onto the bed, Wriothesley following you quickly after, caging you in with his body and leaving no hope of escape. “If you’re that eager, you don’t have to wait for me to go into a rut, you know, you can come here anytime. I’ve asked the staff at the front desk to let me know as soon as they see you.”

“It’s a tempting offer.” You helped him out of his waistcoat as he pulled off his tie and tossed it somewhere in the room. “But I’d hate to be the reason for a decline in the efficiency of management of the Fortress.”

“Always an answer for everything.” You didn’t get a chance to retort before his mouth was covering yours, hot and hungry as he ground his hips against your thigh. It would seem his control had finally failed him, as when you kissed back, he let out a satisfied growl from the back of his throat, fingers digging into your flesh as he tugged you into the position he wanted.

You simply let him, tangling your fingers in his hair as you braced yourself for what was sure to be a long and tiring—if enjoyable—affair.

[beatrice-otter]

I’ll be honest, when one party’s aiding and abetting the genocide and the other’s outright gonna kill all my friends, I don’t really care if the fascists “win”. They’ve won already.

You know who would be delighted to hear that? Trump and Putin. The US far right and the Russian government have poured lots of time, effort, and money over the last decade+ into convincing US leftists and liberals that things are hopeless, there's no point in even trying to make things better, and the Democrats and Republicans are functionally interchangeable. They do this because one of the easiest ways for them to win is if the left gives up and stops trying. Every person on the left they can convince to give up in despair brings them closer to complete control. Defeatism on the left actively supports victory on the right.

I think your statement is wrong on a number of levels, both factual and emotional. It comes from not understanding what the actual options are for the US government and the President specifically, either at home or abroad. And it will allow actual fascism to flourish and make the world far worse than it is now.

On an emotional level, the way to address this is to stop doomscrolling. Stop focusing on the worst things happening in the world. Don't ignore them! but don't let them consume you. Start looking for the things that are going well. Find places in your community that you can get involved in making things better. Even if it's only on a small scale like volunteering in a soup kitchen or homeless shelter, it will help you realize that you aren't helpless, that there are things that can be done to make the world a better place. Stay informed about things on a local, national, and international level, but limit how much time and attention you give to things that depress you that you can't affect. Instead of sitting there thinking about all the ways the world sucks and how awful things are, look for things you can do that are productive, and then do them. You'll feel better and you will have made your corner of the world a little better. And you will be a lot less likely to unintentionally fall into the despair, nihilism, and passivity that the fascists want you to be consumed by.

Always remember that the worlds problems are not resting solely on your shoulders, or solely on America's shoulders, and neither is the hope of fixing them. Everyone has things that we can do to make the world a better place, but there are also things that are beyond our control. We can control what we do; we cannot control what others do. We can and should try to make the world a better place, but focusing on the things we can't change has no positive benefits. Focusing on things we can't change accomplishes two things: it makes you feel bad, and it stops you from doing the things you actually can do to make things better. Neither of these things is good for you or anyone else. Look for things you can do and do them. Keep informed on the things you can't change, but don't focus on them.

On a factual level, let's look at "aiding and abetting genocide," shall we?

First, it's important to remember that the US President is not the God-Emperor Of The World. The US government has limits to what it can and can't do in other countries, and both legally and practically. If the US wants to intervene in a problem in another country, there are a variety of things we can do that boil down to basically four categories. It's a lot more complex than this in practice, of course, but in general here are the categories of things we can do:

Send in the troops. Invade, either by ourselves or as part of a NATO or UN operation. (Or maybe just send in a CIA wetworks team to assassinate the head of state.) I hope you can see the moral problems with this option, and also, we've done this a shitton of times over the course of the 20th Century and pretty much every time we've done it, we've made an already awful situation worse. On a moral level, it's pretty bad, and on a practical level, it's worse. Sure, we could stop the immediate problem, but what then? Consider Afghanistan and Iraq. We got rid of Saddam Hussein and the Taliban, and everything went to shit, we spent twenty years occupying Afghanistan with pretty much nothing to show for it. (The Taliban is back in control of Afghanistan.) Things were worse when we left than when we arrived. So this option is pretty much off the table (or should be).

Diplomatic pressure. Now, the thing is, they're a sovereign nation, they don't have to listen to us if they don't want to. We have a lot of things we can leverage--including financial aid--but the only way to force them to do what we want is to invade and conquer, and that only works temporarily. Since we can't force, we have to persuade. This requires us to maintain our existing relationship with the country in question, and possibly strengthen it, because that relationship is what we're leveraging to try and influence them to do what we want them to do. If we do not maintain our relationship, they have no reason to listen to us.

Cut ties and go home. Break off any existing relationship and support, loudly proclaim that they're awful and doing awful things and we wash our hands of the whole situation. This keeps our own hands lily-white and pure, but it also means we have zero leverage to work on any kind of a diplomatic solution. They have no reason to listen to us or care about what we think. We can pat ourselves on the back for doing the right thing, but we destroy our own ability to influence anything. Not just now, but also in the future. Let's say the current crisis ends, and then ten years later there's another crisis. If we want to have any effect then, we would have to start from square one to start building a relationship. Cutting ties would be great for making Americans feel better about ourselves, and there are times when it's the only option, but it should be a last resort. If there is any hope of being able to influence things for the better this will destroy it at least temporarily.

Cut ties and impose sanctions. Break off any existing relationship and support, loudly proclaim that they're awful and doing awful things, but also use the might of the American economy to isolate and punish them. We've done this a lot over the 20th Century, too, and it has never actually resulted in the country in question buckling down and toeing the line we want them to. What happens is the sanctioned country has an economic shock (how long it lasts and how bad it gets depends on a lot of factors) and then pulls themselves back together economically, except this time they're more self-sufficient and less reliant on international trade and financial networks. They tell themselves that America is evil and the cause of all their problems, and so not only do they not listen to us, they actively hate us. And they have fewer international relationships, so fewer reasons to care about what the international community thinks about them. So they're most likely to double down on whatever it is they're doing that we don't like. This one is completely counterproductive and utterly stupid. It's great for making Americans feel better about ourselves, but if we actually care about being able to use our influence for good (or, at least, to mitigate evil) this option shoots us in the foot. It encourages other nations to do the very thing we're trying to stop them from doing.

So, with those four options in mind, both option one (invasion/assassination) and option four (sanctions) are off the table for being immoral and counterproductive. That leaves "breaking our relationship and going home" and "using diplomatic pressure" as our only two viable options.

Biden has chosen option two, diplomatic pressure. Yes, he and our government have continued financial support for Israel ... but with strings attached. They have put limits on it that have never been put on any US foreign aid before. They have taken legal steps to lay the groundwork to target Israeli settlers (i.e. Israeli citizens who confiscate Palestinian homes and businesses). We've been hearing reports for months that Benjamin Netanyahu (Israeli Prime Minister, and a far-right-wing demagogue) hates Biden's guts, because Biden is pressuring him to stop the genocide and work towards peace. Biden is maintaining the relationship, and he's using that relationship to try and influence things to curb the violence and pave the way for a just peace settlement of some sort. Biden has also mentioned the possibility of a two state solution where Palestine becomes its own completely separate country. That's huge, because up until this point the US position has always been that Israel is the only possible legitimate nation in that territory. If Biden stopped US support for Israel, it wouldn't force Israel to stop what it's doing ... but it would let them ignore us. It would remove any leverage or influence we might have.

Biden's hands aren't clean. But the only way for them to be clean would be to also give up any chance of influencing the situation or working to protect Palestinians now or in the future. Only time will tell if it works, but I personally would rather have someone who tried and failed than someone who didn't even try. You might disagree about whether this is the right course of action, and there's a lot of room for honest disagreement about the issue (there's a lot of nuances that I'm glossing over or ignoring). But please do acknowledge that Biden isn't supporting Israel because he supports genocide; he's doing it so that he can continue to maintain diplomatic pressure on Israel to stop the violence.

Which brings us back to "aiding and abetting genocide." Trump is not like Biden. Trump is good friends with Netanyahu and backs Israel to the hilt. Trump thinks that all Arabs are terrorists (and all Muslims are terrorists) and genuinely believes the world would be a better place with them dead. Biden is continuing to support Israel, but using that support as influence to get them to stop or slow down. Trump would be using that influence to encourage them.

And those are the two choices. Someone who is trying to curb the genocide, and someone who actively supports it.

I really hope you can see the significant and substantial difference between those two positions.

But let's say that you're right and Biden's policy towards Israel and Palestine is every bit as bad as Trump's would be. If there was nothing to choose between them on foreign policy grounds, there would still be a shitton to choose between them on domestic policy grounds. You admit that the right wants to kill your friends, and yet you don't seem to think that stopping them from killing your friends might be a good thing to do.

"We can't save Palestinians, so we might as well let Republicans destroy the rights, lives, and futures of LGBTQ+ people, women, people of color, people with disabilities, poor people, non-Christians, and anyone else they don't like." "We can't save Palestinians, so why bother to try to save the people we might actually be able to save." "We can't save Palestinians right now, so there's no point in trying to build up a longer-term political bloc that might drag US politics to the left over the long run."

Do you get why there's a problem with that line of thought?

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

One: “Thanks, I Hate You”

You and your arrogant PR client are bitter rivals, and there’s no length Loki won’t go to just to watch you squirm. Just when you think you’re going to get a much-needed break from the Great Redeemed Prince’s ego, you’re tapped to escort him to, of all things, a peace summit in Australia. 

CONTENT WARNING: Loki's an asshole

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

MASTERLIST

“Mr. Odinson, tell me, how does it feel to be reformed for eighteen months now?”

“Mr. Laufeyson, actually, and it feels absolutely incredible, it’s as if my soul is free at last!”

“And you have no more genocidal urges or Asgardian instincts to kill?”

“Never again will I do harm to the people of this planet, who have so kindly agreed to give me a second chance after removing the influence of my--err---the scepter.”

Loki’s shit-eating grin unfolded across his face, but to the untrained eye, he looked every bit the contrite warlord who fell in love with the world he’d once targeted for conquest. He could twitch and tweak every muscle in his face into the optimal layout for ass-kissing, and the only ones who were ever wise were you and the rest of the team. 

“At least he plays the part well,” you said bitterly to Tony, leaning over to mutter in his ear while watching the former ‘God’ play up the press like they were at a rock concert. Some of the reporters looked downright charmed, but you knew better. You were more interested in the snow flurries that were falling outside the window.

Tony shrugged. “Yeah, he’s okay.”

You sneered, rolling your eyes with disbelief. “Until the flash bulbs stop. Then he becomes a baboon’s taint.” 

Stark muffled a snort of laughter with his fist. “Always one for eloquence. That’s why I hired you.”

“I’m also the only one around willing to wrangle that,” you paused, pointing at Loki as he folded his hands into a prayer pose, expressing gratitude for the praise he was receiving, “for your pittance of an asking price.” 

“I pay you well,” Tony shot back in defense. “Loki knows how to keep up appearances--”

“--he took off his pants in the lunchroom yesterday to annoy me--” 

“--most of the time.” 

You folded your arms across your chest, glancing at the clock on the wall behind Loki as things in the press room wrapped up. In his very basic outfit: a dress shirt and tie, black slacks, and a tight, professional ponytail, he looked dashing enough. You’d known the truth about him for the eighteen months since you were hired to be his PR manager: Loki had all of the behavioral maturity of an eight-year-old high on pixie sticks.  He loved attention, always jutting out his hips when he strutted about the complex, flipping his hair over his shoulder. 

Loki loved to paint himself as the very model of a modern major comeback story. At first, it was for self-preservation. The terms of his parole as set forth by the UN were strict, and the best course of action to keep his freedom was to play by their rules. Over the next year-and-a-half, however, once it was clear that his image was evolving into that of a celebrity, Loki took the idea and ran with it, and he only used your unsavory opinion of his to fuel the fire he lit under your feet every chance he got.

It was almost as if he targeted you with most of his snarks and jests, always calling you every synonym for ‘boring’ he could muster. For a while, you could brush him off, but after the repeated comments, you began to push back…which led you to your current relationship status: tense at best, resentful and irritable more frequently. 

You could not stand him! He never listened to your advice on how to conduct himself in public. One of his favorite pastimes was inviting the worst kinds of people over for sex, and then making you call them afterwards to dump them. “Loki isn’t sure he’s ready to fully commit to one person yet, but last night will always live in his memory…” It was degrading, gross, and such a slimeball move. You always sent each of his poor conquests a fruit basket the size of SoHo. 

The only reason you refused to resign was that you really needed the money. Despite your repeated complaints, Tony was actually paying you very well. You could afford an apartment with a private toilet in Manhattan, anyway. 

“And that’s all we have time for this afternoon, everyone,” Tony leapt onto the stage and gently nudged Loki away from the podium.  “We’re all proud of Loki’s rehabilitation, as well as his decision to live among us and help the Avengers keep this world safe.” 

The applause was thunderous. You bit your lower lip and got another glimpse of the snow squall outside while Loki bowed and mouthed thanks to his supporters. Every second you could successfully divert your attention away from the Asgardian was a victory. Alas, it was temporary. 

As soon as he left the stage, he gave you a smarmy, evil wink. “Better than ever, wouldn’t you say?”

“Hercules couldn’t clean out all the bullshit in your stables, Loki,” you said with an exasperated sigh. 

“Successfully convincing the world of your contrition is an art, you know.”

“So is painting on walls with shit, to some.”

Loki couldn’t help but snicker under his breath, You were the most feisty woman he’d ever met, aside from maybe Natasha Romanoff. “I see we’re fond of the scatalogical comebacks today. Doesn’t that mean your menses are coming on?”

You could have whirled around on your heels and punched him, but your restraint was enough to keep your professional demeanor, at least until you were out of public sight and in one of the private areas. There were still a LOT of people around and your entire job was keeping up appearances for both yourself and your charge. “I have a headache today, Loki, please shut up and let me do my job.” 

“So it is your cycle!” he chortled, putting his hands on his hips. “Do you know what they say helps with menstrual cramps?”

“Don’t!” you warned between gritting teeth, giving Loki a glare of death. “I mean it!”

Loki paused, as if he was actually going to listen. Then he opened his trap, and it came out: “a good hard dicking!” 

There it was. Your line. Loki had crossed it so far that he was about to meet customs on the other side. 

You slapped him across his right cheek hard enough for his head to whip to the side. Of course, he was able to recover from it quickly, only to pout his lips and widen his eyes when several gasps from the reporters still in the press room silenced everything else. Loki’s snarky smile never left his face, especially as he looked back at you with a somewhat more venomous twinge. 

“It’s 2024,” you scowled, “try something less sexist than blaming my period next time, assbag.”

“So violent,” he said lightly. “So attractive. No wonder you have so many dates…oh wait, that’s me!” he said mockingly, putting a hand over his heart and acting surprised. “I have all the dates, and you’re the one who resents that and takes it out on me by hitting me in front of all of my friends!” 

He dropped his sarcastic smile, replacing it with narrow, threatening eyes and a thin frown. “Embarrass me like that again, woman, I dare you.” 

“I only resent that you make me clean your dirty sheets afterwards, asshole,” you answered. “I don’t really care how many strains of herpes you intend to collect from the Greater New York area. You’re a pampered little twat, and I really do deserve more money for babysitting you.”

You started to leave, but you quickly thought better of it and walked back to say one more thing. “And I will gladly smack you in front of these people any day of the week! No one else is going to put you in your place!”

“And what place is that, Madam?” he asked, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow. 

Nearby, a young blonde reporter who was clearly one of Loki’s fans had taken special interest, and was trying to shoot as many desperate glances at him as she could, asking for her turn in his bed with only verbal cues from across a crowded room. 

“I’d say Hell, but you probably have a permanent residence there already.” 

You noticed the blonde was starting to inch closer, and in her stupid, beady little eyes you saw your escape. “I think I see your Skank of the Day coming in for the steal right now.”

Loki turned to look at the blonde reporter, and he looked somewhat unimpressed. “I suppose. The only other creature in here with any sort of beauty is--”

He stopped mid-thought and decided to go back into his debonair facade, waving you away snobbishly and sticking his nose up. “You’re done for the day, I think. Now please leave me to woo this exquisite little doll who approaches…”

You did have some work you needed him for. There was a peace summit in Australia hosted by Amnesty International, and Loki was a keynote speaker, having been spared from the death penalty and turned into the Earth’s darling. He was the world’s most instantly-recognizable proof that anyone could be rehabilitated, which made him a highly desirable motivational speaker. The summit was in three days, and you needed to brief him on the PR person taking over your duties once he crossed the international dateline. 

He could terrorize the Land Down Under for five days all he wanted. You were about to have your first vacation from the miserable fucker since starting your job. This was going to be your Christmas. 

However, you didn’t feel like dragging him away from the little hopeful moving in on him, and instead you decided to begin packing your bag for your long-desired break from Loki. 

“She what?!” you growled in anger, turning away from Stark and Banner to hide that fact that you were almost instantly upset by their news. 

“Mrs. Donner resigned yesterday,” said Bruce Banner, twiddling his thumbs apprehensively, making him look like a human-sized pangolin. “She’s not taking Loki to Australia.”

“WHY NOT? She’s more qualified than I am!” you bullshitted, doing anything to try and convince these two to go after her. You knew what this meant, but you weren’t ready to accept it just yet. You were a fighter, and you sure as hell weren’t going to sacrifice your time off now.

“She’s also a Mormon. I’m surprised she put up with Loki’s harassment as long as she has,” replied Banner. 

“Or maybe she enjoyed it so much she had to jet off to Planet More-Men or whatever heaven is for them,” Stark mumbled. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, brushing the air in front of you as if erasing something off of an invisible chalk board, “what does matter is who we are going to send him with. His parole terms state he cannot cross international boundaries alone.” 

“C”mon, Y/N, you know where this is going!” said Tony with a wink. 

“No,” you said firmly.

“It’ll be summer down there,” said Banner, “It’ll be nicer than here in New York.”

“No!” you repeated. “My vacation!”

Stark rolled his eyes. “I know, I know, that’s why I’m offering you a month’s paid sabbatical after you return.”

“No…I…what?” your fast, angry thoughts slowed on the conveyor belt as you began processing his counteroffer. “I was only scheduled for a week!” 

Tony nodded. “Yeah, I’m quadrupling that right now, I’ll even get it in writing if you want. I can do that. I’m awesome like that.”

A month! A month without Loki poking fun of your ‘menses’ or humiliating you with jests and quips under his breath. A whole month of sleeping in late, dressing like a slob, and not worrying about how you or any client of yours appeared to the public. Tony Stark certainly knew how to play your game. 

“You must be desperate,” you sighed, thinking about it.

“Well, if Loki can’t attend the summit, it’ll look kinda bad,” Bruce added, his low, bashful voice somewhat harder to hear than Tony’s confident tone. 

“I’ll get you VIP passes to any club in the city for the whole month you’re off,” Tony added. “Four of them. And unlimited cocktail service. Live like a movie star for the next month, and all you have to do is babysit our little horndog for five days in Aussieland this week.” 

“Deal,” you acquiesced at last, not missing a beat. “I’ll do it.”

“Excellent.” 

All three of you turned your heads toward the intrusive new voice in the room. Loki was leaning against the doorway to the office, arms folded, a shit-eating sneer on his face. You felt your skin go hot at his sudden, unwelcome appearance. 

“I was hoping that my exertions manipulating that old dowager into quitting would bear fruit, and now it seems I’m just time for my little trip with my dearest friend in the Realm!” 

“Easy, Lokes,” said Stark, holding back a laugh. “Don’t push it, ok?”

You bit your lip to keep your temper. It didn’t make any difference if you kept protesting. You’d taken Stark’s carrot, and now you had five days of this jester’s extraterrestrial farts to sniff.

“Oh, I’m sure the next few days will include plenty of pushing about,” said Loki. 

Tony raised an eyebrow and began following Banner as he snuck out of the room. “Be on the roof tomorrow morning. Oh, and uh, the quinjet has got some issues so it can’t go any faster than Mach 1.5 right now. Means it’ll take a little longer to get out there. Hope you two can get comfortable with one another real fast.” 

“You…you set this up,” you hissed, your anger bubbling to the surface now that your employer was out of range. “I ought to ask your father to hang you.”

This only made him laugh. “He would only love the pleasure, I’m sure.”

And I would love to see your corpse swinging by the neck, you thought.  “Why? Why did you do this?” you asked with frustration. “You hate me and I absolutely hate you, Loki, so why force us to be in closer proximity for longer than necessary?”

“Oh, I couldn’t stand the idea of being apart from you, sweet pea! It’s my greatest delight in life to always hover five paces behind you and piss you off. The mere idea of being so far away for so long!” Loki brought a mocking hand to his heart, expressing fake sadness in both his body and face. “My heart would only cry for you.”

“I should just make you go alone and make an ass of yourself,” you suggested. “Maybe some Australian hell-beast will swallow you whole.”

“Oh-ho! By all means,” Loki chuckled, throwing his head back. “Let me loose without supervision in a foreign country as the sole representative of the United States, the Nine Realms, and the Avengers. That will go over well for all of us.”

Your jaw hung open, no witty retorts for him, Unfortunately, he was right. Punking out would in one way or another, only serve to humiliate yourself and Stark.

“Ah, ah…” Loki tucked a finger under your chin, nudging your mouth closed by poking your chin upward, “You’ll catch flies.” 

He left you there, speechless in the middle of the room, only turning back in the doorway to add: “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow, darling!”

Before going to bed that night, curled up in your sad little futon in your one-bedroom loft, you prayed to every god that wasn’t Asgardian that there would be some kind of apocalyptic blizzard that popped up out of nowhere, forcing the takeoff to be delayed. Inclement weather was probably the only acceptable excuse for Loki to be a no-show down in Sydney. WHile the city didn;t necessarily get as much snow as upstate near the lakes, it usually took a few inches to shut the whole place down. There was hope. Perhaps the weatherfolks were keeping it a surprise…

This meant, of course, that the next morning was the first perfectly sunny morning New York had seen in weeks. In a small act of rebellion against the little shit you had to babysit, you chose to take your sweet time getting in. You purposefully dragged your feet down to the subway, your suitcase dragging along like a weight tethered to your wrist. You saw an abnormally-long line outside of a coffee shop and decided to stop in for an Americano. 

By the time you made it to the rooftop of Stark Tower, you were over an hour late, which was not typical for you. The jet was otherwise prepped, the diminutive young pilot tapping his feet impatiently by the nose, Stark and Loki just tossing the last of his belongings in around the side. 

“Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence,” said Tony. 

Loki dropped what he was doing and shuffled up to you. He gave a mock bow, taking your hand and laying a big wet kiss on the back of it. “My escort, how lovely to finally see your bright face ready for our trip!”

“Die.”

Loki pouted. “Oh, is that any way to greet your business partner? I asked for you to be at my side all week long! Don’t you think I’m owed a little more courtesy?”

“Please die.”

“That’s my girl.” 

Just before you boarded, Tony gave you a wink and one last piece of advice: “Remember, when the going gets tough, lie back and think of England.”

The last thing he saw before the doors shut was your middle finger. 

Once the pilot got the quinjet into the air, he announced that he’d need to take his time in order to appease whatever yet-to-be-diagnosed tech issue the plane had, and prevent something from happening. 

“Ugh, so what’s our ETA, then?” Loki asked impatiently, the saccharine facade dropping the instant he was out of Stark’s view. 

The pilot shrugged. “I can get us there safely in five hours, maybe.”

“FIVE HOURS?” you groaned. “This thing is--”

“--gonna disintegrate if I don’t treat it gently,” he shot back. “Relax! It’s still a hell of a lot faster than if you were flying in a Boeing, okay?”

You and Loki looked at each other with annoyance. You sighed and went to sit as far away from the cockpit as you could, taking a green-jacketed book from your shoulder bag and flipping it open a bit too dramatically. 

Unfortunately, Loki didn’t seem to take the hint, sitting beside you and peeking over your shoulder. 

“You kept us waiting on purpose,” he accused. “You’re a bit of a brat, you know.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. Gently shutting the book, you turned to Loki with the most serious expression you could muster without losing your professionalism. 

“Look, Laufeyson, you’re the one who set this up for us. If I had to venture a guess, it’s because you’re bored and needed a new way to make me miserable. But let’s make one thing perfectly clear: I hate you. I can’t stand your smarmy face and how you get off on making me crazy! Every time you open your mouth, it makes me want to drop-kick an orphan! I’d rather have a root canal while on ecstasy every day for the rest of my life than be sitting right here next to you.”

Loki didn’t blink. “...and how does that make you feel?”

“But I’m getting my big payout when this is all over, so for FUCK’S SAKE, let’s make this easy on both of us? You don’t bother me, I won’t bother you. You can find a kangaroo’s pouch to ride around in for all I care.” You went to open your book again, but Loki laid a firm hand over top of it. 

“I’m hurt. Truly.”

You snickered. “Sure.”

“You know what your problem is?” Loki leaned back, crossing his hands casually. “You’re too uptight.”

“Uptight? You call me defending myself against all of your abuse UPTIGHT?” you growled from behind your gritted teeth. 

“Well, it wasn’t abuse at first,” Loki added, “I was only making jokes to say hello!”

“Bullshit,” you said angrily. “The day we met, you called me a servant and asked if I would massage your feet.”

“Well, now it’s just fun for me to watch you lose your temper,” he admitted. “The thought of being alone with you to twist and push every button you’ve got just to see how loudly you’d shout…”

“Stop it, Loki! I’d rather this plane go down right now than be alone with you. Ever!”

Tags: @anukulee @jiyascepter @wolfsmom1 @cakesandtom @holdmytesseract @simplyholl @lokisgoodgirl @mjsthrillernp @meowmeow-motherfucker @foxherder @letstalkaboutshtufff @ladymischief11 @libby-bibby @javagirl328 @crimson25 @lcolumbia1988 @gruftiela @mochie85 @huntress-artemiss @loz-3 @kikster606 @muddyorbsblr @sheris532 @lokischambermaid @kneelingformyloki @soulpiercing @goddessgirl43 @canigetanap @theoneandonlythorn @forleiasake @eleniblue @knight-of-the-doctor @goblingirlsarah @clusterfuck-meup @mischief2sarawr

[addicted-to-the-knife]

I've come to realise that there are two ways people mischaracterise Will. (NBC Hannibal, specifically)

One being the "uwu innocent babygirl who was manipulated into doing bad things by the big bad Hannibal". And the other being the polar opposite of it, where even his better qualities are turned into something that signify how "evil" he truly is.

Where is the nuance?

Will Graham is a complex character with many different aspects about himself that don't cancel each other out.

He's not a good person. We know that. We should know that. The show has been very clear about that. But he's also not entirely bad either. People rarely are entirely good or bad. I'd argue that nobody is ever just one or the other.

It's not all black and white. And taking moments of his genuine goodness and turning them into something they're not just to prove the point that he's not a good, innocent little baby like some people believe, is just as wrong.

His empathy and compassion are not a lie. He's empathic to a fault. He has true compassion for others; especially those that are weak and vulnerable and are victimised by others or themselves or failed by the system. He genuinely wants to help them.

Of course he's doing that for his own gain. One could argue that his motivation is selfish, since he could not live with the guilt of lives not saved or letting victims be even more victimised. So, he helps in order to make himself feel better. He also helps others in an attempt to prove to himself that he's not as bad as he fears he is (especially in season 1).

To say that because his reasons for helping are selfish and only for his own gain, whatever that may be at times, make him a bad person and that he's actively preying on the vulnerable for it, is such a huge misunderstanding to me. Helping people is seldom a completely selfless act. Most people do it to get something in return; even if that something is simple acknowledgement and recognition for having done something good. The motivation behind it shouldn't matter as much if people are being helped in a genuine way that is good for them.

And to take Abigail as an example for his "true predatory and manipulative ways" is also not the way to go. He was genuine with Abigail. His killing of her father triggered such unbearable guilt within him that he reacted irrationally and tried to forcefully insert himself into her life and replace her father in order to minimise the guilt and make up for what he's done to Abigail. His intentions weren't bad, but they were selfish. He didn't manipulate her, though, nor was he preying on her vulnerability. He did genuinely care about Abigail (or rather, an image of her that his guilt produced), too much one could argue, and he acted irrationally and selfishly; because (re)actions fuelled by strong emotions are always irrational.

He was also very genuine about helping and caring about Georgia and Peter, for example. Especially Peter is a good example because that was at the beginning of the honeytrap. By some people's logic, he shouldn't have a single reason to care about Peter and be a friend to him, and he should have only been getting close to him to manipulate him. But that's not what happened. Will saw himself in Peter and he wanted to prevent from what eventually happened to happen at all. He genuinely wanted to help Peter out of his situation and come away as unscathed as possible.

Also, let's not forget that he had no reason to put on a facade with Bedelia in the second half of season 3. When he says, during their session, that his first instinct is to help a wounded bird, he wasn't lying or putting up an act. He was being genuine. His empathy and compassion for the weak and vulnerable is real. He wants to help. And he'd much rather hurt whoever has wounded the bird in the scenario. Bedelia even admits that her first instinct is to crush a weakened animal. Neither of them saw a reason to lie to the other.

When Will kills people, he feels righteous. He kills people that "had it coming". They deserve it, in his mind, for having hurt and/or killed others.

He's manipulative, yes, but from what we know and have seen, that is pretty exclusive to people in power, like Hannibal, or Jack. He doesn't manipulate a weakened person. (The only example that is iffy on either side is with Chiyoh, maybe. It shows that he's no better than Hannibal; even if he still wanted to believe that about himself at the time. He forced Chiyoh to kill because he was curious and he manipulated everything around that for it to happen. But again, Chiyoh isn't a weak or vulnerable person; especially not in Will's mind.)

By no means is Will a good person or innocent. And Hannibal didn't make him a killer. That was already inside him and all Hannibal did was to let that beast loose. And Will likes it. He likes how powerful he feels, and he likes the rawness of it all. And yet he doesn't use that against people that are already victims.

The fact that Will isn't a good person does not negate that he's empathic and compassionate and that he has a genuine want to help others. Because those things alone don't make you a good person. Those qualities can be true and exist, just like his enjoyment of killing and having power over others do. At the same time. They don't cancel each other out. That's exactly what makes him such an interesting and complex character.

[autistpride]

Autism Acceptance

Prompt 11: Coffee shop AU

Wordcount: 1000

@wolfstarmicrofic

Remus had trouble finding work. He put in applications everywhere, for any position, because he was desperate. Despite passing all his courses and gaining the required GCSE’s, he bombed his interviews. So he had told his parents that he would take a gap year instead and get some work experience. Only no one called him for an interview and the few that had, turned him away within minutes.

After nearly two months, Remus finally came clean to his parents about his lack of employment. His mum had to hold his dad back from giving a few of the places he applied a piece of his mind. Never one to allow Remus to give up, Lyall decided he would open up his own coffee shop and hire Remus as an employee.

Everything moved quickly and soon The Full Moon Cafe opened its doors. A small quaint little hole in the wall shop that mixed coffee, library, and children’s playground together. One corner of the shop held a little indoor climbing structure, slide, and foam floors for children. The other two walls were covered floor to ceiling in books that people donated. The last wall housed the single unisex toilet and the tiny kitchenette space. It also had the counter and display case that showed off the day’s delicious baked goods that his mum made fresh every morning. 

It took Remus some time to get used to the position and how to make all the different drinks, but everyone was patient with him. By the time his gap year was over, Remus was a pro and asked to stay on instead of trying for university again. He had learned all the regulars names, memorised their orders, and even went so far as to have them ready for when they walked in. Remus hadn’t encountered a rude customer or a confusing order once, that could also have to do with the fact that it was a fairly small town and everyone knew everyone. No one came into the cafe that didn’t know Remus was autistic, at least not until Sirius Black. 

The bell dinged over the cafe door and the prettiest guy Remus had ever seen walked in one after the other. Remus had never seen anyone like them before. They were total opposites yet so oddly the same.

“I’ll have an iced Ristretto, ten shot, venti with breve. five pumps vanilla, seven pumps caramel, and four Splenda poured not shaken, but placed into a trenta cup so it doesn’t splash out the top.”

The look on Remus’ face must have betrayed him because the man looked at Remus and immediately changed his order. “On second thought, I’ll just have a tea.”

Remus nodded and rang the man up, asking for his name. 

“Sirius. Yes I am serious. Sirius, like the star,” the man said while pulling his hair back into a scrunchie he apparently kept in his pocket.

Remus wrote the name on the cup and poured the hot water into it, placing the loose leaf tea into a disposable tea bag and setting it into the cup to steep before handing it to Sirius, the star. 

Sirius nodded his thanks and set up at a small table near the entrance. 

For the following four days later Sirius came back, once again ordering a tea and nothing more. Remus didn’t work weekends, instead his friend James took those shifts. James played football with the local club and attended courses at university during the week, so he took all the weekend shifts.

Remus couldn’t get Sirius out of his head all weekend and when he showed up for work on Monday, Sirius was there right at opening. 

Another week went by and Remus and Sirius had started to talk more, just general pleasantries and small talk. Sirius never ordered anything more than tea and sometimes a pastry. Remus knew he could make complicated orders and he knew Sirius knew after two weeks sitting in the cafe and listening to some of the complex requests from customers that came in, but Sirius never asked for his original order again. 

That third week, Remus had Sirius’ tea ready by the time he walked in every morning, not unlike the other regulars. Yet what Remus never said was that Remus practised at night after the shop closed up. He was determined to get Sirius’ original order right. It took him another week to manage it, and when he did he cheered and danced around the shop.

Monday of the fourth week, Remus handed  Sirius his order when he showed up. Sirius looked at the cup confused. 

“Remus this isn’t a tea” he said with his brows furrowed and his nose scrunched up.

Remus shook his head no with a grin, “no its not.”

Sirius took a tentative sip of the drink and his eyes widened in surprise, stormy grey meeting golden.

“You made my order.” 

Remus nodded, proud of himself.

Sirius took another drink and moaned as if he was drinking the best thing he had ever tasted.

The noise was absolutely obscene in Remus’ ears and his ears turned dark red and his cheeks flushed. 

“Remus this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. You remembered something I told you like a month ago and you, you practised this didn’t you?”

Remus simply shrugged like it was no big deal. 

Sirius set the cup down on the counter before leaning over the counter and wrapping his arms around Remus in the most awkward hug Remus had ever experienced, and he experienced a lot of awkward hugs. 

When Remus didn’t return the hug Sirius dropped his arms and stuttered through another thank you and practically ran to his usual table, forgetting his drink on the counter. 

Remus looked down, seeing the cup, and bit back a laugh before walking it across the cafe to him. 

“Oh fuck thanks,” Sirius mumbled. 

“Hey SIrius?” Remus asked, “can we try that again?”

 Sirius smiled and nodded.

[starfxkr]

western nights (pt. 1)

pairing: older!trailer park!jj x reader

summary: jj maybank knows he's too old to be messing around with a young girl like you, but he does it anyways

warnings: age gap, smut (fingering), that's p much it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

jj was known for bein a sleaze around the trailer park. a two time felon who's doing his best to lay low by taking odd jobs around the complex so the feds don't come knocking at his door. you could catch him doing anything from mowing lawns to helping out the grandmas who's sons long stopped coming to check on them. girls came and went out of his trailer at all times of the day--clothes askew and hair messy.

but once he set his eyes on you, everyone else went out the window. he'd known of you of course, having grown up in the complex you're whole life but you were nothing more than one of many little shits running around in a little conglomerate of cheese puff fingers and sugar highs. he paid you no mind, maybe you were one of the kids he's bought crappy water pistols for, maybe not. one summer though, one summer he's on your lawn fixing your car because your mom asked, and there you were-- sitting pretty on your lawn chair reading some trashy book in what he thinks is the smallest dress he's ever seen.

the two of you lock eyes and from then on he's always finding a reason to sniff around you.

each time you pass by jj's place he lets out a whistle, sayin "wish the girls looked as good as you when i was that age." and you just roll your eyes and keep walking. he always finding something to fix around your house and your mom becomes more and more enamored with him not noticing he only has eyes for you.

it all comes to a head during a birthday party--your mom's to be exact. the whole little block is drinking, kids running around, barbecue in the air but you're sitting across from him in his too hot trailer trying to wrangle a beer out of him.

"you even old enough to drink yet? you still got one baby fat on ya." he pinches your cheek and you smack him away with a scoff, leaning over with your hands on either sides of his hips on the couch

"does it matter? you're gonna give it to me anyways." the little pout on you face makes his dick twitch in his jeans, and he makes no effort to hide his growing erection.

"nuh uh little girl, gonna need to see some i.d." you squeak when he pats your ass to 'search' for your wallet, fingers dancing at the hem of your denim skirt and sliding up you shirt to cup your breast, "feels like you're old enough to me."

your eyes flutter shut when he swipes a calloused thumb across your nipple, a tiny hmph of pleasure works it's way past your lips when he pinches the soft flesh.

the beer is quickly forgotten when he lifts your shirt off, wasting no time in getting his mouth on you--licking the sweat from the valley of your breasts and sucking on your neck as you move to sit on his lap.

"should we even be doin this? y'know my mama's realll sweet on you." you pull away from him but make no move to leave.

jj just scoffs and waves it away, running a hand through his blonde hair in irritation, "lots of women are, nothin new, been this way as long as i can remember but it never mattered to me much."

you can tell he wants this conversation to be over, his eyes raking over your body and his fingers tugging at the button to your skirt even as you cross your arms in front of you, "if she finds out we're fucked."

he shrugs, "then don't let her find out."

that's all you need to continue, letting him capture your lips with his, his rough hands travel over your soft skin, stoking the fire building steadily inside of you. despite your veneer of coolness, he can feel your pulse throbbing in your neck under his palm.

"you scared of me or somethin?" his voice is raspy when he whispers against your jaw.

you whimper in reply, "n-no?" even you notice you don't sound too sure--maybe there's a little fear despite your flirting. you wanted to be good for him, you wanted him to like you.

he looks like he doesnt believe you, but he lets it go.

"then get over here." jj yanks you back towards him until your face was tucked into his neck. he doesn't even bother taking your skirt off, just hikes it up and tugs your panties down with a smack on your ass until they're sitting right below the swell of the soft flesh.

the moan that leaves your lips when his fingers graze your clit is almost pornographic, you hadn't even realized how wet you were until you heard the slick sound of his fingers plunging into you with ease. he was obviously skillful, he found that sweet spot inside you with no problem, rubbing it in time with the thumb on your clit while you squeaked and squirmed against him, completely overwhelmed by pleasure.

you were slick and dripping down his palm, doing your best to squirm away from the assault on your pussy but he wouldn't let you, chasing after your thrashing hips and letting out a soft grunt when you sink your teeth into his neck. the way he used his fingers should be a crime--scissoring them open and slowly dragging the pads down your front wall just to hear you mewl like a kitten at the feeling. the thumb on your clit still rubbing in quick, confident circles and he could tell by the way it swelled and throbbed that you were close.

"bet those little boys never made you feel like this huh?" he laughs at you whining response, the answer is extremely apparent by the sound of your growing wetness--your high pitched keen drowned out by the sloshing of your pussy, "there you go sugar, just let it all out."

you choke out a moan and drench him, pussy locking tight around his knuckles as you pulsed, squirting your release all over his lap. there was no way he had you feeling like that just from fingering but here you were, pulse rushing in your ears as he got your clothes back right, sitting you on the couch with a kiss on the forehead as he left to go change seeing as though you soaked his jeans.

when he comes back he lets out a chuckle at the sight of you still sitting there dazed and he finally gives you that beer, "get yourself together aight?" i'll see you back out there.

it takes you almost 20 minutes to finish the beer, still trembling and pussy aching with the need to be filled. you finally step outside, eyes hazy and brain turned to mush when you notice you don't have your panties on.

[georgescitadel]

George R.R. Martin on the process of creating A Game Of Thrones (1/3)

You hold in your hands the second volume of A Song of Ice and Fire… but not the second volume as originally intended. Although I wrote the opening of A Game of Thrones back in the summer of 1991, as related in my introduction to the Meisha Merlin edition of that volume, it was not until October of 1993 that I drew up a proposal for my agents to take to publishers. There is no mention of any book titled A Clash of Kings in that proposal. In 1993, I was under the impression that I was writing a trilogy.

Trilogies had been the dominant form in epic fantasy ever since J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings had been broken apart by publishers and released in three volumes. And the story that I wanted to tell divided quite naturally into three parts; much more so, in fact, than The Lord of the Rings, which is actually one fairly seamless narrative, and not a trilogy at all. I planned to title the books A Game of Thrones, A Dance with Dragons, and The Winds of Winter. I knew right from the start that they would all be large books. Huge books, even. But there were to be only three of them, and…and none were to be called A Clash of Kings. Sometimes the author is the last to know.

As I write this, I am halfway through the writing of A Feast for Crows, the fourth volume of my ‘trilogy.’ There is no mention of that title in my 1993 proposal either. These days, when pressed, I confidently assert that A Song of Ice and Fire will ultimately run to six books… but behind my back I know my lady Parris is smiling knowingly and holding up seven fingers. She may be right. Though I may dream of six books, plan for six books, work toward six books, the only thing that truly matters is the story. And the story needs to be as long as the story needs to be.

In Hollywood, the suits will tell you how long that is. A television show has to fit within its allotted time slot, of course, and you cannot beg, borrow, or steal an extra minute, no matter how much the story needs it. Running times are somewhat more flexible for films, though not as much as one might think. For the most part, the studios still want movies to run about two hours, so they look for screenplays of 120 pages or less, and demand cuts in any scripts that come in longer. My own screenplays and teleplays were almost always too long and too expensive in first draft, so in my later drafts, along with addressing the inevitable notes from studio, network, and producers, I was constantly trimming. In the end, I would deliver a shooting script that was the right length and under budget, but it was never a happy process… and I often went away feeling that the earlier drafts were the better ones.

The size of A Song of Ice and Fire was in no small part a reaction to ten years of trimming. I wanted to do something epic in scale, something at once grand and sprawling and complex and subtle, with a cast of thousands, huge battles, mighty castles, gorgeous costume, lavish feast, great rivers, towering mountains, vast fields… all the things I could not do in television. In short. I wanted to make a world. And for that you need a bit of room.

In my original proposal, I estimated that each volume of the trilogy might run as long as 800 pages in manuscript. The novels that I had written during the 70's and 80's, before Hollywood, had generally come in at 400 or 500 pages or thereabouts, so an 800 pages book seemed very lengthy indeed. The three books of the trilogy would be structured around the long, slow seasons of Westeros. A Game of Thrones would be summer’s book, A Dance with Dragons would take us through autumn, and The Winds of Winter… well, the title says it all. Even in the Seven Kingdoms, where a season can last for years, 800 pages ought to give me enough room to reach the end of summer and conclude the part of my tale, I reasoned.

‘Twas a lovely plan of battle… but no plan of battle ever survives contact with the enemy, it has been said. Writers know the truth of that as well as any general, though our wars are fought on blank white sheets of paper and empty computer screens. For the map is not the territory, the blueprint is not the house, the recipe is not the dinner… and the outline is never ever the book.

- George R.R. Martin, A Clash of Kings Limited Edition Introduction (2002)

[animentality]

I sometimes get the sense that Larian dislikes Durgetash and Gortash in general, and it was bothering me the other day until I realized.

Of course they do.

They fucking shafted any kind of character complexity for Gortash and just made him a side quest.

They're also allergic to giving the Dark Urge any form of depth, because they treat the Dark Urge like a fucking joke, to the point where they think making them a rapist/rape victim is hysterical.

So I'm not letting it bother me.

Because I already knew this.

god for fucking bid their edgy murder hobo be anything more than that.

[wolfscarr]

Helluva Broken Narrative and the most useless character..

Disclaimer: Not saying you can't enjoy this show folks. Enjoy it all you want, this is just a rant about the lack of a cohesive narrative!

I really was completely dead on posting, but I just can't get this out of my head.

I feel people should be acknowledging this far more than it has been, this is extremely important. This goes beyond just episode pacing, this goes beyond the characters....this is something that without it? There is no real show, which is....

Helluva Boss has a BROKEN NARRATIVE.

Some fans wanna claim it has this 'complex' writing and I'm sitting here going like "really? Where?"

It doesn't sorry and know why? Because Season 2 of this show, basically broke the narrative that Season 1 was building.

These past posts of mine, will show you why the narrative is broken.

Now can they continue on with the story they are telling? Yes of course they can, but it won't fix the fact that it's not coherent to Season 1, that it's not needed.

Wanna know who the most useless character in the show is now? If you guessed Stolas, you're correct! In the meaning of making Stolas this guy who did nothing wrong and who's sad....they took away his character purpose.

Stolas has ZERO purpose being within the show now, given how things have played out.

But you might say

"Well he's needed to give Blitz the Crystal and end the deal!"

Except....no, he wasn't. Remembering my posts above, where you can have I.M.P. killing in Hell as a Season 1 thing?

Maybe they're just getting started with their company? So Blitz wants to supplement with killing in Hell by killing those up top so he goes to see about getting an Asmodean Crystal?

See let's backtrack here folks, the episode Oops it was mainly about Blitz and Fizz reconciling right? Which they do at the end of the episode. Now follow this, if we take into account the above, Blitz' dialogue could be.

Blitz: "Fizz look, I know what happened to you was horrible. I don't...expect you to forgive me, but I'm struggling to support myself, my daughter and my employees with my company. I....if you can just think on it, perhaps I could get one of those Asmodean Crystals?"

The scene ends and Fizz goes back to Ozzie, while along the way he's thinking about Blitz' words and how he was saved by him where in the end, Fizz agrees to send Blitz a Crystal because he's earned it from saving his very life.

Or here's another scenario, Blitz has a Crystal from the start(which he took from Verosika when they were dating), but as things get far more hectic up on Earth with more dangers. The Crystal ends up shattering after I.M.P. gets back to Hell after a job, thus Blitz goes to actually confront his past and reconcile with Fizz in order to try and get a new one.

See how easy it is now, to just remove Stolas entirely? They took away a character's purpose of being in the show....that to me, is completely disappointing. Characters, especially those that are suppose to be IMPORTANT, should have a purpose...without that? You may as well just delete them entirely.

Blitz could have had 2 whole Seasons with relating to the past and those that he hurt, that he TRULY hurt(Verosika, Fizz and Barbie) that would actually matter to him as a character. But instead, all these characters are instead shoved to the wayside, for a character who doesn't matter anymore and only actually matters because the writing is FORCING him to matter.

You can write the narrative in so many different ways with what Season 2 gives us, that completely destroys what Season 1 told us. Are we now expected to just....IGNORE AN ENTIRE SEASON?

They can do this whole "sad Stolas is sad and Blitz is hurt and Stolas is going to give him a crystal." Thing all the way to 'try' and fix things, but it'll fix nothing....because the deal between them was retroactively made completely pointless.

The show will continue obviously, but in the back of the minds....it will be a broken narrative and Season 1 is basically buried 6 feet under. As a writer, this really annoys me....because they had how long between Seasons to nail this down? How long have we all waited just in-between episodes? This shouldn't have happened.

Yes, is storytelling hard? Obviously, none of my stories are perfect....but at least the narrative is coherent from beginning to end.

Anyway...I just...had to get this out of my head, because it was really frustrating and I want it to be acknowledged more. The narrative is important folks, if it's broken...that's not a good thing.

I'm still watching this show....if only because I'm knee deep in it now and I still somewhat actually like the characters, but what I don't like...is this broken narrative that is still hanging around with a pointless character that doesn't matter to the show anymore.

Narratives, coherent narratives are important to a story, without it? You don't have characters and you don't have a story.

[salternateunreality2]

Kunsel says:

We should maybe have a stricter definition of what counts as "hacking", okay?

It was a slow day at work, and he decided to guess people's email passwords in 10 attempts.

How does it go?

YESSSSSSSSS

Pro tips: make your password long, that is the most important factor. Use a password manager, most of them have a free option. Adding complexity does help, but focus on length first. Size does matter here. Multi-factor authentication (MFA) also helps a lot.

---------

Kunsel: Zack, gimme your password!

Zack: ...

Kunsel: Come on man, I need it for something!

Zack: 😭😭😭 buddy I would, but I forgot it again 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Kunsel: Ok man, it's ok, let's look around your desk...here, under this pile of chip bags, I think i saw...yeah, here's the penguin toy...and yep, Password Penguin has "Zack'ss00p3rp4ssw0rd!" written on the bottom. Let's try it!

(it works)

Zack: THANK YOU KUNSEL I THOUGHT I'D LOST HIM AND I COULDN'T REMEMBER AND-

Kunsel: *wheeze* Zack let go, I need to breathe *wheeze*

-----------

Kunsel tries to guess Roche's by typing it in.

M0t0rcycle!

ShinyDancer

Sh1n33D4nc3r!

He's in.

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

Kunsel tries to guess Sephiroth's. On the 9th try, he gets it: Seph+Jenova4ever

Horrible things are uncovered along the way and now he needs to send Sephiroth some information very discreetly.

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

Lazard. Kunsel knows better. He gives a few guesses, but decides to actually hack this.

He sets up a hash capturing tool over the internal network and waits for Lazard to log on. He does. Kunsel captures the hash and starts cracking it.

Three days later, the hash cracker has not worked and he has to give up on that.

Kunsel: Sir, I need to get into your email, will you please send me your password?

Lazard: Of course not, that is unsafe and against company policy. However, you're welcome to come to my office to perform any actions we both deem necessary.

Kunsel goes over and Lazard is using multifactor authentication, so just having the hash cracked wouldn't have worked anyway. He sets up a keylogger surreptitiously on Lazard's workstation while "performing updates" and showing Lazard new features in his email.

The things he captures with that keylogger:

* Numerous emails covering for boneheaded shit the SOLDIERs did.

* The letter "A" typed about a thousand times into a text file labeled "definitely not screams.txt".

* Moogle searches for "how to convince your employees to get therapy", "pasta recipes", "therapists near me", "child psychology for adults", "play therapy for adults", "cat psychology", and "shrimp pasta recipes".

* The password: &oh'ihiy_-8_gi"it"gi_ipkb0(-ur#3-@--LXS4ever--9(9;0(!08(098+pihjboigig(@ukopih

Then it is a simple matter of finding a zero-day race condition hack in the MFA software, timing things just right, and entering the password and hacked MFA key at the perfect moment.

Kunsel of course has pity on the man after seeing even more emails such as...

* Explaining to Roche that doing squats over his motorcycle makes it look like he's humping it, and it is making people uncomfortable.

* Asking Genesis to please not actually firaga the recruits this week, they don't need a lawsuit. No, it's not character building. No, even though it was part of his home training and Shinra sanctioned training a few years ago.

* Inviting Sephiroth over for shrimp pasta to discuss strategy.

* Asking Angeal to seek therapy so the others will follow his lead.

* Telling Zack that he could not have a therapy flamingo in the office. Even if it was a lawn ornament.

* Warning Hojo not to take Sephiroth this week.

* Warning Hollander not to take Genesis and Angeal this week.

* Reaming Heidegger out very politely for all his BS.

Kunsel logs out without doing anything. Lazard needs a break.

--------

Kunsel calls Angeal pretending to be the help desk. Angeal, a bit embarrassed over his upbringing and unsure because he feels unused to technology, eventually gives Kunsel the password: BanoraBoys123!

----------

Genesis' is guessed on the 7th try because Kunsel didn't want to bother typing in an entire stanza of Loveless with numbers instead of vowels.

1nf1n1t3_1n_myst3ry_1s_th3_g1ft_0f_th3_g0dd3ss__w3_s33k_1t_th7s_4nd_t4k3_t0_th3_sky_r1ppl3s...

He sends an email from Genesis inviting everyone to a Loveless recital on Tuesday. It backfires because several people, including Genesis, show up and have a great time.

-----------

Kunsel tries Zack's little trooper friend next. He's a tough nut to crack. He won't pick up his PHS to get vished, won't click on Kunsel's phishing emails, and won't tell Zack or Kunsel his password.

Kunsel captures his hash and cracks it. It takes a full 24 hours, but he gets it in the end:

!1986fuck_this_shit

[eroticcannibal]

So who actually supports home education?

Idiots whose only experience of alternative forms of education is reddit posts made by survivors of the worst cases and cult documentaries may think its all "the guvment gonna take my guns and microchip me" types but what is the reality?

There of course will always be an amount of weirdoes, but these are not representative.

A huge proportion of those who home educate do it because of an understanding of child development and education methods. Unfortunately how schools educate does not match up with the science on how kids learn best. Many know this from experience as a large amount of home educaters are *teachers*. When you know better, you do better, and home education allows you to follow the science.

A significant amount have to withdraw their children from school due to the schools failing. This is not ideological, this is survival. Neurodivergent kids, kids with complex medical needs, and increasingly in the past few years, kids with or who's family members have immune disorders. A child cannot learn if their needs are not being met. Schools often resist meeting these needs for ideological or financial reasons, and LAs can be uncooperative for financial reasons.

Due to either dissatisfaction with schools generally on ideological grounds or as a result of rising high control environments in schools, parents may opt out due to beliefs. Some of these may be more right wing beliefs, but a lot, especially more recently, are due to more leftist beliefs. Many, even those of centrist and right wing beliefs, have always taken issue with the role of schools, be it a vague "they don't care about my kid, they only care about creating a worker" or actually naming the problem (capitalism). Schools will always reflect the government, which is a concern for many as a government becomes more facist. Many kids right now are being pulled due to the increasing anti-trans sentiment, either out of fear of what their child will learn or simply because their child is trans and not safe.

Curriculum can also be a reason people prefer home ed. A school curriculum must somewhat support all students, as well as the social and ideological goals of the government. A home ed curriculum caters entirely to the child.

Minority groups may often end up in home education due to other ingredients and lack of access. Travelling families may prefer to educate their children themselves rather than deal with changing schools. There are also many cases where attempts to address social issues due to perceived or actual extremism in religious communities further pushes these religious families away from the wider community.

Many people truly believe in the value of community, and see schools as robbing their children of the chance to truly be a part of their communities. Real world learning is incredibly popular and quite obviously not isolationist in nature.

Some lifestyles simply do not support schooling. Families who move a lot for work, children working in creative fields etc

And there are schools refusers. All kids deserve an education, even those who won't go to school. Kids are being driven to drug use and suicide by school environments. They are being bullied, physically assaulted and sexually abused. Parents in these situations just want their children to be safe.

The reasons people home educate are numerous and complex, and usually very good. The bad ones are not many. They just make better stories, so you hear about them more.

[kennys-parka-jacket]

Always hilarious when people complain about fanon!craig being overly macho while fanon!tweek is the twinkiest twink that has ever twinked. My guy, they were literally assigned seme and uke roles in canon. What did you expect

[bet-on-me-13]

Unknown, the Wandering Hero

So! We all know the typical Vivisection AU, right? Danny is revealed to his parents and they take it in all the wrong ways. They capture him, Vivisect him, and eventually he manages to escape with the help of his friends.

But what about his Rouges?

Sure, we all like to think of some of the more friendly ones like Ember, or Sydney, or Johnny 13 and Kitty, but he has WAY more Evil Rouges than good ones.

Without Danny there to reign them in, the Rouges spread out across the world to fulfill their obsessions, unhampered by the Heroes and Villains of the world that have no means to fight them.

And Danny? He feels responsible. He was the one to open the Gate, he was the Sacrifice, the one to let them through. And when the going got tough he just up and left? No, that won't do.

His Obsession is Protection for a reason, and nothing has changed. All he needs to do is expand his area of focus a little.

Danny, after healing up, starts wandering the world in search of the Ghosts who have escaped into the Mortal Realm. He battles all of his old foes, as well as many new ones who he hadn't met before.

His travels take him far and wide.

He defeats Skulker in Metropolis, as he is trying to hunt down the Super Family for their pelts. They are the last of their race after all, so he is inclined to try and hunt them. Honestly dealing with Skulker was easy, dealing with the Rich Asshole who was funding him was a nightmare.

He chases down Spectra in Gotham as she tries to feed on the misery of an entire City. (Thanks to @impyssadobsessions for the idea, this Prompt specifically). She is actually a very tough fight, especially powered by both the Misery of an Entire City as well as his Own Misery, but he manages.

He defeats Technus is Central City, as he tries to Raid Star Labs for their advanced Tech. It actually took a while to beat him after he amped himself with all that Power, and he did need help from the Local Hero to deal with him. He's just thankful Technus is one of the more "Harmless" ones.

After every Victory, he sends them back to the Realms using the Banishing Spell that Sam taught him a while back (the only bit of magic he ever really managed to master).

He knows they'll eventually find their way back out, but it's all he can do anymore. It's his eternal Punishment for unleashing them out into the World in the first place. He was the Catalyst for this Situation, now he was tasked with Fixing it, no matter how long it took.

...

The Justice League is caught in a tricky situation a the moment.

In the past few months, they have been encountering more and more of these Extra Dimensional Beings known as Realms Ghosts across the World.

Justice League Dark has had some success in battling them, but even they are getting tired of having to deal with every single incident alone.

They did get approached by a Government Agency known as the Ghostly Investigation Ward that seemed to want to help, but it didn't take long to realize that their main Aim was to Genocide the entire Race. The JLA had quickly cut ties after realizing that, and took what little Tech and Information they had been able to gather.

Still, it wasn't easy to deal with these Entities.

Thankfully, they have had some outside help. An Unknown Being has been routinely showing up whenever a Realms Ghost appears and defeating them, before using a (as described by Constantine) "Rudimentary Banishing Spell held together by willpower and luck" to send them back to their home Dimension. There's honestly no way it should be functional, but he did make it work either way.

They don't know much about this Unknown, aside from the fact that he seems to be the only one able to consistently damage the Realms Ghosts. His Powerset leads them to belive he may be from the same Dimension, or at least drawing his power from the same Source, but as he actively avoids the League and takes every opportunity to not talk to them, they know they aren't getting any answers any time soon.

Over the past few months, they had affectionately started referring to him as Unknown, creative they know, because they could never get his Real Name. Sure, some of the Realms Ghosts seemed to recognize him, but they always called him stuff like "Whelp" and "Punk" and "Usurper", which were not very good names to use when referring to him. Although the last one was a bit concerning.

They had only managed to trade a few quick words with Unknown in the past few months, but it was enough to get the Gist of it. He was just doing his job, sending the Realms Ghosts back where they belonged. There was apparently a Tear in Reality letting them through, but he seemed hesitant to reveal what he knew about it.

After a few months of sparse interactions, they eventually managed to convince him to at least take an Emergency Communicator. Just in case. They even let him take it apart to look for any Tracking Devices, which earned them a small bit of trust. They took whatever wins they could.

Fortunately, it seemed he never did need it. In fact he was getting more and more efficient with every battle, defeating his foes in half the time it would have taken before.

Unfortunately, it didn't last forever. One day, the Communicator went off, a distorted voice quickly saying, "Need backup, some of them decide to Team Up" before cutting out.

They quickly rushed to his location, finding an active battlefield with no less that a dozen Ghosts battling Unknown. And he seemed to be on the ropes.

With their arrival, the combined force of the Justice League and Unknown eventually managed to defeat the Group of Ghosts. Justice League Dark volunteered to work on the Banishing Spells while the others cleaned up the damage from the Battle.

One of them approached Unknown to make sure he was ok, and froze.

During the battle, Unknown's Mask had been Torn off, and they could finally see the face of the Hero they had been working with for the past few months.

And he was a Child.

[flickering-nightfall]

[betryl]

Honestly Henry did commit horrible and inexcusable and unforgivable acts but it doesn't mean that every single thing he ever did for the entire book had to be out of ill intent.

He didn't save Richard during Winter to get him to trust him, he saved him because Richard was his friend he found freezing to death in an attic. He wasn't manipulating Camilla, he loved her and was trying to protect her and prevent her abusive brother from hurting her any more. He killed himself for a lot of different reasons but one of them was that it really was the only remaining way he could find to get everyone out of trouble and make things somewhat right again.

He surely was detached, and while he generally didn't feel as strongly as other people and even suppressed his own emotions to try and always be as rational as possible, it's not like he was completely incapable of feeling anything at all. In his own aloof way, he did care for them. I think that it's really the fact that despite everything there was some good in all of them that makes them so compelling, Henry included.